I didn't really realize how much of a complex I have about aging until about the last couple of weeks or so. My trusty friends pointed out that I have been talking a lot about age, and you know? They're right. I have been. I'm hung up on it because I am getting older. Haha, and so are they. I turn 25 in exactly four months to the day. February 9th. 1987. (Good year.) I had this goal for myself that I was going to write in this space everyday of October, leading up to that fateful day where I got to ride in an ambulance. Good follow-through, huh.
This week, I feel like the word "trust" has been on the forefront of my mind, and on the tip of my tongue. I have had a lot of opportunities to share what I've learned from my God over the last year. Ironically (or not so ironically), it's what we talked about in church this morning. Trust. And, I'm pretty sure our dear pastor dove into trust in the midst of suffering. (And this is not to say that I have any real comprehension of how to trust God in the midst of suffering, but it definitely hit a raw nerve.)
Jesus, right after Judas had betrayed him, but before he was ripped away like a criminal, from his disciples (the ones he loved), said this, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in me. In my Father's house there are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you."
The part that is funny to me is that Jesus knows what's about to go down. Judas (someone who served alongside of Jesus, and someone Jesus loved and trusted) made the decision to betray. To betray what he knew was good and right. And Jesus is here, speaking peace not to himself, but to his disciples! "Do not let your hearts be troubled."
What I've found myself wondering is if I really trust the Lord with my age.
Mark Twain once said, and I'll never forget this, "Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter."
Well, Mark Twain. Here's my question for you: what if it does matter? What if you are staring down at a major milestone in life, and all of sudden it matters. A lot. Hmmm? What if your age matters? What if YOU were going to be a QUARTER OF A CENTURY OLD? Yeah. Uh-huh, twenty-five. What now, Mark Twain? What now. Ugh.
I hate it that it is bothering me this much, that I really could be that vain and worrisome over something as silly as a number. Which, by the way, other people place emphasis on, not God. The pressure comes from myself, and what I allow to influence my way of thinking. Man! I'm feeling the pressure! Grrrrr!
People are born every day, and people die every day, and you know what? People break their legs every day. People ride in ambulances everyday. People go to physical therapy every day. People get casts taken of everyday. Just ask Rosa, the wonderful cast lady that I get to see tomorrow, who puts on like 28 casts PER DAY. Nothing that I have experienced in the last year is new. None of it.
In fact, people get life-long illnesses everyday, and find out that they have cancer everyday, and not only fall great distances but are paralyzed. Everyday! This happens. Some of those same people cry everyday, wishing that they could actually sleep well for one night, but their medicines give them nightmares and make them itchy, and make all their hair fall out, and they don't know if they're ever going to see their kids or parents again. Everyday.
Every single day.
Someone enters the world and starts breathing, and someone stops. At one point in my life I would have said that this was beautiful, a part of the "rhythm of life". No. It sucks.
Before you start shaking your head at me, or call me "intense", or think that I've been watching too much Lie To Me or Bones, or that I take life too seriously (I don't, I promise I laugh - I spent much of this weekend laughing & celebrating. And DANCING....) I will have you know that this is reality.
So, take a deep breath, and know that I'm not always this intense. Just right now. And...maybe when I DANCED. That was a little intense.
This is a reality that I am learning more about because guess what? I'm only 24. I am learning about realities of the world which I have refused to face for the last 24 years. Realities that I haven't been able to face because of the development of my brain, and the maturity of my heart. Realities that I just didn't want to see. Realities that come because they are built on top of other realities and are all tangled up in one realityweb.
God knows what we are able to bear. He knows how much we can handle. He has been so gentle with me, with my faint heart, and my ignorant and oh-so-sensitive soul. There is no other place that I know of where I can release these things, surrender all, and know deep down that they will be safe. He has lead me into the wilderness, but he has not abandoned me. If it were not so, he would have told me.
He has not abandoned you. He has not abandoned us. He has not abandoned the people that are currently receiving the news mentioned above. He has not abandoned the very people in the same exact room that I occupied at Froetdert, or in the trauma unit where I could hear people screaming in pain across my hall. He has not abandoned us.
I find myself so emotional this evening, partly because it's October, and there is this weird stigma attached to it these days. The smell in the air, and the colors that draw me into the presence of my Creator. It's not tainted, but there is this weird feeling. I'm nostalgic at heart, and I have thought a lot about what's happened in the last year. Part of my emotional vomiting is because my heart is so full, and I am so thankful for the experiences I've had. For the friends and families that have walked (and wheeled) alongside of me.
Above all else, I am thankful this evening for a God who has displayed (and is displaying, and will always display) his wonderful love and beauty to not only me, but to the world. The song of a different season is being sung, and I can't help but tap my toes, and sing along. The trees keep perfect time - they are on fire.
I have my last doctor's appointment tomorrow. It's been a year. And, I'm freaking out. I thought I would be able to just be cool about it. Calm, cool, and collective. But, in true Catie-style, I desire coolness and am left lacking. So.
This is where I am. This is where I am at this moment, in this day. Heck, tomorrow I'll probably be in a completely different place, but thank you for allowing me to share where I'm at.
I am going to end this blog this month. Not today, but soon. Who knows who's even reading it...(I'm pretty sure that my giant poop story was a topic of discussion at a wedding last night...), but thank you for allowing me to share some of my joys with you. Some of my burden, some of my discovery. Thank you for reading. And listening. Not only to me, but to Him. I hope his voice is louder than mine.
Or softer. Whichever speaks to you, wherever you are at.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
Pace.
It feels like old times to me this evening. Old times in the sense that it's 12:34 and I am wide awake. I accidentally fell asleep at 7:30p while putting HJ to bed. (In case you don't know, HJ is the 3-year-old that I have the privilege of living with.) I used to do that all the time when I first entered the recovery stage. It seems like such a long time ago.
I spent much of this afternoon thinking about my pace of life. Isn't your pace of life so important? I was reflecting upon the many, many ways that I have been encouraged by HJ and her parents in the last months. I don't know if I could have moved back to Milwaukee if it hadn't been for them. Their ability to give of their time and energy in such a self-sacrificial way has been an example to me. The transition back to this city has been difficult, but it has been good. So much has changed in the last three months. I mean, I really have only been back here for three months!
This is crazy to me. Like when you are watching a movie in 1.5 speed, slow enough to hear everything, but fast enough that you feel like you are saving a few precious minutes of your life. And then, you accidentally hit the wrong button, and the movie goes into slow motion. So, you try to compensate by fast forwarding again, and you miss the entire scene. Then you have to rewind it, and you're back where you started.
I feel like this is a picture of my life. I remember clinging to every door jamb and table to walk to my room when I first moved in. I remember spending countless nights sobbing in my bed, wondering if I would ever be able to do the things I was doing before I fell. Without having to think about it. I remember my first time leading worship at Redeemer Church and looking for a railing before I did. I remember the first time that I felt like I was walking normally. I remember when I first ran with the kids I get to take care of each day.
Today I didn't need the railing at church, and after having lunch with friends, I walked around the entire Milwaukee Zoo. It was there that I realized what I was doing. I was actually passing people as I walked. I love walking quickly, and it was so surreal today to step back and realize what I was actually doing.
A lot can happen in three months, apparently.
People often ask me if my legs still hurt, and I'm not really sure if I give them a good answer. I mean, sometimes my left foot hurts, and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I push myself really hard, and I'm fine. Sometimes I'm not. Sometimes I don't push myself very hard at all, and my foot hurts. It's weird. I don't really feel like the weather changes anything, but maybe it does. Who knows. The gas station man down the street thinks I'm crazy because some days I'll pop in, and I practically run up to him to get my free Brewer's ticket stamp. Other times I limp in. He said to me yesterday, "I thought your foot was better!?" I showed him a flip flop and said, "Bad choice of shoes today." Then I left. He thinks I'm nuts, I tell you. I am, for wearing flip flops.
I do not pace myself very well. And then there are paces of life that I cannot control. Fall is quickly upon us. School starts for my sisters this week; they are Juniors in HS this year. The other sister is back in Texas. I start a new job a week from tomorrow. I look at my life, and I wonder how on earth I got here. It feels very surreal to be entering another season, especially when that season is fall. It's almost ten months since I fell.
I miss writing in this little blog everyday. I miss the pace of life that I had when I set aside time each day to spend communing with the Lord, reflecting on where I was in each moment. I find that where I thought I would continue, I have not. I haven't journaled in what feels like weeks. I confess that I have not spent enough time communing with the Lord on a regular basis.
I came across this passage tonight, from the tail end of Romans 8:
"What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?...Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us.
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? No... For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
As you and I enter into this new day, this new season, may we commit our pace to this Christ Jesus. May everything that we say and do revolve around His love for us and for all people.
I spent much of this afternoon thinking about my pace of life. Isn't your pace of life so important? I was reflecting upon the many, many ways that I have been encouraged by HJ and her parents in the last months. I don't know if I could have moved back to Milwaukee if it hadn't been for them. Their ability to give of their time and energy in such a self-sacrificial way has been an example to me. The transition back to this city has been difficult, but it has been good. So much has changed in the last three months. I mean, I really have only been back here for three months!
This is crazy to me. Like when you are watching a movie in 1.5 speed, slow enough to hear everything, but fast enough that you feel like you are saving a few precious minutes of your life. And then, you accidentally hit the wrong button, and the movie goes into slow motion. So, you try to compensate by fast forwarding again, and you miss the entire scene. Then you have to rewind it, and you're back where you started.
I feel like this is a picture of my life. I remember clinging to every door jamb and table to walk to my room when I first moved in. I remember spending countless nights sobbing in my bed, wondering if I would ever be able to do the things I was doing before I fell. Without having to think about it. I remember my first time leading worship at Redeemer Church and looking for a railing before I did. I remember the first time that I felt like I was walking normally. I remember when I first ran with the kids I get to take care of each day.
Today I didn't need the railing at church, and after having lunch with friends, I walked around the entire Milwaukee Zoo. It was there that I realized what I was doing. I was actually passing people as I walked. I love walking quickly, and it was so surreal today to step back and realize what I was actually doing.
A lot can happen in three months, apparently.
People often ask me if my legs still hurt, and I'm not really sure if I give them a good answer. I mean, sometimes my left foot hurts, and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I push myself really hard, and I'm fine. Sometimes I'm not. Sometimes I don't push myself very hard at all, and my foot hurts. It's weird. I don't really feel like the weather changes anything, but maybe it does. Who knows. The gas station man down the street thinks I'm crazy because some days I'll pop in, and I practically run up to him to get my free Brewer's ticket stamp. Other times I limp in. He said to me yesterday, "I thought your foot was better!?" I showed him a flip flop and said, "Bad choice of shoes today." Then I left. He thinks I'm nuts, I tell you. I am, for wearing flip flops.
I do not pace myself very well. And then there are paces of life that I cannot control. Fall is quickly upon us. School starts for my sisters this week; they are Juniors in HS this year. The other sister is back in Texas. I start a new job a week from tomorrow. I look at my life, and I wonder how on earth I got here. It feels very surreal to be entering another season, especially when that season is fall. It's almost ten months since I fell.
I miss writing in this little blog everyday. I miss the pace of life that I had when I set aside time each day to spend communing with the Lord, reflecting on where I was in each moment. I find that where I thought I would continue, I have not. I haven't journaled in what feels like weeks. I confess that I have not spent enough time communing with the Lord on a regular basis.
I came across this passage tonight, from the tail end of Romans 8:
"What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?...Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us.
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? No... For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
As you and I enter into this new day, this new season, may we commit our pace to this Christ Jesus. May everything that we say and do revolve around His love for us and for all people.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Up.
Guess what?
I'm still awake. I have no clue what has gotten into me, but I am feeling particularly feisty right now. Something happens to me after 11:35pm. I feel like I can talk forever. I think it will just be so great to never have to go to sleep. I'm really looking forward to heaven. And talking there. And speaking in every single language by speaking in one. Laughter is what I call it now, but there it will be perpetual and never-ending and I can make up words and talk with run-on sentences, and my conversation with Jesus will never end. I hope I can make him laugh.
I had a doctor's appointment today with Supermarks. My doctor cracks me up. He wears the cheesiest, coolest ties in the world, and he totally pulls them off. I remember every one of them. Today it was bright pink plaid with a hint of clownishness to it. He has a firm handshake, and I feel like he's telling me the truth, even when I know he's withholding information behind smiling eyes. For instance, this morning his assistant told me that I had arthritis developing in my left foot (which, frustratingly, surprised nobody but me. I don't want pity, but I felt like, "Why did everyone but me know this was going to happen this soon?"). He didn't say anything about it at all until I mentioned it, so it must not be a big deal. Someone asked me today, "So, what can you do about it?" I was like, "Not eat red meat."
That's where I'm at. I am no longer to eat red meat, and I am to consume Calcium and Vitamin C like a ravenous herbivore. Just call me Brontosaurus. I found Kale at Woodman's tonight for $.79 cents. Cha-ching! Let's you and me use it to star in Arthassic Park. Our Kale can be a long-extinct species of plant that we find while foraging next to Alan & Ellie. Then we can morph into Power Rangers and steal their Jeep. Singing the Darkwing Duck theme song.
Speaking of Darkwing Duck, I joined a gym. *sigh* Selfishly and oh-so-pridefully, I hate admitting it. All my life I have felt like working out is for losers. (Sorry.) I've always been just a little bit fat, and I've mostly always been okay with it. My friend says being pudgy makes you approachable. Secretly, this notion is what I have used to justify my flab for the last several years, but I have realized the error of my ways. Being a little bit fat makes it a lot of bit hard to walk on an arthritic foot. I have submitted to the fact that my body now stores 20 extra pounds post-beddom. The saddest part is that everyone's first reply is, "Really? You can't even tell!" *insert gym membership joining here* Yes, I've said it, my weight has gone up by 20 stupid numbers, and I look the same as I did October 30th.
So. Moving on. There is this magical machine called an, "eliptical" (not to be confused with "ellipse" or "moon shape" or "geometry"), and it has worked it's magicalness on my foot. I'm finding that it is quite satisfying to do something that accelerates my heart rate, and to be able to do it quickly. My foot is noticeably looser. Imagine that! Superwoman was right! Poor woman. She would be so disappointed that I wasn't doing my band exercises either. I got in trouble for that today. : / I am also finding out as a gym member how self-absorbed and conscious I can be. I walk into the gym and my first thought is, "Everybody is looking at me." Which is stupid. And untrue. And extremely narcissistic. Except for maybe when I look up and see someone gawking at the sexy red line down my right leg. And the sexy sweat building up on my back after .35 miles. I just mouth, "Shark attack", and they look away with wide eyes as they mouth, "Shark attack" to their running buddy. Apparently, sharks these days have very straight teeth. Little do they know that I was really kicked by a vicious kangaroo. They have really sharp claw talons.
As I was sitting on my doctor bench today crinkling the toilet paper tissue paper printer paper mixture beneath my butt, telling part of my story (kangaroo included) to a doctor (in residency), I almost lost it. The recent story of the man dying at the Ranger's game, (after falling 20 feet) kept floating around in my brain. I can't imagine what his family is going through; he was trying to catch a baseball for his young son. That was with him at the game. I tried to explain to this doctor that I can't take any credit for the way that my legs and feet have healed. I kept thinking: "I'm never going to see this man again, and I don't want to verbally vomit on him. Should I try to explain to him that Jesus is the one that deserves it?" The story of the girl my age falling down two stories and dying (the same weekend I fell) then snuck in. He looked and looked and looked at my initial x-rays until he found a side view of my talus bone that I never seen before. My initial reaction was: Yuck. Then: Whoa. It looks like a firework. Then: Ouch. Then: Whoa. Then, he looked at the fuzzy arthritis picture. Me: It will be okay. All I could do was look up to keep the tears from streaming down my face.
This morning, as I waited in line to see my doctor, I looked out the 5th floor window of the hospital. Over the entire stretch of the city, all the way to the Brewer's Stadium, there was a beautifully large storm...well...brewing. Twenty feet of light seemed to peek through the clouds, right on the horizon, blazing through in all of its orange and red and purple glory like an artist had streaked a canvas with one brush stroke. It seems a little silly to read so much into it, but it was overwhelmingly powerful to me. I am blessed to be able to walk from the hospital to the parking garage, enjoying the rain drops on the way out. I am truly thankful to be alive, even when so many storms brew over my head. I am a reflection of the image of my Creator, and I am reminded of my need to stop. To laugh. To cry. To take care of myself. To reflect. To praise Him for what he has done, what he is doing, and what he is yet to do. To remember to look up.
There's absolutely no way I can summarize this passage, or explain the truth it speaks to my heart. I hope it's an encouragement to you, wherever you are at on your journey, friend.
Psalm 111
Praise the LORD!
I will give thanks to the LORD with all my heart,
In the company of the upright and in the assembly.
Great are the works of the LORD;
They are studied by all who delight in them.
Splendid and majestic is His work,
And His righteousness endures forever.
He has made His wonders to be remembered;
The LORD is gracious and compassionate.
He has given food to those who fear Him;
He will remember His covenant forever.
He has made known to His people the power of His works,
In giving them the heritage of the nations.
The works of His hands are truth and justice;
All His precepts are sure.
They are upheld forever and ever;
They are performed in truth and uprightness.
He has sent redemption to His people;
He has ordained His covenant forever;
Holy and awesome is His name.
The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom;
A good understanding have all those who do His commandments;
His praise endures forever.
I'm still awake. I have no clue what has gotten into me, but I am feeling particularly feisty right now. Something happens to me after 11:35pm. I feel like I can talk forever. I think it will just be so great to never have to go to sleep. I'm really looking forward to heaven. And talking there. And speaking in every single language by speaking in one. Laughter is what I call it now, but there it will be perpetual and never-ending and I can make up words and talk with run-on sentences, and my conversation with Jesus will never end. I hope I can make him laugh.
I had a doctor's appointment today with Supermarks. My doctor cracks me up. He wears the cheesiest, coolest ties in the world, and he totally pulls them off. I remember every one of them. Today it was bright pink plaid with a hint of clownishness to it. He has a firm handshake, and I feel like he's telling me the truth, even when I know he's withholding information behind smiling eyes. For instance, this morning his assistant told me that I had arthritis developing in my left foot (which, frustratingly, surprised nobody but me. I don't want pity, but I felt like, "Why did everyone but me know this was going to happen this soon?"). He didn't say anything about it at all until I mentioned it, so it must not be a big deal. Someone asked me today, "So, what can you do about it?" I was like, "Not eat red meat."
That's where I'm at. I am no longer to eat red meat, and I am to consume Calcium and Vitamin C like a ravenous herbivore. Just call me Brontosaurus. I found Kale at Woodman's tonight for $.79 cents. Cha-ching! Let's you and me use it to star in Arthassic Park. Our Kale can be a long-extinct species of plant that we find while foraging next to Alan & Ellie. Then we can morph into Power Rangers and steal their Jeep. Singing the Darkwing Duck theme song.
Speaking of Darkwing Duck, I joined a gym. *sigh* Selfishly and oh-so-pridefully, I hate admitting it. All my life I have felt like working out is for losers. (Sorry.) I've always been just a little bit fat, and I've mostly always been okay with it. My friend says being pudgy makes you approachable. Secretly, this notion is what I have used to justify my flab for the last several years, but I have realized the error of my ways. Being a little bit fat makes it a lot of bit hard to walk on an arthritic foot. I have submitted to the fact that my body now stores 20 extra pounds post-beddom. The saddest part is that everyone's first reply is, "Really? You can't even tell!" *insert gym membership joining here* Yes, I've said it, my weight has gone up by 20 stupid numbers, and I look the same as I did October 30th.
So. Moving on. There is this magical machine called an, "eliptical" (not to be confused with "ellipse" or "moon shape" or "geometry"), and it has worked it's magicalness on my foot. I'm finding that it is quite satisfying to do something that accelerates my heart rate, and to be able to do it quickly. My foot is noticeably looser. Imagine that! Superwoman was right! Poor woman. She would be so disappointed that I wasn't doing my band exercises either. I got in trouble for that today. : / I am also finding out as a gym member how self-absorbed and conscious I can be. I walk into the gym and my first thought is, "Everybody is looking at me." Which is stupid. And untrue. And extremely narcissistic. Except for maybe when I look up and see someone gawking at the sexy red line down my right leg. And the sexy sweat building up on my back after .35 miles. I just mouth, "Shark attack", and they look away with wide eyes as they mouth, "Shark attack" to their running buddy. Apparently, sharks these days have very straight teeth. Little do they know that I was really kicked by a vicious kangaroo. They have really sharp claw talons.
As I was sitting on my doctor bench today crinkling the toilet paper tissue paper printer paper mixture beneath my butt, telling part of my story (kangaroo included) to a doctor (in residency), I almost lost it. The recent story of the man dying at the Ranger's game, (after falling 20 feet) kept floating around in my brain. I can't imagine what his family is going through; he was trying to catch a baseball for his young son. That was with him at the game. I tried to explain to this doctor that I can't take any credit for the way that my legs and feet have healed. I kept thinking: "I'm never going to see this man again, and I don't want to verbally vomit on him. Should I try to explain to him that Jesus is the one that deserves it?" The story of the girl my age falling down two stories and dying (the same weekend I fell) then snuck in. He looked and looked and looked at my initial x-rays until he found a side view of my talus bone that I never seen before. My initial reaction was: Yuck. Then: Whoa. It looks like a firework. Then: Ouch. Then: Whoa. Then, he looked at the fuzzy arthritis picture. Me: It will be okay. All I could do was look up to keep the tears from streaming down my face.
This morning, as I waited in line to see my doctor, I looked out the 5th floor window of the hospital. Over the entire stretch of the city, all the way to the Brewer's Stadium, there was a beautifully large storm...well...brewing. Twenty feet of light seemed to peek through the clouds, right on the horizon, blazing through in all of its orange and red and purple glory like an artist had streaked a canvas with one brush stroke. It seems a little silly to read so much into it, but it was overwhelmingly powerful to me. I am blessed to be able to walk from the hospital to the parking garage, enjoying the rain drops on the way out. I am truly thankful to be alive, even when so many storms brew over my head. I am a reflection of the image of my Creator, and I am reminded of my need to stop. To laugh. To cry. To take care of myself. To reflect. To praise Him for what he has done, what he is doing, and what he is yet to do. To remember to look up.
There's absolutely no way I can summarize this passage, or explain the truth it speaks to my heart. I hope it's an encouragement to you, wherever you are at on your journey, friend.
Psalm 111
Praise the LORD!
I will give thanks to the LORD with all my heart,
In the company of the upright and in the assembly.
Great are the works of the LORD;
They are studied by all who delight in them.
Splendid and majestic is His work,
And His righteousness endures forever.
He has made His wonders to be remembered;
The LORD is gracious and compassionate.
He has given food to those who fear Him;
He will remember His covenant forever.
He has made known to His people the power of His works,
In giving them the heritage of the nations.
The works of His hands are truth and justice;
All His precepts are sure.
They are upheld forever and ever;
They are performed in truth and uprightness.
He has sent redemption to His people;
He has ordained His covenant forever;
Holy and awesome is His name.
The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom;
A good understanding have all those who do His commandments;
His praise endures forever.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Okay.
Soooo. Long time no see. Er...talk. Type.
I have been on hiatus for what feels like forever, but in all actuality, it's only been a month since I have rambled in this space. *insert sigh* First of all, can I just say that God is so good to me? God is so good to me. He is, He is, He is. And if you don't believe me, ask the dishes. : ) I'm going to get you up to speed in a short run-down of the life of Catie Wollard, (remember: Meyers-Briggs "ENFeelingP"), in the last month:
Week One back in Milwaukee: Separation anxiety from parents, entered honeymoon phase of living in Milwaukee again. With the best housemates ever. It's called bittersweet. Bitter and sweet. HJ is still my bestie. Thank goodness. Started taking a Trinity class at Elmbrook Church called, "The Art and Practice of Spiritual Leadership"... I ended up there by "accident", and I "LOVE" it because God has a "sense of humor". And he is very gentle with my oh-so-sensitive heart. No physical therapy due to a hiccup with what I like to call "The Cool Company." Funnest (and yes, that's a word) bridal shower ever with one of the most beautiful brides-to-be. I have the honor of being a maid this summer for her. ; ) The best part is, I get to walk down the aisle.
Week Two: Started subbing for the school district that I live in. Super hard, and super great. It felt so good to work again. And see/teach/laugh with kids. And make money. In that order. Which had kinda been a long time coming. This was the week I finally started telling people I had moved back to MKE. You know, cause I'm a jerk like that.
Week Three: Subbed every day of the week, and still loved it. Saw the students I did my student teaching with, and saw how they had all grown at least 6 inches. Seriously. By the way, I turn 25 in eight months.
Week Four: Started nannying for the COOLEST family in the entire world! (After my own, of course.) I get to swim, bike ride, and explore with three stinkin' awesome kiddos in Wisconsin. Still plugging along in my class, and still having dinner with new people all the time. I haven't yet seen everyone I want to see since being back, but I know it will come with time.
So, yeah. It's been a month. I have transferred a lot of my thoughts over to my personal journal, and feel that the Lord is leading me through a time of solitude. It's a different kind of solitude than the solitude I had while I was laying in bed because, while the excitement of being back in the Dairyland hasn't yet worn off, I have definitely found that I have entered a period of mourning.
I am most definitely in mourning. And that is, I think, to be expected. I went through phases of mourning over the last (get this: EIGHT) months, right? I mean, pooping in your bed is legit. As is falling out of your wheelchair. Twice. When it hurts to touch your toes. But I always had to draw my focus back to healing well. And God was totally faithful in this, no? SO faithful to me. He gave me so much insight into the work that he was to do, and I am STILL blown away by the Holy Spirit's ministry to my heart in those hours. Sometimes in the minutes. Now, I've sort of hit this plateau. God is still faithful, and the Holy Spirit is still at work, but I'm still limping. Literally and metaphorically. I can walk (Yippee!), but I'm still limping. I still feel much pain, but I don't need morphine. I'm not lonely, but I need to be alone.
The word I use almost every week in my class is "tension". I live in a big fat space of tension. My professor, Lee Hayward, calls it, "living between the already and the not yet." He uses this phrase to illustrate the tension that Christ-followers often feel; Jesus has already covered the cost of our sin, redeemed us, and made us whole, but we are not yet with him. Super-insightful, eh? What an awesome privilege it has been to be in this class. (This is also another reason I haven't been blogging...I have this fear that I might accidentally plagiarize while processing my thoughts...)
I have used this phrase as a parallel in my own life, in so many other areas. Already walking, not yet unnoticeably so. Already released from watchful eyes (of SO many people), not yet ready to be alone. Already going, not yet arrived. Already being equipped, not yet brave enough to step out into a huge, huge space.
This is so abstract, and so hard to explain, but this is a huge way that you can pray for me right now. This is a new season. A bittersweet season. Amazing and mind-blowing and a privilege on so many levels that I can't even begin to describe it to you. And, my work is cut out for me. Permanence has started to reach my brain, and my Lord is leading me, even still, through the great, wide, awesome, frustrating, hot, humid wilderness.
The beautiful thing about this is that God is moving in my life, and he continues to show me that I don't need all of the answers. I need him.
Psalm 131:
I have been on hiatus for what feels like forever, but in all actuality, it's only been a month since I have rambled in this space. *insert sigh* First of all, can I just say that God is so good to me? God is so good to me. He is, He is, He is. And if you don't believe me, ask the dishes. : ) I'm going to get you up to speed in a short run-down of the life of Catie Wollard, (remember: Meyers-Briggs "ENFeelingP"), in the last month:
Week One back in Milwaukee: Separation anxiety from parents, entered honeymoon phase of living in Milwaukee again. With the best housemates ever. It's called bittersweet. Bitter and sweet. HJ is still my bestie. Thank goodness. Started taking a Trinity class at Elmbrook Church called, "The Art and Practice of Spiritual Leadership"... I ended up there by "accident", and I "LOVE" it because God has a "sense of humor". And he is very gentle with my oh-so-sensitive heart. No physical therapy due to a hiccup with what I like to call "The Cool Company." Funnest (and yes, that's a word) bridal shower ever with one of the most beautiful brides-to-be. I have the honor of being a maid this summer for her. ; ) The best part is, I get to walk down the aisle.
Week Two: Started subbing for the school district that I live in. Super hard, and super great. It felt so good to work again. And see/teach/laugh with kids. And make money. In that order. Which had kinda been a long time coming. This was the week I finally started telling people I had moved back to MKE. You know, cause I'm a jerk like that.
Week Three: Subbed every day of the week, and still loved it. Saw the students I did my student teaching with, and saw how they had all grown at least 6 inches. Seriously. By the way, I turn 25 in eight months.
Week Four: Started nannying for the COOLEST family in the entire world! (After my own, of course.) I get to swim, bike ride, and explore with three stinkin' awesome kiddos in Wisconsin. Still plugging along in my class, and still having dinner with new people all the time. I haven't yet seen everyone I want to see since being back, but I know it will come with time.
So, yeah. It's been a month. I have transferred a lot of my thoughts over to my personal journal, and feel that the Lord is leading me through a time of solitude. It's a different kind of solitude than the solitude I had while I was laying in bed because, while the excitement of being back in the Dairyland hasn't yet worn off, I have definitely found that I have entered a period of mourning.
I am most definitely in mourning. And that is, I think, to be expected. I went through phases of mourning over the last (get this: EIGHT) months, right? I mean, pooping in your bed is legit. As is falling out of your wheelchair. Twice. When it hurts to touch your toes. But I always had to draw my focus back to healing well. And God was totally faithful in this, no? SO faithful to me. He gave me so much insight into the work that he was to do, and I am STILL blown away by the Holy Spirit's ministry to my heart in those hours. Sometimes in the minutes. Now, I've sort of hit this plateau. God is still faithful, and the Holy Spirit is still at work, but I'm still limping. Literally and metaphorically. I can walk (Yippee!), but I'm still limping. I still feel much pain, but I don't need morphine. I'm not lonely, but I need to be alone.
The word I use almost every week in my class is "tension". I live in a big fat space of tension. My professor, Lee Hayward, calls it, "living between the already and the not yet." He uses this phrase to illustrate the tension that Christ-followers often feel; Jesus has already covered the cost of our sin, redeemed us, and made us whole, but we are not yet with him. Super-insightful, eh? What an awesome privilege it has been to be in this class. (This is also another reason I haven't been blogging...I have this fear that I might accidentally plagiarize while processing my thoughts...)
I have used this phrase as a parallel in my own life, in so many other areas. Already walking, not yet unnoticeably so. Already released from watchful eyes (of SO many people), not yet ready to be alone. Already going, not yet arrived. Already being equipped, not yet brave enough to step out into a huge, huge space.
This is so abstract, and so hard to explain, but this is a huge way that you can pray for me right now. This is a new season. A bittersweet season. Amazing and mind-blowing and a privilege on so many levels that I can't even begin to describe it to you. And, my work is cut out for me. Permanence has started to reach my brain, and my Lord is leading me, even still, through the great, wide, awesome, frustrating, hot, humid wilderness.
The beautiful thing about this is that God is moving in my life, and he continues to show me that I don't need all of the answers. I need him.
Psalm 131:
"My heart is not proud, LORD,
my eyes are not haughty;
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.
But I have calmed and quieted myself,
I am like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child I am content.
or things too wonderful for me.
But I have calmed and quieted myself,
I am like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child I am content.
Israel, put your hope in the LORD
both now and forevermore."
both now and forevermore."
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Overdue.
I stopped by the W.A. Library to pay my library fines. Don't ask me how I remembered the fact that I owed money to the library for six months, but I knew. In the back of my head, I knew it was under five bucks, but part of me wondered if it was an obscene amount...like the 30 I had to pay for late movies. Don't rent movies from the library if you ever forget anything. Ever.
This week has been full of little things like that. Paying library fines, hanging pictures up on my wall with little 3M strips, calling my old workplace, grocery shopping... Some people call it "settling in", but I don't like to use the word "settle" because I don't want it to seem like I'm just settling. For this house, for Milwaukee, or just nestling down into a giant pile of sticks and straw. Does that make sense? I'm not settling. Snuggling into my giant nest is what I've been doing for the last six months, and I'm quite ready to migrate across the Atlantic Ocean, if you know what I mean. Technically speaking, I'm gearing up for the next three weeks/three months, and they're gonna be huge. Maybe that's why my body has decided to pack on a few pounds...you know, for the figurative "winter flight", if you will.
My blog post is also way over-due, and I apologize to those of you who had asked me how my doctor's appointment went. Here's how the visit went down: I got there (by myself!) 12 minutes late because I forgot to account for the fact that I always always always get lost in this area. And I forgot about the the fact that I now move at the pace of a turtle. I knew that going into it, but for some reason I just forgot to live it out as I was planning my time allotment. (Major mind adjustments have to made, my friends. Major adjustments. I'm a last-minute type of girl, and this pace might be the end of me.)
I got there and apologized to the secretary for being late (shouldn't have opened my mouth), and she was like, "Oh, well Dr. Marks is very picky about his patients being on time...how late are you?"
*sheepishy* "Well, about 15 minutes."
"Oh, that's okay, you should be fine."
Thank goodness.
I was able to hop right up onto the x-ray stairs (which was a big deal), and didn't have to have any re-takes (also a big deal). Got into his office, and his assistant came in to chat. Apparently, arthritis can kick in any day now, which I didn't realize. My left foot is especially at risk, but my right one is too, which I also didn't realize. So, that was iffy news, but I'm not that worried about it. What will come will come, and I am going to try to live my life to the fullest in the meantime.
As a side note, I think it is really easy for me to fall into the thinking trap of only living my life until the arthritis comes. Like I have to wait for it to get here. But that's a lie. I am SO thankful that I am able to be up and walking around, and I can't live in fear of future pain. I think that is such a huge life lesson for me. Don't live in fear of future pain.
The doc came in a little bit later, and had nothing but good things to say about how things are healing. I no longer have to use the bone stim, and I am out of my boot!! Whoot whoot! My new walking contraption looks like this:
Pretty sweet, huh? I think it's a little quasi-Forest Gump, but whatev. It works.
Here's the best part of the entire day. So, right before Superman walks out of the office, he turns and he says to me, "You know, Catie, your bones should not look this good."
I had nothing to say at first. It wasn't me. I was not the one that expertly knit my bones back together, or designed the human body for the capacity to send cells to repair broken things. All I could say to him was thank you for doing such an amazing job on helping my body to heal to the best of its ability, and give God the credit for doing the healing work.
Man. I took the elevator downstairs, and just started sobbing as I was walking out of the hospital. I saw glimpses of what had happened in the same exact steps and spaces in the last six months: I saw my dad walking beside me as I tried to figure out how to use crutches, and then I saw him farting around with them while we waited for our van, trying to make me feel better about feeling like an oaf. Then I saw my feet up in the air on the wheelchair, my gigantic toes purple and swollen. I remembered when I had to pee so bad, and they had to lift me onto the toilet. I felt my mom pushing me out the door into the chilly air, and I saw them both lifting me up into our van. I remember wondering what my life was going to be like after I was up and walking again.
And there I was. Walking out of the hospital. By myself.
As I was waiting for the nice valet men to bring my car around, a woman started talking to me about her injuries. She had gone through chemotherapy several years back, and as a result, her bones were very fragile; as a result, she had broken several of them in strange, little accidents. She was in a lot of pain, and she struggled just to stand. She had two walking sticks with her, and really sweet old-people shades covering her eyes and streaky auburn hair. As we were talking about what things that she had gone through, and things she was about to go through, she said something along the lines of, "That is what life is about. Living it to the full."
I could not have agreed with her more.
This week has been full of little things like that. Paying library fines, hanging pictures up on my wall with little 3M strips, calling my old workplace, grocery shopping... Some people call it "settling in", but I don't like to use the word "settle" because I don't want it to seem like I'm just settling. For this house, for Milwaukee, or just nestling down into a giant pile of sticks and straw. Does that make sense? I'm not settling. Snuggling into my giant nest is what I've been doing for the last six months, and I'm quite ready to migrate across the Atlantic Ocean, if you know what I mean. Technically speaking, I'm gearing up for the next three weeks/three months, and they're gonna be huge. Maybe that's why my body has decided to pack on a few pounds...you know, for the figurative "winter flight", if you will.
My blog post is also way over-due, and I apologize to those of you who had asked me how my doctor's appointment went. Here's how the visit went down: I got there (by myself!) 12 minutes late because I forgot to account for the fact that I always always always get lost in this area. And I forgot about the the fact that I now move at the pace of a turtle. I knew that going into it, but for some reason I just forgot to live it out as I was planning my time allotment. (Major mind adjustments have to made, my friends. Major adjustments. I'm a last-minute type of girl, and this pace might be the end of me.)
I got there and apologized to the secretary for being late (shouldn't have opened my mouth), and she was like, "Oh, well Dr. Marks is very picky about his patients being on time...how late are you?"
*sheepishy* "Well, about 15 minutes."
"Oh, that's okay, you should be fine."
Thank goodness.
I was able to hop right up onto the x-ray stairs (which was a big deal), and didn't have to have any re-takes (also a big deal). Got into his office, and his assistant came in to chat. Apparently, arthritis can kick in any day now, which I didn't realize. My left foot is especially at risk, but my right one is too, which I also didn't realize. So, that was iffy news, but I'm not that worried about it. What will come will come, and I am going to try to live my life to the fullest in the meantime.
As a side note, I think it is really easy for me to fall into the thinking trap of only living my life until the arthritis comes. Like I have to wait for it to get here. But that's a lie. I am SO thankful that I am able to be up and walking around, and I can't live in fear of future pain. I think that is such a huge life lesson for me. Don't live in fear of future pain.
The doc came in a little bit later, and had nothing but good things to say about how things are healing. I no longer have to use the bone stim, and I am out of my boot!! Whoot whoot! My new walking contraption looks like this:
Pretty sweet, huh? I think it's a little quasi-Forest Gump, but whatev. It works.
Here's the best part of the entire day. So, right before Superman walks out of the office, he turns and he says to me, "You know, Catie, your bones should not look this good."
I had nothing to say at first. It wasn't me. I was not the one that expertly knit my bones back together, or designed the human body for the capacity to send cells to repair broken things. All I could say to him was thank you for doing such an amazing job on helping my body to heal to the best of its ability, and give God the credit for doing the healing work.
Man. I took the elevator downstairs, and just started sobbing as I was walking out of the hospital. I saw glimpses of what had happened in the same exact steps and spaces in the last six months: I saw my dad walking beside me as I tried to figure out how to use crutches, and then I saw him farting around with them while we waited for our van, trying to make me feel better about feeling like an oaf. Then I saw my feet up in the air on the wheelchair, my gigantic toes purple and swollen. I remembered when I had to pee so bad, and they had to lift me onto the toilet. I felt my mom pushing me out the door into the chilly air, and I saw them both lifting me up into our van. I remember wondering what my life was going to be like after I was up and walking again.
And there I was. Walking out of the hospital. By myself.
As I was waiting for the nice valet men to bring my car around, a woman started talking to me about her injuries. She had gone through chemotherapy several years back, and as a result, her bones were very fragile; as a result, she had broken several of them in strange, little accidents. She was in a lot of pain, and she struggled just to stand. She had two walking sticks with her, and really sweet old-people shades covering her eyes and streaky auburn hair. As we were talking about what things that she had gone through, and things she was about to go through, she said something along the lines of, "That is what life is about. Living it to the full."
I could not have agreed with her more.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Continue.
Night two in Milwaukee. I wish I could concoct some sort of nighttime National Geographic scene like the amazing Steve Erwin, but my imagination is asleep. My eyes will be momentarily. My imagination was well-spent today though with a pretty energetic three-year-old named HJ. I missed her cherub cheeks and crazy-bright blue eyes.
I am so thankful for another warm bed, gas in my tank, food in my fridge, and clothes in my closet. God has provided so much for me, and I do not take it lightly. I say this all the time, but I will not stop saying it; God has been good to me. What I am most thankful for is a family that misses me, and one that is glad to have me back. My house family always helps me carry all of my junk in without making me feel bad, and my genetic family carried it out without making me feel bad. I am deeply, deeply blessed.
Tomorrow will be my first doctor's appointment in two months. Yup. I'm pretty nervous. Hopefully, I'll get the go-ahead for shoe-wearing on my left foot, and I'll officially be in business. The walking business, that is.
I have been thinking about this verse all week:
"Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you;
therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.
For the LORD is a God of justice.
Blessed are all who wait for him!"
- Isaiah 30:18
Lord, I thank you for your grace, your compassion, your justice, and your timing. They are each perfect. Thank you for teaching day by day, hour by hour. Thank you for extending yourself to me, a Gentile. Help us to continue to wait on you. Amen.
I am so thankful for another warm bed, gas in my tank, food in my fridge, and clothes in my closet. God has provided so much for me, and I do not take it lightly. I say this all the time, but I will not stop saying it; God has been good to me. What I am most thankful for is a family that misses me, and one that is glad to have me back. My house family always helps me carry all of my junk in without making me feel bad, and my genetic family carried it out without making me feel bad. I am deeply, deeply blessed.
Tomorrow will be my first doctor's appointment in two months. Yup. I'm pretty nervous. Hopefully, I'll get the go-ahead for shoe-wearing on my left foot, and I'll officially be in business. The walking business, that is.
I have been thinking about this verse all week:
"Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you;
therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.
For the LORD is a God of justice.
Blessed are all who wait for him!"
- Isaiah 30:18
Lord, I thank you for your grace, your compassion, your justice, and your timing. They are each perfect. Thank you for teaching day by day, hour by hour. Thank you for extending yourself to me, a Gentile. Help us to continue to wait on you. Amen.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Official.
Today is officially April 30th.
Kate Middleton and Price William are officially married.
I watched. And I have no shame.
So, because it is the last day in April, it has officially been six months since I broke my fibula, my tibia, and my talus. Tonight is officially my last night as a resident of both my household and my state. Illinois, you have been good to me. Family, so have you.
I officially graduated from physical therapy. It was my last appointment with Superwoman; I'm going to miss her and that office. And the pool.
When Moses was freaking out about being sent back to Egypt to, well, basically take all of its free labor away from his sort-of brother:
"God got angry with Moses: "Don't you have a brother, Aaron the Levite? He's good with words, I know he is. He speaks very well. In fact, at this very moment he's on his way to meet you. When he sees you he's going to be glad. You'll speak to him and tell him what to say.
I'll be right there with you as you speak and with him as he speaks, teaching you step by step..."
I love that. Step by step. On top of teaching me step by step, I feel like God has actually stepped in for me over the last sixth months; none of what has been accomplished has been of my own ability, attitude, or desire. It is his disposition that became mine. He has been so good to me. Titus 3:3 says,
"But when God, our kind and loving Savior God, stepped in, he saved us from all that. It was all his doing; we had nothing to do with it."
God is officially good.
Kate Middleton and Price William are officially married.
I watched. And I have no shame.
So, because it is the last day in April, it has officially been six months since I broke my fibula, my tibia, and my talus. Tonight is officially my last night as a resident of both my household and my state. Illinois, you have been good to me. Family, so have you.
I officially graduated from physical therapy. It was my last appointment with Superwoman; I'm going to miss her and that office. And the pool.
When Moses was freaking out about being sent back to Egypt to, well, basically take all of its free labor away from his sort-of brother:
"God got angry with Moses: "Don't you have a brother, Aaron the Levite? He's good with words, I know he is. He speaks very well. In fact, at this very moment he's on his way to meet you. When he sees you he's going to be glad. You'll speak to him and tell him what to say.
I'll be right there with you as you speak and with him as he speaks, teaching you step by step..."
I love that. Step by step. On top of teaching me step by step, I feel like God has actually stepped in for me over the last sixth months; none of what has been accomplished has been of my own ability, attitude, or desire. It is his disposition that became mine. He has been so good to me. Titus 3:3 says,
"But when God, our kind and loving Savior God, stepped in, he saved us from all that. It was all his doing; we had nothing to do with it."
God is officially good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)