Today was a beautiful day. There is no snow on the ground in IL. Yet. (Sorry Minnesota friends.) And so, my lovely wheelchair can cart me pretty much anywhere. My dad works, literally, across the street from my house, and (as he is the designated ramp engineer & operator) he was able to take me for a walk. It's funny because I'm really getting to know my dogs in a more intimate way. I'm, like, right at their level. I felt kind of like a pet, but in a good way. The sun shone down so brightly this afternoon - I felt my Vitamin D levels bouncin' back. My friend, who came over tonight, said I even got a tan. ; ) In my dreams. She just came back from Florida. Too bad being tan isn't contagious.
I was thinking this afternoon about how blessed I am to be able to go out and enjoy the sun, and the fresh air. To be able to see everything around me, and to hear what's going on. All of my senses are intact, and to me, it's a miracle. Breathing is something that I highly value as an asthmatic, and because I haven't had any wheat or milk for two and half weeks (a personal record), I can breathe very well! The air smelled so sweet, I couldn't even believe it. It felt like I was drinking in invisible Dr. Pepper.
I once heard that the average person breathes in and out 12 times per minute. And that's when they are relaxed. Crazy-loopy-awesome breathing specialists say that you should be breathing about 6 times per minute. And, if you watch babies, they instinctively know how to breathe - from the diaphram. You'll see their stomachs rise up and down, up and down. Adults usually breathe using the upper parts of their chest. We don't naturally breathe from the gut anymore; we actually forget how to breathe. If you breathe 6 times per minute instead of the average 12, some people say that you can decrease your stress level & blood pressure, focus the mind, and release endorphins. Everyone likes endorphins.
There is this guy named Rob Bell (some people are on board with the things he believes, and some aren't, but just stick with me.) He has this video series called, "Nooma" (another word for the Holy Spirit, I believe, but spelled incorrectly.) Anyway, the only video in the entire series that I can remember (and I've seen a lot of them, mostly in college) is the one called "Breathe" or "Air" or something like that. It had to do with oxygen. You get the idea.
I remember Rob talking about the idea that we worship God with every single breath that we take. Apparently, the origin of the word "Yahweh" is a vocalization of a breath-like sound. Yahweh is what God's people would say when they wanted to refer to God without saying...well...God. It was an extremely sacred and intimate sound for him...so close to his people that it was in their very breath. This video made such an impression on me because there truly are so many different ways to worship God. Breathing. Breathing deep. Stepping outside and seeing something beautiful no matter the circumstances. Holding the hand of someone who needs to feel held. Having compassion on others around you. Studying scripture together, and applying it to our lives. Dancing in the rain, or going for long walks on the beach & smiling because you know and trust that it was He who orchestrated it all. Worshipping God is bringing honor and glory to him. Giving him the credit.
Every single breath; I give you credit.
Job 32:8 says, "But it is the spirit in a person, the breath of the Almighty, that gives them understanding." It actually isn't Job speaking, but Elihu, a young man who is frustrated with some friends of Job. The story of Job is incredibly long and painful, but Elihu speaks truth and hope into the life of this man. He says that the breath of the Almighty is in a person, and it's what gives them understanding. The fact that something in your mind can come from something in your lungs is pretty crazy. And it's even crazier that the breath of GOD is entering your body as you read these words. At first, it actually kind of makes me uncomfortable. There haven't been many instances in my life where someone elses breath has entered my lungs. I can remember playing a game where you had to pass Lifesavers down a line using toothpicks in your mouths - I hated it. I could feel someone elses breath, and I breathed it in! It's kind of a big deal that the breath of the Creator of the Universe is entering my lungs right now. And now. And now.
Pretty crazy.
God, I ask that you would continue to breathe life into these lungs of mine. I long to worship you with every breath that I have; help me not to take them for granted. I acknowledge that you breathed life into my lungs when I took my very first breath, and I thank you that I can still breathe deep, resting in the knowledge of the fact that you see me. You understand me, and you give me understanding. You know me, more intimately than anyone can know me. Even myself. Even though my lungs are weak, I thank you that they are filled with your grace, your love, your patience, your freedom, and your hope. I find these things only in you, and they taste so sweet. You are so good to me. Yahweh.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Rest.
Today was a restful day.
I'm pooped though! Ha ha. Contridiction, eh? Seriously though. Laying in bed all day is exhausting. I feel so ridiculous saying that, but it's true. Although, in my defense, I think I can feel my white bloodcells in action. No, really. They're wiggling around ferociously in my legs. And it's not the extremely bizarre case of bedbugs that seem to be going around Illinois, I promise (although, the first night I was off of my morphine, I felt a bug in my cast. It was one of the scariest things I've experienced on this journey so far. And then I hear about bed bugs. Oi. I don't think it was real, but I was freaked.) My body is in over-drive, and I'm so thankful. Like, when I touch my legs, they are warm. I'm alive. And, I can wiggle my toes more and more each day! People keep praying for a quick recovery, and my body is literally responding, by the grace of God.
This morning I woke up at 6am ( I love it when that happens), and I could not go back to bed (no really, I love it when that happens). So, I watched the three episodes of Community that I missed in the last few weeks (love that show), and started writing thank you notes to all of the wonderful people that have brought us dinner over the last two weeks (love those people). 10am rolls around, and I'm tired, but instead of just falling asleep, I had the privilege of singing and worshipping for a few minutes alongside of my good friends Brooke, Chris, and Hillsong peeps whose names I can't remember (love them too). It always amazes me how singing and listening to music can just usher me into the presence of my Creator. I fell asleep feeling curled up in his arms - warm, safe, invited; I wouldn't trade that moment for anything.
Even though I hate napping, I love the feeling of being so close to God. Rest is found in his presence. I'm so thankful that Jesus paved the way for us, and that He allows us to come and lay before his throne. One song I haven't heard in a while goes like this, "Here I am to worship, here I am to bow down, here I am to say that you're my God. You're altogether lovely, altogether worthy, altogether wonderful to me." It so encapsulated what I wanted to express to God, and when that happens, I feel so excited and so connected. (And, on a more musical note (ha ha), the emphasis is on the italicized words. Literally, when you sing the song, you hang onto the italicized words for a longer period of time. Cool, huh?!)
Anyway, speaking of a wonderful God, I got to reading Matthew 11 today. It is an interesting and emotional chapter in the Bible. Not all of it is restful; in the beginning, Jesus' cousin, John the Baptist, is in jail (because he was considered a crazy head), and he asks Jesus if he's the Messiah via some of his followers. Because he's in jail. You can't get out of jail to talk to people. Jesus responds and says, "The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.” Jesus was a really wise dude. Sometimes I do stumble on what he says, but I love him for it, and deeply admire this trait of being able to give a completely truthful answer no matter who's around.
I can literally connect to these verses: Jesus is like the glasses I have to wear so I can see three feet in front of me; I have been cleansed of so many illnesses (thank goodness they weren't leprosy, and thank goodness I didn't live in Jesus' time because I would have hated to be alone & outside of the city); I have been deaf for much of my life & I can now hear; I have felt very poor (even though "poor" is an extremely relative term - ask me about it sometime) & I have seen God's provision. And...I'm really looking forward to walking again. Call me lame if you want, but I can't wait to get my butt back. Ha ha. Get it? Luckily I've never been raised from the dead. It would stinky.
: D Lighten UP people!
I also love love love those verses because I have been redeemed by this Messiah; there is such good news in Jesus. "Good news" seems like such a Christiany thing to say or hear, doesn't it? But when is the last time that you heard good news? For me, it was when I found out my little sister had bought her plane ticket home for Thanksgiving, and that she wasn't going to try to fly standby. So I'll actually get to see her. It was good news. Jesus' life, and his death are good news. Like hearing that your daughter broke her legs, but she isn't dead. Or maybe it's that your granddaughter has been born, or that your friend has been proposed to (or maybe you know when the proposing is going to happen). Maybe it's that you got that A you worked really hard for. Or...didn't work hard for. Maybe it's the job that you got, or the one that you can quit. Maybe it's that the cancer is in remission, or maybe it's that when the cancer patient dies, you know they are in heaven because they were in love with Jesus. For the guy that I met in the hospital the other day, it was that he and his wife were going to be able to live out their lives normally even though their motorcycle had flipped three times in the middle of a New York freeway.
Good news can be found throughout our lives. Jesus. Is good news.
So, all of the people who were all up in Jesus' grill overheard what he had said to John, and he starts asking them what they want. Not in a defensive or snarky way, but he's still trying to get them to see who he is. Trying to get them to see what their motives are. There is good news, right? They couldn't see it. Or hear it. Or smell it. Can you imagine?! The Messiah is standing inches away from them, and they just don't get it. (Sometimes I wonder if I would have been one of them. Too busy to change my lifestyle because it took me an hour everyday just to get water for my whole family, or too hot to really care & think about what Jesus was saying. I may have just left the posse because I had to pee.) You can see Jesus get frustrated with the very people that he has performed miracles in front of (their eyes had seen, their ears had heard, their noses could smell, but their hearts were hard); there is this major progression of emotions. Then, he says this:
At that time Jesus said, [see, told you.] “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this is what you were pleased to do. All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Can you believe he ends with this? In music terms, we call it a crescendo. Build, build, bui...wait, what? Jesus stops. Everything he's doing & saying. He just starts talking to his Father. He starts praising him unabashedly in front of everyone. He acknowledges the Sovereignty of his dad. This HUGE crescendo that doesn't make "sense": He invites the people in front of him in. He so longs to give them rest; he can see the sunken eyes (in my case, with the bags underneath), he can see into the hearts of the ones who are so busy or so fearful or so worried or so sad or so angry or so confused or so caught up in everything around them. And he says, "Come." "Rest." "Learn from me." "Be like me." "Come, see who I really am."
I trust God. Better in some moments than in others. It's hard. It's really, really hard. Mostly because I have trust issues. We all do. But, when I think about what has happened over the past two weeks (I can't believe it's been that long), I keep going back to trust. When I can trust, I can rest. When I can hand my baggage over to Jesus, I can rest. When I actually let go, I can rest. When I allow Jesus to lead, I can rest. Jesus truly is gentle and humble - it was engraved into his very nature, in his posture, and in the way that he lived & moved & breathed. Even when I think about hitting the ground of an indoor rock climbing gym, I think of a gentle Jesus. Truly, it was a gentle way of showing me that I need to rest well. (Among other things...but we'll come to those later, right? : ) My housemate used to say to me every night before I would go to bed, "Rest well, Catie."
Rest isn't just found in a nap. Rest is found deep down in our very being, in our souls, because we are or have been weary and burdened. But we can come to Him, even when it is humbling. I am trying to learn to be like this Jesus, caring about the things he cared about. Passionate about the things he was passionate about. Sad about the things he was sad about. Gentle with the things he was gentle with. Resting in his truth because he rested in His Father. The Truth.
Rest well, my friends. May you rest in Him.
I'm pooped though! Ha ha. Contridiction, eh? Seriously though. Laying in bed all day is exhausting. I feel so ridiculous saying that, but it's true. Although, in my defense, I think I can feel my white bloodcells in action. No, really. They're wiggling around ferociously in my legs. And it's not the extremely bizarre case of bedbugs that seem to be going around Illinois, I promise (although, the first night I was off of my morphine, I felt a bug in my cast. It was one of the scariest things I've experienced on this journey so far. And then I hear about bed bugs. Oi. I don't think it was real, but I was freaked.) My body is in over-drive, and I'm so thankful. Like, when I touch my legs, they are warm. I'm alive. And, I can wiggle my toes more and more each day! People keep praying for a quick recovery, and my body is literally responding, by the grace of God.
This morning I woke up at 6am ( I love it when that happens), and I could not go back to bed (no really, I love it when that happens). So, I watched the three episodes of Community that I missed in the last few weeks (love that show), and started writing thank you notes to all of the wonderful people that have brought us dinner over the last two weeks (love those people). 10am rolls around, and I'm tired, but instead of just falling asleep, I had the privilege of singing and worshipping for a few minutes alongside of my good friends Brooke, Chris, and Hillsong peeps whose names I can't remember (love them too). It always amazes me how singing and listening to music can just usher me into the presence of my Creator. I fell asleep feeling curled up in his arms - warm, safe, invited; I wouldn't trade that moment for anything.
Even though I hate napping, I love the feeling of being so close to God. Rest is found in his presence. I'm so thankful that Jesus paved the way for us, and that He allows us to come and lay before his throne. One song I haven't heard in a while goes like this, "Here I am to worship, here I am to bow down, here I am to say that you're my God. You're altogether lovely, altogether worthy, altogether wonderful to me." It so encapsulated what I wanted to express to God, and when that happens, I feel so excited and so connected. (And, on a more musical note (ha ha), the emphasis is on the italicized words. Literally, when you sing the song, you hang onto the italicized words for a longer period of time. Cool, huh?!)
Anyway, speaking of a wonderful God, I got to reading Matthew 11 today. It is an interesting and emotional chapter in the Bible. Not all of it is restful; in the beginning, Jesus' cousin, John the Baptist, is in jail (because he was considered a crazy head), and he asks Jesus if he's the Messiah via some of his followers. Because he's in jail. You can't get out of jail to talk to people. Jesus responds and says, "The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.” Jesus was a really wise dude. Sometimes I do stumble on what he says, but I love him for it, and deeply admire this trait of being able to give a completely truthful answer no matter who's around.
I can literally connect to these verses: Jesus is like the glasses I have to wear so I can see three feet in front of me; I have been cleansed of so many illnesses (thank goodness they weren't leprosy, and thank goodness I didn't live in Jesus' time because I would have hated to be alone & outside of the city); I have been deaf for much of my life & I can now hear; I have felt very poor (even though "poor" is an extremely relative term - ask me about it sometime) & I have seen God's provision. And...I'm really looking forward to walking again. Call me lame if you want, but I can't wait to get my butt back. Ha ha. Get it? Luckily I've never been raised from the dead. It would stinky.
: D Lighten UP people!
I also love love love those verses because I have been redeemed by this Messiah; there is such good news in Jesus. "Good news" seems like such a Christiany thing to say or hear, doesn't it? But when is the last time that you heard good news? For me, it was when I found out my little sister had bought her plane ticket home for Thanksgiving, and that she wasn't going to try to fly standby. So I'll actually get to see her. It was good news. Jesus' life, and his death are good news. Like hearing that your daughter broke her legs, but she isn't dead. Or maybe it's that your granddaughter has been born, or that your friend has been proposed to (or maybe you know when the proposing is going to happen). Maybe it's that you got that A you worked really hard for. Or...didn't work hard for. Maybe it's the job that you got, or the one that you can quit. Maybe it's that the cancer is in remission, or maybe it's that when the cancer patient dies, you know they are in heaven because they were in love with Jesus. For the guy that I met in the hospital the other day, it was that he and his wife were going to be able to live out their lives normally even though their motorcycle had flipped three times in the middle of a New York freeway.
Good news can be found throughout our lives. Jesus. Is good news.
So, all of the people who were all up in Jesus' grill overheard what he had said to John, and he starts asking them what they want. Not in a defensive or snarky way, but he's still trying to get them to see who he is. Trying to get them to see what their motives are. There is good news, right? They couldn't see it. Or hear it. Or smell it. Can you imagine?! The Messiah is standing inches away from them, and they just don't get it. (Sometimes I wonder if I would have been one of them. Too busy to change my lifestyle because it took me an hour everyday just to get water for my whole family, or too hot to really care & think about what Jesus was saying. I may have just left the posse because I had to pee.) You can see Jesus get frustrated with the very people that he has performed miracles in front of (their eyes had seen, their ears had heard, their noses could smell, but their hearts were hard); there is this major progression of emotions. Then, he says this:
At that time Jesus said, [see, told you.] “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this is what you were pleased to do. All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Can you believe he ends with this? In music terms, we call it a crescendo. Build, build, bui...wait, what? Jesus stops. Everything he's doing & saying. He just starts talking to his Father. He starts praising him unabashedly in front of everyone. He acknowledges the Sovereignty of his dad. This HUGE crescendo that doesn't make "sense": He invites the people in front of him in. He so longs to give them rest; he can see the sunken eyes (in my case, with the bags underneath), he can see into the hearts of the ones who are so busy or so fearful or so worried or so sad or so angry or so confused or so caught up in everything around them. And he says, "Come." "Rest." "Learn from me." "Be like me." "Come, see who I really am."
I trust God. Better in some moments than in others. It's hard. It's really, really hard. Mostly because I have trust issues. We all do. But, when I think about what has happened over the past two weeks (I can't believe it's been that long), I keep going back to trust. When I can trust, I can rest. When I can hand my baggage over to Jesus, I can rest. When I actually let go, I can rest. When I allow Jesus to lead, I can rest. Jesus truly is gentle and humble - it was engraved into his very nature, in his posture, and in the way that he lived & moved & breathed. Even when I think about hitting the ground of an indoor rock climbing gym, I think of a gentle Jesus. Truly, it was a gentle way of showing me that I need to rest well. (Among other things...but we'll come to those later, right? : ) My housemate used to say to me every night before I would go to bed, "Rest well, Catie."
Rest isn't just found in a nap. Rest is found deep down in our very being, in our souls, because we are or have been weary and burdened. But we can come to Him, even when it is humbling. I am trying to learn to be like this Jesus, caring about the things he cared about. Passionate about the things he was passionate about. Sad about the things he was sad about. Gentle with the things he was gentle with. Resting in his truth because he rested in His Father. The Truth.
Rest well, my friends. May you rest in Him.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Church.
Today is Sunday. Sunday is one of my favorite days (along with Friday, Saturday, and Wednesday) because you get to go to church to be encouraged by other people around you, serve others, learn more about the character of Jesus, and sing alongside of others. I love to sing. In case you didn't know.
Not going to church on Sunday morning is going to be a weird transition for me. Not being able to stand when invited is going to be weird for me. My mom came downstairs this morning, and I asked her what time she was going to be leaving (so I can time my potty breaks appropriately...), and she said, "You know, I thought we'd stay home this morning and have church with you." I seriously almost cried. I'm learning just how much of a people person I am. I am so relational, it's not even funny. Wanna make my day? Give me a hug, and hang out with me for a little while. I'm not that hard to win over. Hopefully, that's not pathetic. So we had church at home. I picked out a few songs on Grooveshark, and thought about what verses we could discuss. Church was supposed to start at 12, but some people weren't dressed yet & they take a long time. They were late. And the dogs in our service were being silly. We started at 12:30 instead.
My mom decided that I should pick a verse from my blog, and we would read it all together. She hasn't been reading it because (I think) it would probably be too emotional for her. (I can't imagine getting a call that your child has fallen from a wall; my dad tells his side of the story here: http://richardwollard.com/) I read 1 Peter 1:3-9 because it has been such an encouraging verse to me this week. Then she read Romans 5:3-5, which says, "Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."
I talked about how I get stuck at the perseverance part, and even though I want the character of Christ, I don't often want to do the work or experience the things it takes to get there. Because I can be pretty stinkin' selfish. Sometimes I wonder if I'm skipping from suffering to hope. It's tempting right? Who wants to endure the suffering part? And who wants to persevere? And do you know what the character of Christ is based on? Humility. Look at Philippians 2:3-8:
"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross"
Death on a cross was a big deal, then and now. He made himself nothing, and even though he was God, he didn't consider himself God's equal! I just think that's amazing; that's what we are called to. Humilty. Anyway, mom kept talking about the hope part, so I decided I was going to read the whole "Hope" entry from a couple of days ago.
It was hard to read.
There is something about reading something outloud to people that really brings an element of vulnerability and truth. It really rang true. Every single day I feel so much hope, and I can't get over it! What better thing to celebrate at church? We have so much hope in Jesus. Then we sang one of my favorite songs, "Hosanna" by Brooke Fraser (search her name on Grooveshark if you've never heard it) and ended our service.
It was a great way to focus the day, and I felt so encouraged. It's cool to be able to worship God anywhere and anytime. We worship God in so many ways too: taking a breath is an act of worship in itself. Giving God credit for it is music to his ears. I'm also so thankful to still be able to serve God by sharing what he's teaching me. He totally knows what he's doing, and I'm thankful for that too.
Afterward, we left the house for an excursion to the store. I got to wheel around the entire place - it was so much fun! I had my legs propped up with two blankets and a pillow, was covered with a bright red blanket, had my wheelchair gloves on, and a huge smile on my face. People stared at me like I was from outer-space.
This was both humbling and funny to me. It was humbling because I think that I stare at people who are in wheelchairs too (much less someone who looked as dorky as I did), but I've never received the other end of the staring. It was funny because I just started waving at people, and they started to wave back and smile. I like to make people smile.
One guy just had to ask me what I had done. So I told him. I fell off a rock climbing wall. And do you know what he said to me? "And the moral of the story iiiiis?" I just wanted to be like, "Don't talk to mean strangers in the store when you're riding in a wheelchair because you have two broken legs, you punk." Instead I just smiled and tried to laugh. I can't even tell you how tempting it is to say something like, "I ran into a burning building and saved three children. On my way out the building collapsed and I broke both of my legs", or "I work for CIA, if I tell you, I'll have to kill you." Those explanations sound so much cooler.
But I had to go and fall off of a stupid wall. It's humbling, I tell you, very, very humbling. But that's what we're called to, right? Humility. I'm glad I didn't say anything snarky to that guy, and I won't lie about what actually happened, but it's hard. I mean, what if I did work for the CIA? ; )
Not going to church on Sunday morning is going to be a weird transition for me. Not being able to stand when invited is going to be weird for me. My mom came downstairs this morning, and I asked her what time she was going to be leaving (so I can time my potty breaks appropriately...), and she said, "You know, I thought we'd stay home this morning and have church with you." I seriously almost cried. I'm learning just how much of a people person I am. I am so relational, it's not even funny. Wanna make my day? Give me a hug, and hang out with me for a little while. I'm not that hard to win over. Hopefully, that's not pathetic. So we had church at home. I picked out a few songs on Grooveshark, and thought about what verses we could discuss. Church was supposed to start at 12, but some people weren't dressed yet & they take a long time. They were late. And the dogs in our service were being silly. We started at 12:30 instead.
My mom decided that I should pick a verse from my blog, and we would read it all together. She hasn't been reading it because (I think) it would probably be too emotional for her. (I can't imagine getting a call that your child has fallen from a wall; my dad tells his side of the story here: http://richardwollard.com/) I read 1 Peter 1:3-9 because it has been such an encouraging verse to me this week. Then she read Romans 5:3-5, which says, "Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."
I talked about how I get stuck at the perseverance part, and even though I want the character of Christ, I don't often want to do the work or experience the things it takes to get there. Because I can be pretty stinkin' selfish. Sometimes I wonder if I'm skipping from suffering to hope. It's tempting right? Who wants to endure the suffering part? And who wants to persevere? And do you know what the character of Christ is based on? Humility. Look at Philippians 2:3-8:
"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross"
Death on a cross was a big deal, then and now. He made himself nothing, and even though he was God, he didn't consider himself God's equal! I just think that's amazing; that's what we are called to. Humilty. Anyway, mom kept talking about the hope part, so I decided I was going to read the whole "Hope" entry from a couple of days ago.
It was hard to read.
There is something about reading something outloud to people that really brings an element of vulnerability and truth. It really rang true. Every single day I feel so much hope, and I can't get over it! What better thing to celebrate at church? We have so much hope in Jesus. Then we sang one of my favorite songs, "Hosanna" by Brooke Fraser (search her name on Grooveshark if you've never heard it) and ended our service.
It was a great way to focus the day, and I felt so encouraged. It's cool to be able to worship God anywhere and anytime. We worship God in so many ways too: taking a breath is an act of worship in itself. Giving God credit for it is music to his ears. I'm also so thankful to still be able to serve God by sharing what he's teaching me. He totally knows what he's doing, and I'm thankful for that too.
Afterward, we left the house for an excursion to the store. I got to wheel around the entire place - it was so much fun! I had my legs propped up with two blankets and a pillow, was covered with a bright red blanket, had my wheelchair gloves on, and a huge smile on my face. People stared at me like I was from outer-space.
This was both humbling and funny to me. It was humbling because I think that I stare at people who are in wheelchairs too (much less someone who looked as dorky as I did), but I've never received the other end of the staring. It was funny because I just started waving at people, and they started to wave back and smile. I like to make people smile.
One guy just had to ask me what I had done. So I told him. I fell off a rock climbing wall. And do you know what he said to me? "And the moral of the story iiiiis?" I just wanted to be like, "Don't talk to mean strangers in the store when you're riding in a wheelchair because you have two broken legs, you punk." Instead I just smiled and tried to laugh. I can't even tell you how tempting it is to say something like, "I ran into a burning building and saved three children. On my way out the building collapsed and I broke both of my legs", or "I work for CIA, if I tell you, I'll have to kill you." Those explanations sound so much cooler.
But I had to go and fall off of a stupid wall. It's humbling, I tell you, very, very humbling. But that's what we're called to, right? Humility. I'm glad I didn't say anything snarky to that guy, and I won't lie about what actually happened, but it's hard. I mean, what if I did work for the CIA? ; )
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Naked.
Yesterday was a phenominal day. My parents are seriously the most amazing people I have ever known - you should have seen the way that they worked so hard on building a ramp for me the night before my appointment. I kept hearing the drill over and over and over again, and I just started laughing. It's a looooong ramp. Kind of scary actually because the momentum really gets going on it, and I have to wear gloves so I don't get wheelchair burns. Ha ha, seriously! Oh man. Wheelchair burns. My dad ended up having to pull me down because I was holding onto the rims so tight. I mean, I was going backwards, couldn't see where I was going, and I was going fast. Talk about trust. But that's another entry...
They hoisted me into the car, my arms over each of their necks. They are almost fifty, and they're lifting their 23-year-old daughter into a van. I just laughed and said, "Thought you were done with this when I was three, didn't you?" God works in really funny ways, I must say. He definitely has a sense of humor. I think it's important that we should have one too. : ) (And, I can't even tell you how hard I have to work to not put smiley faces after everything I say when I'm blogging. Ugh. I love my colon and parenthesis.)
Anyway, we tackled the feat of me getting in the car, and only had to go back into the house three times for things I had forgotten. Then we were off! And, suprisingly, we were on time for my appointment. We made our way in, (it was kind of fun to ride in the wheelchair...when someone else is pushing you. Especially when that someone is your dad, who likes to go really fast, and also sees riding in a wheelchair as a fun thing.) The nurse who called me in was nice, but she didn't seem to know where I was supposed to go. I get worried about that kind of thing, I don't know why, but she kept saying that I was going to "casting" where they put on your casts, and we kept saying, "But we're here for x-ray." We just went with her chart. Turns out that I was going to casting first so they could take off my casts. She cut away my ace bandages (here's me, "Wait! We could have re-used those!), and then started to pry the plaster of paris off of my legs. I felt so naked. The moment I saw blood I closed my eyes. I told you I wasn't going to look. And I didn't. I made it through the whole day without seeing my legs somehow.
I had to have extra pillows put underneath my legs because the muscles were quivering. After two weeks! My legs have weakened so much. That was kind of scary. Anyway, the lady finished pulling the stuff that was stuck to my legs off, slipped some really soft socks over them, and I was on my way to x-ray. I got there and the technicians didn't realize how honkin' huge my plates were, so we had to re-take pictures of my right leg. Nothing like a little exposure to some yummy x-rays. I hid behind the little "sit-upon" mat they give you to protect your body like I was being shot at. You should have seen me going into the CT scans a couple of weeks ago...I was fiercely praying that I wouldn't get cancer. I have this fear of cancer...also another entry.
Removal of casts? Check. X-Rays? Check. Feeling pretty darn vulnerable as they are wheeling me from place to place, bump over bump with NOTHING to protect my legs? Check. Next we move onto the removal of the stitches. I won't go into it, but the cast lady said I did a good job. She said most people cry and scream - I couldn't feel it too badly. I believe it was one of those ways that God intervened because he knows how much I can handle. I had a baby C-section skirt in my lap to hold over my eyes while my parents ooooed & awwwed. My mom looked pretty grossed out in the beginning, but she grew used to it. My dad took pictures the whole time, and shows them to everyone that comes over. If you have a weak stomach and come to visit, be prepared. Speak up. Don't be embarrassed because I haven't seen them yet either.
The doctor came in after the cast lady had scrubbed my legs clean (ow), and reiterated the fact that he surpassed his own expectations (another way that God had clearly worked) - everything looked great. The spill I had taken when I first got home hadn't ruined any of his masterpiece(s). He wants to see me again (oo-la-la) in five weeks. The right leg goes in a boot (which is amazing because I broke two giant bones), and has therapy coming its way. The left leg stays in the cast, and CANNOT be touched, prodded, jiggled too hard, manhandled, or dropped. I'm not allowed to put any weight on it, whatsoever, and he gave me a mean look when I asked him about moving from my commode to the bed & putting pressure on my heels. No. No weight. Whatsoever. Whoops.
So yeah. My legs were recasted after that (with the assistance of my dad), and I was on my way! After some bullying of my ankles, of course. She had to push them back into a flat-footed position because when they were naked, they would droop. Ha ha. Seriously! They fell over, and I couldn't control it. I think it's because they were ashamed of their nakedness.
I picked black. That seemed to be the vote on Facebook, but this guy walked out and had black, and it looked sharp. I asked the lady if she would do zebra, and she said she would. She actually suggested candy cane. Ha ha. I'm not that adventurous. Yet. Muah ha ha ha. I should have asked her if she could have made a face on it with all the different colors. Or a landscape. I think what I might do next time is get glow-in the dark white, and commission someone to paint a landscape all over it.
The casts are a lot lighter than the original ones, so I can lift my legs a lot easier which is good. They feel so safe and snug in their new little homes. They did not like being naked. I have not felt that vulnerable in public for a long time. I was freakin' out! "Don't let anyone bump into my legs! Dad! Get up there and block anyone from getting too close! Mom, you were really close to that wall, are you watching where you are going?" I was a wreck. Feeling naked in public is not a fun feeling, but I'm so thankful that I had people around me to protect me. I felt like a baby elephant in the middle of all the momma and daddy elephants.
It make me wonder about Eden, and how it must have felt to be naked all of the time. Like, they didn't even realize it, but that's so incomprehensible to me. I'm just so glad that no poopy snakes came out to attack me in the middle of Froedtert Hospital. And that there were no fruit trees in the lobby. Seriously though, I know the fall has already happened, but feeling that naked helped me to relate to how Adam and Eve must have felt when they first realized that they were naked. I'm sure they were freaking out! Maybe yelling at each other or crying or feeling completely out of control. And, I'm so glad that God has so much compassion on his kids...that he knows what we need, even beyond what we know & can see. He reached out to them first, made them clothes, and told him that he still loved them. I'm so glad!
They hoisted me into the car, my arms over each of their necks. They are almost fifty, and they're lifting their 23-year-old daughter into a van. I just laughed and said, "Thought you were done with this when I was three, didn't you?" God works in really funny ways, I must say. He definitely has a sense of humor. I think it's important that we should have one too. : ) (And, I can't even tell you how hard I have to work to not put smiley faces after everything I say when I'm blogging. Ugh. I love my colon and parenthesis.)
Anyway, we tackled the feat of me getting in the car, and only had to go back into the house three times for things I had forgotten. Then we were off! And, suprisingly, we were on time for my appointment. We made our way in, (it was kind of fun to ride in the wheelchair...when someone else is pushing you. Especially when that someone is your dad, who likes to go really fast, and also sees riding in a wheelchair as a fun thing.) The nurse who called me in was nice, but she didn't seem to know where I was supposed to go. I get worried about that kind of thing, I don't know why, but she kept saying that I was going to "casting" where they put on your casts, and we kept saying, "But we're here for x-ray." We just went with her chart. Turns out that I was going to casting first so they could take off my casts. She cut away my ace bandages (here's me, "Wait! We could have re-used those!), and then started to pry the plaster of paris off of my legs. I felt so naked. The moment I saw blood I closed my eyes. I told you I wasn't going to look. And I didn't. I made it through the whole day without seeing my legs somehow.
I had to have extra pillows put underneath my legs because the muscles were quivering. After two weeks! My legs have weakened so much. That was kind of scary. Anyway, the lady finished pulling the stuff that was stuck to my legs off, slipped some really soft socks over them, and I was on my way to x-ray. I got there and the technicians didn't realize how honkin' huge my plates were, so we had to re-take pictures of my right leg. Nothing like a little exposure to some yummy x-rays. I hid behind the little "sit-upon" mat they give you to protect your body like I was being shot at. You should have seen me going into the CT scans a couple of weeks ago...I was fiercely praying that I wouldn't get cancer. I have this fear of cancer...also another entry.
Removal of casts? Check. X-Rays? Check. Feeling pretty darn vulnerable as they are wheeling me from place to place, bump over bump with NOTHING to protect my legs? Check. Next we move onto the removal of the stitches. I won't go into it, but the cast lady said I did a good job. She said most people cry and scream - I couldn't feel it too badly. I believe it was one of those ways that God intervened because he knows how much I can handle. I had a baby C-section skirt in my lap to hold over my eyes while my parents ooooed & awwwed. My mom looked pretty grossed out in the beginning, but she grew used to it. My dad took pictures the whole time, and shows them to everyone that comes over. If you have a weak stomach and come to visit, be prepared. Speak up. Don't be embarrassed because I haven't seen them yet either.
The doctor came in after the cast lady had scrubbed my legs clean (ow), and reiterated the fact that he surpassed his own expectations (another way that God had clearly worked) - everything looked great. The spill I had taken when I first got home hadn't ruined any of his masterpiece(s). He wants to see me again (oo-la-la) in five weeks. The right leg goes in a boot (which is amazing because I broke two giant bones), and has therapy coming its way. The left leg stays in the cast, and CANNOT be touched, prodded, jiggled too hard, manhandled, or dropped. I'm not allowed to put any weight on it, whatsoever, and he gave me a mean look when I asked him about moving from my commode to the bed & putting pressure on my heels. No. No weight. Whatsoever. Whoops.
So yeah. My legs were recasted after that (with the assistance of my dad), and I was on my way! After some bullying of my ankles, of course. She had to push them back into a flat-footed position because when they were naked, they would droop. Ha ha. Seriously! They fell over, and I couldn't control it. I think it's because they were ashamed of their nakedness.
I picked black. That seemed to be the vote on Facebook, but this guy walked out and had black, and it looked sharp. I asked the lady if she would do zebra, and she said she would. She actually suggested candy cane. Ha ha. I'm not that adventurous. Yet. Muah ha ha ha. I should have asked her if she could have made a face on it with all the different colors. Or a landscape. I think what I might do next time is get glow-in the dark white, and commission someone to paint a landscape all over it.
The casts are a lot lighter than the original ones, so I can lift my legs a lot easier which is good. They feel so safe and snug in their new little homes. They did not like being naked. I have not felt that vulnerable in public for a long time. I was freakin' out! "Don't let anyone bump into my legs! Dad! Get up there and block anyone from getting too close! Mom, you were really close to that wall, are you watching where you are going?" I was a wreck. Feeling naked in public is not a fun feeling, but I'm so thankful that I had people around me to protect me. I felt like a baby elephant in the middle of all the momma and daddy elephants.
It make me wonder about Eden, and how it must have felt to be naked all of the time. Like, they didn't even realize it, but that's so incomprehensible to me. I'm just so glad that no poopy snakes came out to attack me in the middle of Froedtert Hospital. And that there were no fruit trees in the lobby. Seriously though, I know the fall has already happened, but feeling that naked helped me to relate to how Adam and Eve must have felt when they first realized that they were naked. I'm sure they were freaking out! Maybe yelling at each other or crying or feeling completely out of control. And, I'm so glad that God has so much compassion on his kids...that he knows what we need, even beyond what we know & can see. He reached out to them first, made them clothes, and told him that he still loved them. I'm so glad!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Hope.
Tomorrow is my first doctor's appointment since I left the hospital. I was supposed to be there for two weeks, but ended up leaving after five days. It's the super-human strength I possess. Ha ha. Yeah right. It's because the surgeon decided to pack two surgeries into one. And my parents are amazing. The funniest part is that he actually said to us, "I wasn't very hopeful about the surgery, but I am really surprised at how well it went. I'm really proud of our work." Freeeeeeakyyyyyy. So technically I would have been leaving the hospital tomorrow, but I am actually re-entering it. Funny, huh. I am so thankful for this doctor though; he has this doctory way about him, but he's really funny at the same time. Like in a dad-humor kind of way.
He gave me great hope when he said that he was proud of his work. He wasn't hopeful in the beginning, but then in the end it worked out just fine. They are still unsure about my left foot, the one I broke my talus bone in. (See Talus here: http://orthoinfo.aaos.org/topic.cfm?topic=A00170) I found this wonderful website last week after googling "talus bone". A fractured talus bone means, "your foot function will be impaired, you will develop arthritis and chronic pain, and the bone may collapse."..."If the blood supply is disrupted, the bone tissue could die, a condition called avascular necrosis or osteonecrosis. This could cause the bone to collapse. Even if the bones heal properly, you may still experience arthritis in later years. Most of the talus is covered with articular cartilage, which enables bones to move smoothly against each other. If the cartilage is damaged, the bones will rub against each other, resulting in pain and stiffness." Sometimes ignorance is bliss. And this stuff may happen, not will happen. But still.
Now, the doctor said that he had to remove a lot of "giblets" from my foot - that's orthopaedic surgeon terms for excess bone and cartilage. My talus bone being fractured was a really big deal - it has four screws in it (left foot), and my right leg has 18, but they are more concerned about the left foot. Even if the bones heal properly, I may experience arthritis in later years.
"Where is the hope in that?", you may wonder, but I'm just going to get straight to the point.
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls. -1 Peter 1:3-9
Can you believe that these words are actually in the Bible? I mean, think about it. The Bible is at least two thousand years old. Peter, the author, wrote these things down - a completely different person from a completely different time period. And yet it's completely and totally applicable to my life. And to your life. This is what I love most about being a Christ-follower...the food of God is so filling. I used to get so confused by the Bible, but sticking with it for 13 years has been a blessing. We're becoming good, good friends.
For some of you, these verses may be kind of intense. Fire, salvation of your souls, new birth, resurrection...there are a lot of heavy things in these verses, but for those of you who haven't ever committed your lives to following this man, Jesus, I want you to ponder this: "Though we have not seen him, we can love him, believe in him, and be filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy."
I feel so much hope because I love Jesus. I've given my life to him, my future to him, my relationship status on Facebook to him, my family to him, my time to him, my things to him, my gifts to him, my failures to him: everything. I'm constantly surrendering everything to him. And he takes it all, and gives me love. Grace. Mercy. Wisdom. Guidance. Patience. Peace. Kindness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Love.
Tomorrow is going to be a really, really rough day, and I'm probably going to cry a lot. I don't like hearing that I'm going to be in pain for what will probably the rest of my life. I want to play frisbee again, and go rock climbing again, and to be able to take my grandchildren for long walks to the park. The continual sinking in of not being able to walk for three months is really hard for me. I say this not so that you will feel bad for me, but so that you know that at the exact same time, I feel an inexpressible and glorious joy. And it's NOT because I'm a strong person, or because I'm good at heart, or I've been a good person in my life, but because I am being filled. The Bible says that this hope is alive, like, it has a heart-beat and everything. Though we may suffer, we can still rejoice; I pray that you find much hope in that, and that it causes you to truly think about why you are living your life. Because, as I've said before, following Jesus wherever he leads is scary, hard, and sometimes painful, but it is so WORTH IT! To be filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy is...well..inexpressible.
Thank you, Abba, for hope. The hope that we have in you. To You be the praise, honor, and glory.
He gave me great hope when he said that he was proud of his work. He wasn't hopeful in the beginning, but then in the end it worked out just fine. They are still unsure about my left foot, the one I broke my talus bone in. (See Talus here: http://orthoinfo.aaos.org/topic.cfm?topic=A00170) I found this wonderful website last week after googling "talus bone". A fractured talus bone means, "your foot function will be impaired, you will develop arthritis and chronic pain, and the bone may collapse."..."If the blood supply is disrupted, the bone tissue could die, a condition called avascular necrosis or osteonecrosis. This could cause the bone to collapse. Even if the bones heal properly, you may still experience arthritis in later years. Most of the talus is covered with articular cartilage, which enables bones to move smoothly against each other. If the cartilage is damaged, the bones will rub against each other, resulting in pain and stiffness." Sometimes ignorance is bliss. And this stuff may happen, not will happen. But still.
Now, the doctor said that he had to remove a lot of "giblets" from my foot - that's orthopaedic surgeon terms for excess bone and cartilage. My talus bone being fractured was a really big deal - it has four screws in it (left foot), and my right leg has 18, but they are more concerned about the left foot. Even if the bones heal properly, I may experience arthritis in later years.
"Where is the hope in that?", you may wonder, but I'm just going to get straight to the point.
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls. -1 Peter 1:3-9
Can you believe that these words are actually in the Bible? I mean, think about it. The Bible is at least two thousand years old. Peter, the author, wrote these things down - a completely different person from a completely different time period. And yet it's completely and totally applicable to my life. And to your life. This is what I love most about being a Christ-follower...the food of God is so filling. I used to get so confused by the Bible, but sticking with it for 13 years has been a blessing. We're becoming good, good friends.
For some of you, these verses may be kind of intense. Fire, salvation of your souls, new birth, resurrection...there are a lot of heavy things in these verses, but for those of you who haven't ever committed your lives to following this man, Jesus, I want you to ponder this: "Though we have not seen him, we can love him, believe in him, and be filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy."
I feel so much hope because I love Jesus. I've given my life to him, my future to him, my relationship status on Facebook to him, my family to him, my time to him, my things to him, my gifts to him, my failures to him: everything. I'm constantly surrendering everything to him. And he takes it all, and gives me love. Grace. Mercy. Wisdom. Guidance. Patience. Peace. Kindness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Love.
Tomorrow is going to be a really, really rough day, and I'm probably going to cry a lot. I don't like hearing that I'm going to be in pain for what will probably the rest of my life. I want to play frisbee again, and go rock climbing again, and to be able to take my grandchildren for long walks to the park. The continual sinking in of not being able to walk for three months is really hard for me. I say this not so that you will feel bad for me, but so that you know that at the exact same time, I feel an inexpressible and glorious joy. And it's NOT because I'm a strong person, or because I'm good at heart, or I've been a good person in my life, but because I am being filled. The Bible says that this hope is alive, like, it has a heart-beat and everything. Though we may suffer, we can still rejoice; I pray that you find much hope in that, and that it causes you to truly think about why you are living your life. Because, as I've said before, following Jesus wherever he leads is scary, hard, and sometimes painful, but it is so WORTH IT! To be filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy is...well..inexpressible.
Thank you, Abba, for hope. The hope that we have in you. To You be the praise, honor, and glory.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Fear.
My parents recently adopted two Springer Spaniels last fall. They are beautiful dogs, and after our Beagle died three years ago, my whole family was itching for new members. I think it was an attempt to ease the pain of a move that my sisters would have to endure, and it worked a little. Plus, my parents have something to keep them busy once the twins move out of the house in a couple of years. That's my thought anyway. But they seriously are like my parents new children.
The sad part is that they were abused as puppies, and our guess is that they were puppy mill dogs. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puppy_mill) They are originally from Missouri (found frollicking around in the wild), and a friend of mine was fostering them when my mom ran into her at the grocery store. One thing led to another, and I came home from school to find these two adopted puppies in our house. My sisters named them Avery and Louise - one is black, and one is brown.
Because they weren't trained (or taken care of for that matter) at a young age, they have a lot of...well, issues. Specifically with submission - Louise's response to fear & submission is just to pee. If you go up to her without her coming to you first, she'll pee immediately. Avery on the other hand, she bites. She's so afraid of people that she will (try to) bite them in complete and utter fear. This is a huge issue in our household right now because we love her, we don't want them to be separated, we thought we could train her not to bite, but we can't have a biting dog in our house. I'm so sad because I've just fallen in love with her - she's such a cool dog once she's relaxed, and she feels safe.
Tonight, she lunged at someone that was dropping off dinner, and that was the "last straw" for my mom. She loves having people over, and she has a huge heart for serving others - it's too much of a burden for her to carry all of the time. My dad immediately corrected her behavior, and she laid down in her bed. If dogs could cry, she would have been crying. You could tell in her posture that she was ashamed; the way that she was hiding under a footrest showed that she knew she had done something wrong. My parents have no idea what to do because training is really, really expensive - about the same as my bedside toilet that I need to survive, but the insurance company disagrees. Pray for us because we don't know what to do next.
I think that sometimes I respond the same way as Avery. For example, I am really fearful of what my legs look like underneath my casts. I haven't seen my legs since before I fell off of the rock climbing wall - I wouldn't look at them the entire night or morning. When people told me I should, I just geeked out, and was like, "No! I'm not looking at them. Are you serious!?" Now I'm afraid to look at them because they're all cut up. Pretty soon they will atrophy and I won't even have any leggies left. Now, I'm not discouraged by any of this; I think it's funny. I'm going to have legs the size of baseball bats! Come on, that's funny. But I will NOT look at them until I absolutely have to, and I get snappy when pushed.
Seriously though, I am especially afraid of what the future holds, especially concerning my career. I've been struggling for quite some time with what I'm "supposed to be doing", and I still am afraid of what I should do next.
Like my beautiful dog, I sometimes get defensive when people ask me what I'm doing these days. I have no reason to, but I just put up this distant front, and answer very minimally, sort of sharking around the question. I think I've hurt quite a few people's feelings in the last year - people who have been praying for me, and wishing the best for me...they honestly want to know how I'm doing. I just feel like I've failed in so many ways. Because I have. Failure is a part of life, but failure makes me deeply, deeply afraid. It is one of the great fears in my life. I don't like admitting that to people.
Fear of failure is also very stupid because it's a fact of life. I need to just learn from my failure, and not run and hide under the footrest and cry. But that's what I do. When I fail, I beat myself up and I talk myself down, and I run in circles which perpetuates more failure and negative thinking.
Philippians 4:12-13 says, "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”
This is a verse that is quoted quite often, right? "I can do everything through him who gives me strength." When I first started going to church, and heard this verse, I thought, "Whoa. I could do anything." In 11-year-old terms, I think I went immediately to flying or jumping from a cliff or eating more candy that any human ever has...stuff that is selfishly based, and would "test" whether or not God was real. (And I think I'm still tempted to do that. Just to clarify though, I did not fall off of a rock climbing wall to test God... : )
I think what Paul is really talking about is the verse right before that - "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want..." When we make choices, life happens. Our choice is ours alone - we should aim to please God & serve him, worship him, love him, and strive to live like him.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Honest.
So many people have been saying to me, "Make sure you take time to be honest with yourself. Don't hold all of those feelings inside. They will resurface later." I so appreciate people reminding me of this; I'm not quite sure how to check myself on this, but I don't think I'm holding anything inside. I'm pretty sure that this post will demonstrate that in about...45 seconds. I had a good cry yesterday afternoon - I have felt incredibly humbled by several things that have happened in my life that I will never forget & I pray that in time they will teach me to be more compassionate and patient with others. Yesterday was an all-around rough day. Even though it was my sisters' birthday, I just felt different. I view this accident as a blessing to my life; I was so thankful to be home with the twins & watch them open their gifts! But, yesterday was the first day that I was genuinely sad. Here's why:
I went off of one dose of Morphine in the morning (which wasn't noticable at all, thank the Lord), but took all three of my stool softeners. I pooped, which is the job of the S.S. (sorry for you who don't like bodily functions), and it was the biggest poop of my entire life. Hands down. Thee. Biggest. My mom, dad, and I laughed about it for like five minutes. Mom wouldn't let me take a picture. (Sorry for you who really do like bodily functions.)
Then, an hour later, they had to leave to go run some errands. It was totally fine when they left - I felt so good about life. I had my computer, my books, and my water. I was set.
Then it happened. They had been gone a while, when I had to poop again. The S.S. had done their job, and my body was no longer in control. (I've been praying for this for days, right?!) I fumbled with my phone, trying to text my dad & tell them to come home. It seriously took me a minute because I couldn't figure out how to spell diarreah (freakin' double r's). He texted me right back saying that my mom was in the store; she was checking out, and they would soon be home. I felt just a glimmer of hope, like, "Okay. False alarm. I'm still going to be comfortable. He called every four minutes to give me their stats. I have an amazing dad.
But then, it hit me again, harder than before. I just laid there screaming this time at God, "NO! NO! GOD! You know I can't handle this right now! Please do not humble me in this way! God, please! No!" I don't even remember how many times I said no to him. Just sobbing and screaming at him. I spent who knows how long this way, and then realized that I wasn't going to be able to wait until my parents got home. Luckily there was a gift bag filled with art supplies, and I quickly dumped it out & used it as you would a mattress for a baby's changing table.
I won't describe anything else to you because it's really graphic, but I haven't cried that hard in a long time. I just sat there in agony and shame. The only two times I've broken down in this whole ordeal were yesterday, and in the hospital when I had to have an Enema. I didn't even know what an Enema was.
I can't believe I'm telling you this story. I told the girls & Alaina not to tell anyone, and here I am, BLOGGING about pooping in my bed. But, as I've often said, this is God's story, and he uses even the grossest of things. I know that some things are personal, and there are things I haven't talked about & won't, but there is a spiritual connection, so stick with me, okay?
I got to thinking in between sobs that I don't get that upset over things in life that really, truly matter. Like, when was the last time that I truly weeped and cried out to God about the poverty that I've seen in my city, or the fact that every 11 seconds someone dies of AIDS, or that up to 3 million people in the world (mostly children) are going to die of Malaria* this year alone? Why can't I sob over things like that? So then I started sobbing some more about things like that. It turned into, "I'm sorry God! I'm so so sorry! I'm sorry that I don't get upset over things that matter!"
Cited:
http://www.wrongdiagnosis.com/artic/malaria_niaid_fact_sheet_niaid.htm
I went off of one dose of Morphine in the morning (which wasn't noticable at all, thank the Lord), but took all three of my stool softeners. I pooped, which is the job of the S.S. (sorry for you who don't like bodily functions), and it was the biggest poop of my entire life. Hands down. Thee. Biggest. My mom, dad, and I laughed about it for like five minutes. Mom wouldn't let me take a picture. (Sorry for you who really do like bodily functions.)
Then, an hour later, they had to leave to go run some errands. It was totally fine when they left - I felt so good about life. I had my computer, my books, and my water. I was set.
Then it happened. They had been gone a while, when I had to poop again. The S.S. had done their job, and my body was no longer in control. (I've been praying for this for days, right?!) I fumbled with my phone, trying to text my dad & tell them to come home. It seriously took me a minute because I couldn't figure out how to spell diarreah (freakin' double r's). He texted me right back saying that my mom was in the store; she was checking out, and they would soon be home. I felt just a glimmer of hope, like, "Okay. False alarm. I'm still going to be comfortable. He called every four minutes to give me their stats. I have an amazing dad.
But then, it hit me again, harder than before. I just laid there screaming this time at God, "NO! NO! GOD! You know I can't handle this right now! Please do not humble me in this way! God, please! No!" I don't even remember how many times I said no to him. Just sobbing and screaming at him. I spent who knows how long this way, and then realized that I wasn't going to be able to wait until my parents got home. Luckily there was a gift bag filled with art supplies, and I quickly dumped it out & used it as you would a mattress for a baby's changing table.
I won't describe anything else to you because it's really graphic, but I haven't cried that hard in a long time. I just sat there in agony and shame. The only two times I've broken down in this whole ordeal were yesterday, and in the hospital when I had to have an Enema. I didn't even know what an Enema was.
I can't believe I'm telling you this story. I told the girls & Alaina not to tell anyone, and here I am, BLOGGING about pooping in my bed. But, as I've often said, this is God's story, and he uses even the grossest of things. I know that some things are personal, and there are things I haven't talked about & won't, but there is a spiritual connection, so stick with me, okay?
I got to thinking in between sobs that I don't get that upset over things in life that really, truly matter. Like, when was the last time that I truly weeped and cried out to God about the poverty that I've seen in my city, or the fact that every 11 seconds someone dies of AIDS, or that up to 3 million people in the world (mostly children) are going to die of Malaria* this year alone? Why can't I sob over things like that? So then I started sobbing some more about things like that. It turned into, "I'm sorry God! I'm so so sorry! I'm sorry that I don't get upset over things that matter!"
Psalm 77:1 says, "I cried out to God for help. I cried out to God to hear me." David, the author of this verse, is going through an incredibly personal, intense, agonizing journey, (and it's out for everyone to read). I have often resonated with David throughout my life, but yesterday, I knew exactly what he meant.
I've already blogged about humility & suffering, and this was definitely both, but tonight I want to be honest. The tears of shame that spilled onto my shirt turned to tears of repentance for not being more expressive about my sadness about the injustices in the world. The things that make God want to puke - the things that make him sob uncontrollably. I have prayed in the last months that God would allow me to feel the way he feels, and yesterday, he was honest with me. He allowed me to taste a tiny, tiny bit of the sorrow that he feels everyday towards his people; the people who wander aimlessly, desperately searching for something more. The Bible talks about this as blindness sometimes, and as blind people might search, scraping their knees & bumping into poles & enduring taunting from others around them, feeling their way in the dark; God feels such compassion towards them. He feels compassion towards me. And I'm so glad that I have found him, and He has found me. I can run into his arms, with the freedom of Christ, with sheer abandonment & with shameless, honest love.
Cited:
http://www.wrongdiagnosis.com/artic/malaria_niaid_fact_sheet_niaid.htm
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