Plan.

Today is Saturday.  Saturday is a good day, isn't it?  Every day is a good day, I hope that you know I'm just kidding around, but Saturday is the cushiony day where you can sometimes sleep in or be as busy as you want.  It's your call.  When I was a youngun I looked forward to Disney's One Saturday Morning.  PepperAnn was some cool stuff.  And Recess.  Oh Recess.  My family has this tradition where we always make a big breakfast.  And by "we" I mean my parents.  Ha ha.  This morning I had the honor of test-driving some pretty radical gluten-free pancakes.  Be jealous.  Then, the day is usually jam-packed...time with friends, ultimate frisbee, kids at games & concerts & IMEA & practices & at friends houses & babysitting, yardwork, or maybe work work.  I love going to the farmer's market on Saturdays, and taking long walks, even if it's in the snow.  The dogs I live with like Saturdays because it means a guaranteed trip to "Bark Park", a six (or so) acre strech of grassy goodness to frollick and spring upon.  They're Springers, in case you didn't know.  They like to spring.  Today was kind of nippy, or so the cool coming from my window tells me, so I really have no idea what might have happened on this day because I still think that it's fall outside, when I really hear that winter is fast approaching.  No ultimate frisbee, I assume.

To make the variable even greater, the night falls now at like, 4:00pm.  It seriously starts getting dark then, if you didn't know.  I contemplate every evening why we still practice Daylight Savings Time.  Why?  Once it gets dark, I always think about what people around the world are doing right now.  It's this funny thing I do all the time.  I started doing it when my dad came home from Malaysia some fifteen years ago, and talked about how people half-way around the world are "sleeping right now."  Technically, half of the world is asleep at any given moment.  Some people are resting this evening in Illinois.  And Wiscosin.  Most members of my household are already asleep!  It's ten Post Meridien people!  Others in my household are watching movies.  (Personally, I think Netflix stinks.)  Still others are out and about, hopping from place to place.  Flights back to Dallas, babysitting, Irish Dancing, finishing up presentations, or dumping my pee in the "real toilet" (for you, Dad.) 

Saturdays are good days, but they sometimes hold unexpected things.  There isn't always a routine for Saturdays, like there might be during the week.  For some people, they like routine, and Saturdays might hold one for them.  Me, I'm pretty flexible.  Let me just say that I've cried and cried in my lifetime about not being enough of a planner, but flexibility really comes in handy when both of your crurals are out of order.  (Look crural up.  It's good word.)  Plans are always changing and evolving, especially in my family.  I think it's just the nature of a family of six.  Seven or eight depending on the day.  Six peoples schedules are all trying to smush together at one time, and it just gets nuts.  Luckily, one persons schedule is out of order, but the other five are still INSANE.  Only one uses Google Calendar.  And this one is convinced that it will solve all of our scheduley problems.  But no one else believes this person.  Poor person.  They are so singled out.

The plans for today went differently than I had imagined in my head.  I pictured: wake up early, have breakfast, visit with friends, have lunch with aunt from Dallas and my peeps, aka chill with family, go to cool performance with sibling and woman who gave birth to me, come home, go to church, read, watch a movie, blog, go to bed.  It didn't quite happen that way though.  The morning ran a little later than I had anticipated which made me nervous, and I ended up having to stay home for the evening because of timing and traffic and the inability to get into a car.  I can't read these days because I'm so tired all the time, and I fell asleep, which I hate because I wake up, and I'm like Oscar the puffy-faced Grouch for the rest of the night and no one wants to be by me.  And, I always go to bed way later than I want to. 

I have a secret: I'm really a planner.  Yikes.  I don't like it when accidents happen.  I don't like falling asleep when I don't want to, or missing out on time with people or God.  As much as I don't want to admit it, I don't think I am as flexible as I think I am.  I'm not as against-the-current as I imagine myself being.  Weird, huh.  I want to be different; this is a desire that many, many people have, but when you look at "people" in general, it's hard to be different.  We're all people.  And we all want to be different. 

To continue with my "lessons from a movie" streak, I have a hybrid tonight.  I watched "October Sky" this evening, and I watched "Elizabethtown" this afternoon.  If you haven't seen either of them, I think they're really, really great movies.  I'm trying to only watch one movie a day, but I had extra time by myself this evening, and it was either watch a movie or fall asleep again.  Poop on that.  No way I'm falling asleep again. 

Anyway, we have had October sky for forever, I remember when it first came out.  I was probably 12 or 13, and it made a huge impression on me.  It's actually one of the reasons I wanted to become a teacher.  Laura Dern is so inspring in the movie, and so beautiful, and Jake Gyllenhaal is a hunk.  In the movie, Jake's character, Homer, doesn't want to be a coal miner like the rest of the townspeople.  He and his friends "know" that it's their "destiny" to one day mine coal, but they put it off as long as they can.  One day, Homer sees Sputnik shooting through the evening sky, and he catches this vision.  A vision for building a rocket, and sending it into space.  He knows nothing about how to do it, but just jumps in and starts building.  The boys make major headway (after many, many failures) until his dad gets hurt.  Homer has to start working in the coal mine to help his family.  He starts to settle; he finally wins his father's approval, but his teacher is furious, his friends are leary, and he starts to let go of his vision.  His destiny seems to come to fruition.  (I won't spoil the ending, but he isn't stuck in the mine for long & he ends up work for something that starts with an "N" and ends with ASA.  Do you think he planned on that?)

In Elizabethtown, the main character (also a hunk), fails miserably on a shoe design, costing his company close to a billion dollars.  He contemplates suicide, but ends up finding out that his dad, from Kentucky, has died.  In his travels, he meets this girl, and she helps him to find the positive side of things.  My favorite line in the movie is where she tells him, "You failed" about twenty times in a row, but she does it with such honesty and grace and love.  He decides to admit and the discard the failure, rather than dwelling on it forever.  Do you think he planned on that?

You see, I can connect to both stories.  I want to be someone who makes a difference in the lives of others.  I'm just coming out and saying it - straight up.  That is my desire.  I think it causes me to wrestle though with my failure and with my pride and with my future, and with my insecurities and with the plans I've made.  These things have been heavy on my heart for several days now.  Dreams.  Vision.  Grace.  Journey.  Fear.  Humility.  Jobs.  Plans.  Over and over again, I keep thinking about the future, and sometimes I worry.

Both of these movies brought to mind this verse:  "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you."  Jeremiah 29:11-12

The first verse is highly quoted, and sometimes a little redundant (for people like me anyway who hear something many times, and forget what it means), but I wanted to share it anyway.  It's one I've been seeing a lot in the cards I've received, and it has new meaning tonight.  God has plans for our lives.  Every single person on the earth, he has a plan for.  The hard part is that we have to work at understanding what that plan is, and accept the challenges and blessings that come with it.  The second part of the verse is much less familiar...I didn't know that part by heart.

Over and over again in Scripture, we see where Jesus calls out to his Father, sometimes in the middle of a fierce discussion with the religious leaders or others around him.  He's constantly tuning his heart to that of the Father, and so, in turn, his plans are in tune as well.  He listens to his Father.  I mean, think about it.  Jesus was a wanderer, but he was never lost.  He always always always had direction in his life.  He always knew what he needed to do.  He knew where he needed to go.  Why?  The Father had a plan.  The best part is that Jesus went.  Without any hesitation.  He listened to his Father.

Part of the reason that all of those "things" weigh so heavy on my heart and mind is because I'm not doing a very good job of listening.  It's so hard.  Sometimes I think I just don't know how.  I mean, I can barely keep my thoughts in one place at any given time.  It's fairly ridiculous actually.  Please pray for me, that I would tune my heart to the Father's voice & that I can focus on hearing him in the coming weeks.  I don't know that I believe in destiny, or predestination - I don't know enough about them to say.  I don't like failure, and trying over and over again is hard.  I can be pretty faint-hearted.  What I do know is that I need to be a better listener & to continue being honest with God.  I want to know his plan.  Trusting that the Lord knows what he's doing at all times is very difficult because we have to surrender control, being still & knowing that He is God.

Jesus said, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” when he was about to give up his life.  I struggle with how to cast vision for my life, and still stay in tune with God.  This demeanor is one that I long for - complete and utter surrender.  Jesus followed God's plan.  Ultmately, he had to surrender his life in an extremely humble way, knowing that in the end he would die.  That was God's plan.  And yet, Jesus submitted to it.  Just like always.  But God's plan was to use that to redeem an entire race: humans.  I'm so thankful that Jesus followed God's plan, even in the pain and hurt because I am blessed by that decision.  Watching the process helps me to trust in God's plan, remember to call on him, go and pray to him, and give everything, every plan...and he will listen.  My job is to listen right back.

Reveal.

So, last night I was whomped, and went to bed semi-early.  Today, I woke up at 11am.  I have no idea what is going on, but I have been so tired lately.  I tried to read this afternoon, but I kept dozing off.  So, I decided to watch a movie.  One movie turned into three.  Yup.  I'm ashamed to even admit it, but I wasted nearly six hours of my life today.  Fortunately, one of the movies sort of redeems the day because it was semi-educational.  It was a movie about a young woman named Esther.  Anyway, this was my cheesy-Christian-movie-of-the-year numero dos (number two).  It's funny how I'm actually being challenged in watching these movies.  I think I may be a little judgemental when it comes to faith-based movies.  I should probably lay off a little bit, huh.  In this big, dramatic scene Esther, (who I'm not sure if she's supposed to be British in the movie) says this to her (best actor in the movie) bodyguard, 

"It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; to search out a matter is the glory of kings." (Proverbs 25:2)

Yesterday I had blogged about not knowing what my dreams are in life.  I think that God gives us passions and a vision for who we are, and what we are to do, but an answer came within this very movie: I have to spend time seeking it out.  Often times I think that the clouds will open up, and God will just say, "Catie, I want you to work for the DNR (Department of Natural Resources); you can spend the rest of your life frollicking around in Montana being a moutain woman.  Enjoy.  Sincerely, God."

Yes.  This is one of my life dreams, and I've never told anybody, so don't laugh at me.  I would love to be a mountain woman.  I seriously thought at one point that I could just go and work for some governmental program, possibly teaching kids about the wilderness, and get to spend most of my life hiding away in some cabin in the middle of the woods.  As a hermit and spinster.  Yup.  Then I realized that I only wanted this dream because I really wanted to escape from everything that was going on around me, and I would go stir-crazy within the first year.  I probably wouldn't even make it that long.  I'd be talking to bunnies and chipmunks with a month.  The first time I saw a grizzly, I'd pee myself & it would view that as a territorial threat display, and I'd die.  So.  That's out.  (For now...unless I meet someone or some people that will move out there with me.  Any takers?) 

But seriously, since I was little, I've been fed this lie - that I can wish upon a star & my dreams will come true.  I mean, come on Disney, what are you THINKING?!  Billions of dollars is not worth brainwashing young kids the way you do.  Ugh.  I keep waiting for my dreams to come to me while I'm sleeping, or while I'm laying in bed thinking, or while I'm talking to someone, or when my fairy-godmother shows up and gives them to me, and I ride away into the sunset with a drop-dead gorgeous man beside me.  To be quite honest, as a twenty-three, almost twenty-four year old woman, I have to fight of these misconceptions.   They're quite tempting, you know.

The thing is that my dreams can't come from other people, or from the middle of nowhere (although, it would be nice.)  My dreams have to be searched out, like I'm searching for hidden treasure.  And, although it sometimes feels like that treasure is in the bottom of a body of water...the ocean.  Atlantis, actually.  And I have no boat.  Oh, and I get seasick.  And I'm deathly afraid of sharks...I know that I have to keep searching.  The best part is that God gets so excited when I look that hard; when I care enough about our relationship, my life, and our future together, that I actually venture out in pursuit.  Thank goodness he's with me, all the way.  I don't think he's going to run ahead of me, and start jumping up and down on top of the treasure chest, but he will be my guide, and he's faithful.  To the very, very end.

So, thanks "One Night With the King", for teaching me that.

Wow.

I can't even believe those words are coming out of my mouth.  Blech!  No more crazy-cheesy, bad-acting, Christiany movies for me.  But I promise not to judge?  Heh.  Heh heh.   : )

Dreams.

I am so tired right now.  I'm about to fall asleep on top of my computer.  I can't wait to dream tonight, and to enjoy the gift of sleep.  Throughout my journey, I've been so thankful that I have been able to sleep through the night.  I love sleeping.  Sleeping is so good, and it's definitely something that I do not take for granted.

The dreams that I thought about today were not the kind that you have at night.  I watched "The Ultimate Gift" today, which really should be called, "The Ultimate Cheesy Christian Movie of the Year".  But, you know, the cheesy movie won out in the end.  I cried like a baby.  There's this part where a little girl with cancer turns and asks the main character of the movie what his dreams are.  And do you know what he says?  "I don't know.  I don't have any."  That's the part that made me cry.  I'm so insensitive and hard...I didn't cry at the part where the little girl dies, or the two main characters fall in love and make out at the end.  No, no.  I cry at the parts that I connect to.  That's how I feel right now.  I feel like I have goals in life - namely, to heal from where I'm at, and to be able to walk.  To serve God well, in obedience & love.  To follow the example of Christ, crossing social barriers and meeting the needs of those around me.  To find my gifts and strengths & use them with joy and selflessness.

You know.  Goals.  But I have no dreams. 

I used to be such a dreamer, but I became discouraged, and I gave up.  I read Mark 9 today, and there is this verse that talks about belief.  Jesus is coming down from a sort of "Holy Hike" with a few of his disciples (see Mark 9:1-10), and he sees some other disciples surrounded by a crowd.  One man in the crowd turns to Jesus, and begs him to heal his son.  He says [about his son],
"It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him. But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”
    “‘If you can?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for one who believes.”
 Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

I really resonate with these verses.  I find myself sometimes coming to God with partial belief.  Why is that I believe he can do some things and not others?  Why is it easier to surrender certain areas of my life than others?  I come to God with so many "If you can"s.  Truly believing that "everything is possible for one who believes" scares me.  And so, I'm afraid to dream.  I love it that the father in the story is immediately vulnerable with Jesus - "help me overcome my unbelief!"

Oh Father.  How many times I've been scared to believe.  That you are real, that you see me and you get me, and you know me, that you love me anyway, that you have plans for my life, that you want me to do well, and by your standards, that you are in control.  Help me overcome my unbelief.  Help me to dream again.  I no longer want the "right answer" or to "get there" in life.  In fact, I'm okay with letting go of the dreams that I used to dream.  The things I've held on to that maybe you didn't want me to have.  I want to know what makes you heart beat quicken, Father, and I want to go there.  Not by the dreams of this world, this country, or this generation, but by what you say and think and dream.  I want those dreams.  Thank you for the time you've given me to heal and dream again.

Breathe.

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. 

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.

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?  ; )

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!