There are several things I love about Shane & Shane. On the top of that list is the gift they have of singing scripture over us. They released a new album this week called "Everything Is Different." It's wonderful. Chalked with the Word of God and truth. Check out www.shaneandshane.com for some of the songs and the stories behind them. Here is one of my favorites--
I am a new creation,
the old is passed away
and I’m made new
I’m made new.
And I have been adopted,
the door is opened up
for me to know you
be like you
This is who I am
I’ve been born again
the Cross is my defense,
my hope secured
now my life is in Your Hand
on Your every word I stand
Lord I’m finding who I am in all you are
When my heart condemns me
tells me I am guilty
Your greater
Your greater
Jesus you have searched me,
and even in your finding
You have loved
and You love me
This is who I am
I’ve been born again
the Cross is my defense,
my hope secured
now my life is in Your Hand
on Your every word I stand
Lord I’m finding who I am in all you are
For He made Him who knew no sin
To be sent
On our behalf was crucified
Oh that we could be the righteousness
Of our creator
I am a new creation,
the old is passed away
and I’m made new
I’m made new.
This is who I am
I’ve been born again
the Cross is my defense,
my hope secured
now my life is in Your Hand
on Your every word I stand
Lord I’m finding who I am in all you are
This is who I am
I’ve been born again
the Cross is my defense,
my hope secured
now my life is in Your Hand
on Your every word I stand
Lord I’m finding who I am in all you
-Shane & Shane
Don't forget who you are, friends--loved deeply by God, His greatest treasure, His child. The old is passed away and, behold, ALL things are made brand-spankin' new!!
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Subway Sandwiches, Goodness, and Mercy
I caught a glimpse of a beautifully-crafted, ultra-fresh, veggie-filled Subway sandwich on the television in a patient’s room today. My mouth began to water. And I dreamed of the possibility of indulging in such a delicacy at the next free moment. Rounds finished. Patient duties were mostly done. My stomach was beginning to growl. I was on call, but surely I could make the approximately 1 mile journey away from the hospital cafeteria grease and mush, down the block to where freshness lives and dwells. I carefully calculated my escape, power-walked with unprecedented determination, reached for the Subway door handle with great victory in my heart, and crossed the threshold into the smell of oven-fresh bread. Instantly, my pocket began to echo with the all too familiar ear-splitting siren clamor of the trauma surgery pager. Code 3 trauma. Life flight. Estimated time of arrival: 2 minutes. Greattttt. The last time I ran a 2 minute mile and crossed the finish line sweat-less and not panting like a puppy was a few summers back when I was being chasing by a cheetah in the jungle. It was really no big deal.
I swiftly exited the sweet aromas with great defeat in my heart and blazed down the street praying I wouldn’t become the next trauma of the evening as an auto-pedestrian accident. I arrived in the ER dripping from the brow with a pulse and blood pressure that possibly could have classified me as a Code 3. I tried to hide my winded-ness and reach for something productive to do, pretending as if I had been there all along. The whole thing was a wash and my team was ripping off their gowns before I could even get mine on. My resident nodded, patted me on the back, and we all went on our separate ways. My mind quickly raced back to that sandwich. Was it worth chancing again? You betcha.
With more determination than before I raced back down the street to Subway. I grabbed the door handle with slightly more caution than previously, looking down at the black box attached to my pants and giving it the “you behave, now” glare. As the fresh bread was sliced and the veggies were placed, my heart swelled with victory. Now, if only I could make it back and have a moment to savor the victory before the pager siren roared again.
A grand total of 4 miles for the God-blessed thing—a mere Subway sandwich never tasted so good. As I savored my dinner I was amazed at the length I went to just for a rather extraordinarily ordinary sandwich. Past the fresh bread and perfectly sliced tomatoes, my heart was quickly drawn to and captured by the last verse in Psalm 23--Surely His goodness and mercy shall chase me all the days of my life. I replayed my small and petty pursuit over the last hour. The entire hour had been dominated by a quest to bound every obstacle between me and Subway. And I was amazed that the God of the universe would chase me, pursue me, bound every obstacle with His goodness and mercy…not just for one hour but for all the days of my life! Conclusion: I must be worth far more than a Subway sandwich.
I am grateful for the tail end of that verse—and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever (where I am sure things far greater than fresh sandwiches abound).
Praise be to a Good Shepherd Who never leaves us in want, Who brings us to green pastures and quiet waters, Who restores our souls, Who leads us on right paths, Who is near in the valley, Who comforts, Who prepares a table for us even in adversity, Who anoints, Who overflows our cups, Who chases us with goodness and mercy ALL the days of our lives, and Who ultimately brings us to dwell in His house forever.
I swiftly exited the sweet aromas with great defeat in my heart and blazed down the street praying I wouldn’t become the next trauma of the evening as an auto-pedestrian accident. I arrived in the ER dripping from the brow with a pulse and blood pressure that possibly could have classified me as a Code 3. I tried to hide my winded-ness and reach for something productive to do, pretending as if I had been there all along. The whole thing was a wash and my team was ripping off their gowns before I could even get mine on. My resident nodded, patted me on the back, and we all went on our separate ways. My mind quickly raced back to that sandwich. Was it worth chancing again? You betcha.
With more determination than before I raced back down the street to Subway. I grabbed the door handle with slightly more caution than previously, looking down at the black box attached to my pants and giving it the “you behave, now” glare. As the fresh bread was sliced and the veggies were placed, my heart swelled with victory. Now, if only I could make it back and have a moment to savor the victory before the pager siren roared again.
A grand total of 4 miles for the God-blessed thing—a mere Subway sandwich never tasted so good. As I savored my dinner I was amazed at the length I went to just for a rather extraordinarily ordinary sandwich. Past the fresh bread and perfectly sliced tomatoes, my heart was quickly drawn to and captured by the last verse in Psalm 23--Surely His goodness and mercy shall chase me all the days of my life. I replayed my small and petty pursuit over the last hour. The entire hour had been dominated by a quest to bound every obstacle between me and Subway. And I was amazed that the God of the universe would chase me, pursue me, bound every obstacle with His goodness and mercy…not just for one hour but for all the days of my life! Conclusion: I must be worth far more than a Subway sandwich.
I am grateful for the tail end of that verse—and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever (where I am sure things far greater than fresh sandwiches abound).
Praise be to a Good Shepherd Who never leaves us in want, Who brings us to green pastures and quiet waters, Who restores our souls, Who leads us on right paths, Who is near in the valley, Who comforts, Who prepares a table for us even in adversity, Who anoints, Who overflows our cups, Who chases us with goodness and mercy ALL the days of our lives, and Who ultimately brings us to dwell in His house forever.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Fear
Fear has always been a companion in my life, and most of the time, I welcomed him to some extent. Ironically, he felt safe enough and I would allow him to tag along as I walked through my day. I guess I’d liken him in some regard to my little brother (no offense, Paul), always following one step behind.
Sometimes, he annoyed me a bit, getting in the way when I needed him to leave me alone. On other occasions, he’d embarrass me at the least opportune times. I couldn’t always hide him and it was obvious to everyone around that Fear was with me.
And then, in my weakest moments, I’d let his presence overshadow me. That’s when it would get really ugly. A moment in time would pass when I knew I should say something, do something, offer something, or be something to someone else but with his strong arms wrapped around my own will, I gave in to Fear. Too easily. Not even putting up a fight.
Fear won.
After thirty years of letting Fear bully me, I decided enough was enough. It’s time to fight back. Fear may still exist and hide in the corners of my heart and my mind, but I refuse to allow him to have the control he once had.
Well, at least I’m attempting to try.
I realized Fear isn’t only affecting me but humankind as well. As I look around today, I see him latching on to most people I encounter. Their hearts are on fire for their dreams, yet Fear tells them those dreams are impossible.
These people want to have a family, go back to school, quit their job and move to Africa, volunteer at a shelter, stand up for justice, ask a question, right a wrong, or even say hi to their neighbor, but Fear soaks into their bloodstream and prevents them from taking a step in the beautiful, wonderful, difficult life that lays in front of them.
Fear wants to stop our stories.
And with the pain and brokenness and hurt in this world, we simply can’t let it. The human race needs a hope and faith and light now more than ever.
The Ancient Scriptures say through the love of Christ, we are to be that hope. That light. Burning brightly on a hill.
Not hidden in the darkness of a shadow by a nemesis named Fear.
Yet, we can’t go at it by ourselves. I think that’s why so many of us get so close to crossing over the border from darkness into light.
From Fear into boldness.
However we know that once we take that step into that which illuminates, we’ll be exposed.
Naked.
Ashamed.
Broken.
Possibly alone, and desperately longing to go into hiding again.
We know what it’s like to have Fear screaming in our heads.
The way our minds tell us to run, our hearts palpitate, our hands sweat, our voices tremble, our bodies toss and turn in an ocean of confining sheets as the ceiling moves in closer and closer.
Fear’s voice is loud.
Earthshatteringly loud.
But our voices are louder.
Yet most of us don’t know that.
We don’t know the power we have when we fight Fear back. Fear isn’t strong. He’s derived from something ultimately weak and powerless.
Have you noticed how we’re often impressed by people who appear to be fearless? The ones who fly to the moon. Chase tornadoes. Enter dangerous war zones. Skydive. Speak in front of thousands of people. Stand up to cancer. Raise money and adopt a child that isn’t their flesh and blood?
Why are we so inspired by them?
Because deep down, we are them.
We all share those characteristics. They’re divinely human.
Just like us.
Something subconsciously in us begins to glow when we see people overcome Fear. Their actions push us to find that divine piece (or is it peace?) within ourselves in order that we may also overcome Fear.
A majority of people in the world live with some kind of baggage. A shame. A weight. A burden. A question.
And Fear continues to tell us that we’re alone.
And that we can’t speak freely.
But Fear is wrong.
We are not alone.
Regardless of what shame, what question, what trepidation, what history, what anxiety, whatever you are carrying deep inside, you are not alone.
And you can speak freely.
-from Anne Jackson's Permission to Speak Freely-
Sometimes, he annoyed me a bit, getting in the way when I needed him to leave me alone. On other occasions, he’d embarrass me at the least opportune times. I couldn’t always hide him and it was obvious to everyone around that Fear was with me.
And then, in my weakest moments, I’d let his presence overshadow me. That’s when it would get really ugly. A moment in time would pass when I knew I should say something, do something, offer something, or be something to someone else but with his strong arms wrapped around my own will, I gave in to Fear. Too easily. Not even putting up a fight.
Fear won.
After thirty years of letting Fear bully me, I decided enough was enough. It’s time to fight back. Fear may still exist and hide in the corners of my heart and my mind, but I refuse to allow him to have the control he once had.
Well, at least I’m attempting to try.
I realized Fear isn’t only affecting me but humankind as well. As I look around today, I see him latching on to most people I encounter. Their hearts are on fire for their dreams, yet Fear tells them those dreams are impossible.
These people want to have a family, go back to school, quit their job and move to Africa, volunteer at a shelter, stand up for justice, ask a question, right a wrong, or even say hi to their neighbor, but Fear soaks into their bloodstream and prevents them from taking a step in the beautiful, wonderful, difficult life that lays in front of them.
Fear wants to stop our stories.
And with the pain and brokenness and hurt in this world, we simply can’t let it. The human race needs a hope and faith and light now more than ever.
The Ancient Scriptures say through the love of Christ, we are to be that hope. That light. Burning brightly on a hill.
Not hidden in the darkness of a shadow by a nemesis named Fear.
Yet, we can’t go at it by ourselves. I think that’s why so many of us get so close to crossing over the border from darkness into light.
From Fear into boldness.
However we know that once we take that step into that which illuminates, we’ll be exposed.
Naked.
Ashamed.
Broken.
Possibly alone, and desperately longing to go into hiding again.
We know what it’s like to have Fear screaming in our heads.
The way our minds tell us to run, our hearts palpitate, our hands sweat, our voices tremble, our bodies toss and turn in an ocean of confining sheets as the ceiling moves in closer and closer.
Fear’s voice is loud.
Earthshatteringly loud.
But our voices are louder.
Yet most of us don’t know that.
We don’t know the power we have when we fight Fear back. Fear isn’t strong. He’s derived from something ultimately weak and powerless.
Have you noticed how we’re often impressed by people who appear to be fearless? The ones who fly to the moon. Chase tornadoes. Enter dangerous war zones. Skydive. Speak in front of thousands of people. Stand up to cancer. Raise money and adopt a child that isn’t their flesh and blood?
Why are we so inspired by them?
Because deep down, we are them.
We all share those characteristics. They’re divinely human.
Just like us.
Something subconsciously in us begins to glow when we see people overcome Fear. Their actions push us to find that divine piece (or is it peace?) within ourselves in order that we may also overcome Fear.
A majority of people in the world live with some kind of baggage. A shame. A weight. A burden. A question.
And Fear continues to tell us that we’re alone.
And that we can’t speak freely.
But Fear is wrong.
We are not alone.
Regardless of what shame, what question, what trepidation, what history, what anxiety, whatever you are carrying deep inside, you are not alone.
And you can speak freely.
-from Anne Jackson's Permission to Speak Freely-
Saturday, July 18, 2009
One Bloody Night in the ER...
David was a shepherd boy. This David* was a young boy with a C-collar and a scalp lac secondary to a bathtub accident. Injury-wise, nothing critical really. I mean, there was no LOC, amnesia, AMS, neck pain, or fractures. The C-collar was cleared and we moved on to assess the situation with the lac. No biggie—2.5 cm, nothing a few staples couldn’t fix in a hot second. Socially, David’s story was quite similar to many of the other patients we serve at the county hospital—poor, living with grandma and several other children, young mom in and out of the home, no dad to speak of, sleeping on the floor of a one-bedroom apartment. I left to write my note and patiently wait to present him to my attending who would most likely say, “Okay. Staple him up and write his discharge.” Easy enough.
About 5 minutes into my note the nurse came over to say that my patient was bleeding pretty bad and that the grandmother was asking for me. I kept writing, knowing that it probably was nothing urgent as he was fine just minutes ago. Upon completing my note, I lackadaisically walked over and pulled back the curtain to find my patient sitting in a pool of his own blood. Four-letter words flooded my mind. Alerting my attending to the situation at hand, I was reprimanded for failing to hold pressure on the wound. Frustration washed over me. Seriously?! It was barely even bleeding 5 minutes ago, I swear. Just my luck.
Now the blood was pouring from his head. Knowing that we are unable to sew or staple actively bleeding wounds because a hematoma will form at the site, I firmly gasped David’s head to apply some pressure. He screamed bloody murder and fought me something fierce. He was too strong for me. There was no way. Blood was gushing from the wound and flying everywhere as he fought against me. I feared for the demise of my new white shoes. The nurse laid on him as I braced his head. Our 2 woman team had finally defeated our 5 year old muscle man, and I pressed down on the gusher as hard as I could showing it who really was boss. I prayed that David’s blood-curdling screams could maybe turn into some blood-clotting.
5 minutes past. Nothing. 10. Nothing. 20. Nothing. Half an hour and the booger was still oozing like there was no tomorrow.
Grandma was in the corner hysterical, chanting the name of Jesus as if she was going to coax a genie out of a bottle or something. The nurse had left to attend to other patients, and I was left to my own devices to keep young David pinned down on my own. He was still fighting me and it became a war of who would tire first. Covered in blood, sweat, and David’s tears I was wearing out, but determined to complete the relatively simple task given to me, hold pressure. Pinned under my weight, I held pressure with one hand and stroked his face, catching his tears with the other as he cried out for his mom who was nowhere to be found. Eventually, his screams turned to mild cries to mere whimpers as he drove himself to sheer exhaustion.
As time passed I was able to loosen my grip on David a bit, but his grip on my heart only tightened. As he began to relax I was able to hold his head and stroke his back giving him some of the affection and comfort that a young hurting boy so much needs. My mind wondered to what his life at home must be like and what it must be like for a young boy to live without a father in a pretty rough neighborhood. I began to pray that God would father him and raise him up to be an incredible man after His own heart that would break the cycle of brokenness and poverty in his family. I prayed that against all odds, despite all outlooks and circumstance, that the Lord would break through to him and rescue him. My spirit truly cried out for his young heart and life. An hour passed. Then two. And while the blood was still ‘a flowin’ I was sure that my spirit had prayed the kid into being the next Billy Graham or at least something to that effect.
I can’t help but think about the anointing of God on King David’s life. When he was anointed to be king he was only a young shepherd boy. In fact, he was originally overlooked because of his lowliness and age. But the Lord spoke rather clearly to the situation when he said, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature…. For the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart." In the end, God raised David up to be a mighty king and accomplish many great things. And not only that, God raised David up to be known as a man after His own heart.
In this blog, I will never use the real names of my patients and will often change identifying factors so as to guard their confidentiality (and protect my behind too for that matter :0). In this account, I changed the young boy’s name to David. Why? Because the Lord is going to father him and guide him and love him and rescue him and raise him up to be a mighty man of God that chases after the heart of the Lord. Why? Not because his life circumstances will point him to that end but simply because the God of all hope is able.
That bloody night in the EC, I learned a lot. I learned that scalp lacs bleed—a lot. I mean, you would have thought the child lost a limb or something. I learned that I am weaker than a 5 year old boy. I learned to sew a few stitches. But most of all, I learned to pray. I learned to catch a vision for all that could be and cry out to the Lord that it simply would be.
I will probably never see David again—that is until the Lord raises him up to be the next Billy Graham. Just playing. But really, the possibilities are endless. And God is able. More than able.
*Names and certain identifying facts are changed in this blog so as to respect the confidentiality of the patients whose stories are told.
About 5 minutes into my note the nurse came over to say that my patient was bleeding pretty bad and that the grandmother was asking for me. I kept writing, knowing that it probably was nothing urgent as he was fine just minutes ago. Upon completing my note, I lackadaisically walked over and pulled back the curtain to find my patient sitting in a pool of his own blood. Four-letter words flooded my mind. Alerting my attending to the situation at hand, I was reprimanded for failing to hold pressure on the wound. Frustration washed over me. Seriously?! It was barely even bleeding 5 minutes ago, I swear. Just my luck.
Now the blood was pouring from his head. Knowing that we are unable to sew or staple actively bleeding wounds because a hematoma will form at the site, I firmly gasped David’s head to apply some pressure. He screamed bloody murder and fought me something fierce. He was too strong for me. There was no way. Blood was gushing from the wound and flying everywhere as he fought against me. I feared for the demise of my new white shoes. The nurse laid on him as I braced his head. Our 2 woman team had finally defeated our 5 year old muscle man, and I pressed down on the gusher as hard as I could showing it who really was boss. I prayed that David’s blood-curdling screams could maybe turn into some blood-clotting.
5 minutes past. Nothing. 10. Nothing. 20. Nothing. Half an hour and the booger was still oozing like there was no tomorrow.
Grandma was in the corner hysterical, chanting the name of Jesus as if she was going to coax a genie out of a bottle or something. The nurse had left to attend to other patients, and I was left to my own devices to keep young David pinned down on my own. He was still fighting me and it became a war of who would tire first. Covered in blood, sweat, and David’s tears I was wearing out, but determined to complete the relatively simple task given to me, hold pressure. Pinned under my weight, I held pressure with one hand and stroked his face, catching his tears with the other as he cried out for his mom who was nowhere to be found. Eventually, his screams turned to mild cries to mere whimpers as he drove himself to sheer exhaustion.
As time passed I was able to loosen my grip on David a bit, but his grip on my heart only tightened. As he began to relax I was able to hold his head and stroke his back giving him some of the affection and comfort that a young hurting boy so much needs. My mind wondered to what his life at home must be like and what it must be like for a young boy to live without a father in a pretty rough neighborhood. I began to pray that God would father him and raise him up to be an incredible man after His own heart that would break the cycle of brokenness and poverty in his family. I prayed that against all odds, despite all outlooks and circumstance, that the Lord would break through to him and rescue him. My spirit truly cried out for his young heart and life. An hour passed. Then two. And while the blood was still ‘a flowin’ I was sure that my spirit had prayed the kid into being the next Billy Graham or at least something to that effect.
I can’t help but think about the anointing of God on King David’s life. When he was anointed to be king he was only a young shepherd boy. In fact, he was originally overlooked because of his lowliness and age. But the Lord spoke rather clearly to the situation when he said, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature…. For the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart." In the end, God raised David up to be a mighty king and accomplish many great things. And not only that, God raised David up to be known as a man after His own heart.
In this blog, I will never use the real names of my patients and will often change identifying factors so as to guard their confidentiality (and protect my behind too for that matter :0). In this account, I changed the young boy’s name to David. Why? Because the Lord is going to father him and guide him and love him and rescue him and raise him up to be a mighty man of God that chases after the heart of the Lord. Why? Not because his life circumstances will point him to that end but simply because the God of all hope is able.
That bloody night in the EC, I learned a lot. I learned that scalp lacs bleed—a lot. I mean, you would have thought the child lost a limb or something. I learned that I am weaker than a 5 year old boy. I learned to sew a few stitches. But most of all, I learned to pray. I learned to catch a vision for all that could be and cry out to the Lord that it simply would be.
I will probably never see David again—that is until the Lord raises him up to be the next Billy Graham. Just playing. But really, the possibilities are endless. And God is able. More than able.
*Names and certain identifying facts are changed in this blog so as to respect the confidentiality of the patients whose stories are told.
Jesus Wants the Rose!
I really love this video.
...we implore you on Christ’s behalf, be reconciled to God. For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.
-2 Corinthians 5:20b-21
For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly....but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us....More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.
-Romans 5:6,8,11
O I am ever thankful that the Lord would want me, the broken rose, breathing new life, restoring me.
What was said to the rose to make it unfold, was said to me here in my chest. So be quiet now and rest. Here is our King. Here is our Love. Here is our God who's come to bring us back to Him. He is the One. He is Jesus....
Thursday, July 02, 2009
The Most Glorious, Trying, Beautiful, Exhausting, Frustrating, Exciting Day Ever- AKA LBJ Day Uno
There is a code to the bathroom door. Who would have ever thought? I asked for it once. The second time I was embarrassed to have forgotten. Was is 2-5-6-1? 3-5-6-1? Or maybe 5-2-6-1? Crap. Can’t even seem to get the dad-gum bathroom code right today. I asked the nurse again and got that same O you poor, stupid med student, your life will never amount to much look I had been getting from every direction, so it seemed, for the majority of the morning. First it was the gauze I couldn’t find that happened to be in every room just under my nose, then the wrong speculum I picked from the closet, followed by a completely off-the-wall totally-wrong diagnosis and the shower of gloves I spilled in the exam room.
LBJ hospital is quite the place. It is exquisite. Truly. Maybe not my first thought walking in the door the first time, honestly, but really. The people are beautiful. I mean, some of them have about the IQ of a rock, but others really surprise you. Getting to serve them is a privilege. Whether talking to them is about as useful as talking to a barn or not, I love it. They are made in the imago dei and they are beautiful.
In true fashion, my first shift in the Pedi EC today was quite the experience. It was surely no different from any other day there, maybe even more calm than usual, who knows, but it made an impression on me already. It was the most glorious, difficult, trying, exciting, rewarding, fun, exhausting day ever.
There was one patient in particular that stands above all the rest, maybe because she was the only one all day I never had to fill out paperwork on or present to someone on the totem pole above me and inevitably feel like the dumbest person alive having overlooked some part of the exam (those of you in my shoes know exactly what I mean :0). I never knew her name—I probably never will. The sight of her precious face made my eyes well with tears, which I quickly choked back knowing that was not the professional, grown-up doctor-type thing to do, or something to that effect.
I knew excitement was coming when someone ran into the EC shouting stuff I could only partially understand. I had no idea what was up but I ran outside with the best of them. As I passed the gloves on the wall I thought I ought grab a pair but not wanting to break suit or be over-zealous I followed everyone else gloveless. I felt like I was in a scene from Grey’s Anatomy, if only for a moment—you know when they run out to the ambulance dock and something crazy, wild happens just as they cut to a commercial break? I just knew I would see Katherine Heigl out there talking to Denny or McDreamy glowing in the sunshine in all his hotness or something bizarre. Ha. Anyhow….
There was quite the crew of folks gathered around the vehicle parked just outside. I stood on my tippy toes to see what all the excitement was about and before I knew it a baby was handed out of the car. Someone called out the time. I noted it in my mind. 3:21. I have no idea why out of the 20 or so medical personnel types gathered around they thought I looked like the appropriate person to hand a fresh child to, but nonetheless, next thing I knew the baby was handed to me. I gladly accepted, gloveless and all. (Though my attending sure didn’t miss the opportunity to fuss me—dang, if only the thought counted!)
I heard her precious cries. She opened her eyes and I felt like she looked straight at me. Welcome to the world, sweet one.
The scene was chaos. Mom was in pain and still needed to deliver the placenta. No one could seem to find the appropriate wrist bands. But I was in my own world with a beautiful baby girl in my arms. O bliss.
I carried her around for what seemed like forever as things were sorted out. I thought of names for her and wondered at what she would be when she grew up. I thought of running as fast as I could and taking her home to be mine!—just kidding. Don’t tell anyone. They will never let me around small children again!
For all the moments I felt like a retard, unable to even open the bathroom door, dropping all my stuff on the floor during a pelvic exam, and answering even the simple questions 100% wrong, there were the moments of tickling cute little kids, having real-life talks with teenagers, and of course, delivering babies in the parking lot. Exhausted? Check. Fulfilled? Double check.
Bring it, day 2!
LBJ hospital is quite the place. It is exquisite. Truly. Maybe not my first thought walking in the door the first time, honestly, but really. The people are beautiful. I mean, some of them have about the IQ of a rock, but others really surprise you. Getting to serve them is a privilege. Whether talking to them is about as useful as talking to a barn or not, I love it. They are made in the imago dei and they are beautiful.
In true fashion, my first shift in the Pedi EC today was quite the experience. It was surely no different from any other day there, maybe even more calm than usual, who knows, but it made an impression on me already. It was the most glorious, difficult, trying, exciting, rewarding, fun, exhausting day ever.
There was one patient in particular that stands above all the rest, maybe because she was the only one all day I never had to fill out paperwork on or present to someone on the totem pole above me and inevitably feel like the dumbest person alive having overlooked some part of the exam (those of you in my shoes know exactly what I mean :0). I never knew her name—I probably never will. The sight of her precious face made my eyes well with tears, which I quickly choked back knowing that was not the professional, grown-up doctor-type thing to do, or something to that effect.
I knew excitement was coming when someone ran into the EC shouting stuff I could only partially understand. I had no idea what was up but I ran outside with the best of them. As I passed the gloves on the wall I thought I ought grab a pair but not wanting to break suit or be over-zealous I followed everyone else gloveless. I felt like I was in a scene from Grey’s Anatomy, if only for a moment—you know when they run out to the ambulance dock and something crazy, wild happens just as they cut to a commercial break? I just knew I would see Katherine Heigl out there talking to Denny or McDreamy glowing in the sunshine in all his hotness or something bizarre. Ha. Anyhow….
There was quite the crew of folks gathered around the vehicle parked just outside. I stood on my tippy toes to see what all the excitement was about and before I knew it a baby was handed out of the car. Someone called out the time. I noted it in my mind. 3:21. I have no idea why out of the 20 or so medical personnel types gathered around they thought I looked like the appropriate person to hand a fresh child to, but nonetheless, next thing I knew the baby was handed to me. I gladly accepted, gloveless and all. (Though my attending sure didn’t miss the opportunity to fuss me—dang, if only the thought counted!)
I heard her precious cries. She opened her eyes and I felt like she looked straight at me. Welcome to the world, sweet one.
The scene was chaos. Mom was in pain and still needed to deliver the placenta. No one could seem to find the appropriate wrist bands. But I was in my own world with a beautiful baby girl in my arms. O bliss.
I carried her around for what seemed like forever as things were sorted out. I thought of names for her and wondered at what she would be when she grew up. I thought of running as fast as I could and taking her home to be mine!—just kidding. Don’t tell anyone. They will never let me around small children again!
For all the moments I felt like a retard, unable to even open the bathroom door, dropping all my stuff on the floor during a pelvic exam, and answering even the simple questions 100% wrong, there were the moments of tickling cute little kids, having real-life talks with teenagers, and of course, delivering babies in the parking lot. Exhausted? Check. Fulfilled? Double check.
Bring it, day 2!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Coffee Shop Creeper
As the words came off of her green pen, I totally knew I was being an ultra creeper. I mean, poor woman was just trying to pull her thoughts together as she enjoyed some coffee, and here I was looking over her shoulder reading her deepest hurts. Only a tinted glass window and a matter of about a foot separated us. She had no idea I could see her every thought on that paper—and I had no idea I would be enough of a creeper to read them. Maybe it was the amount of bacteria I had studied that morning and the antibiotics I was getting mixed up in my mind, anything probably seemed exciting compared to that—even the private musings of a stranger, I guess.
What’s so strange about the whole thing is— 1) I don’t normally go to this coffee shop—it’s too dark, too loud, too crowded, and too overpriced on top of all that. 2) I normally don’t pay a bit of attention to anyone in the coffee shop when I study—the place could get robbed for all I knew and I would still be sorting out the antibiotics I can never seem to keep straight. 3) I don’t have a habit of stalking complete strangers—facebook stalking, definitely, strangers, now that is a little freaky-er.
So, she begins to write: She wishes she was somewhere else. She wishes for a friend, someone to talk to, even a stranger.
O-M-G! Maybe she does know I can see her every word! OMG! I am such a creeper. I try to divert my attention back to the fluoroquinolones. But my eyes keep wandering out the window, trying to decide if she knows I am watching, trying to see what she will write next. She pulls out a small book—a Bible. She begins to pray.
And then it dawns on me—maybe, just maybe, I am the answer to her prayer today. Being personally a little freaked out by my own creeper-ness, I hesitate, say a quick prayer, and head outside.
“Hey, I’m Janice.”
Tears filled her eyes.
About an hour went by of sharing the whole “what’s your name, where are you from, where did you go to college” business. But it was deeper than that too—turns out I was, indeed, the answer to her prayer this afternoon. I gave it my best shot to encourage her and prayed with her before she left. And I, in turn, made a new friend.
I mean, what were the chances of all of this, that I would be sitting at the point of exhaustion and boredom, and that my new friend Becca would just so happen to be sitting outside the window at just the perfect angle for me to catch her need for a listening ear. AND that I would be crazy and random enough to approach her.
Strange how God works, even through window coffee shop creepers sometimes, I guess. His love for us truly is deeper, wider, and higher than we could ever imagine.
What’s so strange about the whole thing is— 1) I don’t normally go to this coffee shop—it’s too dark, too loud, too crowded, and too overpriced on top of all that. 2) I normally don’t pay a bit of attention to anyone in the coffee shop when I study—the place could get robbed for all I knew and I would still be sorting out the antibiotics I can never seem to keep straight. 3) I don’t have a habit of stalking complete strangers—facebook stalking, definitely, strangers, now that is a little freaky-er.
So, she begins to write: She wishes she was somewhere else. She wishes for a friend, someone to talk to, even a stranger.
O-M-G! Maybe she does know I can see her every word! OMG! I am such a creeper. I try to divert my attention back to the fluoroquinolones. But my eyes keep wandering out the window, trying to decide if she knows I am watching, trying to see what she will write next. She pulls out a small book—a Bible. She begins to pray.
And then it dawns on me—maybe, just maybe, I am the answer to her prayer today. Being personally a little freaked out by my own creeper-ness, I hesitate, say a quick prayer, and head outside.
“Hey, I’m Janice.”
Tears filled her eyes.
About an hour went by of sharing the whole “what’s your name, where are you from, where did you go to college” business. But it was deeper than that too—turns out I was, indeed, the answer to her prayer this afternoon. I gave it my best shot to encourage her and prayed with her before she left. And I, in turn, made a new friend.
I mean, what were the chances of all of this, that I would be sitting at the point of exhaustion and boredom, and that my new friend Becca would just so happen to be sitting outside the window at just the perfect angle for me to catch her need for a listening ear. AND that I would be crazy and random enough to approach her.
Strange how God works, even through window coffee shop creepers sometimes, I guess. His love for us truly is deeper, wider, and higher than we could ever imagine.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Let Us...
Let me just first say-- Summer is here in Houston and it is HOT!
Today my friend Joy and I were running around Rice when, about a mile in, I totally ate it. Despite my best efforts to catch myself, I hit the ground and I hit hard. (Wish there was a video for some of you compassionate types who find great joy in witnessing such events.) I wanted to cry, so, naturally, I began laughing. I collected myself, dusted off, and we were back at it in less than 30 seconds. I was hurting. I was sore from a week of pushing myself to begin with, my hands still had rocks in them, and my leg was throbbing. Not to mention--it was well over 90 and I was HOT. I had every reason to stop. And with each step I thought--at least now I have a good excuse! But we pressed on. We were a little sluggish, but we ran til the end and finished strong.
As we picked up the pace the last quarter of a mile or so, I realized that I would have never made it without Joy by my side. I would have fallen, cried, wallowed in self-pity, turned around, and walked with a limp back to my car. I am a wimp--me and pain are NOT friends in the least bit. But Joy encouraged me to keep going and finish hard and strong. And for that I was incredibly grateful--we rounded that last corner with a sprint and it felt great. As I surveyed the damage, a little extra pride bubbled up in my heart knowing that we endured the heat, the fatigue, and the fall.
I can't help but think of this afternoon as a summary of how this past semester has been for me. Community has always been a beautiful word to me, but I don't know that I have ever lived in community the way I have this past semester. The Lord has truly provided immeasureably more than all I could have asked or even imagined. And we have run the race together. We have fought through the valleys of life together. We have fallen and helped each other up. We have prayed. We have cried. We have nearly peed ourselves in laughter. We have shared meals and life stories and burdens and moments of great victory and joy. We have endured. We have confessed our sin and shame and have loved unconditionally. We have seen God move us and change us. Gosh, incredible would be such a small word to describe what God has so graciously done in us. I am so blessed to have friends who have loved me so deeply, fought in prayer on my behalf, encouraged me to press on through hardship, and rejoiced with me in times of great joy. I know that without them I would have quit long ago--I would have thrown in my towel and said that med school and life in general are just plain too hard. But they have been so faithful to love and to encourage even in my ugliest of moments. And, best yet, they have rejoiced with me in moments of victory.
I thank the Lord constantly for each of you and the way you love the Lord in such beautiful and different ways, the way each of you paint such a glorious picture of who God is and how truly deep, wide, and high His love is for us. Thank you for feeding me, for being my study buddies, for running and sweating with me, for encouraging, for praying, for loving unconditionally.
I love the exhortation of the author of Hebrews, "Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir one another to love and good works, not neglecting meeting together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near."
If I have learned nothing else this semester (and, God, I sure hope I learned a few other things too!), I have learned that the Christian life is meant to be lived together. I love how we are encouraged to let US draw near and let US hold fast and let US consider... We need each other. We need to point each other to Christ. We need to hold fast together. To meet. To pray. To encourage. To draw hope from the source of all life and joy. And we need Jesus--we need Him so desperately to be our way, truth, and life and enable us to be the voice of such hope to those around us.
SO, thank you SO much sweet friends. Words are not enough to describe the way you have revived my spirit and enabled me to run the race with endurance. Thank you for the many, many ways you love unconditionally and encourage so faithfully. It is indeed a pleasure to run side by side with each of you.
May the Lord bless you and keep you and make His face to shine upon you and be gracious and give you peace. And may there be many, many more miles of sweet fellowship and freedom in Christ.
Today my friend Joy and I were running around Rice when, about a mile in, I totally ate it. Despite my best efforts to catch myself, I hit the ground and I hit hard. (Wish there was a video for some of you compassionate types who find great joy in witnessing such events.) I wanted to cry, so, naturally, I began laughing. I collected myself, dusted off, and we were back at it in less than 30 seconds. I was hurting. I was sore from a week of pushing myself to begin with, my hands still had rocks in them, and my leg was throbbing. Not to mention--it was well over 90 and I was HOT. I had every reason to stop. And with each step I thought--at least now I have a good excuse! But we pressed on. We were a little sluggish, but we ran til the end and finished strong.
As we picked up the pace the last quarter of a mile or so, I realized that I would have never made it without Joy by my side. I would have fallen, cried, wallowed in self-pity, turned around, and walked with a limp back to my car. I am a wimp--me and pain are NOT friends in the least bit. But Joy encouraged me to keep going and finish hard and strong. And for that I was incredibly grateful--we rounded that last corner with a sprint and it felt great. As I surveyed the damage, a little extra pride bubbled up in my heart knowing that we endured the heat, the fatigue, and the fall.
I can't help but think of this afternoon as a summary of how this past semester has been for me. Community has always been a beautiful word to me, but I don't know that I have ever lived in community the way I have this past semester. The Lord has truly provided immeasureably more than all I could have asked or even imagined. And we have run the race together. We have fought through the valleys of life together. We have fallen and helped each other up. We have prayed. We have cried. We have nearly peed ourselves in laughter. We have shared meals and life stories and burdens and moments of great victory and joy. We have endured. We have confessed our sin and shame and have loved unconditionally. We have seen God move us and change us. Gosh, incredible would be such a small word to describe what God has so graciously done in us. I am so blessed to have friends who have loved me so deeply, fought in prayer on my behalf, encouraged me to press on through hardship, and rejoiced with me in times of great joy. I know that without them I would have quit long ago--I would have thrown in my towel and said that med school and life in general are just plain too hard. But they have been so faithful to love and to encourage even in my ugliest of moments. And, best yet, they have rejoiced with me in moments of victory.
I thank the Lord constantly for each of you and the way you love the Lord in such beautiful and different ways, the way each of you paint such a glorious picture of who God is and how truly deep, wide, and high His love is for us. Thank you for feeding me, for being my study buddies, for running and sweating with me, for encouraging, for praying, for loving unconditionally.
I love the exhortation of the author of Hebrews, "Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir one another to love and good works, not neglecting meeting together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near."
If I have learned nothing else this semester (and, God, I sure hope I learned a few other things too!), I have learned that the Christian life is meant to be lived together. I love how we are encouraged to let US draw near and let US hold fast and let US consider... We need each other. We need to point each other to Christ. We need to hold fast together. To meet. To pray. To encourage. To draw hope from the source of all life and joy. And we need Jesus--we need Him so desperately to be our way, truth, and life and enable us to be the voice of such hope to those around us.
SO, thank you SO much sweet friends. Words are not enough to describe the way you have revived my spirit and enabled me to run the race with endurance. Thank you for the many, many ways you love unconditionally and encourage so faithfully. It is indeed a pleasure to run side by side with each of you.
May the Lord bless you and keep you and make His face to shine upon you and be gracious and give you peace. And may there be many, many more miles of sweet fellowship and freedom in Christ.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Bless the Lord, O My Soul
Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and all that is within me,
bless his holy name!
Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits,
who forgives all your iniquity,
who heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit,
who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
who satisfies you with good
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.
~King David, Psalm 103:1-5
Beautiful, beautiful words. These words have been like cold water to my thirsty heart recently. May they bless you today as much as they have blessed me this weekend and may you truly be forgiven, healed, redeemed, crowned, satisfied, and renewed. And may we in turn bless the Lord with all that is within us--
Peace,
J
Thursday, April 30, 2009
A Few Thoughts on H1N1, Swine-Origin Influenza A
The alarms have sounded and the world is on alert as everyone watches and waits for something that has been described as “inevitable” and “uncontrollable” by some in authority. While the government responses are not completely unwarranted, they should be seen as preventative and nothing more for now. In my personal opinion, declaring a “national emergency” is a little premature and only serves to scare people into the ED and further enable the spread of disease. Maybe it is all semantics though, as declaring such things allows for the distribution of resources for prevention and early intervention, both very necessary responses at this point.
Be reminded that non-swine origin influenza is VERY common and kills 35,000 people in the US each year. SO what we have seen so far is simply a scratch on the surface. What is of particular concern with influenza of swine origin is its ability to mutate rapidly. However, this is not an uncommon phenomenon with the typical strains of influenza—hence the far less than 100% effectiveness of the vaccine each year.
Many of you have asked my opinion/forecast on this issue. I honestly don’t know that I really have one. Ha. :0) The truth is that no one really knows what is up. It could be a complete wash or a complete disaster, and really, only time will tell. So I guess my only opinion is that no one should be freaking out at this point. Use your common sense and such. And when you get a little worried just grab a slice of bacon or a good pork chop and feel like a conqueror.
This is going to be your most reliable source of information-- http://www.cdc.gov/swineflu/?s_cid=swineFlu_outbreak_001.
And here is something to pass along to your friends who are coming down with something-- http://doihavepigflu.com/.
Be reminded that non-swine origin influenza is VERY common and kills 35,000 people in the US each year. SO what we have seen so far is simply a scratch on the surface. What is of particular concern with influenza of swine origin is its ability to mutate rapidly. However, this is not an uncommon phenomenon with the typical strains of influenza—hence the far less than 100% effectiveness of the vaccine each year.
Many of you have asked my opinion/forecast on this issue. I honestly don’t know that I really have one. Ha. :0) The truth is that no one really knows what is up. It could be a complete wash or a complete disaster, and really, only time will tell. So I guess my only opinion is that no one should be freaking out at this point. Use your common sense and such. And when you get a little worried just grab a slice of bacon or a good pork chop and feel like a conqueror.
This is going to be your most reliable source of information-- http://www.cdc.gov/swineflu/?s_cid=swineFlu_outbreak_001.
And here is something to pass along to your friends who are coming down with something-- http://doihavepigflu.com/.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
A Beautifully Simple Reminder
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?... NO, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death not life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present not things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
-Romans 8:35,37-39-
Never forget it, friends.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
January 20, 2009
What a monumental day in history, what a great day for our country! There is an air of excitement, of anticipation, of hope permeating the nation today. While my day was quite busy jumping from one activity to the next—as I entered the bank several women in their dress suits were everything but standing on their heads attempting to position an antenna just perfectly, as I entered the Learning Resource Center at the med school students were gathered hanging on every word coming from a computer, as I entered the lecture hall my peers were gathered around laptops eagerly awaiting a pivotal moment in history, as I entered a young patient’s room the television was displaying the precious moments.
With so much fanfare, I cannot help but be glad to be an American today. Typically, I am a cynic, and I have been since the rise of Obama began. And while I am still a bit apprehensive, I know that great things are ahead. Obama is not the Messiah, and neither has he claimed to be. But he is a man of great passion, a man capable of motivating and uniting many behind a common cause. And that is a beautiful thing. Today he issued quite the call to our nation to get up, dust off, and work. He reminded us of those who have gone before us sacrificing much so we might live in freedom. He challenged us to set aside childish ways, reminding us that greatness is never a given but rather something that must be earned.
As our nation comes down from the inaugural mountaintop, I pray we will never forget this day. I pray we will learn to live self-less lives and work toward greatness. Today is a beautiful portrait of redemption, of the capacity for change—from a nation of slavery to a young, black man as our fearless leader. What an amazing story, a phenomenal journey. And, yes, indeed, it is a story of hope. While Barack’s story is a glorious picture of hope, President Obama is not our nation’s hope. For everlasting hope springs only from one source. And may our hearts be ever directed toward that source, Jesus Christ, the Hope of the Nations, the Prince of Peace.
May God strengthen President Obama and give him the wisdom to lead a nation amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. So help Him, O God.
With so much fanfare, I cannot help but be glad to be an American today. Typically, I am a cynic, and I have been since the rise of Obama began. And while I am still a bit apprehensive, I know that great things are ahead. Obama is not the Messiah, and neither has he claimed to be. But he is a man of great passion, a man capable of motivating and uniting many behind a common cause. And that is a beautiful thing. Today he issued quite the call to our nation to get up, dust off, and work. He reminded us of those who have gone before us sacrificing much so we might live in freedom. He challenged us to set aside childish ways, reminding us that greatness is never a given but rather something that must be earned.
As our nation comes down from the inaugural mountaintop, I pray we will never forget this day. I pray we will learn to live self-less lives and work toward greatness. Today is a beautiful portrait of redemption, of the capacity for change—from a nation of slavery to a young, black man as our fearless leader. What an amazing story, a phenomenal journey. And, yes, indeed, it is a story of hope. While Barack’s story is a glorious picture of hope, President Obama is not our nation’s hope. For everlasting hope springs only from one source. And may our hearts be ever directed toward that source, Jesus Christ, the Hope of the Nations, the Prince of Peace.
May God strengthen President Obama and give him the wisdom to lead a nation amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. So help Him, O God.
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