The Joys of Belonging to God

Flying Into the Father's Arms, Encouragement from Spurgeon

2011-10-02T09:48:00.002-05:00

In seasons of severe trial, the Christian has nothing on earth that he can trust to, and is therefore compelled to cast himself on his God alone. When his vessel is on its beam-ends, and no human deliverance can avail, he must simply and entirely trust himself to the providence and care of God. Happy storm that wrecks a man on such a rock as this! O blessed hurricane that drives the soul to God and God alone! There is no getting at our God sometimes because of the multitude of our friends; but when a man is so poor, so friendless, so helpless that he has nowhere else to turn, he flies into his Father's arms, and is blessedly clasped therein! When he is burdened with troubles so pressing and so peculiar, that he cannot tell them to any but his God, he may be thankful for them; for he will learn more of his Lord then than at any other time. Oh, tempest-tossed believer, it is a happy trouble that drives thee to thy Father! Now that thou hast only thy God to trust to, see that thou puttest thy full confidence in him. Dishonour not thy Lord and Master by unworthy doubts and fears; but be strong in faith, giving glory to God. Show the world that thy God is worth ten thousand worlds to thee. Show rich men how rich thou art in thy poverty when the Lord God is thy helper. Show the strong man how strong thou art in thy weakness when underneath thee are the everlasting arms. Now is the time for feats of faith and valiant exploits. Be strong and very courageous, and the Lord thy God shall certainly, as surely as he built the heavens and the earth, glorify himself in thy weakness, and magnify his might in the midst of thy distress. The grandeur of the arch of heaven would be spoiled if the sky were supported by a single visible column, and your faith would lose its glory if it rested on anything discernible by the carnal eye. May the Holy Spirit give you to rest in Jesus...

~Charles Spurgeon~

Put Away the Fig Leaves

2011-09-20T16:20:00.003-05:00

They were naked as jaybirds walking around the garden in the cool of the day. Free souls—they wanted for nothing. They were naked and unashamed.

Then she did it. He did it. They did it. They ate the one thing God had told them was forbidden. They wanted for nothing, and disobeyed the very One who had provided them everything.

They were naked and ashamed.

Fear, guilt, and shame washed over Adam and Eve, and they quickly hid themselves with the newest designer fig leaf loincloths. All the fig leaves in the world could never cover their sin and shame. The problem wasn’t their nakedness. They had always been naked. Fear and shame covered them and if only they could find another covering maybe they would be okay.

God knows and finds them and calls out to Adam, “Where are you?” God wasn't asking him where he was, God was asking him to acknowledge where he was—hiding and far from God’s design.

Who were they trying to protect? Who were they relying on for protection? With whom were they now most concerned? Around whom were their lives centered? Themselves, themselves, themselves, themselves.

And so sin entered the world and fractured all that God had designed so intricately and perfectly.

Sin is when I forget God’s perfect provision and think mine is somehow better. Sin is when I forsake the fountain of living water for a broken cistern that can hold no water (Jeremiah 2:13). Sin is when I exchange the truth of God for a lie (Romans 1:25).

Our nakedness isn’t the problem. Our sin and shame is the issue. So put away the fig leaves. You have a better covering.

Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men.

Romans 5:18

America is awesome. But Jesus is better.

2011-09-11T23:13:00.004-05:00

Today I write from the crammed middle seat of my favorite airline, Southwest. Then, I was 16 years old. I had skipped first period junior English and thought I was hot stuff pulling into my favorite local coffee shop, The Coffee Beanery, in my mom's blue Pontiac minivan with the windows rolled down and music blaring. Don't worry--it was Christian music so that makes my skipping class justifiable.

The news was on. A plane had just crashed into the World Trade Center. Then, as my espresso-heavy drink of choice was being made, the unthinkable happened--another plane collided into the second tower. I took a seat. Soon the news reporting turned from discussing a tragic accident to an intentional act of terrorism. I called my mom at work (who was, at the time, probably far more concerned with why her daughter wasn't at school than about airplanes crashing) and told her the news. I headed to school for my second period class. The news had already broke there, and classrooms had TVs tuned in and radios broadcasting the tragedy. Had I skipped the whole day of classes I'm sure I wouldn't have missed much academically. But I would have missed the camaraderie, the huddling around televisions, the asking of hard questions, the discussion about the freedoms we so often take for granted, and the sacrifices of great men and women who fight for those freedoms.

I remember sitting around the television much in the coming days and weeks. I remember the heroic stories, the devastating stories.

I think often of friends and perfect strangers giving their lives, living far from family and the comforts of home, to ensure the rest of us sleep safely. I recall the funeral of a friend and young soldier who was killed in the line of duty. What a sacrifice.

Today I paraded barefoot through airport security watching my fellow passengers empty baggies of liquid toiletries into bins with their laptops and tennis shoes. Much has changed in the past decade. There seemed to be an extra number of men in royal blue TSA uniforms...or maybe I was just more aware of them. I thanked them, redressed myself, and walked past the 9-11 memorial booth to my gate.

The airport is full but eerily quiet. I wonder if we are all thinking similar thoughts, remembering that day solemnly. I wonder if we realize what we really have.

One time I got arrested in China. I was 15. Communist guards with automatic weapons pulled me into a room at the train station to rebuke the error of my ways. What had I done? Attempted to smuggle Chinese Bibles into the country. Yes, smuggle. That's illegal. I left that day unharmed, a little terrified, and a lot changed. I felt ashamed by the number of barely touched Bibles filling my bookshelves at home in the States. And I knew, while I left the country with no more than a fine and quite a story, my Chinese brothers and sisters were losing their lives daily for their faith. I was determined to learn to treasure the Word of God, the freedom to attend the church of my choosing without fear for my life, and the liberty to say whatever I please without fear of imprisonment. I set in my heart to never again take for granted the opportunities afforded to me as an citizen of the United States of America.

I still don't understand why God would chose for some of us to live under such freedoms while others live in famine and oppression, knowing no other life. I agree with CS Lewis and his sentiments that events like war and 9-11 serve to show us the kind of world we have lived in all along--terribly broken and desperately in need of a redeemer.

While I don't understand pain and death and oppression and violence and disease, I do know that the deepest pain and suffering could never separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Now, that, my friends, is ultimate freedom. In much or little, in joy or heartbreak, we are deprived and lost without Jesus.

America is awesome. But Jesus is better. And He's true freedom, the only true freedom.

Know Your Heart... and Don't Believe It

2011-09-07T18:32:00.001-05:00

Labour to know thine own frame and temper; what spirit thou art of; what associates in thy heart Satan hath; where corruption is strong, where grace is weak; what stronghold lust hath in thy natural constitution, and the like. . .

Be acquainted, then, with thine own heart: though it be deep, search it; though it be dark, inquire into it; though it give all its distempers other names than what are their due, believe it not.

-John Owen, Of Temptation

The True and Highest Sweetness

2011-09-07T09:27:00.004-05:00

How sweet it suddenly became to me to lack the sweetness of those follies, and what I was afraid to be separated from was now a joy to part with.

You cast them forth from me, You who are the true and highest sweetness. You cast them forth and entered in their place Yourself.

You who are sweeter than all pleasure, though not flesh and blood. Brighter than all light, but more hidden than all depths. Higher than all honor, but not to the lofty in their own conceits.

Now my soul was free from the biting cares of seeking and getting, weltering in filth, and scratching off the itch of my lust.

And my infant tongue spoke freely to You,
my Brightness
and my Riches
and my Health, Lord My God.

- St. Augustine -

The Best and the Worst

2011-09-06T23:08:00.004-05:00

Today I was asked a great question about my residency experience to date, "What's the best and worst thing that has happened?" After a little more thought I have a better answer than I initially gave, and I thought I'd share--

Let's start with the worst and get it out of the way.

I'm going to spare any details. But the worst thing I experience as a physician is death. Luckily, as an Ob/Gyn this isn't a terribly common thing. But it happens. And it's always tragic and reminds me of my own mortality. There's a lot of super spiritual things I could insert here, but all I wanna say is that death is crappy.

Wow. That was warm.

Now, the best thing....life!

There are so many good things it's hard to pick just one, but the following story is my personal favorite.

One day after work I was taking out the trash at my apartment in the 112 degree heat when a man in a suit chased me down in the parking lot. I was quite creeped out and acted like I didn't see him despite his obvious attempts to get my attention. Eventually, however, in his persistence he caught up to me.

"Hey, hey! You work at Baylor!"

Yeah, crazy, stop being a creeper.

"I remember you!"

Ugh, I just need to throw my trash out so I can go to bed. Please don't ask me a medical question.

"You delivered my son!"

Now I feel like a jerk.

"Yeah, you did the c-section."

Yikes, I cut this dude's wife.

"I remember you because I was trying so hard to keep my composure in the OR and you just looked so confident."

Maybe this guy doesn't know the difference between fear and confidence?! Maybe I should just accept his compliment?

After my initial inner dialogue quieted down, we stood in the parking lot making small talk about his new son. He radiated with that new father pride. And it was fun. I mean, I delivered my neighbor's child! How crazy is that? How cool is that?

Being an Ob/Gyn is incredible. And I love it.

Freeing Gospel Truth of the Day

2011-09-06T15:05:00.004-05:00

“Only the Gospel can truly save you. The Gospel doesn’t make bad people good; it makes dead people alive...the Gospel is God’s acceptance of us based on what Christ has done, not on what we can do.”

~Tullian Tchividjian~

The Gorgeous Message of the Gospel

2011-09-05T20:41:00.003-05:00

"Create in me a clean heart, O God."

~Psalm 51:10

Here is the gorgeous message of the Gospel: even though I have bowed again and again to an endless catalog of God replacements, even though I've loved myself more than I have loved God, even though I have rebelled against God's kingdom and sought to set up my own kingdom, God comes to me in grace and wraps arms of love around me and begins a process that will result in the total transformation of the core of my personhood, the heart. He won't rest and He won't relent until He's created in you and me a completely pure heart! So we wake up every morning knowing that by His grace they will be purer than they are today. So with thankfulness for the transformation that's already taken place and with courage of hope of the transformation that is to come, we wake up, look to heaven, and say with David, "Create in me a clean heart."

-Paul David Tripp-

Top 10 Lessons Learned My First Month as a Doctor

2011-08-21T21:05:00.001-05:00

Disclaimer: No patients were harmed in the making of this list.

10. You're sure to get super excited in your first c-section so be sure to tie your mask just right so you don't get all fogged up--that's one thing you're gonna want to do by sight and not by faith the first time.

9. If you're going to break someone's bag of water AND sit on the end of her bed make sure you brought a fresh change of drawers…you just may need them.

8. When a patient begins a conversation with, "Doctor, do you think something could have crawled inside me and be living in there..." pray your pager goes off STAT.

7. If you struggled to tie your shoe as a child, those knots in the OR are gonna be a booger for you. Practice makes perfect.

6. If someone says they heard it was pouring in triage don't just assume that means there is an abundance of patients. Who knows, water just may be gushing from the ceiling.

5. Warm chocolate chip cookies on a busy day are the best, just make sure you get all the chocolate off your face before you go see a patient. A delivery is the worst time to discover you have something on your face that may or may not be chocolate.

4. Wear a mask or make a conscience effort to keep your mouth closed during a delivery. See #5.

3. Don't ever tell a patient she is "grossly ruptured." Just because that's normal talk to you, her husband thinks you're saying she's disgusting, and you’re going to feel rather silly explaining the use of the word “gross” to him.

2. Being an OB/GYN is the coolest job in the world.

1. Nothing is impossible—in every sense of the expression.

Janice Mitchell, MD

2011-05-27T11:39:00.007-05:00

Today I will graduate from medical school.

I cannot believe this day has come. When I was a little girl I had a Fisher Price doctor kit. I took good care of my baby dolls. I even delivered my own babies. Here is some evidence...

5 years old and about 42 weeks pregnant--Haha!

5 years old making house calls

Today I will leave my short white coat of medical school education and don the stitches of the long white coat I have earned.

Today I will become Janice Mitchell, MD.

Thanks be to God, the One who keeps me from stumbling and presents me blameless before His throne, my Rock and my Refuge, my Refiner and Disciplinarian, my Lover and closest Friend, my Creator and Sustainer.

What an incredible day!

Shout for joy to God, all the earth;

sing the glory of his name;

give to him glorious praise!
Say to God, "How awesome are your deeds!

Come and see what God has done:

he is awesome in his deeds toward the children of man.

Bless our God, O peoples;

let the sound of his praise be heard,
For you, O God, have tested us;
you have tried us as silver is tried.
You brought us into the net;
you laid a crushing burden on our backs;
you let men ride over our heads;
we went through fire and through water;
yet you have brought us out to a place of abundance.

Come and hear, all you who fear God,

and I will tell what he has done for my soul.

But truly God has listened;
he has attended to the voice of my prayer.

~Psalm 66:1-3,5,8-12,16,19~

Here Lately...

2010-11-02T14:24:00.001-05:00

Just in case you were wondering, the following is an update on my life and adventures!

Many of you have asked me, “Are you a doctor yet? How much longer? What are you going to do? And how does all this work?” Well, let me explain—

I’m currently in my fourth and last year of medical school, and I’m going to be an OB/GYN (Obstetrician and Gynecologist)! I am PUMPED about it. I feel like I am only paces away from the place I strived for for years. I know this is God’s calling on my life. I know I was made to take care of women from all walks of life through many stage of their lives. Doing so brings me such great joy! I am excited about helping bring new lives into this world, being a surgeon as well as primary care physician, and being an advocate for women and their health. This is the very thing I have been working for for so many years. It is incredible to finally see it all materialize.

After I graduate in May with an MD, I will begin an OB/GYN residency in July 2011 that will last 4 years. Last week I began the process of interviewing for a position in an OB/GYN residency program. Interview season typically lasts from late October through January. Many students travel widely and interview at approximately 10-15 programs, sometimes even more. I chose to apply throughout the Southeast—including Texas, Arkansas, Tennessee, Kentucky, the Carolinas, and a few other random places here and there. I had a couple interviews in Texas in October and will be doing the bulk of my traveling outside of Texas in November in the form of a 3-week long roadtrip. Then in December I will be back in sweet home Houston traveling to several interviews in Texas.

At the end of this whole process, I will rank all of the programs I have interviewed at, and likewise, they will rank their interviewees. Then in March, someone presses some big magic button and every fourth year med student across the country gets ONE residency position (or not, but we won’t talk about that side of things :0). Then on March 17, the nationwide Match Day, there is a ceremony where each student receives an envelope containing the results of the match and the program to which they have been accepted and everyone opens their envelope in the presence of friends and family!

Some would say this whole interviewing and matching process is a bit stressful and nerve-racking. Yes and no. There are lots of little details, lots of unknowns, lots of meeting new faces, and lots of big decisions. But over and over, I hear the Lord whispering in my ear. I know the plans I have for you. Good, good plans. Plans to prosper you. And never to harm you. Plans for a hope. And a future. I am confident that the Lord saw these days ahead of me long before I was born. And He knew. He knew exactly what I would need. He knows the perfect place for me.

I have had a lot of time to myself over the last week or so. I have driven from Houston to San Antonio to Dallas to Nashville, well over a thousand miles, and about 24 hours worth of car time. I’ve sung my favorite songs at the top of my lungs, I’ve listened to some great sermons and audiobooks, and I’ve sat in complete silence—praying and listening and thinking. I’ve run the list of all my hopes and dreams and fears and expectations and much, much more. I’ve reminisced about where I’ve come from and where I’m heading. My heart is full—full of gratitude for all the wonderful things the Lord has done to bring me to this place and full of excitement over where He is taking me. But even in all of that there is that tinge of fear of the unknown. Will I move far away or will I stay close to the ones I love? Will it be super hard?? Who are these other folks who I’ll be spending days and nights with training to be OB/GYNs?

However, these unknowns, these fears, are overshadowed by the remarkable goodness of God in my life. He had done more than I could have ever asked or even imagined. He has been faithful. And He will forevermore be. So I give him my hopes, my dreams, my fears, my expectations, my future plans. They are safe with Him. And I am safe with Him.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to each of you for being such incredible friends, cheerleaders, prayer warriors, running buddies, confidants, and the list goes on. You are my people, and without your support in so many different seasons of my life I would have never made it to this place. I thank God for each of you!!

Please continue to pray and praise God for all He’s up to. Hopefully I’ll snap a few pics of my journey and keep you posted on my whereabouts via the Facebook stalking-machine!

Much love to each of you,

Janice

Speeding Tickets and Bunny Rabbits

2010-06-09T00:03:00.002-05:00

“So, so sorry Ms. Huge Scary She-Man Police Officer with the fire darting from the eyes, nasty tongue ring bobbing around as you speak, and chill radiating from the heart--I know I whipped right around you going 85 in a 60 but I am just trying to get to the hospital...ya know to see my sick bunny rabbit, Mimoso. It’s been a tough day."

These thoughts raced through my mind and a more condensed, polite version came out in my shaking voice as my heart did laps in my chest on the side of the highway—during rush hour traffic nonetheless. The lovely lady had caught me red-handed, and though the Houston heat was blazing, it was about as cold Santa’s North Pole in our freeway-side conversation.

"HoustonMetroPD.LiscenseAndProofOfInsurance,” this woman spurted out at record speed. Ya know, normally the general speeding ticket stop begins with a greeting. Something like “Ma’am where you going?” or “What’s the rush?” or “Do you know how fast you were going, miss?” No, no greetings here, only business. I just knew I wasn’t wiggling out of this one without a big fat ticket.

I handed her the goods for her to do the usual background check and approximately an eternity later she returned to my window.

I braced myself.

Then I heard a crack—you know the kind you hear on a warm day in Antarctica when the ice breaks apart.

Warning!

OMG, somewhere in that tough body there was a heart after all! I nearly jumped out the window and kissed her. But the bar in her tongue frightened me right back into some good sense.

It was probably the bunny rabbit part that won her over I’m sure. She really seemed like the bunny rabbit kind of girl. A least maybe 34 years ago, when she was 3.

As I drove away, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or do some weird awkward combination of both.

When God Cries

2010-04-10T14:50:00.002-05:00

I never run in the rain. I don't like getting wet. I don't like getting mud on my shoes. And wet socks are my worst enemy. Besides, I have this incredible fear of being struck by lightning. Crazy, I know. So if there is more than a 0.2% chance that it will rain at any point in the day, you will find me either on the treadmill or in my bed (probably in my bed 99.9% of the time, as the treadmill and I just aren't close friends either).

But today I woke up ready to hit the Park and RUN! I just knew it would be a gorgeous day for such and got all geared up to go. Upon opening the door, disappointment washed over me. It was drizzling. Not bad, but enough to get wet. So I did what every logical person would do and downloaded 2 additional weather apps to the 2 I already had on my phone and looked to see just how bad the rain would be and at what hour it would let up. It wasn't even forecast to rain much, so I headed out praying lightning wouldn't strike, of course.

Even on my way to the Park the sky cleared. Sweet. It was meant to be after all.

I ran my first 3 steps and the sky suddenly opened up. I was drenched within 5 minutes.

The rain was cold and stung my skin. I squinted my eyes in a futile attempt to keep the drops from burning my eyes. I pressed on and ran faster hoping it would let up again soon. It didn't.

The drops got bigger and fell quicker.

And I heard the voice of the Lord gently remind me that He knows the whole world is broken. It was as if He was saying, "I see, Janice. I know. And it breaks my heart too." I really felt like God was crying. Weirdest thing. I just wished I could get Him a tissue or something so He wouldn't get me so wet.

I shivered in the cold. The drops continued to sting my skin and flood my eyes. My socks were wet and mud flung up the back of my legs with each step. But there was something incredibly peaceful about knowing that God sees the brokenness and is moved by it. And there was also something about the way the rain washed the earth--like a cleansing rain to wash the brokenness away. Like springs of water would be in the desert. And I felt the Lord washing over me, reminding me, "Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers" (Psalm 1:1-3). I felt the Lord reminding me that my life is His, that His ways are higher than mine and are PERFECT and beautiful and joyous. I knew He was reassuring me that I wasn't going to miss His best for me.

When I got home I was stirred to read the one recorded time in Scripture where God Himself cried. I LOVE the story. Check it out in John 11. Pretty much what happens is Jesus's friend Lazarus dies. He's been dead for 4 days when Jesus gets there. And He is told at least twice, "Man, what the mess?! If you would have gotten here 4 days ago this would have never happened! Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man kept this man from dying?!"

Jesus is lead to Lazarus's tomb, and I guess it suddenly hits him that his friend is gone. Dead. In the grave. And He weeps. Right there along with everyone else, He weeps.

Crazy story really--because His first words to them when He arrived were, "Your brother will rise again." I mean, He knew the grand finale. But there was something in Him that drove Him to tears even knowing that everything was going to be awesome in the end. He loved His friend. And, well, His friend was dead. So He wept. The sisters wept. The family mourned. And Jesus did too.

But not for too long I guess because before we know it Lazarus is up and walking and needing some new clothes lest he embarrass himself and everyone else for that matter.

And in a sense this is exactly what happened to me today--I felt the rain as tears of the Lord. And suddenly the clouds cleared and the sun even peaked out. I was soaked to the core but full of joy knowing that we serve a God who sees and is not the least bit absent from our pain, a God who weeps with those who weep, a God who is more than able to cause life to spring up in the dead, a God who mends the breech and breaks every fetter, a God who is our very own Resurrection and Life.

I am confident that ultimately there will be a place where there are no more tears and no more pain. There will be a place were all is made new.

And the Lord said,

"Be still, and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth!"

The LORD of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Selah

(Psalm 46:10-11)

-J

Confessions.

2010-04-09T22:35:00.004-05:00

I am terrified of wasting my life.

There--I said it.

Here's the thing. I've spent most of the last 11 years of my young life trying to find my place in this world, trying to do something that will count. Something that will change lives for eternity. Something that will bring unchanging hope and peace to the darkest corners of the world. I've dreamt about it. I've tossed and turned in my bed many sleepless nights wondering how on earth my life can change someone else's.

One thing has lead to another and here I am today in my third year of med school, arriving rather firmly and affirmedly at a decision to pursue OB/GYN. I love OB/GYN and have for a long time. I love the primary care, the surgery, the babies, the ladies, the whole nacho.

And while my passion to live a life that affects change and inspires hope in the lives of others around the globe has remained unchanged, let's not lie--my life for the past 4 years has been all about none other than me, me, me, and well, me. How will I get into med school? Where will I go to med school? How will I survive med school? How will I make the grades? Where will I go to residency? Will I get to go where I want to go? How much longer do I have to stay at this dreary hospital today? I take call how often?! When do I get to nap?! Do I really have to do that?! And I guess, partly it has to be this way--I do need to study. I do need to work. And, well, the good Lord knows, I do need some sleep from time to time too. And it would also be nice to make sure I have some plan as to what I'm doing when I graduate next year.

(Geez, if I had that many new I's all the blind folk in Texas would be able to see by next week.)

However, I feel rather self-absorbed lately thinking and planning and scheming and trying my best to sell myself to attendings to make the grade and get favorable evaluations. And I often have to stop and recollect and ask myself why I really do all this anyhow. What was that thing about changing the world again? And is that even possible? And will I be old and grey and disillusioned once I am finally trained to do all this stuff? Oh, and do I have to go there ALONE? O geez... A whole 'nother fear for a whole 'nother blog!

But I have these friends who, and read blogs about and hear of folks, just normal folks like me, who are doing INCREDIBLE things right now to reach the nations with clean water and save women from human trafficking and help starving kids learn how to grow crops for whole villages and do just about anything to suffer with the suffering and shed any amount of the light of hope possible into dark, dark places.

My heart about beats out of my chest when I read of it.

And I wonder if my life will ever amount to anything....

I wonder if I will ever finish all this doctor-making stuff, first of all!

Then, I wonder when it's all said and done, if I will bite into the American "dream" and find myself in 10 years buying a new house and driving a new car and living in the suburbs sending a few dollars over every now and again so I can feel good about myself and feel like I am helping out. I wonder if I will find myself living the doctor high life and never having done anything that really matters.

I wonder if I will get too chicken to ever make the wild, crazy, risky decision to just GO. To drop what the world has convinced me I "deserve" and go somewhere dark and bleak and miserable and hard and uncomfortable and joyous and beautiful.

I wonder if I will be bold enough to follow those dreams that often haunt me at night and that come to life when I read of others willing to give their lives for something beyond themselves.

So, in short, I am afraid of wasting my life. Of settling for less. Of becoming numb to suffering around the world and not daring to do something about it. Of getting tired and jaded and of feeling as if I deserve comforts and trinkets and treasures.

I am afraid of forfeiting all my dreams and what I've worked so hard to obtain only for an empty box of perishable goods.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer says it like this in "The Cost of Discipleship"--

Costly Grace is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man will gladly go and sell all that he has. It is the pearl of great price to buy which the merchant will sell all his goods. It is the kingly rule of Christ, for whose sake a man will pluck out the eye which causes him to stumble; it is the call of Jesus Christ at which the disciples leaves his nets and follows him. Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock. Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life.

May my heart not be lured so much toward the world and all its trimmings and trappings, but to the grace which costs me my life that I may find my only true life!

-J

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose."

-Jim Elliot, missionary and matryr

Palm Reading

2010-04-09T20:59:00.004-05:00

The scene: Day 1 of my new internal medicine rotation with my new team and new attending nervously beginning my first presentation of a patient I just met a few minutes ago.

Me: Ms. So-and-So is a 20 year old on hospital day number 3 admitted for end stage renal disease and severe anemia. She is--

Attending: (Dramatic stopping gesture.) Woah. Woah. (Looking to my team.) What have we got here?

(Long, awkward pause.)

Me: (Trembling quietly, fearing I have said something wrong in just the first sentence of my presentation.)

Attending: (Looking back at me.) Let me see your hands, young lady.

Me: (Timidly tucking my notes under my arms and stretching out my hands.)

Attending: Turn them over!

Me: (Timidly allowing him to examine my hands.)

Attending: I knew it all along!

Me: (Flushed, fluttered, and terrified of my attending's palm reading skills.)

Attending: (Looking back at the team with a eureka sparkle in his eye.) I knew it! We have ourselves an OB/GYN!

Guess there's no escaping the OB/GYN in me!

-J

Support Me in the MS150!

2010-03-31T10:32:00.005-05:00

Greetings dear friends,

As many of you may have heard, in a few short weeks, April 17-18, I will be riding my bike from Houston to Austin in the MS150 to raise money for the National MS Society. The National MS Society serves to move research forward by relentlessly pursuing prevention, treatment, and a cure; to move to reach out and respond to individuals, families and communities living with MS; and to move politicians and legislation to champion the needs of people with MS through activism, advocacy, and influence.

So what is MS anyway, you ask?

MS, short for Multiple Sclerosis, is an autoimmune disease that affects the brain and spinal cord (aka the Central Nervous System or CNS). In MS, the body's white blood cells attack tissue called myelin sheath. Myelin sheaths are the protective covering for nerve fibers in the brain. Much like an electric wire is insulated with rubber or plastic, the myelin sheaths cover nerve fibers as they transmit nerve impulses within the brain. When a myelin sheath is worn down or destroyed, the process is called demyelination. Demyelination causes the nerve fiber to be exposed. The exposed nerve fiber is less able to transmit nerve impulses. As a result, messages between different parts of the body are not transmitted as effectively. After the myelin is destroyed, scar tissue called sclerosis is left behind in the damaged areas, which are referred to as lesions or plaques.

Here’s a pic for you visual folks—

So what does that really mean?

Demyelination can take place anywhere in the CNS and cause a myriad of symptoms that vary from person to person. MS can cause blurred vision, loss of balance, poor coordination, slurred speech, tremors, numbness, extreme fatigue, problems with memory and concentration, paralysis, and blindness and more.

Who is affected?

MS affects over 400,000 people in the United States and up to 2.5 million people worldwide. Since most people are diagnosed before they turn 30, MS has been called the most common disability-causing illness for people under 45-years-old.

· Women are 70% more likely to have MS than men.
· People of European descent are twice as likely to have MS as African Americans and Asian Americans.
· MS also occurs more often in relatives of people with MS—Children, siblings, and nonidentical twins of someone with MS have a one in 100 to one in 40 chance of having MS themselves. The identical twin of someone with MS has a one in four chance of having MS.
· Multiple sclerosis is more common in cooler areas of the globe. In the United States, Northern states have higher rates of MS than Southern states, and Canada has a rate of MS double that of the US.

A Little Closer to Home

My dad was actually once diagnosed with MS—though if you know anything about my dad, his words on the subject were rather few and vague. “Well, I dunno what it was, they said MS, but whatever it was sure made me sick.” That’s about all I can get out of him on the topic. Silly man. Maybe one day I can sneak him into an MRI when he’s not looking and check him out, but until then the mystery remains unsolved.

In November 2009, I spent 4 weeks on the Memorial Hermann neurology service, and while neurology is by far not my forte, I sure did learn a lot—a lot that far surpassed the treatment of those with some sort of, well, neurologic problem. We had many folks on our service suffering from MS exacerbations as the heat provokes such, but one particular woman stands out in my mind. We’ll call her Ms. Felicidad. She was a rather pleasant woman who we spoke with each day. When she arrived, she was having trouble with her vision and was unable to move any of her extremities. After a week of intense treatment, we had her back to her baseline of functioning—still unable to feed or cloth herself without assistance, unable to see in some visual fields, and trouble with memory. Despite all her problems, or maybe inspite of them, what sticks out most glaringly about her was her gratefulness. Every day she would show off her ability to raise her right arm. She did it with such difficulty, but she was so excited to be able to move at all. She was the strongest woman I’ve met in quite awhile—her drive to keep fighting for life even a life that was still imperfect at best, was astounding. Her smile and her laughter will be hard to forget.

Thanks for reminding me to be grateful and rejoice always, Ms. Felicidad. This ride’s for you.

I’ve read ALL this stuff, so now what?!

This is where you come in, friends! Each rider is required to raise a minimum of $400 for the National MS Society. I would love for you to sponsor me in whatever way you can—financially, of course, in prayer, through encouragement. Any amount you can give counts and is much appreciated! There is a link on my Facebook page for you to sponsor me or you can click here. You can also give cash or checks directly to me. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to call or email me at Janice.L.Mitchell@uth.tmc.edu. You can also check out my MS150 fundraising page or the general MS150 website.

Thanks so much for all your encouragement and prayer! I am grateful for each of you.

Saved by grace. Motivated to race.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted.

Hebrews 12:1-3

This Is Who I Am

2009-11-07T10:43:00.002-06:00

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!!

Subway Sandwiches, Goodness, and Mercy

2009-10-19T21:14:00.004-05:00

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.

Fear

2009-08-06T21:00:00.002-05:00

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-

One Bloody Night in the ER...

2009-07-18T17:29:00.002-05:00

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.

Jesus Wants the Rose!

2009-07-18T14:30:00.003-05:00

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....

The Most Glorious, Trying, Beautiful, Exhausting, Frustrating, Exciting Day Ever- AKA LBJ Day Uno

2009-07-02T22:11:00.005-05:00

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!

Coffee Shop Creeper

2009-06-10T18:11:00.002-05:00

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.

Let Us...

2009-05-15T18:45:00.005-05:00

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.

Bless the Lord, O My Soul

2009-05-10T22:54:00.002-05:00

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

A Few Thoughts on H1N1, Swine-Origin Influenza A

2009-04-30T19:23:00.001-05:00

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/.

A Beautifully Simple Reminder

2009-02-04T17:11:00.003-06:00

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.

January 20, 2009

2009-01-20T22:33:00.002-06:00

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.

Mountains Moved

2008-12-24T22:56:00.002-06:00

Wow. Another semester has already come and gone. Guess it’s true that the time flies when you’re having fun! Or something like that… :0)

I am truly amazed at what the Lord has done in my life in the past several months. I am immeasurably blessed. This semester—a hurricane swept us off of our feet for a few days, America elected its first ever black president, my grandmother had a stroke, it snowed in Houston in December, and, well, a lot of other boring, personal landmarks that I won’t tire you with. So much of it seems so mundane, so normal, but at a closer glance it is far from ordinary.

One morning early in the semester I found myself running on the treadmill watching the sun rise. I was jamming out to the newer Chris Tomlin CD, and I sensed the Lord saying to me, “Better things are yet to come, better things are still to be done….” I sensed Him so clearly saying that though my own fears and failures seemed like mountains, He is in the business of mountain-moving. All things are possible. I knew He was up to something.

God has not in the least bit failed me on His better things promise. He has done immeasurably more than all I could have asked or even imagined. I would like to say that it has been the beautiful way I would have imagined it—you know, beautiful like the sunrise that morning. God would move some of the mountains of fears and failures in my life and others He blew up with dynamite or ripped out of my hands piece by piece. Yeah, that wasn’t a beautiful thing. Painful, unbearably painful at times. But His promise still rang through—BETTER things. I clung so long and hard to what I saw as good, and God said, “No ma’am. No more. Better.”

I love how King David put it, “Where can I go from Your presence? If I go up to the Heavens You are there. If I make my bed in the depths You are there. Even if I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost part of the sea, even there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me fast.”

I sure can relate. I have lived on the mountain-top with God at times. I have been that “good ‘lil Christian girl” and, well, I have been the converse as well. I have made my bed in the depths. But not for one second has God forsaken me. Not for one second has He said, “Okay, I am done with you, fool.” He has taken me with His right hand as said, “My beloved, you are mine.”

And that, my friend, is the story of redemption—of mountains moved.

Praise God for all He’s done and all He’s yet to do.

Hillbilly Joe Wins Shoplifter Catcher Hero Award

2008-11-29T22:48:00.004-06:00

I love the evergreen scent that stands as a greeter upon entrance to the grocery store. I love the twinkling lights that litter the neighbors’ yards and homes. I love the festive songs and melodies of which most everyone knows the ever so familiar words. I love the home-cooked meals—sitting long and talking much. I love the gatherings and the spirit of giving and togetherness. I love the vacation to rest and to spend with family and old friends.

This is Christmas to me—the celebration of the Hope of the nations, the Light of the world. My Savior, my King, and yet my closest Friend. And what a better way to celebrate than to celebrate life itself? Enjoying those I love and savoring the sweet moments in this life.

Today during an excursion to Wal-Mart I witnessed one customer escorting another customer back into the store in a pair of hand-cuffs with a store manager trailing behind pushing a buggy of expensive goodies. Now, I am not quite sure who carries a set of hand-cuffs in tow to grab some groceries at the store, but this typical Hillbilly Joe in his worn jeans and camo hat appears to have been in just the right place at the right time to win the Shoplifter Catcher Hero of the Day Award. As I watched the rather interesting scene unfold, I thought back to just hours before as I had read of a crowd trampling a Wal-Mart employee to his death in New York.

I cannot fathom, even in my wildest of dreams, what could be of such great value for which a man’s life would be taken in such vanity and absurdity—especially something within the four walls of Wal-Mart. I mean, seriously now, folks?! What in Wal-Mart could a mob possibly want THAT bad?!

I just don’t get it. This constant rat race for more, more, more. When will enough be enough? Do we really need another iPhone, video game, television, GPS, Blackberry, camera, _(fill in the blank with some other fancy electronic device)_. Yes, the technology out there these days is fascinating, and while none of it is bad in and of itself—it is becoming our ruin. Apparently, Americans are willing to trample each other for the latest and greatest gadgets and widgets. Why is the evergreen scent at the grocery store entrance and the smell of a freshly baked apple pie not enough anymore? Why do we spend so little time with the ones we love and so much time with our gadgets and widgets?

I pray this Christmas our yearning would be to sit long and talk much—that we would treasure the ones we love and we would celebrate Jesus, our Life and Joy. The tinsel and lights are nice, but they are mostly just cheap Made In China crap.

So, all that to say—Enjoy the festivities, give great gifts, drink a little extra eggnog (ya know that good kind :0), sing the familiar songs with pride, but by all means don’t trample your neighbors. And have a very Merry Christmas! :0)

Where Your Treasure Is...

2008-09-15T12:19:00.003-05:00

Late Wednesday evening I scurried rather franticly to gather every trinket and treasure I considered of irreplaceable value from my apartment. I had just arrived home from a nice dinner hosted by the Harris County Academy of Family Physicians and was ready to settle down for the night with thoughts of healthcare problems and solutions floating freely in my mind. I flipped on the television to quickly check on the status of the storm lingering in the gulf only to find that I was set to be a direct target. Mandatory evacuations for Galveston island and some surrounding areas were to begin promptly in the morning. A quick run-through of things such as the flooding the med center can receive from a small storm and the age of the building in which I live, not to mention the traffic that was sure to ensue in the morning prompted me to begin thinking about leaving. It was late, but I knew it was the best option to pack my belongings and head to my parents’ house just a little north. While they were predicted to be hit rather hard by the storm as well, it would surely be better to be together.

Thursday relatives from the bay area began to flood our home with their dogs and hamsters. Dogs were fighting and hamsters were squealing. Emotions were high as we watched the storm swirl into their homes on the gulf. The storm came and went in all its terror, and while I could give quite the long narrative about that terror, I will spare you.

In all of this I have learned a few things. I think hurricanes tend to truly unveil one’s character or lack-there-of. As I gathered my trinket and treasure pile Wednesday evening I was somewhat overwhelmed by my own pettiness. Just a few days prior I had read Jesus’ words to His disciples,

Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

I pray that I would find my treasure where moth and rust do not destroy and thieves cannot break in and steal. I pray that my heart would rest in Christ more than earthen treasures—that I would truly learn to value the things He values. O God, change our hearts that we would find our hope, our life, our everything in You.

Today I also have a long list of things for which I am grateful:
· Life
· My family
· Faithful friends
· A cool breeze
· Sunrise
· A roof over my head
· A comfy bed
· Food
· Running water
· Air conditioning
· Internet
· Electricity
· Refrigeration
· Clean, dry clothes
· Phone service
· A few more days without school
· Those willing to work around the clock to bring life back to normal as quickly as possible
· A government able to provide needed aid within a matter of a few hours after a disaster
· A God who is faithful even in my pettiness and selfishness
· Much, much, more

Bacon & Syrup

2008-07-29T23:24:00.002-05:00

As Kylie was directed to her room in the Four Seasons Retreat Center, she discovered her room was named January. She stopped dead in her tracks, refusing to enter. “My dad was murdered in January. I can’t go in there.”

Hope would not eat lunch today. The memories of what would truly be the best week of her young life flooded her mind along with the horrors of what lies ahead. It was too much for her 8 year-old mind to process—too much for my 23 year-old mind to comprehend.

It was a party fit for a king as we celebrated everyone’s birthday on Wednesday. There were horses and carnival games and even presents for everyone. To top in all off, a cake with the face of every child neatly created to look unmistakably like them. Each one lit up all they discovered their personal look-alike atop the masterpiece. And to think—many have never had their birth celebrated.

The girls loaded on the trailer for their hayride and I caught them just in time to come along. As we rolled slowly through the fields and meadows, they were mesmerized by everything. Songs of hope and freedom poured from their young hearts, and my heart was filled to overflowing.

Zechariah wrote a prayer more honest and insightful than most church people will ever pray. His words were simple, but the implications were clear—he knows he desperately needs Jesus to forgive him for his sins and to be near to him. And on top of all that, he wants help getting his mom back.

It was everything I could do to get my feet on the floor at 6:45 am each day this week. The 15 hour work days were taking a toll on me, and I could envision all the pots and pans awaiting me in the kitchen along with the unwanted bacon and syrup smell that would permeate my clothes all day. As I drug myself out of bed and into the retreat center, Laura grinned ear to ear and ran for me with the sweetest embrace. As I struggled to hold my eyes open will serving breakfast, a 7 year-old delight named Ruby bashfully said, “You’re pretty” and scurried off.

These are only snippets, at best, from my week, a week of working in the kitchen for a unique camp. I have seen countless campers come through Camp Tejas, where I have been working off and on since 2003, but never before have I served a group quite like this one. You see, each and every camper was a foster child. Yes, I was aware of this as I awoke Monday morning. But as the children poured off the bus that afternoon, I was overwhelmed with thoughts of what their young eyes had seen and what their young hearts had experienced already.

As the bus pulled away this afternoon, six of us stood uniformly in a straight line in our purple shirts, waving, with tears streaming down our faces. Those kids changed us. Those kids ripped our hearts out. And I am not sure we will ever be the same again.

None of us could have ever imagined that hopeless and fatherless Kylie would give her life to God the Father on a bunk bed in January—her sadness would be turned to joy. The month of horrors would soon become the month of her redemption. None of us could have ever imagined that children from such unspeakable circumstances would sing God’s praises at the top of their lungs. We never expected to see eyes full of such sorrow leave full of hope and life.

And we could not have dreamed that their young lives would impact us so deeply.

And to think of the incredible blessing I received by spending my week asking if they would like one or two pancakes and if they wanted gravy on top or on the side.

This is indeed something worth giving my life for—even if I end the day smelling like bacon and syrup.

All names have been changed to protect the identity of the children.

When I Grow Up....

2008-06-20T10:17:00.003-05:00

My hopes were high as I walked into Hospital Policlinico Monday morning. I had yet to see a pregnant woman in this country much less one in labor. However, rumor is there are an average of 12 births every day at Policlinico. I put on my freshly ironed scrubs and braced myself for a morning sure to be full of babies! After meeting Dr. Rojas I was ushered into a classroom, standing room only, with doctors, residents, and med students. If there is anything we have learned in our time in the hospitals here it is that the classroom is never good. After 2 hours of a pre-eclampsia lecture in Spanish I was, needless to say, disappointed.

Tuesday I arrived bound and determined to find labor and delivery and deliver some babies! I succeeded in the former but miserably failed in the latter. After several hours in L&D and not a single woman in labor, I decided to head home.

Being the stubborn woman that I am, Wednesday morning I decided I wouldn´t give up. Third time is a charm, I figured. I hesitantly suited up and headed into L&D. In the dressing room I kept hearing the word pre-eclampsia but could not quite put everything together. I stepped across the sterile threshold in my surgical garb--no one. Again, not a single woman in labor.

Sitting in the break room watching Scooby Doo in Spanish, I noticed the phone sure was ringing a lot more than normal and everyone was beginning to stir. Trying not to get too excited, I knew something exciting was about to happen.

In rolls a pregnant woman! However, I was a little confused because she did not appear to be in labor, nor did she appear to be full-term. The OR was being prepped so I knew a C-section was in order. Tears rolled down the woman´s face. The phrases "26 weeks" and "pre-eclampsia" were being thrown around. And I knew ever too clearly exactly what was about to happen. Doctors and nurses alike gathered around in an effort to provide a combination of comfort and reality. They were deeply concerned. As the first incision was made I thought--I want to be an OB/GYN. I want care for women at their most vulnerable and exciting times in life.

Before I knew it a baby boy no larger than my hand was taken from his safe, secure home nearly 14 weeks before his time. Like a little girl observing the work of her father, I watched every move of the neonatologist carefully. I was completely enamored by this little 26 weeker. At only 600 grams, he was perfect in every way. Ten tiny fingers grasping for comfort. Ten tiny toes kicking in the air. I pressed my stethoscope against his chest and heard his tiny heart beating and his lungs working so hard for some air. And his cry--at his cry everyone went still and tears filled my eyes. Standing by his side I thought--I want to be a neonatologist. I want to help the little ones fight for life.

Thursday I found myself at the side of Steven, an 8 month old with a cleft lip. With just a quick glance at his cute little face your heart broke. I was amazed at the simplicity and yet delicacy of the repair surgery. Upon completion, Steven looked much like any other 8 month old with only a small scar in the place of his cleft. I rocked him and held him close as he whimpered during recovery. I couldn´t help but think how many children around the world I have seen with cleft lips and what a difference such a simple surgery would make in their lives. By the end of the morning I thought--I want to be a pediatric surgeon.

Needless to say, I have found the opportunities in medicine to be endless. In part, that ignites fear in me. In part, it kindles such excitement. I fear that I will never be able to choose which path to take! However, I know that no matter where I find myself, I will be doing the very thing for which I long--making a difference in others´ lives.

In Greek there are two words for life--bios and zoe. Bios is the root of biology meaning the type of life that lives and breathes. Zoe is far less superficial, a quality of life and not just life itself, a life full of hope and joy. What a joy to bring not just bios life but zoe life also into the lives of others! I pray that God would truly use my hands to be an instrument of healing and hope, an instrument of life. Not just living, breathing life, but life abundant.

What a privilege we have to know Him and serve Him. May we never take it for granted a single day. May we walk in the joy that says, "You are my Lord; I have no good apart from you" (Psalm 16:2).

He Is No Fool....

2008-06-16T12:11:00.003-05:00

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose."

-Jim Elliot, missionary to the Ecuadorian Amazon

This weekend was a weekend to remember forever. After 9 hours of winding roads through the Andes and expeditions where roads are unheard of we arrived in the Amazon jungle. The phrase "off the beaten path" took on an entirely new meaning as we navigated over rocks and through small creeks.

The jungle is indescribable—its beauty and wealth are beyond words.

When we arrived on Friday evening we were greeted by monkeys in the town square. Our guide joined us, and we journeyed further into the jungle as the sun set, taking in all the beauty. We arrived at a small camp, gathered our belongings, and hiked about a mile to our huts just off the river. After dinner, we trekked through the jungle exploring the world of creatures surrounding us—insects large and small.

Anxious to see the full beauty of our surroundings the next morning, we opened our door to a world of color and wonder. The jungle was everything we could have imagined and more.

Saturday was full of adventure as we hiked and canoed through the glorious surroundings. We tasted of the jungle fruits and even learned how to shoot blow darts for hunting. We learned about the jungle animals and the jungle life. Our day concluded with a swim in the river, dinner, a fire with jungle juice and jungle stories as we lounged in hammocks.

One experience is more striking than all the others, however. While canoeing down the Rio Napa, our guide told me a very familiar story from a world of personal experience. He recounted the story of Nate Saint, Jim Elliot, Ed McCulley, Pete Fleming, and Roger Youderian. As we cruised past a rocky beach he said, "There. Right there they gave their lives for the Waodani." He told the story so beautifully in a language I am still struggling to grasp. But while I did not catch his every word—I heard it all and I saw it all in his countenance. He spoke of how those men and their families changed the jungle. He spoke of personal change in the life of his grandfather through the hope of Jesus that ultimately brought change to his entire family. He thanked God for the life that he has and privilege he has of knowing Jesus and experiencing the beauty of God´s creation everyday in the jungle. It was a powerful moment that is difficult to describe. I have heard the story of these men and even seen the movie, but to hear it from the lips of one changed by their sacrifice was remarkable. To see the very location where they gave their lives and even experience a glimpse of their lives in the jungle for a few short days sparked something in me.

I was ever so gently reminded that the Gospel is worth my life, every part of me. As we were riding home, I opened a book I have been reading, "When I Don´t Desire God" by John Piper. As I read, Piper recounted the sacrifice of these men saying that their joy in Him was the power behind their obedience and faith. Coincidence? I think not.

I am so grateful for a patient God who will go to such incredible lengths to remind me that my life is His and He is truly all I need. Every sacrifice is so small compared to His glory. And ultimately, "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose."

Riobamba, Ecuador

2008-06-05T12:00:00.004-05:00

Greetings from Riobamba, Ecuador! After only 5 days in Ecuador, I must admit that it is very difficult to write in English—my mind is overflowing with Spanish words and phrases! What a beautiful country!

There are beautiful flowers everywhere!

The city is surrounded by mountains on each side. It is gorgeous. Here is one of the many volcanoes in Ecuador.

More pics to come soon!

I am staying with a family here, mi mama y mi pape. I am truly part of the family. Mi mama calls me ¨mi hija¨ meaning my daughter. Every day I awake to kisses, every afternoon I receive kisses when I come home, and every night I am sent to bed with a kiss. That is a lot of kisses! The people here are very affectionate (obviously!), and family is more important than anything else in the world. Every day I walk home for lunch and eat the biggest meal you have even seen with mama, pape, and the other children. It is truly amazing. I love it. I have heard of such family dynamics but to actually be apart of it is quite an experience.

My first day with my family I failed to make it home for lunch. I just didn´t know better. When I got home that evening mi mama gave me 5 or 6 kisses and said she was worried all day with tears in her eyes. She talked all evening about how much she worried. Tuesday evening a group of us gringos went to watch a futbol game, and when I asked mi pape if I could go he replied with of course but if you want to invite all your friends to our casa you can. They are so generous and overflowing with love!

The hospital here is rather primitive. The past 2 days I have observed multiple surgeries, and I am always amazed at exactly what goes on—from the sterile procedure (or last thereof) to the procedure itself. It is a blessing to get to learn medical Spanish. I will definitely need it in the next few years!

I am learning so many things beyond a language and a culture—things about myself, things about God, and so much more. I am blown away that the Lord would bring me to such a foreign land to show me more of His beauty. He is so good. What more is there to say?

¨I was when I was happiest that I longed most…The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing…to find the place where all the beauty came from.¨ CS Lewis in Till We Have Faces

Ecuador!

2008-05-30T22:33:00.002-05:00

What a day! After traveling since 7am this morning, I have finally arrived in Ecuador! I am so excited to be here.

I flew through Panama City, Panama this morning and had quite a lengthy lay-over there. I met a woman in the airport from Ecuador who now lives in the states and was traveling to her daughter´s wedding in Quito. She helped me figure out how to get out of the airport in Panama for some fresh air--which was a pretty involved process of talking the customs officials into letting us leave and promising we would come back. She soon became my traveling companion--but she never told me her name and after spending several hours with her I felt awkward asking!

When I arrived in Quito after dark I was a little nervous about what my next move would be. I could 1) Wait 2 hours in the circus they call the airport in hopes of finding some of the guys from school who were on the next flight or 2) Brave the taxi on my own with my broken Spanish. And I chose neither because my nameless traveling angel companion offered me a ride to my hotel! It worked out perfect because I didn´t have to fight the airport crowd, and I didn´t have to worry about riding down dark alleys in a taxi on my own. Now, I just hope the guys can find their way to this place!

So, what a smooth trip so far! All my luggage also made it which is quite a miracle itself because I checked in 2 minutes before the cut-off time.

This is going to be quite the summer....

The Need for Validation

2008-05-18T15:05:00.000-05:00

It is in all of us—some far much deeper than others. Some buried under years of harsh realities and hurtful, discouraging, scarring remarks.

We all need to feel valuable, worthwhile. We need to know that our aspirations are not indeed ridiculous and that our hard work is not in vain.

We all need validation.

I am feeling that need today….

Slavery and Joy Unspeakable

2008-04-21T20:21:00.004-05:00

"Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize." 1 Corinthians 9:24-27

This verse is so extreme. Beating my body? Slavery? Yeah, right. I think to myself, Is this really necessary? Do I have to? But, for one reason or another this verse has been resonanting in me quite a lot lately.

Maybe it was the blister my shoe was rubbing on my foot today during my jog that made me feel as if I was beating my body. Or maybe it has been the amount of information that I have forced myself to learn over the past few months. Or perhaps it is something far deeper--

I know that as Paul writes to the church in Corinth that he is speaking of far more than a physical race; he was speaking to more than just blisters and muscle aches and fatigue. He was writing to souls weary from attempts to live holy lives in a demanding culture. He was writing to those who had lost site of the eternal prize and were begining to forfeit a imperishable medal for mere, this-worldly rubbish. Can you relate?

I am finding that if I don't beat my body and make it my slave then I soon become its slave. My desires become selfish and my motives less than desireable. I am exhausted by the war within me and ultimately I lose. I thought I would have this figured out by now. I thought this should be much easier by now, but as the days go by the uphill slope is only getting steeper and the battle more intense.

But beating my body is so difficult and extreme. How can I possibily live that way? How can I possibily deny myself of the things my flesh longs for so deeply? I can barely make myself run an extra step when my feet hurt or get my wretched self out of the bed in the mornings. How will I ever be able to maintain those things engrained in the depths of my being? How will I ever live this holy live and run the race without looking back?

So many questions. I think I have missed the point completely though. Really.

I mean, I am running after a prize. As Paul writes, "I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air...." This isn't all for nothing. The athletes that will compete in Beijiing this summer have spent their lives preparing for the races ahead of them--they have not trained because they have to but because they are going after a prize. A name. Fame. They are doing the very thing they love.

How much more is at stake in our lives? This is no run around a track or leap over a stick we are talking about here. This is life. And not only do we have an eternal prize at stake, ultimately our own joy is up for grabs.

Psalm 16:11 says, "You will teach me how to live a holy life. Being with You will fill me with joy unspeakable; at Your right hand I will find pleasure forever." This is a verse I try so passionately to live by because I know that while I push so hard to make my flesh my slave, God supplies joy beyond measure. He lays out the path of life before us and is faithful to show us the way. And He never asks us to walk alone. The icing on the cake--in His hand are pleasures forevermore.

This is precisely where I went wrong. I too quickly forgot the provision of God for me. I forgot that though beating my body sounds pretty intense--He is supplying my needs and filling me with joy that is not found in any of my earthly pursuits. He is filling me with the life found solely in Him--and a joyous life it is indeed.

Everything

2008-04-18T22:50:00.002-05:00

You're everything
I could want
That I could need
If I could see
You want me
Could I believe?
'Cause You're perfectly
All I want, and all I need
If I could just feel Your touch
Could I be free?
Why do You shine so?
Can a blind man see?
Why do You call?
Why do You beckon me?
Can the deaf hear the voice of love?
Would You have me come?
Can the cripple run?
Are You the one?

To raise me up
From this grave
Touch my tongue
And then I'll sing
Heal my limbs
Then joyfully I'll run to You

You're everything
I could want and I could need
I can just, feel Your touch
And I can't breathe
And how You shine so
The blind can see
And how You call out
You beckon me
The deaf hear the voice of love
You bid me come
And the cripple run
You're the one

So raise me up
From this grave
You touch my tongue
And then I'll say:
Heal my limbs
And joyfully I'll run to You

You're everything
You're everything
You're everything
You're everything

And I'm alive and I'll sing
And I'm alive and I'm free

And I'm alive and I'll sing
And I'm alive and I'm free....

Good 'Ole Days

2008-04-15T22:09:00.006-05:00

This weekend I experienced both the sunrise and sunset over the crawfish farms of central Louisiana. I realized that I miss the middle-of-nowhere. I miss the slow pace, the good food, the open road, and the amazing friends. I ate crawfish and roasted pig and sat around a campfire and laughed about old times. The weekend was all together perfect and refreshing.

There is something about knowing that people believe in you that keeps you going. There is something about other people letting you know that your dreams are legit and that they know you are doing what you were made to do. The encouraging words come from somewhere deep--from those that know you well. They put everything back in perspective and for a moment cause to world to stop. And in that moment everything makes sense again.

You see, last week was exam week. It was miserable. I worked harder than ever and in the end felt that I had nothing to show for save droopy eyes, a messy apartment, and a growling stomach. My perspective soon became only a number, preferably one over 65 to keep me in the passing zone, and nothing more. But this weekend those I love reminded me that I am doing what I was made to do--I am going to be a physician. I am going to bring hope and healing to the lives of others. What an honor and a privilege! What a perspective.

I am thankful for being able to walk down memory lane with you guys this weekend. Thanks for the laughs, but most of all thanks for the encouragement. I needed it! You are a blessing and I am glad we were able to catch up--I know that God has amazing plans for each of you too and I am excited to see it play out in all our lives. Whether you feel like you're in a rut or at the top of a mountain, hold your head high and know that God is for you and not against you and will see you through.

Inadequate

2008-04-08T00:24:00.002-05:00

As a girl, my mom took my brother and I to AstroWorld every week during the summer, many times more than once a week. It was there that I learned to pocket my fears & enjoy the drop in my stomach and wind in my face, the thrill of the ride. I have many fond childhood memories running from ride to ride, rain or shine, every week, eating funnel cakes and dip-n-dots, and checking out all the other “interesting” folks. Now, AstroWord is no more than an empty field of grass and only old photographs and my young memories remain.

The part of the neighborhood still standing--what we affectionately came to call “The World’s Worst McDonald’s.” Yes, that’s right. After a long day of riding rides and basking in the sun, we often enjoyed dinner at a sub-par McDonald’s. My grandpa always said, “Ya just give ‘em $20 and tell ‘em, ‘Just give me whatever you’re gonna get me anyway.’” About the only thing they were quick to do was mess up the order. “Um, I’d like a Big Mac and a root beer.” “Okay, ma’am, here is your salad and ice cream cone.”

For the last few months, I have lived just a stone throw from that grassy field and the remaining McDonald’s. Occasionally, I drive by and laugh about the good ‘ole summer days I spent there as a child. And, occasionally, I take a stroll down memory lane and attempt to grab a nutritious bite to eat there. I am happy, or maybe terrified, to say that some things never change.

My first visit in over 5 years was a late night craving for some ice cream. I recounted my childhood memories and my grandpa’s saying to my partner-in-crime as we pulled up to the drive-thru and ordered our ice cream. “Sorry, ma’am, we ain’t got no ice cream.” “Um, I’ll take a diet coke.” “We ain’t got that neither.” “An apple pie?” “Uhhh, we only got cherry.”

We drove away empty-handed and laughing until we ached.

A few days ago I made another visit with another buddy to the famed McDonald’s. I recounted the stories and memories once again. We uneventfully placed our orders in the drive-thru, and to our pleasant surprise everything we ordered was available. My friend handed over her credit card and the cashier proceeded to swipe it and hand it back. This happened about 3 or 4 times before it dawned on him that something wasn’t quite right—back and forth with the credit card. He calls over his buddy, “Dominque, what up yo wit’ the thing?” They turn the credit card machine upside-down, backwards, and sideways. No luck. “Pedro, man, come see, dude.” Pedro tries his magic. No luck. The 3 look at each other at a loss. Then the original cashier says, “O yeah, dude, it ain’t working. I put the sign on ‘da drive thru a few minutes ago. I forget. It broke. Cash only.”

We dig for change holding back the laughter of the ever-so-faithful MickeyD’s. Our meal was a little chilly by the time we got home, but the trip was worth the laughs.

The place is faithfully deplorable. Completely inadequate. Specializing in messing-up. What a reputation.

Sometimes I wonder if my apples don’t fall far from that tree. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever get everything in life right. Sometimes I wonder if I am good enough. And more and more I am coming to the realization that I am not and never will be. You see, no matter how many times they swiped that credit card it was never going to work—the machine was broken. And I am finding that no matter how hard I try, I still don’t always measure up to who others expect me to be or even who I expect myself to be and much less who God expects me to be. I am broken. Even worse—I live in a broken world, and when one broken vessel knocks into other, you tend to just get a lot of broken pieces.

I am becoming more and more accepting of my inadequacy. I strive to pull myself together and grow more and more into the woman God wants me to be, but at the end of the days when the pieces crumble in my hands I find grace in the hands of a gentle God who wants all my inadequate pieces. I am reminded of the Scripture in Jeremiah 2:13, “…they have forgotten Me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water.” Too often I am striving too much only to find that these cisterns I build are laughable. Too often I don’t stop to simply, “Be still and know that He is God.”

I know that I will never measure up. But I also know a God who can move mountains, and surely can move my imperfect self out of the way. He is adequate. And in Him, I find grace and a fountain of living water that doesn’t need a cistern—whole or not—to hold it’s refreshing streams of life.

He is faithful and--I am sure--never runs out of ice cream when you need it....

Audrey Caroline

2008-04-06T22:26:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow at 4 pm, a baby girl named Audrey Caroline will enter this world. Audrey has polycystic kidneys and congenital heart defects--she is not expected to live. For nearly 9 months her mom has carried her and loved her despite her prognosis. I have been keeping up with her journey to this point and have been amazed. I could try to re-tell the story but I think it is most beautiful from her mother's eyes. I love how she continues to remember the truth that God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. I love how she knows He is near and in control. I love how she is real, raw, and heartfelt. My heart truly aches for her and her family, but is encouraged by her faith despite the unfathomable pain. On the eve of Audrey Caroline's arrival, here are Angie's thoughts--

"He"

When I was about 4 years old, I was hospitalized for several days because I battled with overwhelming anxiety. I remember the hospital room, the way I would watch out the door when it was open to see who was coming. They made me draw pictures and ran all kinds of tests. I saw a child psychologist as well, and the best part was that my parents took me out to dinner afterward and I felt very fancy. At the time I didn't understand that something was wrong with me or that I was different from other kids. My stomach hurt all of the time. I used to make my father walk me around the house before bedtime to make sure that the stove was turned off, the front door was locked, and that my baby sister was breathing in her crib. I would worry for hours about things that could happen to my family, to my house, to myself. I vividly remember asking my dad what he would do in the event that someone broke into our house and tried to hurt us. Did he have some kind of plan? Was he strong enough to overtake a burglar if he needed to?

I worried at school. I worried that kids wouldn't like me, that something would happen to my mom while I was away, that my sister would have to eat alone in the cafeteria (I actually broke the rules several times to sneak to the kindergarten side and sit with her until they would catch me and send me back to the second-graders).

I just worried. I never wanted anyone to feel like they weren't "taken care of," and for my entire life, this pattern has remained constant. When we were at Disney World recently, I walked into a little shop that I remembered from childhood. All the stuffed animals were on the same wall that I had pictured them on in my memories. I got so choked up remembering myself as little red-headed girl who stood in front of the Goofy dolls (he was my favorite), tenderly lifting one off the shelf and then feeling the overwhelming guilt that all the other ones would be sad because I hadn't chosen them. I would look at their faces and try to decide which was the most needy so that I could rescue him. I vividly remember walking away with the "chosen" one and starting to cry because all the other ones must have felt abandoned.

I refused to come down the stairs on Christmas morning when I was 5 because I was convinced that Santa didn't find me worthy of toys. I hid under the covers and cried and cried until my dad brought me some red and white pom-poms from under the tree to prove that Santa had come, and that he had remembered me. The feeling that I needed to be the rescuer, that I needed to keep people safe, that I needed to be good enough.

I have never been able to completely shake these emotions. They came with me to college, to graduate school, to marriage, to the delivery room, to the doctor's office. To the ultrasound where I was told that my worst fears had been confirmed. They walk beside me in the daylight and wake me in the night. Fear wraps itself around me and refuses to let go. I can feel my fingers getting numb, my vision getting hazy, my breathing quicken, and I know it is upon me. But I believe now, years later, that this voice has a name, and he lurks in the shadows, waiting to devour. I feel that I have been in the midst of spiritual warfare as I have walked this path, and I have constantly had to silence the enemy with the only word that can. I utter the name of Jesus as I get into bed, as I cry in the night, as I sense the evil that Satan has tempted me to believe. Today he has sought me out. To paint horrific images of tomorrow, to shake me to the core, to tell me that my Lord has no power to intervene now. It is too late.

I have not made it out of bed today because I have so sensed the need to concentrate wholly on what I know to be true, even when I don't feel it. A few hours ago, I talked to God about what I was feeling, and I begged mercy for my doubts. He reminded me gently of a man named Job, whom he loved and knew as a righteous, holy man whose heart was filled with His spirit. He allowed Satan to test Job, to take away what was most precious to him. Job walked through the depths of suffering, more than I can fathom. I opened my Bible to his story, and asked God what it was that He wanted from me today, on the eve of the day where I have been called to anticipate the loss of my sweet daughter. He spoke, as He always does. I wasn't necessarily expecting to hear what He said in that moment, as I wept openly before Him in the profound wake of sadness that surrounds me.

I want you to praise Me.

He didn't ask me to praise Him because He was going to perform a miracle, although He knows that I would. He asked me to praise Him because He will be the same tomorrow regardless of what happens to Audrey. Is that hard for me to wrap my heart around? Yes. Does everything in me want to protest letting someone else be in charge? Yes. It has been my mode of survival since I was born. My parents told me that moments after I was born, I lifted my head off my mother's body and scanned the room. I was probably making sure someone was going to bring me to the right place and that the doctor was well aware of what he needed to be focusing on in that moment.

I have a history of not letting someone else "take care of things." And now I am being called to praise the One who is allowing this season? Who has taken every bit of control from me? Lord, I can't even read a book without a highlighter in my hand. I can't let my children walk too close to the ice-cream man without hovering a foot away (although, in fairness, you would do the same if you met him. Seriously creepy....). Are you serious?

I sat in the silence. I closed my eyes and thought about who He is to me. What He has been to me, in the bitterness and in the joy. I felt like He was beside me, waiting. And in that moment, I felt myself rest. My mind was still. All I know is that without intending to, I smiled. It was the most ridiculous thing you could ever imagine, unless you know what I know. And I hope you do.
He is Lord. Only He. Not me, not Todd, not my doctors, not my parents.

He.

We don't know what tomorrow will look like, how it will be remembered ten years from now. We can't begin to imagine the road that lies ahead of us, but I know that I will remember today as being a day that I trusted Him despite the hurt.

I want you to know, especially if you do not know the Lord, that He is real. This is not a fairy-tale coping mechanism that I rely on when I need to escape from reality. It is not something I do because it's nice to have a place to dress up for on Sunday mornings. It is my fervent prayer that somehow I can manage in this post to find a balance between not alienating people and sharing my heart. It's just that I don't know how people get through things like this without Him. I can barely choose stuffed animals without having a heart attack, and today, because of Christ, I am filled with peace. I pray the same for each of you as you walk through your own life.
One way or another, our daughter will be healed tomorrow. Praise God with me tonight for this truth.

Your prayers, as always, are with me. God has allowed my burden to be shared with so many "strangers" that I am overwhelmed. This little girl has been loved deeply, richly, profoundly by many. Thank you. I know you will be with us tomorrow, and for that we are more grateful than we can express.

My friend Jess will be updating the blog tomorrow as things are progressing so that we can share specific prayer requests. For today, please pray that we will be able to hear truth above fear, and that we will rest in knowing that truth.

With much love and great hope,
Angie

What a real God we have. What a loving Father we have.

Dirty Love

2008-03-18T16:12:00.002-05:00

I never really considered my dreams to have much significance until recently. Although I’ve read about how God has given people divine revelations through their dreams, I honestly didn’t believe them.

Then a few months ago I found myself standing on a rocky cliff in Africa looking upon a man covered with lesions due to AIDS. I could feel a quick breeze hit my face, as I saw the sun pound upon the man’s dark skin. His head was buried in his hands as he wept. As I drew closer, I could see a mixture between snot and spit coming down from his hands. He finally noticed me and looked upon me.

“Hey man, what’s wrong?” I asked naively. I could tell this broken man couldn’t understand me. He just looked at me with extreme sorrow in his eyes; sorrow I’d never seen in a man’s eyes before. He tried to stop crying. I was afraid he was going to start hyperventilating. I wanted to tell this man so badly that everything was going to be OK, but I couldn’t.

I just gave him a hug. I could feel his body bleeding on my fingertips. The man’s frail arms were shaking as he held onto me like one would hold onto a life preserver. I immediately woke up crying.

The most disturbing aspect of the episode was that I wasn’t crying because I saw this man’s suffering through AIDS and the poverty around him. Even though I was aware that I couldn’t get AIDS from merely touching the man, I was still repulsed by the idea of touching him. The basic instinct was that if I touched the man, others would think I was just as dirty as society has made him out to be and I didn’t want to be part of that.

I really liked Christianity until it involved actually living out Jesus’ teachings. I loved hearing about how Jesus fed the multitudes, healed the lepers and made the blind see. I figured most of the work for Christians was done, because our focus was to save souls from eternal damnation—not getting our hands dirty because of Him.

I started flipping through the pages of my Bible to find something so much more than the Jesus I learned to bottle up like a genie. However, seven eternal words continuously stared me in the face: Love your neighbors as you love yourself.

Although I knew this new commandment well, it didn’t really sink in until I started reading about how Jesus healed the lepers. The lepers had this stigma around them that the man in my dream had. Society didn’t want them because they were dirty–even if they couldn’t help their condition.

The style of love Jesus shows is so different than what many of us believe. When we hear about the love of Christ, it feels that many of us think tolerance of our Christian neighbors.

Tolerance isn’t a bad thing by any means, but I am convinced the love of Christ runs deeper than that. It’s a love that requires us to accept a person for who they are.

Before we can accept a person like Jesus would, I am convinced we have to relearn empathy. Through empathy we learn to humble ourselves enough to feel what the other person is feeling. We live in a time where we dehumanize others through words such as, “sinner” or “lost soul,” which kills the connection we could have with some really amazing people. I am convinced that when we start building relationships with them, just to be friends, even if they’re of a different religious affiliation, then we will see a different side of life and be able to empathize with them.

Through this acceptance, we understand these people we love have faults and accept that. We understand they may even have a different political or religious affiliation, but that shouldn’t stop us from the love we find in Christ. If anything, this should propel it so they can experience the love we find through Jesus. After all, our neighbors aren’t all exactly Christian ones.

This love turns societies upside down. It doesn’t appeal to us white-collar Christians who put money in the offering plate on Sundays in hopes this helps others.

After a few prayers and a long sermon, we try to forget the injustices of the world by staying on our cell phones as we pass through life mindlessly. Or we help them, thinking someone from church may catch a glimpse of this good act.

Jesus’ dirty love turns the tables and tells us to do the right thing because it’s right. It coaxes us to understand others and to take time out of our days to really empathize and accept our neighbors.

It’s interesting to see how many of us Christians are willing to do everything but physically help a homeless man in need—much less a man ridden with AIDS. Not long after I had the dream I saw two Christians outside of a local restaurant talking with this homeless man. He was hungry and needed something to drink. It was obvious they had no intention of helping him out physically, but they were ready to save his soul. After handing him a tract, they walked inside to get their overpriced food.

I saw the same fear in this man’s skittish eyes as I did in my dream. He was even crying in a similar fashion as the man in my dream. It was unnerving. At that moment, I learned what it really felt like to step out of my own comfort zone to really show someone the love Jesus taught. Sometimes that love can only be found through a hug or a burger.

-Christopher Shaver, Relevant Magazine

Finding the Smoke Detector

2008-03-04T00:23:00.003-06:00

Not long ago a friend of mine told me that he "discovered his smoke detector." While I laughed at his simplicity, a few weeks later I definitely found my smoke detector.

That particular evening, just as I was getting settled in my cozy bed, that beast went wild. I mean, I was in one of those half-awake states, and I could have sworn the building was on fire. It was ear-piercing and ridiculous--enough to wake someone up from a coma really. I jumped out of my bed fearing for my life and expecting to find my place rapidly turning to ash. I readied myself for an escape out the window, and just as I was deciding whether or not my neighbors would mind seeing me in my drawers, silence. The siren ceased and all that could be heard was my heart pounding in my chest. I felt a little on the insane side and a little violated all at the same time. I paced around for awhile, throwing on lights and trying to make some sense out of the event. None could be found, however, and I returned to my slumber.

The next evening came, and the memory of the events of the previous night were long forgotten and tucked away in my random story folder. And then again. Same story. I just knew I was dreaming. This could not possibly happen two nights in a row without an apparent cause. I mean, was I blowing smoke in my sleep?! I got up more annoyed than frightened. The siren stopped and all was well again.

The next morning, I promptly called the maintenance department at 8:00. I told them my story, and the less-than-helpful-and-kind woman says, "Did you check the batteries." Ha. What an insult to my intelligence. I am not a fool--I know the difference between the this-building-is-burning-down-call-911 and please-change-my-battery-least-I-peep-till-kingdom-come. My batteries were not dying. She insisted that I check them, but I refused and a few hours later new smoke detectors were being installed in my apartment.

I have not had any more rude smoke detector awakenings since, but I have noticed something else that sometimes keeps me awake at night.

When my friend said that he "discovered his smoke detector" he was simply talking about the light. Before, he had never even noticed its presence, but the darkness revealed its bright green light. It has been awhile since my smoke detector mishaps, but lately I notice that green light more and more. Even in the light it is there, but in the darkness it is radiant.

When I turn out the lights at bedtime I am reminded of John 1:5-- The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. And then I begin to wonder to myself if I am standing far too often in the light with my "holy huddle" and not penetrating the darkness. I am challenged knowing that the darkness cannot overcome the light, but I fear I forget. I fear I am too busy to be the light of the world. O God, rescue me from my selfishness, and make me to shine in the darkest of nights.

My Deepest Need

2008-03-03T08:57:00.002-06:00

Your love is life to me
My truest longing
My deepest need
Without it one moment
I dont know where I'd be
Your love is life to me

Bread for my body
Light for my eyes
All that I need You daily provide
Deep in my being
More than my blood
My very exsistence depends on Your love

Your love is life to me
My truest longing
My deepest need
Without it one moment
I dont know where I'd be
Your love is life to me

Moment by moment
I am aware of Your tender mercies
And Your constant care
My hope and my strength
Through all of my days
I see so clearly in so many ways

-FFH

Hope This, Hope That

2008-02-26T21:14:00.008-06:00

I’m not talking about blind optimism here -- the almost willful ignorance that thinks unemployment will go away if we just don’t think about it, or the health care crisis will solve itself if we just ignore it. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about something more substantial. It’s the hope of slaves sitting around a fire singing freedom songs; the hope of immigrants setting out for distant shores; the hope of a young naval lieutenant bravely patrolling the Mekong Delta; the hope of a millworker’s son who dares to defy the odds; the hope of a skinny kid with a funny name who believes that America has a place for him, too.

Hope -- Hope in the face of difficulty. Hope in the face of uncertainty. The audacity of hope!

In the end, that is God’s greatest gift to us, the bedrock of this nation. A belief in things not seen. A belief that there are better days ahead.

I believe that we can give our middle class relief and provide working families with a road to opportunity.

I believe we can provide jobs to the jobless, homes to the homeless, and reclaim young people in cities across America from violence and despair.

I believe that we have a righteous wind at our backs and that as we stand on the crossroads of history, we can make the right choices, and meet the challenges that face us.

-Barack Obama

It sounds beautiful. I won't deny that. But really? Sorry, I am skeptical. I want it to be true, I really do. But, how Mr. Obama?

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

2008-02-05T21:59:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten season--a season of repentance and prayer. I do not pretend to know much about Lent due to my traditional Baptist upbringing that does not celebrate the season. Most of what I know is from friends and from wikipedia. However, the tradition is beautiful to me. I think the reason I have begun to appreciate Lent is the recognition of need for a season of repentance. Yes, I know we can repent every day all year long--and we should. But to me, there is something special about a season in which the act is uplifted. The 40 days of Lent are often times related to the 40 days Jesus spent in the wildnerness preparing for ministry. And what a neat opportunity for us to practice a similar discipline with hope--hope that looks forward ultimately to the resurrection of Christ. The resurrection that means our sins are gone, washed away. What hope and joy!

Today I heard this song for the first time (I know my blog would not be complete without a song). It is called Dearly Loved by Jimmy Needham--

Please lay down your eros
For they're sure to pierce the skin
And water from a broken well
Will make you thirst again
When all things you've acquired
Are tested by the flames
And you can see them melting
Then will you call his name

It's worth it brothers
It's worth it friends
To know your maker
To lose your sin
Did you know that you are dearly loved

To the slaughters you are being led
Being told that it's a party
That this God is in your head
And every single lie
Sounds just like the greatest truth
But the one truth you're not hearing
Is that he died for you

No greater joy
No greater peace
No greater love than this

It's worth it brothers
It's worth it friends
To know your maker
To lose your sin
Did you know that you are dearly loved

What a message for all of us that we can know our Maker and lose our sins! And that is what Ash Wednesday is all about--knowing our Maker through repentance and losing our sins.

"For my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water." Jeremiah 2:13

"...I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares the Lord." Jeremiah 9:24

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

May we find our rest and hope in Him in this season where we are reminded that we all fall down but that His grace is enough.

Somewhere in the Middle

2008-01-24T22:40:00.000-06:00

Somewhere between the hot and the cold
Somewhere between the new and the old
Somewhere between who I am and who I used to be
Somewhere in the middle, You'll find me

Somewhere between the wrong and the right
Somewhere between the darkness and the light
Somewhere between who I was and who You're making me
Somewhere in the middle, You'll find me

Just how close can I get, Lord, to my surrender without losing all control

Fearless warriors in a picket fence, reckless abandon wrapped in common sense
Deep water faith in the shallow end and we are caught in the middle
With eyes wide open to the differences, the God we want and the God who is
But will we trade our dreams for His or are we caught in the middle
Are we caught in the middle

Somewhere between my heart and my hands
Somewhere between my faith and my plans
Somewhere between the safety of the boat and the crashing waves
Somewhere between a whisper and a roar
Somewhere between the altar and the door
Somewhere between contented peace and always wanting more
Somewhere in the middle You'll find me

Just how close can I get, Lord, to my surrender without losing all control

Lord, I feel You in this place and I know You're by my side
Loving me even on these nights when I'm caught in the middle

-Casting Crowns

What a simple song--Somewhere in the Middle. Can you relate? Do you ever feel caught in the middle between who you are and who you used to be? Between being content and always wanting more? Between your faith and your plans? I know I do. Some days I strive so hard to be all the Lord has called me to be and others I am wallowing in sin up to my chin. I truly feel caught in the middle--constantly deciding whether the Almighty or the withering world is better. My heart longs for the God but my flesh is so loud--caught in the middle.

I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth. For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.
-Revelation 3:15-17

Oh, God, thank You for your great mercy that holds us though we are wretched, poor, blind, and naked. Thank You for loving us in the moments we are caught in the middle.

PB&J, Freebies, and Healthcare-- Political Thoughts from My Politically Inept Mind

2008-01-08T13:48:00.000-06:00

Today I brought my smashed peanut butter and jelly sandwich to school that I didn't eat yesterday. I wasn't particularly excited about its consumption but, hey, I was in a hurry and it was better than nothing. As lunchtime approached I was reminded that lunch was provided at a lecture today for the first 50 students in line. So, with smashed PB&J in tow I jumped on the vulture wagon of hungry med students figuring that anything was better than my fare for the day. As I enjoyed my fresh, un-smashed, free sandwich from Cafe Express, I listened to a discourse about healthcare, insurance, politics, and the like--topics in which I am very uneducated.

Some of the conversation was far over my head, but I think I got the gist--there is a huge healthcare crisis with no simple answer anywhere on the horizon. Well, duh, I already knew that. But as I enjoyed my free meal I had a small (and probably seemingly obvious) revelation. You see, in many ways our nation works in the same way that me and my smashed PB&J sandwich fated today.

Let me explain-- I had what I needed. No, it wasn't want I wanted. But it was plenty. And even without the little that I had I could I have made it through the day. And not only that, I could have easy done better. With little effort I could have walked down the stairs, swiped my credit card, and provided for myself something more palatable and desirable than my current option. But I didn't have too. Another option was supplied for me, and not only that, the option was free. So I did the most rational thing that any hungry medical student would do and received my free gift along with 49 of my peers.

Here is where our nation's crisis arises. We are handing out freebies to people who (1) have plenty to get by on (yes, maybe it is not as much as their neighbor, but it is more than enough) and/or (2) could easily do better with a little effort. I am not talking about people who are unable to make ends meet despite gruelling efforts or those with disabilities that prevent them from such efforts--unless of course you consider bare laziness a disability.

You may say that I am stereotypical, judgmental, or maybe even just plain not altruistic. But look around. You won't have to look far to find a grand example of this in action--it is rampant. Don't mistake me for saying that I do not care about the poor, the orphans, and the widows--those in real need. What I am saying is that our American greediness has overrun every aspect of our culture, and if we are so blind and ignorant as to think that giving more to the "pseudo-poor" as I like to call it is the solution we are sadly, sadly mistaken.

One of the questions proposed today was, "What responsibility does the government have to provide healthcare for the uninsured?" And as one of my peers pointed out the more appropriate questions that we should be asking ourselves are--"What responsibility do individuals have to provide for their own well-being? What responsibility do individuals have to take care of themselves and provide for themselves?" I mean, if we are in the mood to be charitable we could pool the wealth and become Communist. But I think we are mistaking charity with stupidity.

I was watching the news one night as some angry protesters went nuts in New Orleans about the demolition of an area of government housing. The reporter interviewed a woman who said, "I may be poor, but I ain't gonna live poor." What a mentality--I am going to get and get and get as much as I can. That is not called poverty. It is called greediness and laziness.

Like I said, there are no simple solutions to the healthcare issue. But I think we are completely missing the point. I think we can package these ridiculous plans with pretty ribbons and bows all we want but when the big day comes for their unwrapping, some will be quite surprised when all they find is a box full of greedy snakes waiting in line for another dollar.

Please do not think I am saying that everyone on any sort of government program is a greedy snake. Rather, look and see how much the poor and needy are truly robbed by the "pseudo-poor" and un-needy in their abuse of the system.

As long as there is free food in the medical school there will be hungry students eagerly awaiting a good meal, and as long as we continue to rob ourselves with fluffy, pretty, simple plans there we be a line of lazies waiting for another check. Don't kid yourself.

Newness

2008-01-01T18:16:00.000-06:00

Welcome to 2008! Wow, how the time flies and stands still all at the same time. I love the New Year because I love the time of reflection and renewal. Yeah, that seems like a trite or cliche thing to say, but it's true. A lot of people reflect on the year past and feel a sense of renewal--of starting over in a sense. The problem is that the renewal lasts for a day or two or maybe even a week or two--about until work or school or "normal" life kicks back into play. In my mind that is a tragedy--that we wear ourselves out so quickly and lose sight of the greater picture, the hope and joy that we have in Christ, that though life just plain sucks at times, He is faithful and good.

I feel like 2007 was a busy year. I was spare you all of a list of my 2007 accomplishments (because mostly they are boring and unimportant), but I flat out wore myself out. I even feel like I missed Christmas this year. Does anyone know what I mean? I was just so busy that when I was putting away the decorations I thought--did all this just happen already? Is Christmas tomorrow or was it last week? Running here and there and everywhere I missed it. I mean, sometimes I think that is just part of life. You can't slow life down. And that was me this year--there was nothing I could do to slow my life down.

But this week I am resting and doing exciting things that I have wanted to do for awhile now--like iron my curtains and organize my thousands of pages of notes from the semester. Exciting, I know. Today I chilled and as I was riding in the car I heard a great song on the radio. I must admit that, normally, I probably would have changed the station because, yes, it is the typical, overplayed, redundant, bordering on annoying, contemporary Christian song BUT its message hit home today and for me it is my theme song of the new year. It's called Miracle of the Moment by Steven Curtis Chapman--

It’s time for letting go
All of our if only’s
‘Cause we don’t have a time machine
And even if we did
Would we really want to use it?
Would we really want to go change everything?
‘Cause we are who and where and what we are for now
And this is the only moment we can do anything about

Chorus:
So breathe it in and breathe it out
Listen to your heartbeat
There’s a wonder in the here and now
It’s right there in front of you
And I don’t want you to miss
The miracle of the moment

There’s only one who knows
What’s really out there waiting
In all the moments yet to be
And all we need to know
Is He’s out there waiting
To Him the future’s history
And He has given us a treasure called right now
And this is the only moment we can do anything about

And if it brings you tears
Then taste them as they fall
And let them soften your heart
And if it brings you laughter
Then throw your head back
And let it go, let it go
You gotta let it go
Listen to your heartbeat

I love how it says, "He has given us a treasure called right now, and this is the only moment we can do anything about." What a wonderful thing to treasure day-to-day, maybe even seemingly mundane life. What a wonderful thing to live in the moment. Yeah, yeah, cliche you may say. But true nonetheless. Hold on to that. Enjoy the moment.

And one last thought--

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
1 Corinthians 5:17

Welcome to the new year. May you experience the newness you have in Christ to its fullest this year and may you live in the miracle of the moment. May the Lord bless you and keep you and may His face shine upon and be gracious and give you peace....

Circle, Circle, Dot, Dot....

2007-12-16T15:50:00.001-06:00

Speak to your kids about cooties before cooties speaks to them.

Embracing Accusation

2007-12-08T18:29:00.000-06:00

The father of lies
Coming to steal
Kill and destroy
All my hopes of being good enough
I hear him saying cursed are the ones
Who can’t abide
He’s right Alleluia he’s right!

The devil is preaching
The song of the redeemed
That I am cursed and gone astray
I cannot gain salvation
Embracing accusation

Could the father of lies
Be telling the truth
Of God to me tonight?
If the penalty of sin is death
Then death is mine
I hear him saying cursed are the ones
Who can’t abide
He’s right Alleluia he’s right!

Oh the devil’s singing over me
An age old song
That I am cursed and gone astray
Singing the first verse so conveniently
He’s forgotten the refrain
Jesus saves!

-Shane and Shane

This is another one of those songs I have been jamming out to lately. I found this video online today--it's actually just audio, but I love the end.... If you don't listen to the song at least listen to the end.

But in our time something new has been added. What Moses and the prophets witnessed to all those years has happened. The God-setting-things-right that we read about has become Jesus-setting-things-right for us. And not only for us, but for everyone who believes in him. For there is no difference between us and them in this. Since we've compiled this long and sorry record as sinners (both us and them) and proved that we are utterly incapable of living the glorious lives God wills for us, God did it for us. Out of sheer generosity he put us in right standing with himself. A pure gift. He got us out of the mess we're in and restored us to where he always wanted us to be. And he did it by means of Jesus Christ.
-Romans 3:21-24

May the message that Jesus saves us from ourselves never get old. Many have polluted it throughout history--from wreckless Christians to televangelists with pink hair to pastors without integrity and the list goes on....

But the message is the same--we need Jesus desperately. And in Him, we're not just forgiven--though we don't even deserve that--we are also made righteous. Wow.

Jesus X-Rays

2007-12-07T19:51:00.000-06:00

If you think you have seen it all, think again. Check this out.

Jesus is showing up in x-rays now. If you are feeling unspiritual just go have an x-ray taken, and you just might have an encounter with Christ Himself!

I think what's maybe the funniest part--or maybe the scariest--is that the radiologist agreed that He saw Jesus too! I mean, this guy literally has Jesus in his heart! And apparently enough of Jesus to cause chest pain.... :0)

A Glimpse Into My World at the Moment...

2007-12-05T19:02:00.000-06:00

This is 14 seconds of my life this past semester. Yeah, I'm a nerd for posting it.... Just thought I'd share the bliss!

Smarty Pants

2007-12-05T18:43:00.000-06:00

Be sure to check out this interesting article about what it takes to raise 'em up smart....

Here's an excerpt:

People do differ in intelligence, talent and ability. And yet research is converging on the conclusion that great accomplishment, and even what we call genius, is typically the result of years of passion and dedication and not something that flows naturally from a gift. Mozart, Edison, Curie, Darwin and Cézanne were not simply born with talent; they cultivated it through tremendous and sustained effort. Similarly, hard work and discipline contribute much more to school achievement than IQ does.

I don't think it's really rocket science--just a friendly reminder that your hard work will pay off.

Something that's been meandering around in my head today as I study for a slew of tests these next few weeks is that pain is temporary but the reward is eternal. The sacrifice is short but the prize is forever.

I hope that encourages you as you work hard in whatever season you may find yourself right now.

"Whatever you do, work at it with all you heart as working for the Lord and not men."
-Colossians 3:23

Almost

2007-11-29T22:57:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I went Christmas shopping. Yep, I bought all of you gifts--don't worry! :0) I signed a credit card receipt with a scribble at one particular store, and a very astute young man asked me jokingly, "You a doctor?" Standing in my sweatpants and t-shirt I chuckled and replied kindly, "Almost." He said, "Looks like you passed that class..." If only he knew.... :0)

Just as a side note...

Yesterday I also tripped while running on the treadmill--not once, but twice. Bet you are sad you missed that site!

Today I figured I would avoid any more treadmill misfortunes and enjoy the beautiful weather. As I prepared to go for a jog around the 'hood (and, yes, 'hood is definitely the most appropriate term) I carefully tied my house key onto the drawstring of my shorts. I made sure it was not coming off anytime in the next century or so. As I stepped out the door I soon realized how terrible an idea that was. So I stood on my tip-toes, hiked my shorts up to my belly button, and did a little dance in an effort to lock the door--shorts and all. Realizing my foolishness I quickly turned around to see if I had any fortunate onlookers. Bet you are sad you missed that site too!

"Fa La La La La"

2007-11-27T21:41:00.000-06:00

Merry Christmas! And to my Episcopal friends, Happy Hanukkah! Speaking of Christmas, are we planning another holiday war this year? As you know, it’s been an annual festivity since 2005. This time of year, certain media outlets start buzzing about the war. No, not that war. The War On Christmas.

To hear them talk, you might think Hollywood’s most powerful Jews were holding Jesus hostage somewhere in Canada. It’s not uncommon to hear reports that school children all across the country are being reprimanded for saying the word “Christmas,” Target and Kohl’s aren’t allowing their employees to say ‘Merry You-Know-What,” and that Hillary Clinton has been seen trying to slide down people’s chimneys in an attempt to steal decorations, stockings, presents and all of the Who pudding.

My favorite moment of the “news” coverage has to be when one talking head looked into the camera with a straight face and said, “Every company in America should be on its knees thanking Jesus for being born. Without Christmas, most American businesses would be far less profitable.”

Wow. I’m pretty sure a raging atheist couldn’t have come up with a better argument as to why saying “Happy Holidays” rather than “Merry Christmas” is more appropriate for department stores. With that statement, the broadcaster not only yanked Christ out of Christmas, he put a price tag on him and posted a link on eBay.

How bad is the war on Christmas? According to that same broadcaster, this bad: “In Dodgeville, Wisconsin,” he proclaimed, “the Ridgewood Elementary School has changed the song Silent Night to Cold in the Night and forced the kids to sing the lyrics.” He then cleared his throat and began reading the lyrics to the Jesus-less song: “Cold in the night, no one in sight, winter winds whirl and bite.” He then smiled.

However, a few weeks later, I discovered that the Silent Night story from Wisconsin ended up being, well, a big fat falsehood! The “evildoers” who changed the lyrics of Silent Night to war against Jesus’ birth were actually putting on a play—one called “The Littlest Tree’s Christmas Gift”—and it had actually been written by a devout Presbyterian. In fact, the play wasn’t even a new one; the author had written the song in 1988 and legally borrowed the tune of Silent Night, which is in public domain.

Even so, a few evangelicals decided to retaliate last Christmas. One of them was Paula White, the platinum blonde pastor of the 22,000-member Without Walls International Church in Tampa, FL. In an effort to speak out against those who were trying to wrap up baby Jesus up and send him back to Bethlehem or at least kick him off public property, Paula had several of her church’s janitors get up on ladders and hang a tractortrailer-size sign on the side of her church. What was Paula’s holiday message to the world? Glad tidings of great joy? Not exactly. This little gem: “To Hell With Happy Holidays! Put Christ Back Into Christmas!”

Hmm. Which is worse for Jesus: Target employees who wish their customers a friendly, albeit forced, Happy Holidays or Paula White’s sign?

So, what the fa la la la la are we going to do this year—dress ourselves up in bulbs, lights and tinsel, and then stand out on public property and demand to be called Christmas trees? Would that make the story of Jesus more real?

Jesus is the Prince of Peace; do we really think he would spend one moment of time trying to ensure that nativity statues get displayed on public property during the month of December? Is that what being Christian is all about? I don't believe so.

Thankfully, when it’s all said and done I’m pretty sure Jesus will survive the war on Christmas. He’s out-survived the Spanish Inquisition and The Last Temptation of Christ, and it looks like he’ll outlast Pat Robertson, too. But you know, just because he can survive the mess we make of him doesn’t mean he should have to.

Happy Holidays.

-Matthew Paul Turner
Check it out.

I couldn't have said it better myself!

Get Over the Sun

2007-11-23T23:30:00.000-06:00

Get over it. Yeah, that’s not very compassionate. Not a phrase often associated with tenderness. But, lately, lately I’ve found some comfort there. A song has been ringing in my ears for a few weeks now, and I’ve just begun to marinate in what it really means in my life. Here are the lyrics… And if you haven’t heard it I would encourage you to check it out—

Sitting around the fireplace
With a friend who’s been through it all
Soloman, wisest one
Tell me what you have found
Under the sun, under the sun
He answered

Get over the sun
Where life is hidden

Then he put on
A somber face
Talked about how
The rich man will waste
Away in the ground
Where the poor man is found
Painted up, like a clown
Under the sun, under the sun
He answers

Son you’ll soon be done
A life spent on some shiny god
Who leaves you empty
-Shane & Shane

The song is about King Soloman who looked high and low in life for meaning—and found “all is meaningless, vanity.” He tried working hard, partying hard, etc etc. Nothing. He found nothing worth-while. Read Ecclesiastes. It can get pretty depressing—I tried this great thing and this noble thing and oh yeah and there was that other awesome thing too. And it all sucked. I was all meaningless. Just utter rubbish. Here are a few excepts from Soloman’s thoughts from chapter 1—

2 Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher,
vanity of vanities! All is vanity.
3 What does man gain by all the toil
at which he toils under the sun?
4A generation goes, and a generation comes,
but the earth remains forever.
5The sun rises, and the sun goes down,
and hastens to the place where it rises.
6 The wind blows to the south
and goes around to the north;
around and around goes the wind,
and on its circuits the wind returns.
7All streams run to the sea,
but the sea is not full;
to the place where the streams flow,
there they flow again.
8All things are full of weariness;
a man cannot utter it;
the eye is not satisfied with seeing,
nor the ear filled with hearing.
9 What has been is what will be,
and what has been done is what will be done,
and there is nothing new under the sun.
10Is there a thing of which it is said,
"See, this is new"?
It has been already
in the ages before us.
11There is no remembrance of former things,
nor will there be any remembrance
of later things yet to be
among those who come after.

He also writes, “For who knows what is good for man in life, during the few and meaningless days he passes through like a shadow? Who can tell him what will happen under the sun after he is gone?" (Ecclesiastes 6:12). That’s a pretty hopeless conclusion. That’s dark. Have you ever been there? Have you ever just felt like nothing matters?

You could stop there. We could be left hopeless. Ecclesiastes concludes, “Of making many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body….” May I just stop and say, “AMEN!” to that! Anyhow, Soloman continues, “…Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man…” (12:12b-13). I don’t know about you, but that just wasn’t the grand finale I was hoping for—everything is meaningless but we still must fulfill a duty. Sounds burdensome, wearisome. Sounds like exactly where we began.

But I don’t think so after all. I think I’m often times looking in the wrong place. I can’t see far past the horizon. I can’t see far past myself for that matter. And I’m so quick to forget that there is so much more to life than me, my, and mine. I wrestle in my petty problems and self-service. I forget the big God I know because I’m serving me or some other worthless idol. And may I add that sometimes my idols are very well disguised—they come in the form of spirituality, achieving great and noble things, serving others in dire need and so forth…. But anything other than the real deal is, well, nothing more than a fraud. It is leaves us empty.

I want to get over the sun. I want to find where life is hidden—not just the living, breathing kind of life but that abundant, full life. My things, my accomplishments, even my spirituality—it will all be burned up by the Sun. I’m going to get over it. Because there—there, life is hidden.

And the beauty—

"I have been young, and now I am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken or his children begging for bread. He is ever lending generously, and his children become a blessing."
Psalm 34:25-26

We’ll never go hungry. He is ever so generous. May we not be robbed from His generosity because we nibble far too long on the wrong side of the Sun. May we get over the Sun—where life is hidden. Life. True, real, authentic life.

"Listen to my bowel sounds!"

2007-09-05T22:48:00.000-05:00

Today I examined my first patient—we’ll call her Ms. Hearey to protect her true identity. Yes, she was what we call a “standardized patient,” an actress if you will. My examination was to be simple—vital signs, skin, hair, and nails. A breeze. No problem.

My partner and I entered the exam room, awkwardly at best, washed our hands and proceeded with the simple tasks at hand. Nothing exciting. We had 45 minutes and finished in about 10. So our dear Ms. Hearey took it upon her sweet self to teach us a few “extras”. First she lifts her gown and says, “Listen to my bowel sounds!” Wow, what an invitation. I step forward timidly. “Sure.” I press my stethoscope into her abdomen. “Great. Sounds great.”

She took us through a full head-to-toe exam. She had us test her reflexes and listen to her breath sounds. By the end of the exam she was laid out on the table, gown wide open teaching us how to palpate the various organs in her abdomen. And the instructor walked in. And here we have our patient—exposed on the exam table pushing her fingers into her stomach. Quite the vital sign exam I must say!

Medicine is a strange thing. Being invited to openly invade others’ privacy is not natural. There is something so bizarre about the way others trust you when you don the white coat. It is an anomaly I cannot fully grasp. It is wonderful and terrifying.

I wonder what my life would look like if I trusted God the way Ms. Hearey trusted me and my comrade today. I’m reminded of Psalm 139:1 & 13, “O Lord, you have searched me and known me!... For you formed my inward parts….” The God of the universe knows me inside and out, and yet at times I run and hide from Him. I don’t trust Him like I ought. I think my way is better. But He knows me—after all He formed my inward parts. I have no reason to be ashamed before Him, no reason to not trust. He will only heal and pardon. He will only renew and restore. Even His chastisement is gracious and loving. He is merciful in all He does.

That I would run to Him and give my all to Him! That I would trust Him who knows me best!

“How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I were to count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you.” Psalm 139:17-18

Rodents in the Wall

2007-08-26T18:36:00.000-05:00

The rodents in my apartment wall did not move out upon my arrival. They stirred most of the evening that first night--as did I. Not only did the thought of a varmint sleeping next to me deter my rest but the anxiety of the first day of the rest of my life kept my head spinning. Despite my weary eyes, I awoke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready and expectant.

I drove to school somewhat disoriented and lost, not sure where to go exactly. As I parked and exited the poorly-lit parking garage I was even more lost than before. Then I looked up. And I saw it. The University of Texas at Houston Medical School. It was the first day of Kindergarten all over again. Everything seemed so big and exciting. This was it! Honestly, I was proud of myself for finding the correct facility amidst the concrete juggle of skyscrapers. I walked in with dignity, determined not to look lost in my new surroundings.

That façade quickly faded. But I blended in well with my 241 peers who also hadn’t the slightest clue either. Once we found our place, we were greeted by quite the array of prestigious guests who had come to welcome us to our journey--our rollercoaster of sorts. They reminded us of the great responsibilities, of the hardships, of the joys. More than anything, they exhorted us to never give up. One said, “You are here because someone saw something in you. You have been chosen to succeed.” Such powerful words of belief, of faith in me! I thought, “Wait a second! You don’t even know me. I’m only a child! Do you know what you’re saying about me? Me? Are you sure?!”

That evening a heavy weight was placed on my shoulders--that of the infamous white coat. I felt like a child playing dress up. Everything was so surreal. Again I thought, “Me?! A doctor?! Ha!”

Running On Empty

2006-04-27T22:49:00.000-05:00

This week has been incredibly boring. After taking the MCAT last weekend, when I have free time I just don't know what to do with myself. Monday morning I woke up so happy. Yeah, I had to go to Statistics at 8:00, but I didn't care. I just felt free. No more worries. No more studying--for the MCAT at least!

But today wasn't so boring. Today was jammed backed full of activities. There's no way I could have done everything. In fact, I only did about half. And at the end of the day I was still rushing around. My car was dinging at me, telling me it was empty. My stomach was growling for my attention. And my phone was even incessantly beeping alerting me that it would die at any second. As I pulled in the gas station with everything in my car telling me it was empty and needed my attention, I began to think about emptiness.

I just wonder how my times I run around spiritually empty like that. I mean, there was a gas station and a restaurant on every other corner. They was no reason for both my tank and tummy to be empty. And my phone sat by its charger all night last night. But I never stopped to address any of those situations before things got bad. I was getting a headache and feeling so thirsty. I was wondering if I would have enough gas to make it to the next stop and knowing that if I didn't my phone might not last to call for some help. All the incessant beeping was killing me!

I know my heart looks like that sometimes. I know it gets so empty and hungry. And I run around and around. I stop the beeping for awhile with friends or fun or whatever, but it's never enough. And the beep is back. So, I deaden it some more. Both nothing ever satisfies my hunger. Nothing like the arms of the Lord. I'm finding time and time again that He does it for me. I'm finding that I was made for Him. And I really like that. I really like being His.

He's Been Faithful

2005-12-24T21:36:00.000-06:00

Christmas really snuck up on me this year. I just have such a hard time believing that last Christmas was a year ago already. I can't help but think of all the many, many things that have happened since then--hard things and joyous things. This time last year I was gasping for air after the craziest semester of my life. I was "getting my life together" and praying that God would restore to me my joy. He has done that and so so much more! The theme of my year, the thing I have found myself saying the most is "God is faithful." Isn't it wonderful to serve the Almighty God?! No, He's not tame, but He is ever so good!

Near

2005-10-01T20:57:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been talking to someone--maybe casually or maybe pouring your heart out--and realized they really weren't listening to you? That just happened to me. I am sure I do it too. But, nonetheless, it really bothers me, especially when I am talking about something really important to me. It really hurt me. I know that she didn't mean anything by it. She probably didn't even realize she did it.

This isn't the first time this week I've seen someone hurt someone else unintentionally. Sometimes we just have selfish moments. And even when it is just a short moment it can be costly. I've seen a lot of that this week. I've had a number of friends express hurt over something simple--the other person didn't even realize or intend harm in any way.

I was actually thinking about all this earlier. And then I had that little episode tonight. Kinda ironic. I couldn't help but turn my thoughts toward the faithfulness of God. I can rest assured that He never has those selfish moments. He has never not listened to a prayer or cry or shout of victory of mine--no matter how long or boring or childish or....the list goes on. He has never turned His eye from me. He has always stopped and lavished His love on me even when I was least expecting it. He draws me to Him in ways I cannot understand. His nearness truly is my good. Be near, O God, be near O God. Your nearness is to us our good...

The Haunting Narrow Gate

2005-09-17T00:55:00.000-05:00

There is a verse that haunts me every now and then. The words sometimes ring in my ears and keep me awake at night. I don't understand--it just seems so unlike the nice Sunday school Jesus I knew.

"...For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few” (Matthew 7:14).

I mean, I thought that God “was not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). The two just do not add up in my mind. But the more days that go by, the more I see that the road truly is narrow. But I find that so incredibly unfair. Does that mean that only the spiritually elite will ever make it to God? I sure hope not or I would be counted out.

So, tonight as I once again observed the narrowness of the road, as I watched a world around me bowing to other gods, as I examined my own life and found myself longing for the wide, easy road, I heard God whisper to me ever so gently, “Janice, the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.” And while so many times before the verse disturbed me and stirred in me a fear of this incredible God I serve, tonight it brought comfort.

I don’t know exactly why it was any different this time because the same sense of confusion came, and I didn’t have any grand revelations. But something about following Jesus made sense. I have come to realize that God Almighty is the only god I can chase after that won’t destroy me in the process. The road might be difficult. It may be lonely. But I know the prize awaiting me. I know there is no dead end. I know God does not disappoint. Nothing of great value ever came without a cost. Besides, if I lose my life surely I will find it.

I’ve tasted of worldly pleasures. And they are so good. But sometimes I believe the lie that they are best. I’ve tasted and seen the Lord is good. And O that I would remember that when my flesh longs for smaller gods!

I will walk path. I’ll run the race. And I will never be the same again....

Good News

2005-09-13T10:39:00.000-05:00

I get the Washington Post everyday, and most days I do actually read a few articles that interest me. Lately, I have just skimmed over the headlines because the news seems to be the same every time--there is disaster in New Orleans, Bush's ratings drop to a new low, controversy over Roberts, people dying in Iraq, innocent children being harmed in some sick way, and the list goes on....And with all that it's easy to get discouraged. I'm convinced the world is longing to hear some good news. We are finally beginning to realize that worldly pursuits are vain dead-end streets paved with fool's gold. We have trod those streets for far too long and are thirsty for something real. We need Jesus. I need Jesus. And I need Him desperately. Because He is the Good News. He is the life in a dying world. He is the One who offers beauty for ashes and strength for fear, gladness for mourning and peace for despair! He is the King of Kings and Lord of Lords! He is the greatest of tastes, the richest of fares! He is my treasure. And in HIM, I find life, breath, and ALL that I am. So, be encouraged today that there is Good News....and be bold in proclaiming that. We've got to get the word out.

Mighty Warriors

2005-08-22T13:51:00.000-05:00

I am going back to school tomorrow. Yesterday was kind of an emotional day for me. It was my last Sunday at Crossroads for awhile. I love my church, and I always miss it. I got all upset last night about always having to be the adult wherever I go--sometimes I even feel like that in my own house. That gets real old, real fast. I know that leadership is lonely, but I sure am afraid of being lonely and feeling like no one understands. So, I cried for the first time in awhile about it all. I didn't want to go back to school, but I didn't want to stay. I was just homesick. I think that is a good thing--to hurt because things are not what they ought to be, more so, to hurt because I am not what I ought to be. It's humbling, and it reminds me to keep my eyes on the goal, Jesus.

I prayed that God would bring me encouragement this semester. But He decided not to wait and brought it straight to me last night right after that. Amazing God. Absolutely amazing. He knows what we need before we even ask. Jesus, thank You for always being so good to me!

And this morning as I sat down at the kitchen table to spend some intimate time with Him, He was faithful, as always, to meet me there. I was reading in 2 Samuel 21:15-22 & 23:8-38. In the first verse, we see the unwelcomed site of an old enemy, the Philistines. At this point in David's life, if it wasn't one thing, it was another. I can relate. How discouraging!! He had just obeyed a tough command from God, and 2 Samuel 21:14 says, "...And after that God responded to the plea for the land." It looked like things were starting to smooth out for David after all kinds of craziness including his own son trying to kill him! But then some HUGE guys come stomping along--I mean giants--with huge spears and one even with 6 fingers on each hand and 6 toes on each foot. Verse 15 says, "And David grew weary." No joke. I bet David was already weary. His life seemed to be a run from one giant to the next. He was always spared, but those he loved were not so lucky. And sometimes he wanted to die as he grieved the loss of his best friend and son (2 Samuel 18:33). What a rollercoaster David experienced!

So, David was weary. But look what happens--his men come out and beat the mess out of these guys. Is that not like God to provide?! Just at David's wit end we see that time and time again. And I know the same is true in my life. The last 2 years have been a rollercoaster for me, and every time I thought the ride was over there was another drop. But there was never a time that God's hand was not on me. There was never a time that God rejected me when I came running to Him. There was never a lonely night that God did not hold me. And there was never a time that God did not do the miraculous to provide for me, His daughter. No, He didn't always smooth the ride. However, He has been on board with me holding me tight and letting me know that His ways are perfect.

Like David, I saw some mighty warriors of God come out of nowhere to beat down some unwelcomed guests in my life. And God taught me to treasure the body of Christ. He showed me the beauty of the way He designed His family to work. And He provided the encouragement and support I needed at just the right times, and ultimately I was drawn to Him like never before. He taught me to "in humility count others more significant" than myself (Philippians 2:3). He taught me 1 Corinthians 12:21--to not say to the hand, "I have no need of you," or to the foot, "I have no need of you." Because we were created to live in community. And I treasure the way that God has provided incredible friendships in my life to humble me and get me off of my pedestal and teach me I can't do this journey alone.

What an awesome God we serve!

Nerd Camp

2005-07-21T01:33:00.000-05:00

The last six weeks or so I was in Nashville participating in a program at Fisk and Vanderbilt Universities. For those of you who did not get my emails, here they are:

Friday, June 3rd:
"Nerd Camp ;0)"

Hey everyone!

I hate mass emails but I know that ya'll are praying for me and I just wanted to send a quick word saying that I made it to Nashville just fine and things are going great. Everyone here is like me--nerd through and through. ;0) But we also know how to have a great time and have been doing just that before classes start on Monday.

I have been designated as the Nashville tour guide. Not that I have ever even been to TN, but I have been the one leading us all over the place. Last night I loaded my car full of hungry girls and we set out to find some grub. We ended up in Opryland. It was a really neat adventure. Today we took a practice MCAT all day and tonight set out for another adventure into the great unknown. We ended up at the Pantheon, the Titans stadium, the country music hall of fame, the state capital, countless other fun sites, and finally Ben & Jerry's ice cream. ;0) As we sat and ate our ice cream, we laughed about being from Hawaii, Puerto Rico, Oregon, Montana, Illinois, and the list goes on. We mocked each others accents and joked about the expressions we used. Then we cracked on ourselves about being at "Nerd Camp." We just never knew it would be this fun.

Nashville is gorgeous and the campus we live on is amazing (check out the pictures at www.fisk.edu --we live in Jubilee Hall & it's the coolest bldg on campus!). A few girls and I ran through a park this evening and just enjoyed soaking it all up. It's been so amazing to make friends so quickly & to enjoy each others company so much. Please don't stop praying! I know that the quick transition and easy development of relationships is God at work. Pray for my new friends--I don't know that any of them know the Lord. Tomorrow night will be difficult as they are all going out drinking. We are all so much alike, and yet not. I want to enjoy being their friend and simply show them the greatest joy I've ever known.

Thanks for your prayers and your support! I had no idea what I was getting into, but this is beyond anything that I could have dreamed of....

Please keep me posted on how I can be praying for each of you!

Until the world knows Jesus,
Janice
Is. 43:1-2!!!!!

Monday, June 6th:
"A Gallon of Milk and a Historical Landmark"

I know I just sent an email a few days ago, but I wanted to update ya'll again now that classes have started.

This evening I took a carload of girls to Wal-Mart, and we were running a little late for dinner coming back. I had bought a gallon of milk and needed to put it in the fridge. They headed straight to dinner while I ran to the dorm to put my milk away. We parked in the back of the dorm, and I literaly began running toward the front of the building. As I rounded the corner, I found myself standing in a crowd of tourists gazing upward at my dorm as I held my gallon of milk in my hand. I tried to quietly slip through unnoticed but was quite out of place. The dorm we live in is a historical landmark and the most important building on campus. There are strict rules about the things that we can wear and do in the lobby as well as things we can have in the dorm period. But it is a lot of fun and is definetly a neat experience.

Anyhow, class started today at 7am bright and early. My organic class lasts from 7-9:30 on MWF and is taught by a Vanderbilt professor. On MWF afternoons we have seminars about various things. Tuesdays and Thursdays we spend in the Vanderbilt Medical Center shadowing some of the world's top doctors, doing case studies and research, and learning hands-on. I thought today would be rough having organic at 7am, but the time flew and it was actually quite enjoyable.

I am still having an amazing time getting to know the others here from all over the country. I took some girls with me to FBC Nashville yesterday, and I really had some neat opportunities to share with them. We actually ended up going to their church picnic that evening and participating in a sunset service on the lake! I am constantly seeing God's hand of provision every time I turn around.

The program here is rigorous, and we are going to be pretty busy but this is probably one of the neatest opportunities I will ever have. I know that this is the Lord's mission field for me this summer. I am soaking up the benefits of rubbing elbows with world renown doctors, but I am striving to be salt and light every step of the way. The opportunities are endless. I mean, there is nothing quite like the wonders of God's creation found in the human body. I am getting to experience that on a new level, but I am also getting to share that with others who don't really see things that way.

Well, sorry to write for so long. Things around here are just so exciting! And my emails are sure to get fewer and farther between (as well as shorter for that matter) as things start to pick up here the next few days.

Keep your eyes on Jesus!

Until the world knows Him,
Janice

Thursday, June 9th:
"Brain Surgery Day 1"

Well, my day began bright and early at 5 am. I dressed my best and sported my new white coat and Vanderbilt Medical Center ID Badge. I boarded a shuttle bus where I was dropped off next to the hospital. I was picked up by a woman who worked for the doctor I would be shadowing for the day. I scrubbed up and headed for the OR. Our patient for the morning had a large tumor in her brain in the speech region. For this reason, the procedure was done while the patient was awake in order to make a speech map of the brain. Imagine having brain surgery awake!! I saw much of the tumor be removed and then took a quick lunch break.

After lunch I headed to class--kind of anti-climatic after brain surgery. Today was the first day of our problem based learning class, a class in which we receive a case, research the problem, and develop the appropriate diagnosis. Because today was the first day we just spent time getting to know one another. The class is taught by med students here at Vanderbilt, and I really had an incredible time just getting to know them and learn from them. They were incredibly encouraging and supportive of us and our aspirations. They know that the road to and through medical school is not easy and comes with a lot of uncertainty. They gladly answered every last question of ours. They will be an amazing resource for me both this summer and in the future. I learned a lot from them today and was really encouraged to pursue my dreams.

This experience continues to grow on me. Around every corner there is a new surprise and a new blessing. I just really couldn't have expected things to be like they are. I am tired, and I do take in a lot of new information every day, but it is such an exciting time. On Tuesday we were given our white coats and ID badges. As I walked through the medical center I kept catching glimpses of myself in the reflective glass on the buildings. I just couldn't quite believe it. I stood in front of the mirror for a long time in the bathroom trying to decide whether or not I looked like a kid playing dress-up or like I fit the part. I never quite decided. Hopefully I'll be able to send a picture, and you can be the judge. ;0) I am just blown away by the opportunity the Lord has given me to be here. Sometimes I feel really childish because I get so excited.

Today we were all asked to share our stories today of how we got involved in medicine--where we were coming from and where we want to go. We just went around the table sharing, and I just happened to be the last to go. It was neat to sit back and see the vastly different backgrounds everyone was coming from. I was humbled to get to be among them and to share my story! So, I briefly explained to them what had sparked my interests and what not. I told of going overseas and seeing children with AIDS in Africa. I simply explained my heart for the people and God's way of leading me to the place I'm at now. They applauded at the end! No one else got applause. I just don't quite understand it. "God, why me?" is the question I am constantly asking.

When God called Abraham, he told him that he was going to bless him and make him great. But the whole reason behind that was so that he could be a blessing to others. I see it the same way in my life as well, and I pray that I really will be a blessing to all those I come in contact with that God may be glorified to the ends of the earth! And I think too that all the people of God are blessed by God in the same way. We are so blessed to get to walk in intimacy with him--whether that be in the medical field, in teaching, in business, in parenting, or wherever God has placed us. It's awesome that we are not all called to the same places because who would be a light in the darkness elsewhere? And I might be young but I know that some of the places seem less honorable than others, but the apostle Paul says that greater honor is given to the parts that lacked it and the unpresentable parts are treated with greater modesty. He also says that the parts that seem weaker are indispensable (1 Cor. 12:22-25).

So, wherever you're at today enjoy walking in intimacy with God! That is the greatest joy of all--greater than watching brain surgery even. (Of course, I know some of you would rather have brain surgery than watch it ;0)

Have an amazing day!

Until the world knows Jesus,
Janice
Is. 43:1-2

Thursday, June 23rd:
Brain Surgery & the SBC Annual Convention

How is everyone? I hope you are all staying cool and hydrated! ;0) I just got back from my evening jog with my workout buddies up the steps of the Capital Building. Tonight, like many other nights, I caught myself just daydreaming. The sun was setting as we stretched on Capital Hill and overlooked the city. The 3 of us talked about the adventures of our week--seeing stem cell transplants, brain surgeries done through the nose, spinal fusions, and more. We laughed about certain happenings and talked about the basketball game tonight. We discussed the embryology of the heart and congenital heart defects such as atrial septal defect and patent ductus arteriosus. We speculated about our friend Becca and her new little boyfriend. It was a good time as always. The jog always ends with a steep uphill climb through one of the rougher neighborhoods around. Something about running through there always gets us talking about the things we are passionate about--it sparks something in all 3 of us that makes us turn to one another and say, "I want to be a doctor, and I want to be a doctor where no one else will be."

I've been incredible busy this last week. I finished up organic chemistry and am now doing biochemistry. I had a lot of projects due and did a presentation today on congenital heart defects. I'm still having the time of my life, and I'm still blown away that I am here. I bounced around from OR to OR today watching several different neurosurgeries. I stopped by the holding room where they begin to administer anesthesia and sat beside a 17 year-old girl with a tumor on her pituitary gland and her mom explaining how the procedure would go and easing some of the anxiety.

Well, I could tell about many more adventures, but to some of you I am speaking a foreign language. I am grossing out others of you, and I am annoying others of you by sending out terribly long mass emails that really don't say a lot except, "I'm excited to be playing doctor!"

Amongst my medical adventures, I roamed into the Southern Baptist Convention Annual Meeting a couple times this week as well. I got to sing in the choir last night behind Casting Crowns and watch as Dr. Bobby Welch, president of the SBC, exhorted Christians to evangelize. Parts of the meeting itself were incredibly interesting to see the business aspect of things if you will. It gave me a lot to think about as I got in my car to head back to a dorm full of lost people.

Lately I have been studying the life of King David, a man after God's own heart. Did you know that it was years after David was anointed king that he actually took the throne? In fact, before he was even king of Israel, he was king over Judah for 7 and a half years!!! That's almost as much time as I will spend in med school. ;0) Anyhow, I was amazed as I began to realize how long David spent running from Saul, and even after Saul was gone, how long he spent at war with the house of Saul. But David held on to God's promise. The young shepherd boy had seen God's hand at work and knew His God would never fail Him. He knew that God had hand-picked him from many other seemingly better qualified men. Yes, there were times when he doubted, and times when He cried out, "God, where are You?! How long, O Lord?" There were even times when he gave in and gave up (1 Sam. 27), but God sustained him. And "David strengthened himself in the Lord his God" (1 Sam. 30:6). The crown did not fall into David's lap. God used many struggles leading to the kingship to prepare His chosen one.

I have seen the same principle at work in my life. Just in the last year I see the different struggles I faced with sickness and change and even a near death experience ;0) to smooth off some of my rough edges and draw me near to God. The fire is hot, but the fire is refining.

"But now THUS SAYS THE LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: 'FEAR NOT, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, YOU ARE MINE. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. FOR I AM the Lord your God...' " Isaiah 43:1-3

What a promise to stand on! God is faithful.

And you know what's so good about the promised throne? Our promised throne is here. And there is a Father there waiting just for us. "Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need" (Heb. 4:16).

Have a great weekend and enjoy being HIS!!!!

Until the world knows Jesus,
Janice

The Starting Point

2005-07-21T01:08:00.000-05:00

Tonight over dinner I discussed fertility with a young missionary couple, Brad and Carrie for all you Woodlandites. We also discussed racism, labor, and seminary. But above all we delighted in God. We shared the highs and the lows and God's goodness at all those points. We talked for nearly four hours. Fellowship and community are so beautiful.

We joked about Brad's pride in his fertility, and how he should get passes to the YMCA because his boys can swim. We laughed about how babies are made in China--it's in the water or something. We talked about birth control and how it's like abortion, and I grappled with how I felt about that. Then there was Carrie's random soloiquies about racism, and Chris's family history involving rape and pillage. Any passerby would have marked us crazy--something about sitting in Guadalajara for 4 hours I guess. But what we shared went far deeper than sex and babies and race and the many other things we discussed. We shared that common bond found only in Jesus Christ. What a beautiful thing!

I'll never forget the look in Carrie's eyes as she talked about her students. I'll never forget the way Brad listened so intently as I told about the last year of my life. I won't forget how hard we laughed and how the time flew by so fast. The honesty and the authenticity permeating our conversations and laughter was refreshing. It was good to declare that God is good, and that His love endures even through the darkest of nights. It was good to speak of His wonders and His faithfulness to His children.

Brad encouraged me to start this thing. I don't even know who will read it. But it is a good place for me to continue to declare God's goodness and to archive the journeys He takes me on. Maybe it will bless someone else. I hope it blesses you to hear that God is good. I hope knowing that God is in control stirs some sort of comfort in your spirit. I pray that the thought of Him brings a smile to your face today.