Diary of a Transplant Patient

Passport Update (aka God Is GOOD!)

2006-05-26T07:47:00.000-07:00

So, after weeks and weeks of freaking out over whether or not Rick's passport would be here in time, I found a random phone number for Rick to call to check on it, since I already called it once and they would give me no other information other than, "It's processing."

Rick called on Monday of this week and the girl told him that it has been approved (YAY!) BUT there is nothing he can do about it to speed it up other than have it FedEx'd overnight. So, he chose to have it FedEx'd. Which is great, but we leave in 12 days....will it be processed in time???

So, he called again yesterday to check on it. No more news. I'm starting to sweat a little. 6 business days left until we leave....what if........

Then, this morning, I'm hanging around the house and should have already left for work but I have to wait on this darn load of laundry to finish so we have clothes this weekend when we go to the lake. La De Da...playing on the computer...when there's a knock at the door. Who could it be? THE FEDEX MAN!!! I wanted to jump out the door and hug him, but I figured he might run away with the passport, so I abstained. But it's here. In my lap at this very instant. Precious goods.

Ladies and gentlemen, we're going to Honduras.

GOD IS GOOD!

This could be ironic

2006-05-22T09:09:00.000-07:00

I saw a spot on the news last week that really peaked my interest. I don't know why we were watching the 10pm news, we never do. Rick thinks the news is too depressing, and I tend to agree. But, for whatever reason, we were watching the news.

A spot came on about the National Transplant Games. Instantly, I was enthralled. I had no idea these things existed. The National Transplant Games were originally started by the National Kidney Foundation in order to raise awareness about organ donation, but specifically to honor the families of those who have donated organs. I could totally do that. So, I hopped on Google and found the site for the games and found the local contact person.

Unfortunately, registration for the games has passed, but he's checking with national to see if I can still participate. Who knows what will happen. I am excited, though. Even if I can't participate this year, I will be able to next year. These games are made up of people who have had solid organ transplants and the games range from ping pong and bowling to more active sports like swimming, typical track and field games, and basketball. I keep thinking about how ironic it would be if I were able to participate and get to play on the state transplant basketball team. We would compete on national, and possibly even international, levels. I may be getting the cart before the horse, but I'm amazed at the possibility that God could have worked in my life in this way. I was jerked off of a team that I loved that really stood for nothing in high school to possibly play for a team that really means something as an adult.

Again, I know at this point that this is all wishful thinking. But, I can't help but believe that God is in there somewhere. This would really help me get my story "out there" and tell many others about how God has worked in my life thus far. We'll see what happens. But until I get the official news, I'm going to remain hopeful.

One Down, Two to Go

2006-05-11T13:00:00.000-07:00

I have officially completed my first year of the master's program. *Huge sigh of relief*

I know that in the next couple of weeks, things will slow back down to at least a pace that I can keep up with, but, until then, Rick and I are having dinner and hanging out with friends we haven't seen much over the last few months. And we're trying to get things together for our trip to Honduras. (Oh, yeah....we leave in less than a month). And I'm playing softball. And I'm still working. And I'm catching up on all of those pesky doctor's appointments that come around only about once a year (eye doctor, dentist, vet (for my dog, not for me - ha!)).

God is doing great things in our life right now, and He's doing a pretty good job of keeping me calm through all of it. He's testing our church, but in a good way. I'm on the missions committee, and we have so many people we want to send out and help, but not enough money to do it. Since we just got a new building, I really feel like He's saying, "Okay, Otter Creek....where's your money? Landscaping and paint or evangelism?" That's a little more global than other things He's doing, but He's working in our lives, too. We found out on very short notice that we need $2100 to go to Honduras instead of what we originally thought was just $200 per person. So, we sent out letters about a week ago and already we have only $700 left to raise. God is good! He's really showing me and Rick that we're supposed to go on this trip. We have been flabergasted at the amazing response we have recieved from our Otter Creek family on such a short notice.

There has been a catch, though. Rick's passport is causing us serious issues. We applied for it long go, back in February, which should have been plenty of time for us to get it back. Well, we finally heard from them last week....asking for more verification that Rick is who he says he is. They wanted 3 different proofs of id that are over 5 years old. That sounds easy enough, but it's very difficult. They already have his birth certificate and we could NOT find his social security card. His driver's license is only 4 years old because he's only 25 and had to have it renewed when he turned 21. We did manage to find some old tax forms and we sent in an old transcript from college and an old college ID, but the problem is that on the ID, you can't really see his face. So, we ended up sending all kinds of things in, some of which are over 5 years old and some that aren't. We're praying that this will be enough and that we'll get the passport back in enough time for our trip. I really feel like God is in this, so I have faith that it will all work out, but I know all of your prayers will help.

I am going to keep you guys updated on all that is going on with our trip to Honduras and everything else that is going on over the summer. I'm back to blogging!

Donate Life

2006-04-11T11:08:00.000-07:00

That's always the slogan for April, but I didn't know that until last year.

It's Organ Donation Awareness Month, so get out there and sign your driver's license. But don't let it end there. Be sure to tell your closest relative or two your wishes. Your organs will not be donated without your next-of-kin's approval.

I just went to my first Organ Donation Awareness event here at Vanderbilt. It was very intimidating, but good, I think. I got there a little late, so I missed most of the talk by a dad who's son donated his organs. After most of the people cleared out, I did work up enough courage to walk over to the Tennessee Donor Services booth to ask them about how to volunteer. I met some really cool people, and I'm excited about getting started. I want to give back. I've tried to give back and couldn't (another story), so now it's time to really do something.

If you want more information about donating organs, just click on the UNOS link in my side bar. They can answer all of your questions, or lead you to someone who can.

Please think seriously about this.

This Week in Science News

2006-03-30T13:36:00.000-08:00

There is an article in a recent Nature journal about chimpanzees and how they are so different from humans.

Like we didn't know this already.

The interesting concept of this article is not that we're different, but how we're different. They have discovered that when you give a chimp a banana and place with that chimp another friendly chimp or even a chimp that is new to the chimp with the banana, that chimp will not share his banana. Now, change those banana-less chimps to a very hungry banana-less chimps. The (non-hungry) chimp with the banana will still not share. So, these scientists, as smart as they are, decided that this was the key to the humans' evolutionary development over chimps. We're willing to share our bananas.

I really don't want to get on a rant about evolution and about my stand on evolution. Contrary to what you may think, I am neither pro-evolution nor anti-evolution. I really am somewhere in the middle, and, if I had a lot of time, I could go into science and biblical text to show why I stand where I do on the issue.

Anyway, I am facinated that these scientist think that our human desire to be altruistic is due to an evolutionary change in our DNA. I personally believe that this is just another example of how humans (and only humans) are created in God's image. God wishes none to perish, and because we are created in His image, we want to help others in our own way. We cannot save souls, but we can feed the hungry and help out a friend or loved one when they find themselves in a tough spot. Even a greater stretch, we are willing to reach out and help people whom we do not even know. If you think about the amount of money that Christians and non-Christians gave to the victims of the September 11th attacks, to the victims of the tsunami, and to the victims of hurricanes Katrina and Rita, these are people whom we do not know and may never meet, but the piece of God in us shines through, even in those who do not accept Him or His Son.

Just another way that science is (in my opinion) proving that we are the Created.

Marriage

2006-03-07T12:12:00.000-08:00

How do people learn how to be married? Most say just by watching their parents interact. I do agree that what you experience in regards to marriage growing up matters, but I think there is much more to it than that.

My parents are still married, so, by most standards, people may say that I have a good idea of what a marriage should look like.

haha.

I have no idea how to be married. I know there are rules about communication and fairness and all that stuff, and I'm still learning all of it, but what does it take to be a marriage that glorifies God? I mean, Rick and I still argue about the laundry, how in the world are we supposed to focus on the big things when we're so stuck on the little things?

I really wonder how we've made it as far as we have and through all of the things that we've been through. I can do nothing but give God the glory in bringing us through it, but did we glorify Him in the process? Now that we're through the rough stuff and back to the mundane, how do we make Him shine through it?

I'm clueless.

Podcasts are to Blame

2006-02-17T09:00:00.000-08:00

I know I've been MIA for a while. Several of you have made that clear with comments like, "Although you don't read my blog anymore...." or "You're too good to read my blog anymore...", let me tell you: I still read your blogs. All of them. I just don't comment much on your blogs anymore. Truthfully, I like being quite for a little while. Sometimes I talk to much, and lately, I haven't had much to say that is of any importance, so I'm just using this time to read and reflect on what you all have to say.

One thing that I have been doing lately deals with podcasts. I've become addicted. I'll subscribe to several new ones each day, and then watch and unsubscribe and delete depending on whether or not I like them. A few that I will comment on:

1 Year Daily Audio Bible: An incredible podcast. This one was started at the beginning of this year by a producer here in Nashville. He simply reads a passage from the OT, the NT, Psalms, and Proverbs every day. They average about 20 minutes in length, but it's great. I can listen at work or anywhere on my iPod. And if you don't have an iPod, just download iTunes (it's free!) and you can save it to your computer or on a CD and listen in your car.

Ask a Ninja: This one is very silly. All of the episodes I've seen so far at least make me giggle. If any of you guys play Xbox live, at least watch Question 5: "Ninja Skills." I really don't know where this guy came up with this idea for a podcast. (This is a video podcast, so you have to either have an iPod video, or just watch them on your computer.)

Vintage Toon Cast: One of my favorites! Very old cartoons available for free download. Things like some of the old Merrie Melodies with Bugs and Elmer Fudd, Felix the Cat, and some other ones that I'm not so familiar with. It is rated Explicit, but that's because of "cartoon violence." I guess parents are freaking out about their children seeing Bugs be hit in the head by an anvil or something.....

And then, of course, Homestar Runner. You all must check him out at . There are two podcasts that you can find on iTunes, one is homestar runner shorts, the other is Strong Bad e-mails. My favorite (an archive from the website that you can't find on iTunes is the Fluffy Puff Commercial that you can find under "shorts."

Guess that's all of my useless information for now.

Tagged!

2006-02-06T09:55:00.000-08:00

Tammy tagged me. I don't know if I'll be able to come up with 4 of everything, but we'll see how I can stretch it.....

Four Jobs I've Had:
Waitress at small-town cafe
Pharmacy Technician at CVS
Nanny
Salesperson at GAP (HATED this job!)

Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over:
Dumb and Dumber
The Notebook
The Rock
The Italian Job

Four Books I Could Read Over and Over:
Matilda by Ronald Dahl
Harry Potter Series
The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning
The Screwtape Letters by CS Lewis

Four Places I've Lived (gonna have to strech this one):
Providence, KY
Green Hills in Nashville, TN
East Nashville, TN
Bellevue in Nashville, TN

Four TV Shows I Watch:
Desperate Housewives
Lost
Grey's Anatomy (last night was GREAT!)
CSI

Four Places I've Been on Vacation:
Mexico
Aruba
Bahamas
Grenada

Four Websites I Visit Daily:
www.amsouth.com (online banking!)
Kronos (to check my time clock at work)
www.pogo.com (free online games)
all sorts of blogs

Four of my Favorite Foods:
Turkey Applejack wrap from Roly Poly
Broccoli Cheddar soup in a bread bowl from Panera
my dad's meatloaf
my mil's chicken cordon bleu

Four Places I'd Rather Be Right Now (all with Rick, of course):
Wilmington, NC
Mexico
anywhere in the Caribbean
a secluded mountain cabin

Four Bloggers I'm Tagging:
Natalie
Angie
Phil
Lindsay

The World is Spinning

2006-02-02T11:45:00.000-08:00

And so am I!

I can't believe how fast my life is moving right now. It feels like Monday to me and it's already Thursday. I hate living like this.

I've realized that I'm a thinker. I like to think about the big picture of life and really spend time at least each week, but more like nearly every day, thinking about some of the little (or big things) that God does in my life and how that relates to the way in which I practice my faith. I didn't realize how much I actually do this until the last couple of weeks when I have no time to do it.

Daily life is now consumed by work and classes, and the tiny mundane things in life that take up too much time. Like doing laundry. Is doing laundry work? No, not really. More like mindless labor, but it still takes away from what little free time I have now to think of the big picture.

Classes and work do that, too. In an odd sense of irony, I spend my days working on the tiniest of God's creation. This leaves me no time to think about the big picture.

I'm about 3 weeks in to the semester, and I'm already thinking that if I don't get a break soon, I'm gonna crack. My introverted side seriously needs some time alone.

An Equation

2006-01-31T20:48:00.000-08:00

(40(w)+14(c)+24(s)+48(F))^T=x

Where:

w=hours of work
c=hours of class
s=hours of being sick
F=hours of being sick with a fever
T=MAJOR TEST TOMORROW

figure it out yet?

I'll give you another minute.....

Okay, time's up.

x=me just wanting time to shave my legs!

Great Day!

2006-01-25T13:28:00.000-08:00

Note: I actually wrote and attempted to publish this post yesterday, only to learn that all-of-a-sudden I can't use Safari to publish posts in blogger. I can't believe that Blogger is a Google product and they're supporting Windows more than Macs!

So, I woke up this morning with one thing on my mind. My donor letter. Today was the day. I was going to get a shower and head straight to Green Hills to write it. So, that's what I did. Only, when I got there, I ran into a friend whom I haven't seen in two years. Of course, we had to catch up. After half an hour of chatting and exchanging phone numbers, we decided that we both had work to do, so I moved to the end of the table where we were sitting. That's when I saw him. The most beautiful man alive today. He was walking in the front door. I looked back over at my friend and starting mumbling "ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh......look who just walked in!" Of course, she had no idea who I was talking about so I whispered very loudly, KEITH URBAN!!!! She still didn't know who he was, so I turned around to point him out when I saw HER. I couldn't believe who was with him! Of course I knew they were dating, but what is the odds of running into the two of them here in Nashville? So, I turned back around to her and shrieked, NICOLE KIDMAN is with him! That's when she said very calmly, "Yup, that's Nicole." By this time I had the attention of several people in the back room, so they're all looking at me going, "Who? Where!?" Most of them just let their jaws drop, but I ever-so-proudly picked my jaw up off of the floor and went over and asked for their autographs. Okay, so maybe more tentatively and very shyly than proudly, but I did get their autographs. That is the first time in my life I've ever asked someone for their autographs, much less two people as HUGE as Keith Urban and his monstrously famous girlfriend. Keith was even nice enough to talk to me for a few minutes. And, yes, ladies, he is just as hot in person as he is on TV. And she is very, very tall. She's gotta be pushing 6 feet (hummm...or maybe she had heels on....didn't think about that....)

I expected them to grab some coffee and leave, but they didn't. They came right into the back room and sat down very, very close to me. I knew that my day was blown. There was no way I was going to be able to write something as serious as my donor letter when Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman were sitting directly across from me. I tried not to stare at them for 5 or 10 minutes when I decided that I was not going to be writing any letter today, so I packed up my stuff and headed to work. I still don't think that anyone else in the back room realized who they were sharing space with.....except for my friend and the other people that were sitting at the table with us, but, unlike me, they decided to not act like a shmuck in front of two celebrities.

But I've got something they don't have: autographs!

Back in the Swing of Things

2006-01-17T09:44:00.000-08:00

I'm still trying to recoup from all of the time off from the holidays. It's been much more difficult than I had imagined.

Last week was actually my first full week since before Christmas, but even then it wasn't a "full week." I had a dentist appointment on Monday. I need to learn that having a transplant means a lot more than just being sick all of the time. I have to be much more careful about my teeth and gums. My teeth are great (never had a cavity....yet!), and my gums have always been great, but I had problems this time. I had a bacterial infection in portions of my gums. It is just the normal bacteria that everyone has in their mouth, but I have to remember that my body can't fight it to keep it at a minimum as everyone else's bodies can do. I didn't go back to work after my appointment. The procedure wasn't too terrible, but I still have a bruise on my left cheek where the hygenist got a little overly-excited and apparantly thought that my cheek could stretch out to three times it's normal size. Well, it can't. And I'm still bruised. I have to go back next month and have a check up to make sure that the infection is gone, but I don't imagine any more problems.

Tuesday was another short day because of my Tuesday group. We're still trying to get our numbers back up from after the holidays. Hopefully today will be back to normal.

Thursday I got very sick and didn't work at all. I don't know what happened, but it sucked. I was fine on Friday.

So, all of that means that I had to work both Saturday and Sunday to try to make up my time. And that still didn't make up all of my time. I have been working almost 10 hour days trying to get everything back in order. Now, I am within 2 hours of having all of my time made up, but it's only Tuesday. I could get sick again and then I'll be back in the hole. I really need to keep more than a 0 balance of sick hours......

I am teaching a lecture at Lipscomb next Friday on Luke/Acts. I really need to work on what I'm going to talk about.....

There really isn't much going on in my life right now. Classes have started and I'm trying to adjust to my new schedule, but other than that I've just been really, really busy. Hopefully things will slow down again soon and I can have more time to think about meaningful things to write about on this blog. I know it sucks to read it right now. :o)

Have a great day, everyone!

Oh, What a Weekend

2006-01-09T07:57:00.000-08:00

It's definately been a weekend of mountains and valleys.

Our missions committee from church had a retreat this weekend with all of the major mission teams that we support either monetarily, through volunteers, or both. After spending many hours in prayer over this teams on Friday night (a very, very emotional time for me, especially when praying over the Meeks from GoodSoil Ministries. Saturday we got up very early after a very, very late night to vision with these missionaries and figure out what we can do in 2006 to be a better support to them. Sunday, again, was a great day. We went to church and had a potluck afterward with all of these families. Wonderful and exciting times. I spent some time this weekend planning a ministry weekend in Jellico with GoodSoil. I'm very excited about this coming spring/summer.

Then, on Sunday, I spent a lot of my time talking with Rick about a Somalian family (refugees) that some of our friends are heavily involved with helping. Rick and some of our friends spent Saturday cleaning their apartment, which was apparantly a huge disaster. My heart is heavy not only for this family, but for a couple that is so heavily involved with this family. We love them dearly and have really struggled with how to help them help this man and his children. It's a situation that I don't want to get into much detail about here, but our friends are wonderful and give so much of themselves to this family. I really think they're Saints. It's been a struggle this weekend trying to figure out how to help without putting ourselves at risk. We made a small decision last night and put it into action, but it may not be enough. Just pray for us and our couple-friends and this family. It's a very difficult situation with all kinds of cultural and many other "issues." Pray that God will give us peace about what we are to do.

Happy New Year!

2006-01-06T08:36:00.000-08:00

I know, I'm a little late.

I've been telling myself for days now that I need to post. But I've been procrastinating.

Our New Years Eve was fun. We had made plans to hang out with our life group and play games (we love to play games, we just don't have too many friends that also really like to do this, so we were very, very excited). Until I got sick. I don't know exactly what got a hold of me. It could have been a migraine, but I don't think so. I felt too bad. Feverish, vomitting, the works. So, instead, I ended up sleeping the night away (although I did get up for a couple of hours, just long enough to watch the New Year in). But Rick wouldn't kiss me when the ball dropped. Isn't that depressing? I woke up Sunday feeling fine, which was great considering I was supposed to cook this huge New Year's Day meal for a couple of friends. It was my first "big" meal, and even though we had to miss church so that I could get everything done, it turned out okay.

My depression seems to be getting better, slowly, but getting better nonetheless. Rick is still waiting for an instantaneous "I'm better now!" and he still gets very frustrated with me at times. I have to constantly remind myself not to get so mad at him, but just keep him focused on the fact that he can see improvements and that it will still take time.

Other than the New Year's Eve mishap, our new year is really off to a great start. I'm not one that is big on resolutions. Rick and I, instead, set goals. We've done this ever since we were engaged, and we even still have our list of goals from when before we were married. At the end/beginning of every year, we sit down together, go over the previous year's goals, mark off what we have accomplished, and then set new goals for the next year. It's exciting that we completed almost every financial goal that we set for ourselves last year. There are some other personal goals that we set that we succeeded ni completing, and others that we didn't even come close to doing, but that's the whole point of goals. But even more exciting than last year's goals are this years goals. Not even one month in to the New Year, and we have completed nearly HALF of our financial goals for 2006. At this rate, we are going to blow through all of our financial goals in just a few months, and we will have to sit down and make new ones.

Also, another big goal of mine was to go on an international mission trip this year. I wasn't so sure that it was going to happen because money is still tight, and I still need to work so that I can get paid to pay all of our bills. And I haven't been on an international trip since a month or so before Rick and I got married. There has been a hole in my life for the last two and a half years that needs desperately to be filled. Even more than that, I have been dreaming about Rick being able to go with me on an international missions trip. He has never really been out of the country (other than our cruise to Mexico last summer), but even that doesn't count too much. The places we went were so Americanized that he didn't get to experience any of the culture. This is such a huge part of me and a huge part of what I want to be that I want desperately to share that with him. I know that he may hate every second of it, but deep down I pray that I can drag him along on one trip and he'll fall in love with it. So, my sister let me know that there was a church near my home town (where she goes) that is in desperate need of people to go with them on a trip to Honduras this June. The big catch is that they have raised almost all of the money. We only have to come up with $200 per person, and our church has already committed to paying that for us. Rick has decided that he will go (although he is scared and worried about me traveling so far out of the US with no American doctors). Now all we have to do is get up-to-date on our vaccines and take care of passports. That'll still cost us a little over $200, but we should be able to handle that. YAY!!!

Whew. That's a lot to happen in just a couple of weeks, but it seems to me that when God starts to move, you often see it all at once. I am absolutely exhausted and haven't gotten back into a normal sleep pattern yet, but hopefully that will happen over the next week or so. Counselling starts back again on Tuesday, and my classes start on Wednesday, so I'm sure I will have plenty to talk about next week.

Have a great weekend!

Our Travel History

2005-12-29T12:44:00.000-08:00

I love road trips with my husband. We never fail to get into something crazy.

Like the first time we travelled anywhere together. All he told me was that we were going snow skiing. I didn't realize until he had me pull out the map that we were supposed to be meeting some friends of his in Knoxville. We were in Chattanooga.

Then there was the time that we travelled with one of his friends to North Carolina. It's not too smart to be the only girl stuck in a car for 14 or so hours with two college guys. We were having fun until they decided that for dinner we were going to split a gallon (yes, an entire gallon) of cookie dough ice cream and then finish that off with a bloomin' onion and cheese fries from Outback. It was not a nice-smelling 8 or so hours. Between the left over food, the melting ice cream, and the boys.....yuck. I don't want to think about it.

Then there are our road trips to Minnesota. This year was the first time we made the drive without getting lost. The first time we ended up in the middle of Illinois somewhere in the middle of a cornfield. It took me a couple of hours of telling him what roads to take to get us back on track without back-tracking. And then there was last year and the "quick stop" in Chicago. We always avoid Chicago, but when you miss an interstate, you never know where you're gonna end up. We've learned that lesson many, many, many times. More times than I've mentioned here.

And then there was this year. I actually drove back for a few hours. I did most of the interstate changes. From 39 to 74 and then on to 57. We stopped for lunch in Effingham, Illinois and I was tired. All Rick had to do was get on I-24 and that would take us straight into Nashville. I was asleep for a couple of hours when I heard, "Honey...why is the interstate ending in a mile?? We haven't even been through Kentucky yet....." We stopped at some random gas station in the middle of a cornfield to ask where in the world we were. We were in Dexter, Missouri. That's west of Sikeston. That's waaaaay out of our way. I teased him, asking him why he had missed all of the "to I-24 signs" and the exit to I-24. Then I teased him that his next clue should have been the "Welcome to Missouri" sign. And even the next clue should have been that the interstate speed changed to 70, which it doesn't do until we get in to Tennessee. He had missed the interstate several hours before. We ended up driving almost down into Arkansas, and then taking some random interstate and highway over to I-40, a little over half way from Nashville to Memphis. We ended up getting home about 3 hours later than we should have.

Other than our extra road trip, we had a great Christmas with Rick's family. Lots of food, staying up really late playing games, sleeping in really late, and then spending the rest of the day in our pj's. I was completely worthless for a week.

I hope you all had wonderful Christmases and that you had safe travels. Now it's about time to say, Happy New Year!!

Off to the Frozen Waste-Land

2005-12-20T15:44:00.000-08:00

We're heading to Minnesota around 3am tomorrow morning for Christmas.

I may try to post while we're up there, but we'll just have to wait and see how it goes.

I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas!

Learning About My Past

2005-12-12T13:57:00.000-08:00

I'm dealing with depression.

I've only really understood that in the past couple of weeks. It really hit home after a conversation with Jana last Sunday. The way I've been feeling isn't normal for anyone, even a transplant patient. (Although 70% of transplant patients do get depressed post-transplant). For the past year and a half, I've thought that what I've been feeling (fatigue, laziness, not really caring about anything) was all a part of what someone goes through after having a major operation. My physical body is healed, but I couldn't think of any reason that I should be feeling this way. I started to accept that this is just the way I'm going to be for a while.

Then, it happened. A woman in my Tuesday Group confessed that she has been depressed for 13 years. She's never told anyone but her husband. She began talking about her symptoms and how it makes her feel. My minister looked over at me when she was finished talking and said, "Amanda, are you hearing what she's saying?" Well, duh. She's described everything that I've been feeling for the past year or longer. But, I wasn't sure what to do about it. I thought about it for a few days, and then talked to Jana after life group last Sunday. I had some symptoms that she had when she was dealing with PPD that the woman who talked on Tuesday didn't have. I discovered that I've had tendencies toward depression since I was in high school. I've got to do something about this.

After one of the worst weeks that I have had in a really, really long time (last week), I called my transplant doctor and he called in an anti-depressant for me. I've been taking it since Friday. I can't tell any big differences yet, but it could take a couple of weeks for it to really kick in. We'll see what happens.

I called my sister on Friday to talk to her. I told her that I started the meds. She said something like, "It's about time! You've been dealing with this since high school!"

Thanks for the heads up, Sis. :oP

I haven't had many conversations with anyone that meant as much as this conversation with my sister did. We talked about when my depression hit (after I was cut from the basketball team for no good reason). We talked about how her and my mom, in particular, talked about everything that was going on with me, but they never talked to me about what was going on with me. Even my sister admitted that she hated me after that. She was indignant that she had "lost" me in a sense, and was mean and very angry at me for that. She didn't know how to handle the fact that her "old" sister was gone. All that was left was a shell of that person, and she hated that shell.

I was alone in my suffering.

I had no Ruth, no Boaz. And for a 14 year old, that's a big deal.

After all this time, I had almost convinced myself that I dreamed that my sister was so mean to me, that I had done something wrong. I thought it was all apart of my angst as a teenager.....that's what my parents told me. Maybe my teenage years weren't as bad as I thought they were because I dreamed all of that stuff up. But now I know the Truth. My teenage years really did suck. My sister really did hate me. And it wasn't my fault. I was dealing with things that, as a 14 year old, I had no idea how to handle, so I shut down.

My sister recounted specific things that she had done and said to me when we were in high school. I didn't remember any specifics, but she did. She was really, really, trying not to cry as she recalled the mean things she said and did to me out of anger that she had lost me. I was speechless. I didn't know how to respond. Then she said it. She asked for my forgiveness. Of course I forgave her. I really do love my little sister. She means the world to me. And it wasn't her fault that, at 13, she didn't know how to deal with her grief, either.

And don't get me wrong, I don't blame my parents. I honestly believe that they did the best they could. I really think that they believed that they were doing the right thing by letting me "work it out" on my own. I've never doubted my parents' love for me, and I still don't.

But I feel like I've gotten a little bit of closure. My teenage years that were such a puzzle to me have come together just a little better now. It isn't such a mystery.

Friendship in Suffering

2005-12-07T10:44:00.000-08:00

My "Tuesday Group" consists of about 6 other women, most of which are about my mother's age. I have been very contemplative about this group recently. I wonder why it works. These women don't understand exactly what I've been going through in the last year and a half, but they understand. They don't know what it feels like to be a liver transplant patient, but they know what it feels like. My life hasn't gotten much easier since we've been meeting every Tuesday for the last few months, but it has gotten more bearable.

We each have very, very dark places in our lives, but, somehow, over the past few months, our darknesses have combined to become light to each other. The light would not exist on its own. It is only through the sharing of burdens and suffering that the darkness can become light. It fits perfectly with scripture because it makes no sense. "The weak will be strong. The poor will be rich. Those in darkness will have light."

Jana posted a quote on her blog that fits perfectly here. It is from C.S. Lewis in his book, The Four Loves, "Friendship is born in the moments of 'You, too! I thought I was the only one!'" (or something like that). All of us in this group have had at least one of those moments.

There aren't many other circumstances that would have brought the 7 or 8 of us together like this other than suffering. But we are sisters. We laugh and cry together. We rally around each other and do our best to lift each other up. It's a lot easier to walk down this path when you have others walking with you and cheering you on, even though you know that their life is no easier than yours.

But that is what it's all about, isn't it? Christianity, I mean. It's not about debates over instruments or praise teams. It is about realizing that sometimes life just sucks and we need other Christians in the fox hole with us. The fight is against the Enemy, not each other.

Sometimes I just need to be reminded of that.

Very Interesting Blog

2005-12-06T07:56:00.000-08:00

I was site-surfing a little yesterday and got caught on a blog. I couldn't pull myself away from it.

If you live in Nashville, if you are interested in homeless ministry, or if your church works with Room in the Inn, you will want to read this blog.

A homeless man started this blog several years ago. As of today, he has had an apartment for about 4 months. There are so many things that facinate me about this man's story. I love the way he praises Room in the Inn. It's very interesting to hear the wonderful things about this program from a homeless person. It's also very interesting to me how he talks about all of the problems with The Nashville Rescue Mission. And the problems of chronic homelessness in Nashville.

But even more than that, this post got me. I swear I know the guy in the picture captioned "homeless Mike." I remember his face so clearly and his voice as he tried to sing "Amazing Grace." And I remember his name. I asked him after the worship service what his name was, and he answered, "Michael." I said, "Like the angel" and his face absolutely lit up. It's strange that those pictures were taken in Wisconsin, but I guess it is possible that he's moved up there by now. It's been several years since I've seen him.

Censorship

2005-12-05T11:07:00.000-08:00

Up to this point, I have never felt the need to censor what I write on my blog, but I feel the need to this time. It sucks! There is something that I'm dealing with that I really, really feel the need to write about, but I can't because it may really, really hurt someone if that person(s) were ever to read my blog. The chance that he (or she, or they) would read are slim, but there is a chance, and I can't take it.

So, I will just ask that you all pray for me. I probably will write about what I need to write about, but I just can't do it here. I have had several friends who have been burned by blogging, and as long as I can help it, I've got to keep myself out of those ranks. The last thing I want to do is hurt someone.

*sigh*

Pressure

2005-12-02T13:26:00.000-08:00

Why is it that I let pressure get to me before it even gets here?

Work is about to start piling up. It's not piling up yet, and it won't even pile up in the next week or so, but it will soon after, and I'm already stressed about something that isn't going to start happening for another couple of weeks.

Even worse, as long as I do things right (without procrastinating and by taking my time) it probably won't even pile up. I'll probably knock things out one at a time, and hit my goal of accomplishing a certain amount of my research project by the first of 2006.

But I'm stressed out at the thought of possibly being stressed out.

I'm a terrible procrastinator. (I just learned that's yet another symptom of depression, which I think I have, even though that's another blog post....) Instead of using the last week to take my time and get everything together so that I could make a big order for supplies that I need for this experiment, I waited until today. Why did I do that? Most of the week I've been sitting at my computer playing computer games and avoiding writing on my blog, I could have researched one product a day and had it ready to go yesterday, but no. That's too easy.

What is wrong with me???

Have You Guys.....

2005-11-28T12:12:00.000-08:00

ever seen someone get soaked on a rainy day by a full gutter and a passing car?

That was me on my way back from lunch today.

More Things You Don't Know About Me

2005-11-22T08:23:00.000-08:00

I could do a "Things I'm Thankful For" post, but it seems to me that everyone is thankful for the same things, so I couldn't be orginal in that. So, just for the fun of it, here's some more things you don't know about me.

1. I have a scar on my neck from when I was little and got caught on an electrical barbed-wire fence. I was actually caught on the barb and it took two boys to pull me off. (Yowzers!)

2. I'm not sure that science is where I'm supposed to be. I have a nagging feeling that I'm going to get my master's degree and then decide to "be" something else.

3. I'm good at a lot of things, but not really "great" at anything.

4. I can be really, really shy.

5. I can be really loud and obnoxious.

6. I wish I was an athlete.

7. I'm afraid of having kids (for many, many reasons).

8. I like to cross stitch.

9. I've wanted to write a book since I was in the 5th grade.

10. I started writing a book in 5th grade, but never finished it.

11. I owe a boy a dollar because I never finished that book.

12. When I was little, I used to write letters back and forth with my great-grandmother even though she just lived 15 minutes away and I saw her all the time. She died when I was in high school.

13. I still really, really miss my great-grandmother.

14. I had 10-15 pen pals when I was younger and I still have all of the letters that they wrote to me.

15. I started college thinking I was going to be a pharmacist.

16. I changed my major after a semester of organic chemistry.

17. I could totally be a beach bum.

18. I have the ability to strike up closer friendships with people that are much older than me than with people my own age.

19. Rick and I met at Starbucks. (okay, so some of you may have known that)

20. I can play the bells, the xylophone, cymbals, the piano, and the oboe, but I only miss the piano.

Church-Goers

2005-11-19T09:59:00.000-08:00

I just witness something that greatly disturbed me.

I'm sitting at Panera in the back (where it's usually quieter) so that I can work on some things, when a young man, who is obviously homeless, comes in the back door where none of the workers are as likely to see him, and sits down at the table in front of me. He doesn't talk to me except to ask the time. I give it to him.

He strikes up a conversation with the family at the next table, telling them how pretty the little girls are, asking the time, just trying to strike up conversation, and as this family does the best to ignore him, they start to talk about all of the church activities they've got going tomorrow, the mother gets up, says, "I'll take care of this" and storms off.

Next thing I know, two of the guys that work here come over and tell the guy he's got to leave.

After he leaves, the grandmother looks to the husband and says, "Did [the mother] do that? I would have bought him lunch...."

Again, I've worked with a lot of homeless people, and I have to admit that this guy seemed ok. He didn't smell like alcohol and he didn't speak with slurred speech or seem to be high on anything. I'm sure it creeped the mom out that he was commenting on how beautiful her children were, and it may have creeped me out if I were in her situation, as well. But they made sure to let this guy know that they were Christian by the conversation they struck up while trying to ignore him. And my question is this: What was the point??? Why in the heck would someone start up a conversation in front of someone who is obviously in need about what an active "Christian" family they are? Where they holding it over this guy's head? Making sure to let him know that they are above him because they can afford to eat out and because they go to church?

And they missed out on a great opportunity to be Jesus to their children. When the man left and the little girls looked up at their mom and said, "Mom, why did they make him leave?" She just changed the conversation again.

I just don't understand people. I could've bought the guy some soup or something, but he was gone before I even had the chance. And, frankly, I was probably more absorbed in how the family reacted to this guy than the guy himself. That's sinful on my part.

Opportunities......how often do we miss them? I had a 2 minute window (really, that's about as long as he was here) and I missed it.

My World-View

2005-11-14T14:41:00.000-08:00

It's changing.

Which is okay, but sometimes this new view leaves me with a heavy heart.

I'm learning more and more why living means that we will encounter pain in our lives. The obvious answer is that it all goes back to the garden and the Fall, but the more difficult answer, at least for me to hear, is that it's what I signed up for when I made the decision to have a relationship with Jesus.

I didn't know that's what I was getting in to.

I can flip through the books of the Bible, and I have yet to find any person that is mentioned that had a charmed life. Everyone had struggles. Everyone had big, horrible things that happened to them so that they could become who God wanted them to be.

When you sign up to Christianity, it's just part of the deal.

And I'm learning more and more why that is. It's only through those experiences, through those times of struggle and pain, that the parts of us that need to die can die, as long as we don't run away from pain, but embrace it. Pain leads to perserverence, perserverence to character, and character to hope.

We need pain. We should embrace it and keep a watchful eye out for difficult times so that we can best learn from it and listen to Him and to what He wants to speak to us during those times.

But back to my world view. I don't see people the same way anymore. I sit and people watch, wondering what difficult things they are struggling with and/or what difficult things lie ahead for them. I wonder if they have the hope of Christ that I have. It makes me ache for them. It isn't an easy thing for me to walk around the campus of this great hospital and see patients, young and old, and their families. I wonder, as I sit in the hospital McDonalds, who works at Vanderbilt and who are the family and friends of the patients. Sometimes I can tell, sometimes I can't. But even when I see the other employees here I wonder about their lives and their struggles, and I wish I could share my Hope with them....with all of them.

But I can't. They'd rush me up to the psych floor if I started preaching to random people. :o)

But I do look for more and more of those opportunities. I am trying so hard to be more gentle and patient with people because I don't know what kind of pain they're facing. I fail (a lot) but I'm trying.

Rick and I had a great time with our mentor life group last night. It seems as if pain and suffering and the topics of pain and suffering are following me where ever I go. That's what we talked about last night. And we left with people much older than me saying, things like, "We're supposed to be mentoring you!" and "He's got you and it's so obvious." But I only talk about my experiences and what I know through my experiences. And this, again, gives me a heavy heart, a burden to carry. It's becoming more and more obvious to me that there are so many people "out there" that are really hurting, and it hurts me to know that they don't have The Hope. It's a burden because I want them all to have it, but that I can't give it to them. I can't fix it.

Maybe one day everything will become clear to me and I'll finally understand why and what has been accomplished through my pain. But, until then, I've got an idea for a great book title, Where I've Walked (and that's copyrighted, people!).

I'm Self-Centered

2005-11-10T16:02:00.000-08:00

Someone once told me that if you find 5 "I's" or more in a paragraph, it's a clue to how self-centered a person is.

My self-centeredness must be off the chart judging by just a few paragraphs on this blog......

I'm a Coward

2005-11-10T15:16:00.000-08:00

Tony's comment yesterday has made me feel bad about myself and my life, so I need to write.

Just kidding.

But the title isn't a joke.

I still haven't written The Letter. Honestly, the pit of my stomach drops when I think about it. Sometimes, several weeks will go by without me even thinking about it, and then it hits me like a ton of bricks and I can't get it off of my mind. Why am I so afraid of "it"?

It is a big "it." At least to me. Once I start thinking about it, it looms over me like a dark cloud. But it shouldn't! I feel as if I should want to write it. I should want to communicate with this family and tell them what a wonderful gift they have given me. For all I know, they could think that either the liver of their loved one wasn't good enough for transplant, or that the transplant patient (me) died during the surgery or not long after. Maybe they're finally beginning to cope with the death of their loved one. The last thing I want to do is send them a letter that will open up old wounds.

I just can't bring myself to do it. I can't make myself sit down and say the things that I want and need to say. I've done it once before. I started a letter. But it wasn't good enough. I don't even know where it is. I wrote it, re-read it, and gave up. I even contacted the social worker that worked with me and Rick through the transplant to see what avenues I had to go through to send the letter. He remembered me and encouraged me, but that's as far as it went.

I'm a coward.

I'm Boring

2005-11-08T10:03:00.000-08:00

You guys are bored with me, aren't you?

I'm sorry....I just really don't have too much to say lately. Maybe that's because I'm finally coming to terms with a lot of what's going on in my life and I'm finally healing. Maybe it's because I just haven't been observant enough to find things out about myself that bug me enough to blog about them.

My passion-meter has bottomed out lately,too. I don't really feel passion about much of anything....not work, not school, not my health and/or spirituality.

So, unless one of you wants to comment about something that will fuel me again (make me angry, sad, whatever), I guess you're just going to have to deal with my boring-ness until someone else does it by accident. :o)

Reading

2005-11-07T11:52:00.000-08:00

I used to be a serious bookworm. In first grade I was reading on an 8th grade level. I was reading better than most high schoolers when I was in 5th grade. I got in trouble by my history teacher for reading Danielle Steele novels when I was in 7th grade. (A friend had stolen the very adult-themed novels from her grandmother and shared them with me. My teacher was concerned and threatened to tell our parents what we were reading.....Like my parents would punish me for reading. Could you imagine that conversation?
Teacher: Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, I'm sorry to inform you that your daughter has been reading adult-level novels during class breaks.
My parents: During class breaks? So, she's not ignoring your lectures? And, she's reading on a level with the average adult at the age of 11? What's the problem, again???)

I miss reading. Since college, I haven't done much reading for fun. I read to learn now, which is way different. I went on a book buying binge last week. I decided that unless I had some fun, brainless reads to pack in between C.S. Lewis and Dietrich Bonhoeffer that I wasn't going to get much out of the more scholarly reads.

So, I bought a lot of books. I bought the first 5 Harry Potter books. I purchased two books by the same author, Mirror Mirror and Wicked (I can't remember the author's name), James Frey's A Million Little Pieces and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon. I read The Curious Incident... today (I read for 4 hours straight). I read Frey's book in less than two days. I'm like an addict. I started something that I can't stop. I'm upset that I didn't bring another book to work with me today, but it's probably a good thing that I didn't. I have a feeling that I'm going to have some sleepless nights until I have all of these books read......

I would recommend both of those books that I've read so far to everyone. Frey's book is not an easy read. It's a very brutal and ugly story of addiction, but it's a true story. Haddon's book is way different. It's told from the perspective of a 15 year old autistic boy.

Now I have to decide whether to start the Harry Potter books or the other two books.....I may just flip a coin....

Spiritual Fruit

2005-11-01T18:42:00.000-08:00

Thanks for the comments yesterday. I'm not too sure what I was looking for, but you guys are right. Most of you wouldn't know me from Adam if I ran into you on the street, so it would be really difficult for you to comment as to what you see God doing in my life and the changes that He is making in me. But that's my goal for the next couple of weeks: ask people close to me what they see Him doing in me. I'll be sure to let you all know what they say.

Also, I got my grades for the semester back today (at least tentative ones). The worst I did is a 3.5 GPA, but it's possible that I may have even pulled off a 4.0! I can't believe it. I'll know for sure next week. I'll be beyond thrilled even with a 3.5.

But on with the post.....

I've been working through some of Paul's letters recently. Particularly the parts of those letters that deal with his suffering and the battle between flesh and spirit. In Romans 8, I think it's clear that Paul is talking about how it's up to us to choose between flesh and spirit. There is nothing that forces us to choose to do things that are sinful; things of the flesh. But the Spirit is in us, and if we choose those things of the Spirit, it allows Him to work in us in ways that we had not imagined.

Today in counseling, we were again looking at these passages and others by Paul. My minister mentioned that we often look at Philippians as the "joy" book, which it is. But he said that we often forget that the background to this book is Paul's suffering and pain. We forget everything that Paul gave up in order to become a Christ follower. We forget that he was often beaten, that he gave up a very prestigious career with the San hedrin (sp?), and that he probably even gave up relationships with family and friends. So, on with Philippians 4:4-13:

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

I rejoice greatly in the Lord that at last you have renewed your concern for me. Indeed, you have been concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it. I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

I read this over and over to myself today, especially the first paragraph. It seems to me as if this is something you have to work at, through prayer and petition. And the more I read it, the more I realized that this is the fruit of the Spirit mentioned in Galations 5:22-23, "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control."

Rejoice = joy
Gentleness = gentleness
Do not be anxious = patience
prayer and petition = faithfulness
peace = peace

I may be way off here, but maybe I'm not. I mean, Paul did write both letters, so it's very unlikely that his theology would change, especially considering that this is the Bible.

I have never been taught that the fruit of the Spirit is something you have to work at. I've always thought (and it's never been challenged) that once you accept Christ, the fruit of the Spirit should come naturally to you. That you can tell other Christians by the fruit they bear and if the Spiritual fruit is evident in their lives. This was always so difficult for me because some of these come very difficult and I struggle with them. It's been a major area of doubt for me. I didn't have all of the fruit of the Spirit, so I've doubted my Christianity. I've doubted the Spirit's work in my life. But Paul seems to change that line of thought. After reading Romans 8 and this passage over and over again, I think I get it. I think that I realize now that the fruit of the Spirit isn't something that comes naturally to us. It's something that happens only when we really pray about it and strive after it, and it's a daily work.

I don't want to delude myself. I don't want to make scripture say something that it doesn't so that I can feel better about my faith. But maybe I've seen some truth here that will help one of you.

Thoughts?

"The Dream Giver"

2005-10-31T12:25:00.000-08:00

My sister gave me a book a while back, The Dream Giver by Bruce Wilkinson. I must confess, I'm not a huge Wilkinson fan. I read The Prayer of Jabez and I really didn't like how Wilkinson turned those few verses into a spring-board for the Health and Wealth Gospel. But that's another post.

This book is a little different. It's about a Nobody named Ordinary who leaves the Land of Familiar to live his Big Dream. I know. It's almost too "cute" even for me. The first half of the book Wilkinson considers a parable, the second half he explains the parable. I don't think it's a parable because parables are metaphoric. This book isn't a metaphor. You don't have to figure out who Ordinary represents and where the Land of Familiar is because it is simply stated.

I'm getting off the subject.

The second half of the book isn't too bad. Apparantly, my sister knows exactly what I need to hear right now. She read this book, thought of me, so she bought one for me. I am very grateful to her.

In the first half of the book, Ordinary gets stuck in the Wasteland as he is on the path to his Big Dream. I like what Wilkinson does with this portion of the book. He explains so very well how the Wasteland is necessary for all of us who have Big Dreams. He uses examples from scripture: Moses, Joshua, and David, all who had their Wasteland experiences before God used them and they achieved their Big Dreams. I like that. It's where I feel like I am right now.

But I have a problem. It's a problem because, even though I'm stuck in the Wasteland, I don't know what my Big Dream is. This is where I think Wilkinson has messed it up. Moses didn't know what his Big Dream was, either, and neither did Joshua. At least, they didn't know what their Big Dream was while they were stuck in the Wasteland. They did discover it later on, but it wasn't until they came out of the Wasteland before they were able to discover their Big Dream. And I would even argue that it wasn't their Big Dream. It was God's Big Dream for them.

Wilkinson does have one thing right: a Wasteland experience can be long, it can be hard, and it can be life-altering. But God wants it that way. It is only through those experiences that God will shape us into the people that He wants us to be. It is only in the tough times that our character builds and that we learn to rely more on Him and less on ourselves and the people and things around us. I have to keep pounding that into my head, otherwise I don't think I could make it. I don't see the changes, but Wilkinson says that my friends and the people closest to me probably do......they may be able to see just what God is shaping me to be.

What do you guys see in me???????

I'm Copying

2005-10-28T09:08:00.000-07:00

Jana did this, and I thought it looked fun, so I'm going to do it, too. :o)

If you were having a party and could invite any one (as long as you had never met them before), who would you invite?

Jesus (duh)
Ghandi - I think it would be really cool having Jesus and Ghandi at the same table.
Dolly Parton - She's just cool and really the only celebrity that I would go ga-ga around (even though I'd try to play it cool).
Mother Teresa - Boy, the things I could learn from that woman.....
Bill and Melinda Gates - Because they're super rich and still give away lots and lots of money. I'd like to talk to them about how they choose to whom (where) to give the money.
Oprah - She's Oprah, people!
Henri Nouwen - One of my favorite authors. Another person I would love to learn from.
Mary Magdaline - I want to know if she wrote the gospel of John and what she did after Jesus left Earth. Scripture tells us nothing of her.
Laura Bush - I just like her.
Watson and Crick - The guys that discovered the DNA structure and some other cool stuff....how do people like that think???
Some other early scientist people - what where they thinking when they infected themselves or their loved ones with stuff that could have killed them, but that didn't kill them and led to some of the most significant scientific and medicinal discoveries our world has ever known. What risk-takers!
The guy who first looked at a cow's udders and thought to himself, "What if I were to drink from those????" And then had enough courage to actually try it.

Same Song, Different Verse

2005-10-20T08:14:00.000-07:00

I know you guys are getting sick of me saying, "Well, I'd post more if I wasn't sick." But here it goes again:

I'd post more if I wasn't sick.

I've had a virus since Monday night. I stayed in bed all day Tuesday (except for when Rick took me to the doctor). I came to work yesterday for a couple of hours to do absolutely what had to be done, and then I went home again. I couldn't talk, and when I tried to talk, people would either laugh at me or look at me with this terrible look on their faces like, "GO HOME!"

Today I'm a little better, but I still get the look from people like, "Well, you can be here today, but stay far, far away from me." I'm tired and I would have stayed home if I had any sick time left. It's all gone.

I have nothing to write about since I've been stuck at home watching civil court tv shows all day long. I guess that's better than soap operas.

The things people will sue you for.........

Another Diagnosis

2005-10-17T10:34:00.000-07:00

I saw my transplant doctor today.

I'm almost embarrassed to write this (after freaking out over what my problem could be), but he thinks that I have a pulled ligament in my back. That's much easier than an ovarian cyst, or the other things that my imagination told me it could be. He gave me some exercises to do and told me to try it out for a couple of weeks and see what happens.

It can't hurt......

Results

2005-10-14T06:10:00.000-07:00

This is going to be short because I still have a lot of people to notify about what I found out yesterday.

I went in because my doctor didn't find anything wrong with my kidneys, but he did a pelvic exam and my left ovary was very inlarged and painful. He thought I had a cyst.

So I had the ultrasound done yesterday and everything was completely normal. No signs of anything growing or abnormally sized or weird tissue. That's the good news. I would have thought it was a miraculous healing except for the fact that I was in more pain yesterday than I have been in a very long time. I'm even (still) hurting a little this morning.

I've got to call my doctor today and see if he has any more ideas as to what could be wrong. I see my liver doctor on Monday for my normal check-up and I will tell him what's going on, too, to see if he has any ideas. And I'm going to make an appointment with my Gyn to pick his brain a little. Hopefully between the three of them (and they are three incredibly smart men) they will have some more ideas as to what to check....I may even have them do a conference call to pick each other's brains and share ideas. 3 heads are better than 1, right????

Pain Hurts

2005-10-12T19:05:00.000-07:00

Since Friday, I haven't posted much because I haven't known what to say. My fear of what is to come tomorrow has rendered me speechless on many topics. I felt the need to post yesterday, so for lack of anything else to say, I posted that story that I have been promising about my junior year.

But I have something to say tonight.

I am only learning that people all deal with pain in the same way. Christians, that is. As I sat tonight and listened to the story of two parents who have struggled with their children and their children's problems, I cried because although our pains are so different, they are so much alike. The pain has driven all of us to our knees at times; driven us to the point of prayerless-ness, of literally being unable to utter words to pray, of being sick and tired of praying with no answer - much less a clear answer - in sight.

But I'm beginning to understand something.....I'm beginning to understand how Scripture says that Jesus knows our struggles. Jesus didn't have to undergo a liver transplant and have to deal with medical problems throughout his young life, but He still knew pain. He knows the emotion that goes along with praying and not getting the answer that you had hoped for. He knows what it feels like to feel as if God has abandoned you, and, friends, that is a much more difficult pain to have than the pain of anything physical.

My current struggle has me so emotional. I want to badly to believe that God is going to take care of things to the point of removing the problem completely, but I can't let myself. I can't let myself believe it because I don't want to be let down again. I don't want to have to struggle with praying for God to heal me and then dealing with it when He chooses not to. That's much harder than not really believing that He'll heal me to begin with. I asked time and time again for healing years ago for my liver, and He didn't do it. What's to make me believe that things are so different now that He will?

I don't know what to pray for. I don't know how to approach God when I'm hurting so badly. You would think that I would have that lesson learned by now, but I don't. I want to believe that I've learned so much from my last round of struggles (that I wasn't even through with when this hit) that this would be easier, but it's not. Pain is never easy.

I hope that I can come to you tomorrow night with news of God's miraculous healing, but I'm aprehensive. Please continue to pray for me and Rick. Pray that whatever part of my flesh that needs to die will die through this. I have no idea what else to ask.....

Junior Year

2005-10-10T18:09:00.000-07:00

I have told you guys multiple times that I would write about the "God stuff" that happened my junior year of college, so here it is:

I had been dating a guy for almost 3 years. We started dating my senior year of high school, got engaged without telling my parents, I broke off the engagement, and then we got engaged again. I have to say, this was a nice guy. He didn't drink, didn't smoke, and went to church, but there were problems. He was in his early 20s, didn't go to college, and worked at a factory near my home town. He lived with his mom, who took care of all of his finances. She paid his bills, deposited his checks, and literally told him how much money he had to spend each month. I was only 17, but I saw the red flags. He was in a lot of debt and did not flinch at paying thousands of dollars on a "system" of speakers and such for his car.....which he would get upside down on and trade at the drop of a hat once someone else he knew bought a new car. I knew deep down during our first "engagement" that we would not get married, but I stayed with him hoping things would get better. I prayed that he would change because I knew that the way things were going, I would graduate from college, move back to my home town (which I really didn't want to do), get married, and never go anywhere (and by that I mean my life would never go anywhere). And part of the "hoping things would get better" came because our relationship was not pure. I told him over and over again that I wanted our relationship to work but that things were going to have to change. And things would change....for a little while. Then we'd find ourselves back in the same trap again. But I kept praying for God to show me if I was supposed to marry him.

This was going on my entire college carrier. I loved being at school because it meant that we could still have a relationship, see each other on weekends, and the chances of us "messing up" were much lower because I was 2 and a half hours away. But this entire time I never started wedding plans. We kept telling everyone that we would set a date once I graduated from college, which was my way of hoping that he would get sick of me and break up with me before my parents spent any money on anything "wedding."

My junior year God was really working on my heart. I was taking some very difficult upper-level Bible classes, one of those was a preaching class that I had to take for my Bible major. I was not upset about this. I was one of the few girls in the class, but I loved to speak. I went in with the attitude of, "this may be the only chance I get to preach, so I'm gonna preach!" Dr. John York who also ministers at Woodmont Hills CoC was my professor. I had never met him before until this class. Our first sermon was supposed to be the story of our spiritual journey, so I told the story of my upbringing and my struggles with my health. People were moved. I couldn't believe it. I was the first person to speak during class that particular day, and the last. Class suspended after my talk because they all felt the need to pray for me. It was incredible.

After each sermon, we were to stop by Dr. York's office and he would "grade" us and give us constructive critisicm on how to better our preaching style. I stopped in one day, and it was the first time I ever spoke to Dr. York.

Me: "So, how do you think it went?"
Y: "Fine, but I don't want to talk about that."
Me: "Ok......"
Y: "I want to talk about that ring on your finger."
Me: "What about it?"
Y: "When did you get engaged?"
Me: "A year ago."
Y: "Are you going to get married."
Me: "I don't know...."
Y: "Yes you do."
Me: "I don't know...."
Y: "You keep saying 'I don't know, I don't know,' but you know. You're afraid. You're afraid that if you break up with this guy that he will fall away from the church or hurt himself. You can't blame yourself for his actions. You have to do what is best for you and what you know God wants you to do. This guy is childish. You have plans and goals and he has none."

But he didn't stop there. He kept telling me details of my relationship that I had shared with no one but God in my prayers. I did not mention this guy in my sermon, and because of that I had been thinking all week that I had to end it. This guy had no impact on my spiritual life, and I could not marry someone who did not influence me or help me grow spiritually. I had been with this guy for three years. If he did nothing spiritually for me in three years, the chances are that he would do little for me over the years if we were to get married.

I walked out of Dr. York's office knowing that I had just talked with God. Knowing that John York had allowed God to, literally, speak through him. And I knew what I had to do.

I made a clean break. I gave him back the ring and did everything I could possibly do to make sure that he knew that it was really, really over. That this wasn't going to be one of those relationships where people break up and get back together and break up and get back together again. I didn't call him. I didn't see him. I would talk to him very, very rarely when he would call me just so he would know that I didn't hate him, and I don't. I haven't seen him or heard from him in years.

But I have to finish telling you about my preaching class. It was incredible. If I had to pick a "mountain-top" year for my relationship with God, it would have to be that year and that class. Guys would come up to me after class with tears in their eyes and say, "You make me so uncomfortable. I have been taught my entire life that women can't preach, but how do I reconcile that when He has so obviously given you that gift? What kind of God would gift a woman with the gift of preaching and then tell her that she can't use it?" Even years later when I'm with Rick and run into a guy or girl that was in that class they look at Rick and say, "Man! That woman of yours can PREACH!"

My life changed that semester because I saw God use me in ways that I had been taught that He never would. My professors that year encouraged me to go on and use the gift that God had so obviously given me....even in a Church of Christ school! My view of women's roles in the church have obviously changed, but more importantly, my faith multiplied. I have now seen how God can speak to me and use me if I am only faithful and open to Him doing so.

More Next Week

2005-10-07T11:22:00.000-07:00

I'm exhausted. I spent three hours at the doctor's office this morning having numerous tests run to try to figure out what's wrong with me. They don't think it's my kidneys, but more tests are needed. They have an idea of what it could be, but I don't want to tell you yet because it could be nothing or it could be serious. Just pray for me, please. I'm supposed to leave this afternoon for Jellico (see the link to GoodSoil Ministries Blog on my sidebar) and I don't want a heavy heart.

Thanks.

A Rant

2005-10-05T10:35:00.000-07:00

Any time I come to work before 9:00 (which only seems to happen on the days I have class) it never fails that there is a homeless man (and it isn't always the same homeless man) at the end of the exit ramp. This morning as I drove by, the man looked at me, cocked his head, shrugged his shoulders, and gave me the most pitiful look as I saw him mouth, "Com'on!" I don't know why this upset me so much. I had no cash. I never carry cash.

I did a lot of work with the homeless of Nashville when I was at Lipscomb. I know the reasons that so many of them are homeless. Some are there because they simply want to be. Others hit some hard luck. Still others are on the run from the police. And I also know that something like 70% of the homeless in the US have mental problems and would/could be productive citizens if they were able to either afford or somehow receive medication for their illness. I'm not naive.

I don't carry cash, as I said before. I don't like to carry cash. Used to, I would keep McDonald's gift certificates in my car and hand them out to the homeless that were asking for money, but I haven't done that in a long time because I haven't been running into many homeless people in a long time, I guess I need to start doing that again.

But back to my rant......I'm not afraid to look a homeless man or woman in the eye. I do it all the time. I drove by and smiled at this man this morning. I didn't offer him a "haha...I'm better than you, loser," smile, but my nicest smile. My, "I'm sorry I don't have any cash but I still think you're a valuable person" smile. But, you know what, he made me feel guilty. And that's why I'm upset.

Some of these guys are simply con artists. You can make a decent living out of begging for money....and if you stop and speak to them and tell them, "I won't give you cash, but I'll take you to get something to eat..." they'll turn you down. Every time. I know because I've done it, and only one time did someone actually take me up on it. And that pisses me off. I don't like to be taken.

But you know, this guy could have been different. He could have been that one person that would have taken me up on the offer to run him down to McDonald's and pay for his breakfast. But my logical brain says that, more than likely, he wasn't.

I don't know what the purpose of this post was. I'm upset. I'm upset because he tried to make me feel guilty and I'm upset that I believe it's my responsibility as a Christian to do things for people because it's what Jesus would have done. And I'm upset because social situations make being Christ-like difficult. I would never be comfortable picking up a homeless man or woman and driving them anywhere, especially when I'm alone.....because I don't know what they may or may not have hidden and that would put me at a huge risk.

*sigh* I guess I need to invest in some more McDonald's gift certificates.

Prayer

2005-09-29T18:01:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about prayer the past week or so. I've said before that I haven't really been able to pray. But I'm not so sure about that now. Maybe I have been praying all along and didn't realize that's what I was doing.

For instance, I've been listening to a lot of praise music, and even though I can't always sing the words of the song, my heart and head go into this dialogue of sorts. I do this daily, and the more I think about it the more I'm realizing that praise music is a form of prayer for me.

Then there's this site. Most of the stuff that I write about is my internal struggle. It's the stuff that I think about almost every waking minute. And, in thinking and writing about it, this site has almost become like a prayer journal. It's a place where I am writing down my questions and struggles and realizations. God knows what's going on inside of my head, and as I type the words out onto this little screen, my questions and feelings are intended for Him, too. I'm not looking to you guys for answers, I'm looking to Him, hoping that maybe He will use you guys (and He does) to help answer or validate some of what I'm going through.

What I'm also realizing is how my prayers are changing. It is becoming more and more difficult for me to sit down or lay in bed and structure a "Dear God..." kind of prayer. Those prayers feel canned, fake; too thought-out to be real conversation with Him. If I really want Him to know how I'm feeling and what I'm thinking, I want what He hears to be raw. He can handle it. I think what that means is that prayer is becoming more of me. It's not something that I "do" on occassion when I'm consciously thinking about it, it's something that I'm doing as I go throughout my day, often when I don't even realize I'm doing it.

My preacher as been talking a lot about prayer lately in my counseling group, and I didn't take too much of it in at first, but this week I can't stop thinking about it. How often are your prayers situational? Mine are almost always about the situations that I find myself in. Maybe this isn't what God intended. Maybe God wants more out of us than requests about how we want Him to handle our situations. Maybe, instead, He wants us praying above our situations. Not the problem itself, but about how are character is shaped through our problem. Maybe He wants less of, "God, heal me," and more of, "God, mold me and use me in spite of my illness." Maybe it's only when we have prayed these prayers and allowed Him to work on us...when we have died to so much of ourselves that we look more like Christ than like our former selves, that's when we gain real, authentic communion with Him.

God, I hope that's where I'm headed.......

Changes

2005-09-28T14:36:00.000-07:00

Things are different now than they were a week or two ago.

Some of the differences I can directly pinpoint. I've started a tough class, which means things are more hectic. My body doesn't like hectic life. I am so thankful that I only took 4 hours this semester. I'm tired. I'm tired a lot. But that's okay. I can handle being tired. The problem is that when a person wears their body out like I have been doing lately, it tends to weaken. Often, that means that even the healthiest of people can get sick. I am not the healthiest of people. I have to be very, very careful.

Work is busy, which is a change. I've been working on three different experiments, one that flopped and I have to try to figure out what went wrong. The other I was supposed to finish this week, but my bacteria didn't grow right so that won't happen now. The other is a monsterous experiment that I really need to start for grad school, but I just can't seem to get the ball rolling on that one. Busy-ness. (I just realized that you can't spell that by turning the 'y' to an 'i' otherwise you get business....It's all the same, I guess.)

And there's the other "thing" that I can't quite pinpoint. Happiness....but it's more than that; different than that. Life still pretty much stinks. My kidneys are still giving me fits. I finally broke down and called the doctor. They said it's something that could potentially be serious and that I need to go to my general physician to get it checked out....yeah, in my spare time. I'm still struggling with being chronically ill. I can't seem to wrap my mind around that just yet. And I'm scared. I'm scared of a lot of things. I'm afraid that this kindey thing may be very serious. I'm afraid of going back to the hospital. I'm afraid of rejecting my liver again. I know that as tired as I've been lately, my body changes and the last thing that I want/need is for that to lead to rejection. And there's the bigger picture: I'm afraid of having children one day, because I know that I may not live long enough to see them grow up. I'm afraid of leaving Rick alone. I'm afraid that this will not be the worst thing that I have to encounter in my life. I'm learning that pain is cyclic. Pain-->Perserverence-->Character-->Hope-->Pain-->etc. I'm in the perserverence stage right now. I can't say that my character is building because that's not something I can see. I pray that it is. I pray that God is molding and shaping me into the person that He wants me to be. I want my character to change. I yearn for that to lead to The Hope. The Hope that is Him.

But back to the happiness....maybe it's not happiness at all. Maybe it's joy. Wouldn't that be something? I hurt, but I can smile now. I can't pinpoint anything that has made me change from forcing smiles to not being able to contain them at times, but it's there.

And God is giving me ministry opportunities....very, very subtle ones, but I see them. I saw one yesterday, and I took it. Does this mean that I can hear the Spirit again? It's been so long.....but maybe, just maybe........

We sang "All In All" in church two weeks ago. And I smiled. I wanted to cry because I'm starting to really, really believe that. I'm starting to really believe that He is all I need.

Changes.....some good, some bad.....but the bad ones don't matter. He is working. And I can see it now. That's what matters.

Excuses, Excuses

2005-09-26T11:32:00.000-07:00

I've been lax in posting lately. You'll have to excuse me. I started class and I'm nearing the end of a very intense 3-week course. Next Wednesday is my final exam. I am in the middle of taking a test right now. They are giving us over 5 days to complete it if that tells you anything of the difficulty of this class. Three of those five days were the weekend.

I'm tired, I'm stressed, and I'm not feeling well. I'll be back to normal in a week or so......

A Couple of Things

2005-09-20T15:53:00.000-07:00

First of all, I feel like a dip-wad. I didn't give Debi credit for the quiz on my last post. I found it on her blog.

Also, I feel like a dip because, when I go back and take the time to actually read what it said, it turns out I'm kind of bragging on myself. I don't like that. I don't actually believe that I'm all wise and spiritual and whatever else that first line said about me. Maybe spiritual in the sense of "concerned about spiritual matters" but not "I'm a Spiritual Giant and I've got it all figured out." Puh-lease.

Secondly, like Preston, I've been exposed to more Fenelon. I'd like your thoughts on this:

"Concerning our friend, I pray that God will give him a simplicity of trust that will bring him peace. When we are careful to instantly let go of all needless worries and restless thoughts (that is, self-centered thoughts, rather than loving, outgoing ones), then we shall find ourselves on plateaus of peace even in the midst of the straight and narrow. We shall find ourselves walking in the freedom and innocent peace of the children of God, not lacking wholesome relationships either toward God or man.

I willingly apply to myself the same advice that I give to others, for I am convinced that I must seek my own peace in the same direction. Even now my soul is suffering, but I am aware that it is the life of self which causes us pain; that which is dead does not suffer. If we were really dead, and our life hid with Christ in God (Colossians 3:3), we would no longer struggle with those pains in spirit that now afflict us. So we must learn to bear all sufferings with composure, even those which come upon us through no fault of our own. But we must beware of that restlessness of spirit which might be
our own fault. We can add to our God-given cross by agitated resistance and an unwillingness to suffer. This is simply an evidence of the remaining life of self.
A cross which comes from God ought to be welcomed without any concern for self. And when you accept your cross this way, even though it is painful, you will find that you can bear it in peace. But when you receive your cross unwillingly, you will find it to be doubly severe. The resistance within is harder to bear than the cross itself! But if you recognize the hand of God, and make no opposition to His Will, you will have peace in the midst of affliction. Happy indeed are they who can bear their suffering with this simple peace and perfect submission to the will of God! Nothing so shortens and soothes suffering as this spirit of non-resistance.

But usually we want to drive a bargain with God. We would at least like to suggest some limits so that we can see an end to our sufferings. We don't realize how we are thwarting the purposes of God when we take this attitude. Because the stubborn clinging to life which makes the cross necessary in the first place, also tends us to reject that cross -- at least in part. So we have to go over the same ground again and again.

We end up suffering greatly, but to very little purpose. May the Lord deliver us from falling into that state of soul in which crosses are of no benefit to us. God loves a cheerful giver, according to St. Paul in Second Corinthinas 9:7. Ah! What must be His love for those who, in cheerful and absolute abandonment, give themselves complelely to be crucified with Christ!"1

1 From Let Go, Letter 2: How to Bear Suffering Peacefully, Fenelon.

Twilight Zone

2005-09-16T15:01:00.000-07:00

Anyone else that knows me find this freakishly right about me????

Your Personality Profile

You are dignified, spiritual, and wise.
Always unsatisfied, you constantly try to better yourself.
You are also a seeker of knowledge and often buried in books.

You tend to be philosophical, looking for the big picture in life.
You dream of inner peace for yourself, your friends, and the world.
A good friend, you always give of yourself first.

The World's Shortest Personality Test

I've Been Had!

2005-09-14T12:56:00.000-07:00

I mentioned in an earlier post that I had entered some photographs in some amature photography contests. Much to my delight, this morning I received an e-mail stating that one of my photos had been chosen to be published! This one:

They said I was chosen for "assymetry and light composition throughout." I was so excited! I never dreamed that I would be published!

Then I read on:

"You have been chosen from 8,5xx entries to be published in this year's issue of ____________. Because of your merit, you are now able to order this beautiful book for $59 (reg. price $69). A winner will be chosen from those who purchase the book to receive $5,000."

Now I'm at a loss. This seems to be a ligitimate photography company. It very well could be like Who's Who Among American College Students (which I was accepted into one year) where you are accepted into the program based on merit, but you still have to purchase the book for about $100 with your name, picture, and biographical information. They said that this particular book is about 300 pages long and has this year's finalists plus many articles on how to improve your photography through composition, lighting, etc.

But then again it could be a scam with 8,000 thumb-nail sized pictures scattered over 300 pages.

In addition to the book, they offered me a very nice looking plaque stating that I have been published, with my name, the title of the photograph, and the photograph itself.........

But that's an extra $50.

My Head is Swimming

2005-09-13T09:35:00.000-07:00

I've got so much to say lately...I feel bad because I sincerely hope that, as often as I'm posting these days, everyone is having time to read everything that they want to read.

Phil left a comment on my last post about marriage to let me know that they were not able to record Tim's sermon on Sunday. They had a virus on the computer. I'm so bummed. Hummm....if my husband were working on our church's computers, that wouldn't have happened..... *wink*

Also, I would like you guys to read this post on Waiter Rant's blog. Let me know what you think. And please excuse some of the language you might be exposed to, not so much on this post, but on other posts if you decide to surf around a little. The guy can be a terrific writer, and he has a very interesting story, but I would really like to get everyone's opinion on that post.

Marriage

2005-09-12T09:14:00.000-07:00

It seems like from my last post that marriage would be a hot topic to discuss, so I'm gonna discuss it. :o)

I mentioned only briefly what our sermon at church was about yesterday. At small group last night, we had our monthly meeting with our "mentor group" or group of older married couples. I have to tell you, this is my favorite life group ever. I love these older couples. There is so much we can learn from them (and do learn from them) and it's just so great to get to know some people that we ordinarily wouldn't have the chance to meet because we go to a different church service than most of them do. The group itself was different yesterday. We had a lot of visitors and even some New Orleans refugees, which translates to a very, very large amount of people crammed into a living room with babies screaming and adults trying to talk and listen to the story that these people were telling of being stranded in New Orleans. They were there for 10 days before they were rescued and able to leave the city. It was incredible.

After everyone left, though, was the best. Rick and I stayed after and talked with one of our elders and his wife. Among the many topics we talked about was the sermon we had heard that morning.

I wish it were up on Otter Creek's web site already. I would tell all of you to go download it now so we could all discuss it. But they are a little behind on getting the sermons up on the web site, so I'll have to do my best to recount what my interpretation of the sermon was. Those of you that were there can agree or disagree with me. Actually, please do. It would be nice to hear what everyone else got out of the sermon.

As I said before, Tim talked about how are marriages are the church's business. But even deeper than that, he said that he would no longer marry a believe to an unbeliever, or even a strong believer to someone whom he thought was a "wishy-washy Christian." He got some applause for these statements, and I also think it was very honorable of him to make those pledges. I interpreted that as Tim saying that he would do his best to no longer contribute to the fall of marriages in our church. But even that wasn't the point of his sermon.

He went on to talk about the path that a marriage takes before it fails. He thinks that the key in this break down is secrecy. I've talked before about how we need to start talking about our "shit" and I think this was the "pulpit-ized" way of saying that very thing. We have little problems that we push under the rug, thinking that we've either solved them or that they don't amount to anything, and that may be true if you take them one-for-one. But what happens when those things start to build up? You can only shove so many under the rug before you trip over the lumpy floor. These "small" issues have the capability to build resentment in a marriage, especially if one person feels as if they are the one always letting it go. And what have we done about this in our churches? We talk about marriage counselling and financial counselling and learning to communicate with one another...all of which are good things in their own right, but we have borrowed these good things from our culture. Tim espounded on the idea that what our churches are missing and forgetting about is the spiritual side of marriage. It's assumed that because we get married by a preacher in a church that the spiritual side is there, but that's not necessarily true. Just because you're Christian and you're married to another Christian doesn't mean it's a marriage that will glorify God. Wow! What a concept. Of course, this is his sermon in my words. I'm sure I have left a lot out or taken a different view of what he said than someone else that was there. I would love to hear all of your opinions-whether you were there or not.

Last night, Rick and I sat with our elder and his wife for 2 hours and talked with them about this. What does this mean for our church? How do we handle this? What do we do to put this into action instead of making it "just another sermon"....another good idea but an empty promise? I told the couple that, in all honesty, I don't know how to be a couple that glorifies God. I know how to do that as an individual, and I can honestly say that I believe I've seen some couples that I believe have a God-glorifying marriage, but I don't know how to do that myself. Does it make us a God-glorifying couple because we pray together? Because we study together? Because we freely discuss the Sunday sermon? I don't believe there is a "3-step method" that will teach a couple how to glorify God, but I would love it if there was some kind of mentoring program or class at our church so that we get an idea of how different couples do it.

Even unbelievers can have a "good marriage" with great communication and never get divorced, but why is it that the marriages in our churches have stopped there, too?

Random, So Much to Say Part I

2005-09-11T13:21:00.000-07:00

These are some pictures I took on our vacation. You can click on them to enlarge them. I have entered some of them into amature photography contests for the heck of it. I don't think I have any hope of winning after I saw some of the other entries. Photography is one of my passions like gardening; I love to do it, but I'm not so great at it. Maybe one day I'll take a class....

This is a picture of the sunrise from the plane on the way to New Orleans.

Sunrise, again.

Cozumel skyline, from the cruise ship.

I called this one, "Road to Paradise" because this is the only straight road on a 45-50 minute 4x4 Jeep ride through the jungle that lead us to the beach at Isle Pasion, or Passion Island.

I wasn't lying when I called this Paradise.....

Isle Pasion, again.

....and again....

This isn't Passion Island, but I thought it was really pretty. I like the old abandoned boat. There was something really peaceful about this scene.

This is the same area where the boat was. Just an old boat dock that looked like it hadn't been used in years. Beat up by hurricane Emily (wasn't that the hurricane that came through there not very long ago???). Anyway, it was beautiful. So simple. I love the way my camera picked up all of the colors in the water an in the wood of the dock.

Random - So Much to Say, Part II

2005-09-11T12:56:00.000-07:00

Church this morning was incredible. Our minister preached about marriage and about how the problems we have in our marriages are our church's business. How do we expect the world to see us as Jesus when our marriages don't reflect that? He made some very bold statements that I applaud him for. My husband (who's dad is a retired CoC minister) said to me, "These are the kinds of sermons my dad preached that would get him fired."
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I have also been on a sort of roller-coaster ride of emotions today. We got to church late, but I sat up in the balcony and just cried. All of the songs we sang during praise and worship were about struggle and how God is our refuge in those times. One song, in particular (..."when the rain falls/He is my shelter/and when I'm lost and alone/He rescues me...."), really got to me. I think it's because I want so bad to feel that but don't. I want to believe that He's sheltering me right now and that, even though I feel so lost and alone that He's right there watching over me. I couldn't sing it. The harmonies in that song are so beautiful and I just sat there and cried into Rick's shoulders while the church sang it around me. I so badly want to feel Him.

Then, after church, we decided to go eat at Olive Garden. But then we remembered how far away Olive Garden is from our church and our house. We started that way and decided not to go. We ended up stopping in Brentwood, looking for a meat-and-three that Rick used to like. Apparantly, that place has closed down, but I was absolutely elated to find Smooth Moves. I cannot even begin to explain the joy that rushed through my veins when I saw it. I don't care if you have to pay $5 for a smoothy from that place, it is so worth it. I used to go all the time when they were in Green Hills, at least three times a week. When my parents would come down to visit me, we would always go to Alpine Bagel and grab a bagel and then walk next door to Smooth Moves and have a smoothy for breakfast. Then, one dreaded day, I drove to Smooth Moves, parked in front of the building, and was so saddened to see a sign in their window: "Closed. Moved to Brentwood. The Mall at Green Hills would not renew our lease." Oh, pain! I have looked and looked and looked in Brentwood for them, but have never found them. Years I have been without Smooth Moves. Until today. Glorious, glorious Sunday! It really is a good thing we don't live in Brentwood. We would go broke trying to afford my renewed smoothy habit. At $5 a pop, we would have to file bankruptcy pretty quickly.

From Counselling

2005-09-07T12:31:00.000-07:00

1. I have my Ruth (Rick).

2. I'm keeping my eyes open for my Boaz.

3. I can't see the foreshadowing of the harvest.

4. I'm going to start looking really, really hard for a foreshadowing of the harvest.

5. I may not have a harvest.

6. I may be someone else's harvest.

7. I don't want to be someone else's harvest.

8. I'm not afraid of death.

9. I am afraid of living a very short life.

Yet Another Blog about Katrina

2005-09-05T07:58:00.000-07:00

I'm jumping on the bandwagon for a moment.....

I am sick and tired of reading blogs by Christians and posts in Christian forums about how God sent the hurricane to NOLA to punish the sinners.

Was/Is there rampant sin in NOLA? Yes! But is that any different than Anywhere Else, USA? Hell, no! If God were to send down Hurricane Katrina-caliber natural disasters to punish sin, there would be no more world left. It would be over. Done with. We would all be gone.

Don't put yourself up on a pedestal just because you were spared from this natural disaster. You deserved it, too. We all did.

Edit: If you would like some first-hand information about what's going on on the Gulf Coast, especially in regards to evangelism and needs, check out JD's blog, Out Here Hope Remains. He is a minister at a Gulf Coast church. If you would like something tangible to donate to rather than the Red Cross, this would be a great place to start. Their needs seem insurmoutable at the moment. I'm itching to get down there and help.....

Prayer Request

2005-09-02T15:37:00.000-07:00

You guys know that I work in a laboratory. What you may not know is The Family's Dad that I've been writing about recently is still my boss. (That's another part of the whole faith walk thing I'll have to write about later).

Researchers have to write grants to pay their salary. We have one in our department who was not doing that. Boss Man/Family's Dad gave this man a 6 month notice that if he didn't start writing grants, our department would not support him. He would have to leave when his contract was up unless he got some grant money in.

No-Money-Man disappeared. I have seen him around Nashville a time or two, but haven't seen him at Vanderbilt in quite a while. We (me and a few other people in my lab) have been cleaning out No-Money-Man's lab space because we've been moving. This continued into this week.

On Wednesday of this week, the day this man's contract expired, some people in my lab were continuing to clean out this man's lab space. He left a gi-normous mess. On of our office workers had to get into his office to get some paper work when she found him. He had hung himself in his office at work.

This man had no family in the US, they are all in Germany, so of course, they need our prayers. But so does the woman who found him. And so do the other two women that rushed in when they heard her scream and who also saw his body. And so does Boss Man. He is blaming himself for the death of this man because he fired him.

Boss Man is in England right now and will soon be making his way to Australia. It took a lot of coaxing to make him stay to finish out his trip. He feels terrible for what has happened.

Please Please Please pray for my co-workers and my boss. This has hit our department pretty hard.

The Cruise

2005-09-02T10:23:00.000-07:00

I don't really have a lot to say about it just yet. We were effected by the hurricane since our original port was out of New Orleans. It's surreal to me to think that I got some of the last pictures of New Orleans in it's "normal" state. And to see picures of the Convention Center and the dead bodies. I was just there.

But today, I'm tired. I hurt all over. My kidneys are killing me.....killing me. I came home with a fever last night and went right to bed. Luckily, that is gone today, but something has got to be done about this low back/kidney pain.

I'm not supposed to get blood work done for another couple of weeks, but I'm thinking of moving it up. Somethin' just ain't right. Maybe I picked up some weird bug in Mexico.......

Part VIII

2005-08-26T17:46:00.000-07:00

Rick and I are leaving in the morning (bright and early! Our flight leaves at 6:15) for our much needed cruise to Mexico. I'll be back Thursday evening, and hopefully will be able to post again that Friday. I'm posting this one late on Friday so that maybe this will give you guys something to read next week.
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My mom and sister got in a few hours later. They had called a million people on the way down to let them know what was going on. My dad didn't want them calling anyone until we knew for sure what it was, but my mom knew that prayer for the unknown is better than no prayer at all.

The next morning we got up early and headed to the hospital. I had never had a CT scan before, so I had no idea what to expect. I learned pretty instantly to hate them. The chalky stuff I had to drink was bad enough, and my stomach didn't appreciate what I was doing to it. It was mad at me, and it let me know by giving me that "I'm going to vomit any second" feeling. The nurses kept trying to talk me out of it because if I did happen to vomit, I would have to start all over again. It took me close to an hour just to drink the nasty mess.

Finally, they called me back to the CT room. At the time, I was scared to death of needles, and the CT-runner person wasn't smart enough to put the line into the bend of my arm.....no, she put it into the top of my hand. I thought that there was nothing that would hurt worse than that. I was wrong. Pouring molten hot lava into the vein in the back of your hand is worse. Much worse. (Okay, so it wasn't molten hot lava, but the Xray dye sure feels like it when it's pulsing through the vein the in the back of your hand). I instantly curled up into a little ball on the table to screams of, "No! No!" by the staff. I guess that ruins the pictures they're trying to take of your abdomen. It would have helped if she had at least warned me that the xray dye could be so painful. The remainder of the CT went smoothly. I was so glad to be out of there.

That afternoon, we headed back to my general doctor's office, hoping he had the results of my CT. They were supposed to be faxed to him by that afternoon, but they weren't there. We waited around the office for at least an hour when my stomach started yelling at me again. It was the gallbladder-like pains that I had previously. Luckily, I was at the doc's office and he was able to give me some phenergan right then and there. Later, he called us back with the news that the results had arrived. He kept talking about all of these "-noma" words. I didn't know what those words meant, except that usually words that end in those letters mean cancer. I feared the worse. He said that he was going to have to refer me to someone else--that he had done all he had the power to do, so I gave him The Family's dad's phone number. I knew he would take care of me, and he did. Within just a few minutes, I was set up to have a visit with a woman at Vanderbilt who specialized in what they thought I had.

The remainder of the health story flies by pretty quickly with no extravagant detail needed. I met this woman doctor, liked her a lot, and she set me up to have another CT scan and a biopsy to find out exactly what I had. It was not cancerous, but I did learn that it could become that way one day. That's when I found out about the "no kids" rule. These tumors were growing off of my hormones. Because the hormone levels in a woman's body increases so much during her third trimester, it would be just plain stupid of me to try to have kids. Not that I was in any huge hurry at the time, anyway. But it is pretty sad to find out at the age of 18 that you may never be able to have children. Who is going to want to marry me now? That is also when I found out what was really wrong with my stomach and all of my stomach problems. The tumors I had did not have any symptoms. I couldn't understand it. I asked my new doctor if she had any idea what was causing my other problems and the she said: I have no idea. It could be a fiber deficency. Try some Metamucil for a while and see if that helps. I went home, bought some Metamucil, and my other problems instantly disappeared. Once everything was under control, I stopped the Metamucil completely and have not had any in about 5 years. Tell me that wasn't a God Thing. I cannot believe that something so simple caused me so much pain and suffering over and over and over again until He lead me to the right people and the right doctors to find out that I had these tumors on my liver that could have killed me if they had not been found so early on.

From this point on, I was scheduled to have CT scans every 3 months to make sure that the tumors weren't growing. That was eventually decreased to every 6 months, and then once a year. During that first year, my doctor left and I got a new doctor, the one that I still have this day that monitors me through my entire transplant experience, and the doctor that I hope I have until the day he retires (many, many, many, many years from now, I hope!). He is the one I wrote about a while back, whom I believe is what it looks like to be such a man of God.

This really nears the end of my faith walk when it comes to my health. You all know the rest of the story. It was in September of 2003, just 3 months after Rick and I married, that I found out by Dr. Raiford that my tumors were growing. He did not call me on the phone or have his nurse make me a follow-up appointment, he tracked me down to my lab, sat down with me, and talked with me for 30 minutes about what was going on. He was genuinely concerned for me. It was in November of 2003 that I had another biopsy, a much more in-depth one, to make sure none of the tumors were cancerous. In February of 2004 I went through my pre-transplant evaluation (all 3 days of it!) and in April of 2004 I was officially placed on the UNOS list for people needing liver transplants. The transplant occured only 3 months later, in June of 2004.

This is not, however, the end of my faith walk. My junior year of college was so significant in the way I relate to God that I must tell it. Nothing health-related happened, but I was again able to see God work in ways that I had never imagined He would.

But that, my friends, will have to wait. *wink*

God Thing #7: All of those stomach problems that I had for so long was a simple fiber deficency. And no one even thought about it until I had this doctor that The Dad found for me.

I've Got 30 Seconds

2005-08-25T13:11:00.000-07:00

To let off a little steam:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There. I feel better.

Crisis Prevention

2005-08-18T09:48:00.000-07:00

We talked a little bit in my counselling session on Tuesday about putting a "beginning" and "end" point on our troubled times. This made me think, because, although my real trouble didn't start until about two years ago, I have been dealing with sickness for about the last 6 years. I had to put my "beginning" point at my freshman year of college. In relation to this, someone asked me on Sunday when the last time was that I felt really good. Not in relative terms of "for having a transplant, I'm feeling pretty good today!" But in terms of not being sick. Not being tired. Not having any worries of what's wrong with me. I, in fact, could not remember. I have good days and bad days, both emotional and physical, but I honestly do not remember the last time that I was not dealing with some sort of sickness or fatigue or even the faint feeling that something was wrong with me physically. It had to have been the very beginning of my freshman year of college, but I don't remember what that feels like.

Anyway, to move along, we were asked what our lives looked like before times of crisis, when things are going well. What does your life look like? Do you do the normal things of going to church, tithing, praying, reading your Bible, and being an overall "good" person? I did. And the more I think about it, the more I'm realizing that it was a sort of "bargain" I had going with God. I'll be a good person, and you hold up your end of the deal, God. Protect me. Keep me safe. Keep my family safe. As long as I don't rock the boat, everything will be fine. He owes that to me if I decide to follow Him and keep His rules. Turns out, most of the women in my counselling session said that they, too, felt as if they had some kind of unspoken bargain with Him.

Now, to move in a bit of a different direction along the same thread, how much do we really, really trust Him? How many Christians are too afraid to pray the prayer, "God, remove everything in my life that is keeping me from you." I can't do it. I'm too afraid that God will take away my husband, my parents, my little sister, my plush lifestyle, heck, even my dog. What if He wants to send me to Siberia! Rick will NEVER go for that! I don't have children, but the other women in my group do. They said that are afraid to pray that type of prayer or to get too close to God because they don't want God to hurt their children. Some may argue with me that they don't think this has anything to do with trust. I completely disagree. We (I) don't trust God enough to pray that prayer....especially after everything I have been through in the last 6 years. He scares me...and not in a good way.

Now, we've all heard of the Health and Wealth Gospel. About how dangerous that can be. About how so many thousands of people have been seriously hurt by this theology. I want to propose that even in the churches of Christ the Health and Wealth Gospel is preached. It isn't preached from the pulpit, but it's spoken quietly between members in the hallways between class and worship. It is, in fact, this "bargain" that we try to keep with Him.

How are you doing today, Bill?
Great! God is blessing my business! Money is good!

This form of preaching is heard more loudly than the Sunday sermon. It permiates our lives. When things are going great, money is good, everyone is healthy, we thank God. We thank God because He owes it to us. We're good people. We tithe. We read our Bibles and pray. God said He would protect us from sickness! God said He would protect our children if we raise them to love Him!

Good morning, Susan! How's the family?
We're doing great! None of the kids have been sick all winter!

This, in fact, is a very, very small subset of the Health and Wealth Gospel. We aren't asking God to give us millions of dollars, just to keep us comfortable. To be able to afford that new bike when little Tommy asks for it. But it is still just as painful when things go wrong.

I am personally getting to the point where, when I hear these similar conversations, I get sick at my stomach. If God is supposed to protect us from sickness if we're good to Him, why didn't He protect me? Why didn't He protect the children of some of the women in my counselling group? Why doesn't He offer the ability to live comfortably to the Christians in Africa? In Peru? In China? It angers me. I'm upset that this theology has infiltrated our churches, but I don't know how to fix it.

Blog Hiatus and Other Things

2005-08-17T12:20:00.000-07:00

I apologize that I disappeared without explanation. I'm sure you can tell by my last post that I had a lot of things I needed to think through, so, among other things, I have spent the last week doing just that. We are also counting down the days until our lab move, so things at work have been all-consuming for the past week. And school started....kindof. I had a one-day class on Monday that lasted for 10 hours. Needless to say there was no posting that day.

I do want to thank all of you who responded to that last post. I suspect that if more Christians knew that the kind of response they would receive from other Christians would be so full of love, kindess, and encouragement, more of us would start to share more of our "shit." You guys really do mean a lot to me, even if I don't know all of you "in person." It means so much that I am able to come into the blogosphere and vomit all of that stuff out without condemnation. I can't think of a better outlet.

I do have a lot of things that I want to post about. Some of it in regards to yesterday's counselling session (no worries....nothing so traumatic this time), and I really, really want to finish up my testimony. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel on that one, and I assume it will only take another 2-4 posts to finish it up (or at least to get it up-to-date). Sing with me now, He's still workin' on me, to make me what I ought to be......

My S@*#

2005-08-09T20:47:00.000-07:00

I bleeped out the title as not to startle anyone, but I won't be so kind to do so in the following text.

Let me preface this by saying that I'm doing this for me. And for some reason I have an incredible desire to put this on my blog. I don't know why, but I need to do it. If any of you are offended or whatever, tough. This is my blog. If you don't want to read it, no one is forcing you to do so. Also, I am not asking you to rationalize or try to talk me out of anything that I list below. Actually, please don't. These are my feelings. There is nothing "wrong" or "right" about how I feel. It's simply that: how I feel.

I had a pretty intense counselling session today at church. My minister started a group for women who have been going through some tough things in their life recently. I am very thankful that he thought to invite me. Today was the first "real" meeting day, and I think this group is going to be incredible for me. So far, I have realized that I've got a lot of stuff. My minister today said that he's sick of us Christians not sharing our stuff with each other, and that he believes that it's high time that we started talking about our shit. This is tough for me considering that I will see a lot of you guys in person soon, but, you know what, you are my brothers and sisters. If I can't share this with you, who can I share it with?

So, with all of that said, here's what realizations I had about my emotions and my faith today, my "shit":

Pain changes people. Pain has changed me. I am not the same person that I was a year ago. This is tough, especially being married. Now, not only do I have to deal with my shit, my husband does, too. I don't even know who I am right now, how in the world should I expect my husband to know?

I am upset that people think my pain is more intense than theirs. It upsets me that I've got friends who preface the story of their crappy day with, "I didn't have a liver transplant, but..." Pain is pain. Pain is relative. Your pain is no worse or better than mine. It's still pain, and it's still valid. You're my friend. I want to be there for you.

I don't want people to trivialize what I've been through. People saying, I know how you feel...I had my gallbladder removed a million years ago. Trust me, you don't know how I feel. I also get sick and tired of conversations like this (this actually happened last week):
Group: Why didn't you start your master's degree last year?
Me: I had some health stuff I was working through. I needed to hold off for a year.
Girl in Group: Oh, yeah! I had health problems, too! I cut my hand!

In addition to that last one, I have very little sympathy/empathy for people right now. I want this to change. I want this to change now.

I can't believe that people see Christ most in us when we're at our lowest point. I am for sure at the lowest point that I've been at in a really, really long time, and I'm doing a really shitty job of showing Him to people right now.

My pain better have purpose. If it doesn't, I have spent the last 7 or 8 years of my life intensly searching out a God who is cruel and mean and spiteful. I am willing to take time to search out this purpose, but it had better be there.

I feel abandoned by God right now. I have been writing that series about how God has brought me here because I need to see it. Everyday. I do not deny what God has done in my life thus far, but now I feel as if He has brought me here, dropped me off, and is saying, I've brought you this far, now I'm done. You're on your own.

My minister said today that he believes that there is one thing at the core of people who have been through such tramatic events in their lives and are dealing with it like we are. One fundamental truth: we don't believe that God really loves us. I need to think about this one some more, but maybe he's right. Maybe I don't believe that God really loves me. Maybe I believe that He's up there, using my life for His ultimate purpose at my expense. Not because He really loves me, but because He can use me.

I'll probably regret posting this tomorrow. I may delete it.

Part VII

2005-08-05T15:52:00.000-07:00

I told Rick a few minutes ago that I needed a break from my proposal. The quality of my writing for that blasted thing has gone drastically down-hill since I started it this morning around 11:00. I'm still not done, but a break is past due, so I thought I'd come write here for a few minutes instead. At least this is writing that I enjoy!
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Sophomore Year

Nothing much had changed about school. I had my same roommate, my same friends, just different classes. Classes that I really enjoyed. Because I was majoring in both Bible and Biology, I made the decision that I was going to work really hard to graduate in 4 years, which ultimately meant that I would be taking a lot of hours each semester and during the summer from here on out. The first semester my sophomore year was no different. I was registered for 17 or 18 hours of very difficult classes: calculus I, cell biology, organic chemistry I, organic chemistry I lab, and about 6 hours of other classes. One of my professors from my freshman year asked me if I was nuts for taking such a load. Nah. I knew I could do it. I just had to work hard.

I started nannying for the family twice a week. I was making great money and I was getting to know the family pretty well. I found out that the dad was a gastroenterologist at Vanderbilt. Cool. If I ever needed anyone, I knew who to call.

So, classes started. And just a week or two into the semester I came down with Strept throat. It just so happens that our health insurance had changed, and I had to do some phone work to find a place that would accept it. The doctor that I had went to my freshman year wouldn't. Turns out, there was only one doctor in the middle TN area that would take it, and he just-so-happened to be less than one-half mile from my dorm. Sheer coincidence (yeah, right). I went in to see him and I liked him instantly. He was getting to know me a little when he asked me about my health history. I told him of my GI symptoms (without mentioning what all of the other doctors had said) and he quickly said, "Oh. Sounds like your gallbladder. We do ultrasounds in this office twice a week. Come in on Thursday and we'll check it out."

FINALLY!!!!!!

I went in for the ultrasound that Thursday afternoon before I was supposed to go pick up the kids from school. That's when she found it. My gallbladder was fine, but there were weird spots all over my liver. I was freaked out. The doctor told me that he needed to schedule a CT to be done sometime next week. I shouldn't put it off. He left and the nurse came in. She whispered, "I'd do it in the morning." I knew it was serious. I was very upset. I called the mom of the family right away and told her what was going on. She said that everything is okay. She'd call her husband to pick up the kids.

Not five minutes later, the dad called.

Him: Are you okay?
Me: (crying) I don't know. I'm scared and I can't get a hold of my mom or dad to tell them...
Him: What is going on?
I told him the whole story.
Him: There are a million different things it could be. Don't worry too much just yet. Have your CT in the morning and if you need a specialist, have your doctor call me. Don't worry about the kids. I'll get them today. Take as much time as you need.

I still couldn't get in touch with my mom, but my first organic chemistry test was supposed to be the next morning. I didn't want to just not show up, so I went to LU to hunt my professor down. He was in the middle of a study session for the test when I pulled him out into the hall.

Me: (still crying) I'm not going to be able to take the test in the morning. The doctors have just found spots on my liver and I have to have a CT done.
Dr. Boone: (grunts, humphs) Well (grunts, humphs, arms crossed on chest), just do what you gotta do. I hate that (grunt, humph). We'll work it out later (grunt, humph).
Me: Thanks. I've got to go find my parents.

I finally was able to get a hold of my mom. She and my sister left for Nashville immediately. They wouldn't have missed being there for me for anything.

God Things #4, 5, and 6: Nannying job for gastroenterologist, health insurance led me to good doctor, and good doctor finds liver spots.

Busy, Busy, Busy

2005-08-05T10:09:00.000-07:00

I know I said I would try to post more of my testimony yesterday, and it didn't happen. It turns out that I have a 5 page research proposal due on Monday afternoon that I just found out about. My boss is helping me write it, but it's still a lot of work. I have to sift through a 33 page grant in order to figure out what needs to go into my proposal.

And on top of that, I have work to do and I have some people to contact about moving our equipment for our lab move at the end of this month. Even worse, I'm not going to be here for the move, so all of my move responsibilities have to be completed in the next week.

I really, really hope that I can find 15 minutes to write the next portion soon. Please bear with me! Things will get better!

New Link

2005-08-04T08:54:00.000-07:00

I plan on posting the next portion of my story later today, but for now, I've got a new link for ya.
It's One Body Ministries. They have a lot of fun stuff like quizes to test your Bible knowledge, clean jokes, articles, and there is a forum that I post on with some cyber-friends.

A portion of their mission statement:

"The mission of One Body Ministries is the unite of believers in Christ into one body. We aim to tear down the walls of sectarianism and love each other as brothers and sisters in Christ. We do this in order to work together to reach lost and further the cause of the Kingdom of Christ. If Christians used just a tenth of the energy we expend in fighting each other to reach the lost, Heaven would be standing room only!"

It's an iPod World

2005-08-02T15:07:00.000-07:00

I was driving to meet my dad for lunch today and I saw a sign out in front of a church advertising the sermon for this coming Sunday: "Hearing a small voice in an iPod world." It made me think.

I own an iPod mini. I use it at work a lot when I'm either here by myself or if it's too quiet and I need some noise, but I know other people who I see walking around all the time with those little white cords hanging from their ears: in the grocery store, at the doctor's office, walking across campus, etc, etc, etc.

I wonder how many of those people are Christians. It makes me wonder if I wear mine around too much.

The reasoning behind my thinking is simple: How can one expect to hear God when s/he has constant noise plugging directly into his/her ears?

If it's not an iPod, it's the radio. And if it's not the radio, it's a cell phone. And if it's not a cell phone, it's the internet. And if it's not the internet, it's work. And if it's not work......

Well, you get the picture.

And we could get into the debate about whether or not God still speaks to people today. I believe He does. I've experienced it.

In the last year and a half or so, though, I haven't heard Him. At least I haven't noticed hearing Him. Part of my problem, as I've mentioned before, is that I can't pray. I'm too distracted and my words come out empty and void of meaning. So, instead of praying, I ask others to pray for me. They may not know why I ask them, but this is the reason. I need prayer. I know I do. I need to pray, but it just isn't happening for me right now, so I think the next best thing is to ask others to pray for me. And not just for me, but I am sure to let them know of people who I know that need prayer.

Maybe it's because there's too much noise in my life. I mean, maybe, just maybe, if I turned off the iPod for a while, the cell phone, and the radio in my car I could actually communicate with God for the first time in a long time. Maybe that's what He wants from me right now. Maybe He doesn't want to hear from me, maybe He wants me to hear from Him.

New Link

2005-08-01T12:32:00.000-07:00

Just wanted everyone to know that I posted another blog on my sidebar. It's Preston's Thoughts.

I'm enjoying his blog because, even though I don't agree with everything he says, he makes me think.

Part VI

2005-07-29T08:35:00.000-07:00

So I ate. A lot. Of everything.

I knew I was going to be fine, so I didn't pace myself. It had been so long that I could eat anything without dreading the effects that it would soon have on me, so I enjoyed every second of it. My first trip was to Red Lobster (yes, even after all of that fish!). I ate crab and cheddar bay biscuits and I had a salad! Vegetables tasted soooo good! And guess what? I didn't get sick! More proof that my faith was good enough! I was actually able to go for a couple of weeks without any serious problems. I got sick once or twice, but holy cow! Twice in two weeks I could handle!

One night a couple of weeks after our return from Iowa I was at my fiance's grandmother's house. I hadn't been feeling right all night long and I wanted him to take me home. Before we could get away from her house, I started having pains again. The same kind of pains that I had in Iowa when I went to the ER. They weren't quite as bad this time, but it was rough. I got home, laid down, and my dad, for lack of knowing what else to do, gave me an ammonia inhalent (my family is a huge believer in these things--they'll get rid of nausea so fast you'd think it was a miracle!). It actually worked. My mom got on the phone and called our family physician at home, asking him what she should do. He called me in a Rx for phenergran and told me to come in to see him in the morning.

The next morning, I went in to see the doc, and asked him if he would order an ultrasound for me to check my gallbladder. He wouldn't do it. He echoed the same words of the ER doc, saying that I was too young to be having problems with my gallbladder. Instead, he pushed around on my stomach (yowsers! I didn't realize it was so sore to the touch!) and diagnosed me with a nervous stomach. (Huh!?) He said that my stomach was literally in knots that needed to be worked out via alternative methods of health care. He then had me come in three times a week and he would have me lay on my back and grab one leg at a time and move them around all funny. I'm glad I'm flexible. My knee would be at my head, and then my leg would be moving around in circles really quickly. It was really weird, and it hurt, but I wasn't having any other issues with my assumed gallbladder pain, so I was okay with it.

Later on in the summer, we took a family vacation down to Gulf Shores, Alabama. We had made this trip many, many, many times before and we always drive. We had followed our normal routine of leaving at around 3am and stopping outside of Birmingham for breakfast at Cracker Barrel. After breakfast it hit me again. Luckily, my dad has some ammonia inhalents in the car (I told you we were a firm believer in these things) and it went away. It led to a very tense "vacation." I had to always make sure that the inhalents were with me and my parents were always worried about when it would hit me next.

I started having some faith issues. I was wondering why, if God said that He would heal me, He wouldn't heal me. I didn't doubt Him, but I was wondering what in the heck I had done to deserve this. I wasn't very vocal about these issues, but they were there. I kept trying to rationalize saying, "He has a plan," but that doesn't do too much to answer the question about why I'm not good enough for healing.

A Bit Delayed

2005-07-26T16:09:00.000-07:00

If it's not one thing, it's another.

I was rear-ended on my way to work this morning. Hard.

I've got whiplash and pain in my right shoulder and down into my back. I've decided to undergo chiropractic care (like I have the other 2 times I've had whiplash), but I have to say that this is probably the worse it's ever been.

The lady from the body shop where we took Rick's car called today to say that his car was ready to be picked up. We told them that we would just wait until tomorrow and drop mine off to them when we picked up his car. *sigh*

I feel terrible for the lady who hit me. I thought she was seriously injured. I jumped right out of my car, and tried to bust my way into hers before she was able to unlock a door so I could get to her. She just kept crying and saying something about chemotherapy and how she was so sorry. I was finally able to calm her down a little bit and have her move her car to the side of the road. She said that she had been driving in the US for 28 years (she was Indian) and that she had never hurt anyone. I assured her that it's just a car and that it could be fixed. I kept asking her if I needed to call her an ambulance, and she said no. Her back and neck were hurting, too. She said that she didn't want to go to the doctor because she had been in and out of many doctor's offices in the last 2 months going through chemo treatments. She just finished her last one last week, had two days off from work, and was on her way to the court house to update the tags on her car. I shared with her that I completely understood the doctor thing because I had a liver transplant just over a year ago. I pray I showed her empathy. She called her son and he was able to come out and sit with us while we waited on the police to come and file a report. He was a very nice guy about my age. I'm glad he was able to come. She had a look of relief sweep over when she saw his truck pull up.

It's strange the situations that God puts us in sometimes. Pray for this lady, will you? I don't know if you know much about the Indian culture, but women are extremely submissive to their husbands, and this lady shared with me that she was afraid to tell her husband about the accident. I in no way think that indicates abuse of any kind, but it is just a lot of stress on a woman who has apparantly been through a lot of trauma in the last year. She was afraid of totalling her car, which I believe she did. I hope that this doesn't hurt their family too much financially.

Anyway, more on my "faith walk" or whatever you want to call it tomorrow or Thursday. I need to take some ibuprofen.

Part V

2005-07-25T10:44:00.000-07:00

Summer

I had not been to the doctor my entire freshman year, so I went by the nurses' office at Lipscomb to find a good one. She recommended a doctor in Brentwood, so I called to make sure they would accept my health insurance and made an appointment.

I couldn't get in with a doctor, so I saw a nurse practioner. She ran lots of tests, all to no avail. She had no idea what was wrong with me, so she wanted me to find a specialist.

It was near the end of the school year, so I knew it would be better for me to find someone at home (in Kentucky). My grandfather (the one that I have talked about previously) had a lot of GI problems before his death, and had a wonderful doctor that really loved and cared for him deeply. There was no issue in finding a gastroenterologist. I knew who I would go see.

I made my appointment with Dr. Fisher and was in to see him quickly. We had a nice chat about my grandpa, about how much we missed him, and about my grandmother and how she was handling his death. I told him of my symptoms, and he decided he would run some tests to check for bacterial or viral infections and Chrone's Disease. All came back negative. He decided (I believe at a loss for knowing what else it could be) to diagnose me with IBS (irritable bowel syndrome). I thought this was a farse, but I took the meds he prescribed, anyway.

The pills worked for about a week. Actually, they completely constipated me for about a week. Then they quit working. I got worse. Instead of just "going" after meals, it was 5-6 times/day. Something was seriously wrong.

I called the good doctor again and spoke to his nurse. She had me increase my dose to double what I was currently taking. Again, it constipated me for about a week, and then stopped working.

I gave up after that. I didn't call back. I just quit taking the pills. It was time to go on my yearly mission trip, anyway, and I didn't have time to make any more doctors appointments.

This was the same type of mission trip that I described in an earlier post. We traveled up to Cedar Rapids, IA to work on homes for people with disabilities and lower incomes who could either not afford to have the work done, or could not do the work themselves. My sister, (we had not been on a mission trip without one another), my finace' (at the time), and my mom (who had never been on a mission trip before) all went with our church youth group.

On these trips, we are sponsored by the township and by various churches in the area. Each youth group is broken up and mixed in with different youth groups from across the country and we are sent out to work on projects. Each team is sponsored by a specific congregation, and it is the job of said congregation to bring the team lunch every day. I informed our congregation of my special diet needs, and they were more than happy to bring me a simple turkey sub (no cheese) every day. We were staying in a school, and, each night, the cafeteria workers would fix us dinner. It was rare that they had anything that I could eat, so, I would wait until everyone else had finished their dinner and my youth minister would pack me and several others into the church van to take me to McDonalds to get a fish sandwich, and everyone else to Wal-Mart to shop or just mess around until time for nightly devo. I would usually sit in the van by myself and eat while everyone else went in to Wal-Mart.

The week was going great. We met some really cool people and really enjoying the whole mission experience. When Friday rolled around, our church brought us lunch. Something "different" this time. They wanted to get me something besides a turkey sandwich, since the rest of the group was munching on pizza instead of sandwiches, so they brought me a chicken sub. It was a nice thought, but I knew I wouldn't be able to eat it. But I was starving....and they decided to hang out with us and get to know us a little better while we ate....so I didn't really have a choice.

I paid for it, but it was different this time. I immediately didn't feel well. One of the men and his wife from the church took me back to the school. I didn't even have time to take a shower and get the roofing tar out of my hair. I collapsed on the steps in the school leading up to the room where we were staying. I started having the most intense pain in my abdomen that I have ever had. It would come, I would double over in pain, crouched in the fetal position, and then it would subside. Then it would hit again. I was crying. The guy who was preaching for us that week, Rob, saw me and asked me who to call. I told him that my mom was on the trip, and it just-so-happened that her group had finished their project early and she was on her way up from the showers to our room. He ran to get her and we decided that I needed to go to the ER. Now. So, a couple of the adults kind of carried me out to a church van and someone drove us to the ER.

They got me back to the ER pretty quickly. My mom had this nagging feeling that it was my gallbladder. Several of my relatives on her side of the family had their gallbladders removed, and I knew it was possible for teenagers to have this problem because I had a couple of friends who had their gallbladders removed. The doc in the ER was sure it wasn't.

Him: You're too young.
Me: But it runs in my family!
Him: Nah. That's not what it is. We'll just give you this GI cocktail and that'll take care of it.
Mom: Can't you at least do an ultrasound or something just to make sure? Our insurance will pay for it.
Him: She's too young. I don't know what it is, but it's not her gallbladder.

So the nurse came in with this paper cup full of this puke-green colored liquid. It smelled disgusting and it tasted even worse. I was still in pain. She told me that it was full of all kinds of different medicines ending in the letters -cane, which translated meant that I would drink it and it would numb my GI track...including my mouth. It worked for the pain, but it didn't solve my problem.

That night, during the worship service, my entire body broke out in hives. I was itching like crazy. I got my mom and my youth minister's attention and we walked out to the back of the auditorium so I could show them what was going on. We didn't know what to do. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I figured it was a reaction to something in the GI cocktail. Randy (my youth minister) grabbed my hand and dragged me down to the front of the auditorium where Rob was standing. He said, "Rob, pray for her. Now." So Rob stopped all of the singing and prayed over me for healing.

I was confident it was going to work. I knew what Jesus said about having faith the size of a mustard seed and how that small amount of faith could move mountains. My faith was bigger than that, and I sure as heck wasn't trying to move a mountain. All I wanted was to be able to eat anything I wanted without having to suffer because of it. I wanted my rash to go away, and I sure didn't want to go through the pain that I had gone through earlier that day.

I knew I was healed.

I've Been TAGGED!

2005-07-22T12:19:00.000-07:00

Thanks a lot, Jana!

Book Tag

1. How many books have I owned?

Too many to count. When I was in college, I discovered Davis Kidd. I would buy $50-60 worth of books every time I went into that blasted store! I have since learned that I cannot walk into a bookstore without breaking the bank, so I don't go unless I either have extra cash to spend on books, a gift card (which I always end up over-spending), or unless I have something specific that I have to get (which means that I always pick up one or two other things while I'm in there).

2. What was the last book you bought?

It's been a while since I've been in a book store. Let me see if I can dredge up some old memory of the last time I bought a book.......My sister bought me The Chronicles of Narnia (the complete series), and I last bought a GRE study guide (does that count??) and Thomas Merton's auto/biography (haven't read it yet) and some other book about a girl who was raised an orthodox Jew and then converted to Christianity.....I don't remember the name of that one, but I did read it soon after I bought it. (See! I told you I couldn't go in and buy just one book!)

3. What was the last book you read?

There are two that I was reading at the same time: Introduction to Proteomics: Tools for the New Biology By Dan Liebler (don't ask) and Shattered Dreams by Larry Crabb.

4. What are FIVE books that have meant a lot to you?

Matilda By Ronald Dahl
The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis
Shattered Dreams by Larry Crabb
Introduction to Proteomics: Tools for the New Biology --haha! Just kidding!
The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis
The Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard

Oh! Just five! But I could go on: Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger (Sider) and anything by Henri Nouwen and The Ragamuffin Gospel (Manning) and 10 Lies the Church Tells Women....

Ok. I'll stop.

Other books that I've read a lot: The Babysitters Club series and just about all of the Nancy Drew books.

Tagging:
Andrea
CL
Matt

How It All Started (Part IV)

2005-07-21T08:46:00.000-07:00

Freshman Year

I had decided before starting school at LU that I would major in Bible and Chemistry. I wanted to be a pharmacist, but I also had a huge urge to really dive into Scripture and learn as much as I could....but remember, I was pretty cocky.....I also had other motives.

Along the way, I had to learn about the churches of Christ. I was Southern Baptist through and through. I knew nothing of the churches of Christ (CoC's). My Grandma (the wife of my S. Baptist preacher grandpa), tried to scare me out of going to LU. She told me that "they" believe that they're the only ones going to Heaven, and that "they" believe that you have to be baptized to be saved. So, I was warned. Here is where my "other motives" come in. I decided that I was going to go to this school, take the Bible classes, and prove to these CoC'ers that they aren't the only ones going to Heaven and that you don't have to be baptized to be saved. Amanda the Missionary.

So, I move into the dorm, only to find out that my roommate is a pretty conservative CoCer. Ah! My first victim! She was pretty cool, but she was also as stubborn and set in her ways as I was.

And I start classes. My first two Bible professors were Terry Briley (fall semester) and Mark Black (spring semester). What a way to be introduced to the CoC! My pre-concieved notions were shattered! You mean you don't believe that you're the only ones going to Heaven??? And everyone doesn't believe that you have to be baptized to be saved??? And all of my Bible classes aren't going to be classes on learning the CoC doctrine??? Wait...you say you don't have a doctrine??? (insert laugh here) For your information, everyone has a doctrine, whether it's written down or not......

I'm getting off-subject....

Anyway, these two classes were honors classes, so it was virtually the same students in each class (including my roommate). We got to be pretty good friends with this girl, I'll call her Jen.

Jen was a super-cool Nashville native. She babysat a lot for local families. The spring semester of our freshman year, Jen decided that she was going to go out to Cali to finish her degree, but she needed someone to take over for her at her regular nanny position for a local family. Turns out that my roommate couldn't do it because she had already taken a nanny position for our sophomore year that overlapped with the position that Jen was offering. So, I took it. I knew nothing of the family, I just knew that it would fit perfectly into my schedule, and it was only about 6 hours a week, $10/hour. I was definitely not going to complain about the money. I had never in my life made that much babysitting.

Also, during my freshman year, I started to get sick. I did not eat in our school cafeteria that much (it wasn't terrible, just wasn't good and healthy), but it was only when I ate at school that I would get sick. This is kinda nasty, but I'm going to explain it anyway, because someone always asks: I got diarrhea. About 20 minutes after I would eat at school, it would hit. Every time, consistantly. So, after I noticed a pattern, I stopped eating in the cafeteria.

It started to get persistantly worse. It got to the point where it didn't matter what I ate, I got sick. I lost a lot of weight. I finally figured out that the only things I could get without getting sick were fish and turkey. Don't ask me. It doesn't make any sense to me, either. And it wasn't a fatty food thing because I could eat a fish sandwich from McDonalds and be fine. I continued to lose weight and any time I would break out of my fish and turkey diet (even to eat fruit!) I knew what was coming. I couldn't go on a date to dinner and a movie unless I knew there would be ample time to "get over" dinner. My life started to meld around this whole sickness issue. I finally decided toward the very end of my freshman year that I had had enough. I was going to the doctor.

God Things #3 and 4: Take the nannying position, start to get sick.

How It All Started (Part III)

2005-07-20T15:25:00.000-07:00

I've taken a few days off from this because of the weekend and the unexpected car break-in on Sunday night/Monday morning. Hopefully I can remember where I was and get back on track with this again.
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Choosing a College

I wasn't like most high school seniors that I know/hear about. I was not freaked out about choosing a college. I was going to go to Transylvania University in Lexington, KY. Period. I wasn't worried about not getting in and I wasn't worried about the fact that it costs a bajillion dollars to go there. That's just where I was going to go.

I had not visited any other colleges. I had applied to a couple others, but just as fall-backs (although I knew that I wasn't going to need them). Yeah, you could say I was cocky. My grades were well above average, I had an excellent ACT score, and a lot of community service stuff. I was a shoe-in.

Dad came home from work one day and decided that, although he didn't disapprove of my wanting to go to Transy, he wanted me to visit at least one more school before I signed on the dotted line. He said that there's this school called Lipscomb that he heard about. He didn't know much about it, other than the fact it was a Christian school, but he thought I might want to check it out. Fine. Whatever. I got online, took 20 minutes to fill out the application to LU (that includes writing the essay), and figured out when I could go down for a couple of days to check it out. Only to appease my father.

So, we packed up the car and drove down for a weekend at Lipscomb. I was determined to hate it. I was going to go to Transy, this was merely a formality. We got there on Friday, and that night, went to a LU girls basketball game. It must have been a sheer coincidence that they were playing Transylvania. I cheered hard for Transy all night long. Best I remember, Lipscomb won.

I met up with the girls that I would be staying with that night and the prospective student that I would hang out with for the rest of the weekend. We had a blast. I fell in love with those girls almost immediately. I noticed how friendly everyone was...it was like a part of the world I had never seen before.

Then there was Devo. Wow. I had an incredible appreciation for acapella music, but I had never been in a group that large singing only acapella songs. I was blown away by the sound. I wanted to cry it was so beautiful.

I can't exactly remember why this weekend impacted me like it did. The dorms were way worse than the dorms at Transy, the school was about the same size, I think it was just the attitude of the students and the devo. I just knew this is where I was supposed to be.

We got home on Sunday to find that my acceptance letter to Lipscomb was in the mail. As much as I didn't want to admit it to my dad, I had decided that he was right and that I did need to go to Lipscomb. I didn't really know why, I just knew I needed to go. So, I sent back everything they needed and I was officially off to Lipscomb.

I got into all those other "fall-back" schools that I applied to, too. As far as Transy was concerned, I heard from them a month or so before school started saying that they never received a portion of my application, but they were still interested in me. Weird, huh?

God Thing #2: Random introduction to Lipscomb/Deciding to go there.

What Are the Odds?

2005-07-18T16:19:00.000-07:00

I really never win anything. Really. The coke lids you twist off with a 1:2 chance of winning a free coke? I get nothing.

Rick and I woke up this morning to find that his car had been broken in to. Apparantly, some junkies went wild in west Nashville last night and hit 30 cars. What are the odds that we would be one of them? There are how many people in west Nashville? There are how many cars per home? And out of the 30 they hit last night, ours was one of them? The only one on our street. The only one on our block. They took a lot of his stuff. We figured it's close to $1000 worth of stolen goods/damages. The odds were against us to get robbed, and we still lost!

The cool thing is that they actually sent a guy out to fingerprint it and stuff since so many were hit last night. They didn't get much off of ours, but they did get one print and one partial palm print.

It did give me an excuse to miss a whole day of work. While Rick was in meetings with my car all morning, I was hanging out around the house waiting on various police officers.

Cops said they think it was someone in our neighborhood. There are a couple of houses they're watching because of suspected drug dealings/prostitution. The policeman was nice, though. He assured us that crime in Nashville is going downhill fast, and that the only way to get away from it is to buy a 2-3 mil $$ home on Belle Meade Blvd. We'll be right on that. Puh-leeze!

And we thought we lived in a safe neighborhood....

Breaking News!!!!

2005-07-15T12:53:00.000-07:00

So, my aunt has been having some problems with elevated liver enzymes (bad). I referred her to the liver clinic here at Vanderbilt (good).

She saw a doctor last week (a doctor that I have not seen before), and he told her that although he doesn't KNOW me, he knows my case extensively because they discuss it in detail every time they have a departmental meeting. He told her that because of our familial history, they think they have found the gene that caused my disease!!!! They were able to study me, and now they are able to study her, so they can possibly find what/where this gene is.

Of course, this is not for sure just yet. But, either way, I have made an extremely important part of scientific history possible! YAY!!!!

I should SO be listed as an author on that paper.......I've made a bigger sacrifice than any of those doctors!

How It All Started (Part II)

2005-07-15T10:40:00.000-07:00

High School: Part Two

In the next few weeks/months, my life really changed. I had a huge hole in my heart. I would frequently see my ex-coach in the hall at school. Once she said to me, "Amanda, you had the biggest heart of anyone on that team," which made me even more confused than I was before. Doesn't heart count for something? Not only had she ripped out my heart, that comment felt like she stabbed me in the stomach and twisted the knife.

My grandparents lived next door to my parents, and we would have dinner with them every Thursday night. My grandpa was getting very sick, but our tradition was that we went out to a certain Chinese restaurant on Thursdays. Now, instead of going out, my parents would order a load of take-out, and bring it up to him and we would all eat together. A week or so after I was cut from the team, my grandpa, a very well-known Southern Baptist preacher in our area, said to me on that Thursday night, "I'm glad it's over for you. It took up too much of your time. God has other plans." His comment infuriated me.

I began to immensly hate everything that even remotely reminded me of basketball. I did not go to any more games for the remainder of my high school career. I didn't speak to any of my ex-teammates. I got extremely angry with my little sister, who was much more talented than I was, when she quit before her freshman season. I couldn't believe that she could easily have something that I wanted so badly and just throw it away.

I tried to find other things to fill that hole. I joined the YMCA and began playing volleyball for fun. I love volleyball, but it wasn't basketball, so I quit. My junior year of high school I played softball for the first time in my life. I wasn't bad at it, but I hated it. When you go from playing such a fast-paced sport like basketball to softball, it leaves the slower sport lacking...a lot. Our team situation didn't help. We all hated each other.

I went into a depression. I would come home from school and go straight to my room, only to come out to eat. I slept a lot. I never did anything with my friends. I was very angry with my parents for not sticking up for me to my coach. They knew exactly what happened and how it affected me, yet they chose to do nothing about it. I was unhappy. I gained a lot of weight. I tried to give off every concievable sign to my parents to let them know how much my life sucked. They didn't get it. Or if they did, they didn't let on that they got it.

It was the summer following my junior year that I got the opportunity to go on my first mission trip. It wasn't any kind of big, extravagant trip, we just went to Meridian, Mississippi for a week to help renovate some homes for people who couldn't afford to do it themselves. It was on this trip that I began to realize that Christianity isn't just about the things you can't do. Growing up in a Southern Baptist church in a rural area, I don't believe I ever heard a sermon about how to live for God. All I heard was a variety of: don't drink, don't cuss, don't commit adultery. None of that stuff spoke to me. I know that I'm not supposed to sin, but as a high schooler, I thought that's really all I had to do to be a good Christian. It was on that mission trip that I realized there was this little thing called "discipleship" that could really change my life. I don't think it really sunk in at that point, but it was something that I took note of. I realized that there are a lot of other Christians out there that are my age that act differently than any of the "Christians" that I went to school with.

I slowly began to come out of my depression as I started to become more involved with my youth group at church. It was a very small group of high schoolers, only about 8-9 of us, but the heart of our volunteer youth minister kept me coming back. We did fun things together. And our youth minister cared about us enough to use up his vacation time to take us places. He was not getting paid for it, he did it because he wanted to. We went on other mission trips and Christianity began to become a front-runner of things that are most important to me.

Now, when I look back, I realize that I would never have gone on that mission trip if I were playing basketball. It would have been one of those things that I would have had to "sacrifice" so that I could play. I also realize that my grandpa's comment was more prophetic than any of us ever could have imagined. God did have other plans, but even in my senior year of high school, I had no idea what those plans really were.

"God Thing" #1: No more basketball.

How It All Started (Part I)

2005-07-14T13:48:00.000-07:00

I get this question a lot, so I thought I'd try to tackle it in a series of blogs. It is a very long story that starts back in high school....at least, when I look back now I can see that it started in high school. I'm going to do the best I can to explain what happened: how I found out that I had tumors on my liver and, more importantly, how I've seen God work through it all, even before I knew He was working.

When you finish this post, you are probably going to ask what in the world this has to do with tumors and how I see God was working, but I promise I will get to that. I think it is very important for everyone to see what a life-altering experience this was for me.
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Part One: High School

You may not know this, but I was a very athletic kid. I played basketball for seven years, starting in 4th grade. When I got into 8th/9th grade, I was playing on multiple teams, almost year-round. Basketball was my life. I lived and breathed it. Even today, my husband can't understand this, but anyone who has ever loved a sport will. I constantly had a ball in my hand. I played on teams. I played by myself in my driveway. I played with all the rough and rowdy boys all summer long, on rocks and in flip-flops a lot of times (and I kicked their butts!).

Playing against my peers was rough. I was young. A year or more younger than the girls who were in my class. I was little, too. I didn't start going through puberty until I was in 9th grade, when my classmates had done this a year or two before me. When I translate this to basketball language, it means that they were heavier, and much more able to develop muscles than me. They were much, much stronger than I possibly could have been. My body wouldn't allow it. I could easily keep up with them on the court as far as running is concerned, but I was beat up and knocked around when it came to chasing after lose balls or going after the rebound, but I didn't care. I wasn't bad by any means. I was actually pretty good. I just never started in high school because all of the other girls were so much stronger than me. I had spunk, though. Knock me down, I jump right back up and I'm in your face again. I don't care how much it hurt. I know I just got the charge on a girl that's 30+ pounds heavier than me. That's what I do. It felt great to be the little girl that wasn't afraid of those bigger girls, especially when I came out on top. You gonna hold that ball out in front of me? Fine. But I'm going to jerk it out of your hands. At least, I'm going to try really hard. I'm going to get the jump ball. And you're gonna learn not to do that again. I think the other team underestimated me a lot, and I knew how to take advantage of that.

We played rough and rowdy, too. A lot of "organized street ball" if there is such a thing. We did drills where our coach would throw the ball down the court and we'd all have to run and wrestle each other until one of us came out with it. It hurt. I was always bruised after those drills, but they were crazy fun.

Our team was incredibly talented. We were probably the best JV team in the state. A lot of our girls moved up to play Varsity, but they didn't move me up. I wish they would have, but I was thrilled sitting on the sidelines watching these girls kick butt. I was truly, truly happy to just wear the jersey. I was proud to be a part of something bigger than myself. I was happy to work my butt off playing against the bigger girls because I knew that I had a part in making them better players, and they were doing the same for me.

The major problem that I had was during conditioning. I had problems with my growth plates in my knees and I could not run long-distances. The pain would become unbearable. My coaches were tough. Mile runs were nothing. We ran cross-country matches to condition, and we won the meets. Running several miles is what they had us do, and it was literal hell for me. I couldn't do it, but I still tried really hard. It didn't matter, though. I could still keep up on the courts. That was all I cared about.

I decided (so that I could condition) to try to do something about my knee pain. I went to a sports medicine place and they made insoles to go into my running shoes. I wore them every day to try to get used to them. When conditioning time came around, one of our first runs was a 2.4 mile run down a long country road. We would run down to the end of the road (1.2 miles), run up a massive hill where a coach would be waiting with our half-way times, turn around, and run back another 1.2 miles. I was in a lot of pain my first half of the run. It wasn't my knees this time, it was my feet. I got to the top of the hill and stopped. I had to take out my insoles. In the process, my coach noticed blood on my socks, so she made me take it off to show her what was wrong. I have a blister on the arch of my foot that was about 2 inches long that had already busted. But I didn't stop. I threw my insoles in her car, but my socks and shoes back on, and headed back the other way. I finshed last, but I finished.

My sophomore year season went pretty well. I didn't start, but I did get a lot of playing time. When team spirit got a little low, or our players were frustrated with one another, Coach would put me in to pump things up. I was really an intense player. But the end of the season came with an ultimatum: get serious, or don't come back. It's not that we weren't serious, we were. We were very, very serious about the game. What he meant was that we were going to have to make life sacrifices to play for him. We were going to have to miss out on some of the typical high school "fun." He wanted us to make a time to meet with the head coach to talk about what we were going to do to come back the next year to play varsity. He wanted to know how hard we were going to work over the summer. So, I went home and had a talk with my mom. I knew I was going to have to beef up a little. We had worked it out that I was going to join this gym-like place and go every day. I would work 3 days a week on weight training, and the other 2 on fundamental skills so I could stay sharp during our off-season.

The next day, I excitedly ran up to the head coach in the hall at school and told her my plans. She looked at me with a grave look and said, "It's not going to happen for you."

What? What do you mean 'it's not going to happen?' I work really hard, and I'm going to work even harder this summer to get up on par with the rest of the team. I'm willing to do that. I've already talked to my mom. She's going to take me back and forth to the gym all summer. It's all worked out. What do you mean, 'it's not going to happen?'

Beaver, (my last name), she said, It's not going to happen.

I'm in tears by this point. That's it? I'm done? Are you saying I can't play next year? Not even practice? I'm not expecting to start....I just want to play.......

I walked away in tears. I knew I couldn't go to class, so I went to the nurses office. I called my mom, but she couldn't come get me. I didn't go to class the rest of the day. I sat in the nurses office and just cried. I went home and I cried. I went to school the next day, walked straight to the nurses office, and cried. I cried for three straight days.

I didn't know what to do. Basketball was my life. Now, instead of going to practice, I would go home and play in my driveway, crying the entire time. I did this for weeks on end.

Our varsity team went to state that year. I went with a friend to watch the game. I'm sure I was great company. I cried the entire three hour trip up, and the three hour trip back. I just kept saying, I'm never even going to get the chance to sit on that bench.

My Husband....

2005-07-12T09:48:00.000-07:00

Knowing what my stomach looks like and knowing how much weight I've gained still continues to ask me when I'm going to get back into my bikini that I bought last year pre-surgery.

No way am I confident enough to pull that one off, but I still think it's sweet that he asks.......

Pictures

2005-07-11T10:10:00.000-07:00

Ignore the fact that I'm smiling like a doofus in this picture. I guess I was excited that I was getting my staples out.

Pictures

2005-07-11T10:02:00.000-07:00

This picture was taken a few weeks after my staples were removed. The scar looks pretty much the same today, only a little lighter, and not quite as red. My poor belly looks so swollen....I think I look pregnant.

Pictures

2005-07-11T08:41:00.000-07:00

This is 4 weeks post-transplant. This is the day I had my staples removed. The two smaller scars on each side of my belly button are from a previous surgery that I had. You can barely see the scars from the drainage tubes in this picture, but one of them is on the left, directly above the waist-band of my shorts. It looks kind of red in this picture.

Is it Actually Paying Off?

2005-07-11T08:30:00.000-07:00

I've been working out for two months now. Wait. Let me rephrase that.

I've been a member of a gym now for two months. (There. That's better.)

The first month I did really well. Thirty minutes a day, three times a week. Great! The second month I did not-so-great. June was a rough month for me medically, so I think I only ended up working out four or five times. But, I'm trying to get back into the swing of things this month.

I was weighed and measured last week. I've lost 5.25 inches and 2 lbs of body fat since I started two months ago. Yay! I can't tell, though. My clothes aren't any bigger on me and I look the same, but yesterday, someone noticed! Someone who doesn't even know that I've been working out!

So, my goal is to get back down to where I was pre-transplant....that's a whole 25 lbs I need to lose. My eating habits really aren't that bad, so I'm really hoping that just working out and drinking more water will do it for me, or at least do most of it for me.

I'm writing this on my blog hoping that it will help keep me accountable. I could seriously think of an excuse every day to not go work out. I'm tired. I'm recovering from Strept. I'm anemic. Rest is more important right now than exercise. My scar hurts. My liver is sore. I'm feeling a little "off" today and don't want to get sick. (Really, I could do this forever).

Enough of the excuses. I'm tired of being fluffy already.

Teaching Hospitals and Rejection

2005-07-08T13:57:00.000-07:00

There are many benefits to coming to a teaching hospital for your health care. The attending physicians are usually some of the best in the country; however, there are also disadvanatages.

At Vanderbilt, the worst time in the world to be admitted to the hospital, especially in the ER, is during the first part of July. This is when the first-year residents start, and they really have no idea what they're doing. In addition to this, sometimes you get a cocky attending that is trying to be all suave and prove himself as a doctor to these little underlings. I had a first-hand experience with one of these attendings and his first-year student almost exactly a year ago.

After a liver transplant, a patient has two tubes for draining bile fluid coming out of the right lower portion of the abdomen. (I may post pictures later if there are no objections to show what I'm talking about). Before I went home from the hospital, these tubes had to (literally) be ripped out of my stomach. The physician will remove the stitches that were holding it in and then yank it out. YELP! (Remember, there are two tubes). The first one that was removed was done so by a resident (not a first year) and he did it without numbing me. I didn't cry, but my eyes did tear up and I forgot to breathe for a moment or two. When I had the second tube removed the next day, a different resident decided that it would be nice to numb me first, so that one was virtually pain-free. These tubes did leave pretty big holes in my stomach, so I did have to have stictches after the tubes were removed.

A week or so after I was discharged from the hosptial, I got my first experience with Dr. BigShot. I immediately didn't like this guy, but he is an actual attending physician so I was pretty sure that he was at least going to be good at what he does, especially with his title in the department. But he decided that the stitches from the drainage tubes were ready to come out. Since I had nearly 40 staples in my stomach in addition to these stitches, I was pretty excited. He asked the nurse to do it, but she said she would be more comfortable with him doing it, so, he decided to show off and show her how to remove them. Instead of being nice with me, he tried to do it all quickly and in one motion, which, translated, means that he pinched my skin very hard with the tweezers and then cut me with the very, very sharp scissors. I was not happy. Neither was my husband or my mother, who watched the entire procedure.

Fast forward a week, around July 11, just 11 days after the first year residents started. I had been feeling very, very crummy. I had blood work done in the morning as I usually did 3-4 times a week. At about 2:00, I got a phone call saying that I needed to come right back to the hospital because I was rejecting. So, my mom, my husband and I all hopped in the car and headed back to Vanderbilt. (At this point, even getting in and out of the car was not fun. It required having a pillow and moving it around in various positions while I got in the car, and then once in, it went in between my abdomen and the seat belt because it hurt to have the seat belt rubbing against my staples.) We got to the hospital and found out that I had to have a liver biopsy to make sure that the blood work was correct. I was expecting to be taken down to have a CT guided biopsy where I am nearly asleep and they stick a little needle through the skin to biopsy a small piece of tissue. Instead, they took me back immediately into the clinic (a regular exam room). I was not happy to see Dr. BigShot walk through the door, his resident in tow. Apparantly, they had called him out of the operating room to come biopsy me. He was in his scrubs, and he was in a hurry. He layed me out on the table and got all of his tools together, resident watching it all. The sweet, sweet nurse was also right there next to me. Doc gave me a shot of something to numb me, and then proceeded to remove three of my staples.

Me: I can feel that.
Dr. BigShot: Give it a second, the meds will kick in.
Me starting to sweat
Nurse: Do you need a wet cloth?
Me: Yeah
Dr. BigShot (poking at my chest): Can you still feel that?
Me: Yes
The nurse puts the wet cloth on my head. I start to lose color. The doctor opens me up.
Me: I can feel that
Dr. BigShot: Well, I'm almost finished. I can keep going, or I can give you another shot. I think I'll keep going.
My eyes roll back into my head
Nurse: Let me get you another wet cloth.
The nurse is stroking my head and trying to get me to cool down and not pass out.
Doc snaps off a piece of my liver.
I yelp.
Doc: All finished. To resident: Sew her up, will ya?
Resident: I don't know how.
Doc gives me a stitch to show the kid how, kid finishes, me feeling every little poke and tug.
Doc and resident rush out back to OR.
Nurse: Why don't you just lay there for a few minutes until you're ready to get up. Someone is just going to have to wait for this room....take as long as you need.

I glanced over at Rick and my mom, who both had horrified looks on their faces. Honestly, it took place so quickly that they didn't really have time to jump in and say anything. My poor husband was almost as pale as I was. He said, I saw your liver.

Poor Rick. The poor guy can't even clean up a little dog poo without gagging and nearly getting sick. I don't know how he could stand to sit there and watch the madness that had just occurred.

That wasn't the end of my ultra-terrible-bad day. After my biopsy, I had to go have an ultrasound. I couldn't take it any more. Before I could even get to the waiting room for the ultrasound, I broke down. I was in so much pain, and I was angry. I couldn't believe that some butt-head of a doctor would do such a thing to a patient. Did I mention how much I was hurting? I sat in the ultrasound room, full of people, crying my eyes out for some pain relief. My mom found a nurse for me and she said that it would be okay for me to take some pain meds (I wasn't supposed to eat or drink anything prior to the ultrasound). I probably horrified those people in the waiting room. They were all looking at me with expressions ranging from sadness and empathy to "she-needs-to-get-it-together" glances. I finally settled down a little, only to be taken back and have my sore, bruised liver be pushed and proded on by an ultrasound technician. She was great, though. She did the best she could to cause me as little pain as possible.

Luckily, I have connections in GI and the liver transplant departments. My boss in my lab justsohappens to be Dr. BigShot's boss, too. Hubby was on the phone in an instant with my boss telling him what happened. I was also sure to complain to every other transplant surgeon about what a jerk that guy was, and I was also sure to request that I never, ever saw him again.

I did see him once more, a couple of months later. I was having a bout with CMV and had to come in and be tested for it. He was the only doc available, but he sure was nice to me that time........

Throat Culture Results

2005-07-08T11:31:00.000-07:00

My sister thinks I'm the biggest nerd in the world for culturing my own throat. She asked me if I gagged myself with the swab. Only a little......

But I did it. And it was disgusting. I definitely have a Strept infection. I didn't even have to put the slide under the microscope to find out. It was bright pink after I stained it, so I already knew. (Purple bacteria=good; Pink bacteria=bad). But I looked at it under the microscope, anyway, and it was as disgusting as the color indicated.

Guess that means I can start taking the antibiotics now without wondering if I really need them or not....

On another note, I'm working on another blog entry about my transplant. Hopefully I'll be able to post it later this afternoon before I head home for the weekend.

Ugh!

2005-07-07T10:16:00.000-07:00

Thanks for all of the encouragement yesterday, everyone.

I found out this morning that I have Strep throat....some kind of weird version of it that doesn't cause fever or any sinus issues, just a sore throat. I've had it for 2 weeks, but since I didn't have a fever or anything I kept putting off going to the doctor. I turned at the last minute this morning on my way to work and decided I'd better go check it out. Even if it's was just weird allergies at least I could take some allegra or something for it.

But, no. It has to be an actual infection.

I figure I'll culture it myself today and then Gram stain it tomorrow just to see what it looks like.

Ah, the perks of working in microbiology.......

Thoughts on Writing

2005-07-06T11:41:00.000-07:00

Vanderbilt House Organ magazine came out this week. It's the summer reading issue. Employees of the medical center submit different works that they have written to be published in the magazine once a year. There are only three categories: fiction, non-fiction, and poetry.

I occasionally get the urge to write. Not just blog, but really, really write something. The urge will jump on me to write an essay of some sort. It could be an essay about an aspect of my transplant experience, or it could be an article of some sort to submit to some kind of Christian magazine or something. I guess that's what several of my blog entries are; my "rough drafts," if you will, of different ideas that I've had for essays and/or articles. The posts about the paralytic and survivor's guilt are the two main ones that I've posted here that I have had serious thoughts about expounding on, but as quickly as the urge hits, it's gone again.

Often I talk myself out of it. I think that nobody really wants to read my stuff. After all, I think I'm a mediocre writer, at best. I do think I have a sort of knack for conveying my feelings through written words, people have often told me that, but what I write is never flowery or picture-esque. I guess that is a curse of being a scientist: 1+1=2 no matter how you look at it. There is no need in describing what those 1's look like, or how they move about or join together to create the 2. It just is.

I guess I'm also scared of the disappointment. Even though my writing is not great, often what I write about is so deeply personal, if it were to be rejected I think it would be a reflection of someone rejecting me.

Either way, the urge is here again. I'm thinking about really working on my post about survivor's guilt to perhaps submit to House Organ next summer. But ask me tomorrow, and I will probably have changed my mind.

My Husband and the Water Cops

2005-07-05T12:36:00.000-07:00

Ah, the 4th of July weekend. One of my favorite times of the year. It really just means more time out on the lake, more cookouts, more Smores, and an extra day of it all for me, and I love it.

This year, I've been a little more wary of the jet ski than in years past. Thoughts of wiping out on the jet ski and my liver going in any direction opposite of the rest of my body just freaks me out. I've been out on it a couple of times, but I refrained this weekend. I was happy to let my thrill-seeking husband and our friend Barret (he's about 13) have at it.

On Saturday, I was very happily eating some watermelon at Barret's parent's place when Rick and Barret came back in Barret's dad's truck, jet ski in tow. They had only been out for an hour or two. I was surprised to see them back so soon.

You guys weren't gone long.

Barret looked at me with that typical 13-year-old "I'm-13-and-too-cool-to-be-bothered" glance and said, You'll have to ask Rick why we're back so soon.

I looked at Rick and he said, We got a ticket.

A ticket!?! I screeched, for what?!?

Throwing wake in a no wake zone.

At this point, I was thoroughly annoyed. I had warned Rick a million times (plus or minus a couple thousand) that there really are police on the water, and they really will pull you over, they really are mean, and they really do have more authority than cops on land. If they want you to jump up and down and squawk like a chicken, you'd better do it without complaining. They don't need probable cause for anything.

Rick handed me the ticket and I glanced it over: $186.15. Holy cow. I suspected that he barrelled underneath the Jonathan Creek bridge (a very long no-wake zone). Apparantly, what had happened is that Rick and Barret went underneath the bridge with no problems, but before they could get completely past the no wake zone, Rick threw the jet ski to the left and took off. The cops were over at The Floating Weiner (a house boat turned floating restaurant that sells hamburgers and hot dogs--it has a monsterous weiner on top of it) and the jet ski annoyed them.

The cops stopped Rick and told him to go over and wait in a certain area. Rick, being the wonderful, respectful man that he is, looked at the cop and said, For how long?

The cop turned stone-faced and said, However long it takes, son.

They proceeded to head back over to The Floating Weiner and eat their lunch. A while later, they came back and gave Rick the ticket.

*rolling eyes* Men.

In my nurse's words:

2005-07-01T08:53:00.000-07:00

I am "having problems with kidney function and severly dehydrated."

*sigh*

On another note...

2005-06-30T11:38:00.000-07:00

How am I ever going to get past this whole anemia thing if they keep drawing all of this blood?!?!

I had about 5 vials removed this morning. My thoughts: Well, I guess that means that the last 2 weeks of all that iron (nausea, overall not-feeling-wellness) were pointless...."

Restrain Your Dog! (Part 2)

2005-06-30T11:33:00.000-07:00

I'm hoping this is the last time that I have to write about this situation, but who knows.

Last Friday, I came home to a note on my door that said this:

"Dear Amanda, I called Animal Control about the pit bull again for the third time! They said that they had sent out a letter and that if that doesn't work they will take more drastic measures. I also called codes again about the trash (my note here: the trash thing is a whole different story). --N @ 8***"

Since then, I haven't seen nor heard anything out of the pit bull. I had seen the little white "Wal-Mart dog" and the lab mix running around, but I assumed that they had taken care of the pit bull and restrained it properly.

When Rick and I got home from our weekend at the lake, I noticed that in my neighbor's back yard, they had installed a new "fence." In reality, all they did was pin up some chicken wire, but I was at least happy that the dog would not be able to jump over it (knocking it down or wiggling/digging under it easily was another factor that I assume they didn't consider). Again, no site of the pit bull running loose for a few days.

Tuesday evening, I was out back with my dog when the owner of the pit bull came up to me:

"Have you seen my pit or my Chihuahua?"

(That's a chihauha?!?) "No, the only one I've seen running around here lately is the lab."

"I put them in the fence last night and chained them up, but I woke up this morning and they're gone."

"I'm sorry. If I see them, I'll be sure to let you know."

So, I was on the look-out for a loose pit and a chihuahua. I assumed that they had either gotten out of the fence, or that Animal Control had picked them up.

The next morning, I was getting in my car to leave for work, when I saw the two neighbors on either side of me, P and F, head back to P's fence. Next thing I see is the pit bull is laying on the ground. I thought to myself, "That's a little strange. Maybe she saw it running around last night and fenced it in."

When I got home last night, my neighbor N, who had left the note on my door a few days earlier, came up to me and asked me if I had heard about the pit.

"No. I saw P and F messing with it this morning, but I just assumed that it finally came home."

"Oh, no. It was hit by a car. F helped P load it into her car and they rushed it to the vet this morning. The vet told P that we should have never dealt with Animal Control in this situation, that we should have called the police right away. P came home and left a note on the owner's door that they needed to figure out a way to take financial responsibilty for the vet bill."

As if on cue, P pulled into her driveway and came over to talk to us about the entire situation. She informed us that the little white dog had been killed, and that the pit had a leg that was pretty badly broken. She was afraid to mess with a pit bull that had been injured so badly, but she said at that point, she could tell that the pit was in so much pain that it just wanted help. She said the entire time, it never growled or uttered a sound at her when she picked it up or took it to the vet. She said, "I never thought I'd like a pit bull! I still don't trust it, but it really is a sweet dog!"

I absolutely hate it that the white dog died and that the pit bull was hurt. I don't like to see anything suffer and, to my knowledge, the dog has yet to hurt anything or anyone. But I seriously hope that the dog owners learned something here. I hope that they learned that it's never a good thing to let your pets run loose when I-40 runs through you back yard. (Literally, it does....I can watch and hear trucks and cars go by at all hours of the day/night). And it's even worse to let your dog run loose when it's a pit. I would never hurt it, but someone else might just because of it's breed. I just think that it's really sad that this lesson had to be learned at the expense of two innocent animals.

A Funny

2005-06-29T16:09:00.000-07:00

Because I love Napoleon Dynamite:

You are Deb and you could drink whole milk if you
wanted.

Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

How Do You Eat It?

2005-06-29T12:06:00.000-07:00

I was people-watching today at Panera (I'm still feeling rather ill and the soup was the only thing that sounded good to me today, which is an improvement considering that in the last three days I've had nothing...well, except for a few tortilla chips and a beer yesterday at SATCO*), and I was wondering....what is the proper way to eat your soup bowl? Is there a proper way?

Some people I watched would only eat the soup and the "plug" that they pull out of the center to fill it with soup.

Others would dig out the inside with their spoon.

Some would try to eat the crusty outside, as well, but this is a rather messy option, even though this is the route that I take and I think it tastes better.

I mean, I'm not trying to be a Hilton or anything, but I like to have manners. Is it rude or disgusting to see someone trying to eat the outside of the bowl, too?

*It was not my choice to have the beer yesterday. We had a paper accepted into a big journal a couple of days ago (YAY!) and we went out to celebrate that and to toast to the main author. Before I new it, a beer was opened and passed down to me, so I felt like I had to drink it. I really didn't want it. Sore throat/upset stomach/exhaustion don't mix too well with alcohol. Not that I think I did anything wrong, I don't have any problems with Christians drinking alcohol in moderation, but I'm sure that a couple of you out there reading this are saying to yourselves, "Beer? I thought you were sick...."

blah

2005-06-28T09:07:00.000-07:00

I feel like crap.

Maybe I'll blog again in a few days.....

The Reality of Sin

2005-06-23T13:13:00.000-07:00

In general, I think that Christians, especially Christians in the Bible Belt, live in a bubble. Sure, we may work with non-Christians or know a few people who do not have a relationship with Christ, but for the most part, we don't. We go to church with people like us, we do business with people like us, and we are friends with people like us. Mostly middle-to-upper class Christians.

"I'm Catholic, but sometimes I think there's nothing else. This is it."

We know people who struggle. We struggle. We all know in our heads that we commit sins on a daily basis, but we are immune to noticing when we do because we have become so numb to the fact that even "little" sins are sin.

"I waste office supplies because I hate my boss."

We read things in the newspaper or see on the news people who have hurt others. Moms and Dads who abuse or kill their children, random murders, muggings, movie/music stars who break the law on a regular basis. It numbs us. We become like the Pharisees when we think, "Thank God I don't have anyone in my family/friendship circle who does things like that."

"I wished on a dandelion for my husband to die."

Recently, it really hit me. There are people out there who hurt. Those people that I hear about on the news and on TV are real. They are real people with real problems.

"I tell people I don't believe in God, when really I just refuse to worship a God that would let my grandfather hurt me like he did."

But we don't do anything about it. Sure, sometimes we may go on a mission trip to help out some people who have less than us, but what about sin? How can we ever confront people in their sin, lonliness, and shame, if we feel numb about our own?

"I stole Christian music"

There is a blog called PostSecret. It is actually where I found all of these quotes. The guy who created it has people send him anonymous post cards with their "secrets" written on them. He scans them in and posts them on this blog. It is where I realized that there are people out there who hurt worse than I ever have or ever will. They will not talk about their pain and sin. Maybe it's because they don't have anyone to talk to. Maybe it's because they feel they will be condemned. I don't know. But I do know that these people are not much different than me. For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. That includes me. In the words of erinleonard, "I'm an ass, you're an ass....We're ALL a bunch of asses."

I wonder if any of those secrets that were sent in are from someone I know. Maybe not. But maybe, just maybe, I see someone every day who has a similar secret. Do I care enough about that person to become their friend? Do I really know the reality of my sin enough to go to that person in their pain? Christ knew. He knew it better than anyone. He took it all on himself and died for us. None of us deserved His sacrifice, but we do have to confront the reality of it. It can move you to action, or you can remain numb. What are you going to do about it?

Restrain Your Dog!

2005-06-22T12:42:00.000-07:00

Gotta admit, this is me venting today.

Our neighborhood is a very dog-friendly neighborhood. We have a dog. A little maltese that weighs about 7 pounds. I would venture to bet money that if you surveyed our street, 95% of the houses would have at minimum one dog. Some have many more.

We recently got new neighbors. They are a family of three (I think). I talked to the little girl once when I was outside working in my flower garden with my dog appropriately tied to the tree in my front yard.

These neighbors also have dogs. Three to be exact. A little mixed breed something (the little girl called it a "Wal-Mart dog" because I guess they bought it at Wal-Mart somewhere where they still sell pets), a lab/something mix (a very small lab), and *duhn duhn duuuuuuuhn* a pit bull.

Disclaimer: I am not opposed to people owning pit bulls. That's your perogative. I know that owning a pit bull comes with many problems, including not being able to secure house insurance or having extremely high home owner's insurance premiums. Some places in TN are moving closer and closer to outlawing the breed. But, still, if you want to take on all the problems that come along with owning a pit bull, then by all means, have at it. JUST DON'T SUBJECT ME TO IT!

Here's my problem: since this family moved in, this dog is loose every morning and every afternoon. Not in their backyard, but in mine. It chases other dogs when my neighbors are trying to walk them. I don't know if it runs loose during the day because I'm not at home. Rick and I have talked at length about whether the family lets it run loose, or if it gets out. The fence in their backyard is a little over knee-high for me, and wooden. Nothing my little maltese couldn't jump over. A pit bull could easily clear it.

My dog is afraid of this dog. It is the only dog that mine has ever been afraid of. Yesterday morning, I'm outside with my dog in my yard letting my little guy run around and lose some of the energy he stores up. Next thing I know, the pit bull comes around the corner with the two smaller dogs in tow. What does my dog do? Attempts to play with the two smaller dogs, who are having fun with him. I'm trying to coerce my dog inside. I guess the pit bull gets jealous and starts growling at my little guy. I quickly scoop him up and toss him inside.

There are so many issues I have with this. I feel, first of all, that the owners are completly irresponsible for having the dog to begin with especially when they have a small child! Not only this, but there are a lot of small children in my neighborhood. If you aren't going to be responsible with your own child, there is no way these people are going to take responsiblity for someone else's children. Not to mention all of the other dogs in our neighborhood. Then, they don't even come close to properly restraining him. They are inside watching tv or doing whatever they do, and their dog is loose terrorizing our neighborhood. Give me a break! I'm a prisoner inside my own house. I can't go outside without being on the lookout for this dog. My poor dog won't even go outside if he sees the pit in our yard, which means that he is miserable because he can't go to the bathroom.

*sigh* I've given them several weeks to get moved in and fix their fence so their dogs wouldn't get out (if that is, in fact how they're getting out). I prefer to give people the benefit of the doubt. But, they have made no moves toward properly restraining this dog. This morning was the last straw. I called Animal Control. Fortunately, they also give people the benefit of the doubt. Their protocol is to send out a letter to the family first. Then, if nothing is done, they will take more extreme measures. I really hope the letter from animal control fixes the problem. I'll give them a couple of weeks and see what happens. I'm so torn! I hate to take a little girl's pet away, but what are my other options? I know the drill. If I talk to them, I'll get a "ooh, but she's so sweet! She'd never hurt a fly!" Yeah. That's exactly what this grandmother* said.

*Note: A quote in that article states that pit bulls are no more aggressive than other breeds of dog. That's not neccessarily true, especially if you don't do research on the breeders of your pit. Check out this article: The Pit Pendulum, especially the section titled, "The Problem with Pits."

Writer's Block

2005-06-21T13:56:00.000-07:00

I've been wanting to post something but I'm at a loss for words (yeah, take note, it doesn't happen very often). :oP I've been really busy at work and thinking about my graduate school project on top of everything else, so I'm a little distracted right now.

I haven't forgotten my blog, nor am I neglecting it.

I'll write again when I have something to say, hopefully by the end of this week.

Things You Don't Know About Me

2005-06-17T13:11:00.000-07:00

I'm gonna lighten the mood a little since yesterday's post made me pretty emotional. So, here is a list of things that you probably didn't know about me (unless you know me really, really well).

1. I loathed biology in high school (funny how I turned into a biologist)
2. I'll try anything once (well, almost)
3. I've done a tandum (sp?) skydive at 13,000 ft.
4. I want to learn to solo sky dive
5. I have a half-brother who is more than 10 years older than me
6. I have two nieces and one nephew
7. I love flowers.....flower garden flowers. I want to have one of those spectacular flower gardens like you find in Home and Garden magazine.
8. I'm terrible at growing flowers.
9. When I graduated from college my plans were to become a pediatrician
10. I was a geek in middle school. Really, I was.
11. I got in trouble in 7th grade by my history teacher for reading Danielle Steele novels....and that wasn't during class time.
12. I am not a cat person...not by the farthest stretch of the imagination would I ever own a cat.
13. I'm afraid of slugs.
14. I have a scar on my neck from where I was a little girl and ran into an electrical barbed-wire fence. The barb caught me and the electricity wouldn't let me go. One cousin couldn't pull me off. The other, older cousin pulled me off, but not before the electricity really knocked him a good one, too.
15. My biggest pet peeve is restaurants that are not set up advantagously to non-smokers. A non-smoker should never have to walk through the smoking section to get to the bathroom or to get to the non-smoking section. It defeats the purpose of having a non-smoking section to begin with.
16. I eat peanut butter on a lot of stuff. I love PB on pancakes and waffles with hot syrup and a sprinkle of cinnamon-sugar.
17. I can't watch the anti-fungal foot commercial with the little green cartoon-fungi that burrows under the cartoon toe nail. It makes me sick to my stomach.
18. I lived in the same house my entire childhood. My parents still live there.

I guess that's enough for now. Maybe I'll do this again later on.

Survivor's Guilt

2005-06-16T15:38:00.000-07:00

When it comes to my entire transplant experience, this is probably the most difficult issue that I have had to face. It's more debilitating than any of the physical problems that I have encountered thus far, and I'm not sure that it is something that will ever completely go away.

Let me explain.

When I went in for my operation, I really didn't have much time to think about the deeper issues of what was going on in the world around me. I had prayed for my donor family, but I was on such an adrenaline rush that my mind was not allowing me to think very deeply about anything. I had fleeting thoughts about not making it through the surgery, my family and friends, and the months of healing that were to come, but I never concentrated on anything. In the next few weeks, I began to have a few deeper thoughts, but because there was so much commotion going on around me (visitors, doctors appointments, pain, sickness, and attempts at sleep) that, again, I didn't have much time to really think about anything. It wasn't until I started driving 4 weeks post-transplant that I really gained enough independance to have enough time to myself to really think about what had happened. Not just the events that happened to me, but the events that led up to what happened to me....mainly this: someone had to die.

And that was not the manifestation of my thoughts, either. It encompassed a much larger view than that of one person's death, as if that wasn't enough. I will never forget the day that it all hit home with me.

I have a friend whom I met online. Turns out his sister attends Otter Creek. I have gotten to know them, at least the brother, pretty well. I consider him a great spiritual mentor, even if it is mostly through the web. I do see him occasionally "in real life." I had come to work and was checking my e-mail and the Christian message board where my friend and I met. That's where I saw it. The prayer request. His brother had died that morning, waiting on a liver transplant. I had known for quite a while that he was waiting on a transplant and was very sick. He was actually on the transplant list for much longer than I was, and he was much, much more in need of a liver than me. It knocked me down. I left work 10 minutes after I got there, complaining to my boss that I just wasn't feeling well. I cried all the way home. I climbed into bed and cried myself to sleep.

I don't know that I can effectively explain the emotions and thoughts that were so strong in my mind at that point. I kept thinking over and over again, "If I could have turned this liver down and given it to someone else, I would have." I know that the liver that I accepted would not have worked for my friends' brother, but it his death was more symbolic than anything. It reminded me that there are people out there who could have used this liver more than me that will die because they didn't get it. I wouldn't have died if I didn't get a transplant that day. I probably would still be just fine today if I hadn't gotten a transplant one year ago, but I know that eventually, I could have been that very, very sick person waiting on a liver.

Welcome to survivors guilt. Not only did one person have to die for me, there are no telling how many more did just because they didn't get this exact liver.

Now, the rational person does come out in me and tell me things. Things like:

This was God's plan, you can't explain that.
You don't know that anyone died waiting on a liver with those specific qualifications.
God knows what He's doing.
He has plans for you.

And sometimes I hear those things. Today, I probably hear those things more than I hear the negatives, but those negatives still ring loud and clear. My rational mind also screams out at me that something like 8,000 people die a day waiting on an organ transplant. I often wonder about how many of those people that the liver that I received could have gone to. Odds are it would have fit at least one of them.

I still really struggle with the guilt. Not as much as I did 6 months ago, but it still festers inside of me at times, and I know it bubbles out into my relationships with friends and especially with my husband. I get cranky, irritable, angry, and just plain ol' sad. I just want to sleep it off, but I know that isn't the answer. Sometimes I wish I could just stare God in the face and scream at Him until I get some answers, but the answers are very slow to come. I still have faith that eventually I will get some of the answers while I'm still on earth. The rest of them will have to wait until I'm home, when I can have a sit-down with the Big Guy and have Him lay it all out for me. Until then, I press on. I do my best to take care of myself and the gift that He has given me. I guess that's really all I can do.

Bummer

2005-06-15T15:07:00.000-07:00

I'm bummed.

I just got a call from Dr. Raiford's nurse about my blood work results. The good news is that they are going to lower my Prograf dose to 7 mgs twice a day instead of 8 mgs twice a day.

The bad news is that they've decided that I'm still anemic and I have to go back on the iron. I would rather take a million pills of anything else than one pill of iron. Iron makes me so sick. When I was taking it at the beginning of my transplant, I ate nothing. I would eat a cracker and throw it up. It made me miserable.

I'm getting blood work done in two weeks. Talk about set-backs. Just when I was getting used to being poked at 6-week intervals, I'm back to 2.

I guess the only other good news in this is that the anemia explains my lack of energy. She said they've known for quite a while that I'm still anemic, but are just now deciding to do something about it. I don't get it. Seems to me like they would have tried to fix this little problem a long time ago...it would have saved me a lot of tiring days and fatigue.

They expect me to be on the iron for at least 2 months. So, if crankiness and my bad moods come through my posts in the next two months, you have my advanced apology. If it gets too bad, I'll probably just refrain from posting for a while.

Please keep me and my husband in your prayers. I know this isn't going to be easy on him, either.

GoodSoil Ministries

2005-06-15T08:22:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to plug a new blog by my friends over at GoodSoil Ministries. They are a mission to the Appalachian region of Tennessee, particularly the Jellico area. I've travelled up there a few times, and they are doing amazing work.

Please visit their blog and try to plug into this ministry, even if it's only by offering up your prayers for the missionaries and the people they are ministering to. It's so worth it!

www.gsmi.blogspot.com

One Year Anniversary!

2005-06-14T15:01:00.000-07:00

Ok, almost....but I did have my one year post-transplant check-up yesterday. It was a pretty exciting day. He ok'd me to move into the "4 month plan" which means that now I will see him every 4 months instead of every 3.

They did have to run some extra tests this time to check on kidney function and other things. Prograf (immunosuppressant-the only drug I'm on right now) will cause kidney failure, and I am on extremely high doses for someone that's a year out. I'm still taking 8 mgs twice a day. I've met people that are only a couple weeks post-transplant and are already down to 4 mgs twice a day. I don't think I'm having any problems in the kidney area, but better safe than sorry.

He wants to start lowering my intake of Prograf, which I'm all for, but he is afraid of rejection, which means that even though I won't have to see him but every 4 months, I will have to get blood work done probably at the frequency that I am now (every 6 weeks) or even once a month.

It's been an eventful year. I'm ready to move on with my life. I want to put this year behind me and charge forward......but I know that's unrealistic. This last year and a half has really re-shaped my life and changed me. I will be able to move on with my currently quasi-normal life, but I will never be able to go back to what I was before this experience. I have grown, I have matured, and I have aged. I just have to learn how to put everything into perspective (which I still struggle with) and do the best I can to live each day to the fullest.

I look back and see the struggles that have shaped my path, and I look forward into a fog that is my future, but I have peace knowing that God is in the midst of it all.

Dirty Feet

2005-06-13T15:34:00.000-07:00

In the Bible, the servants get all the credit. (Except for Martha...but that's another blog). Jesus was a servant. He even went as far as to wash the feet of his disciples. So we're all called to be foot-washers. Cool. I like that.

But I struggle because I have dirty feet. I don't like to admit it, and I don't want people to see, so I hide them. I mask it by washing someone else's feet. Someone needs a meal cooked? I'm there. Somone needs a night away from baby? I'll babysit. Homeless guy on the street is hungry? Here's some coupons for McDonalds. I've got the servant thing down. And I think it's because to be a servant, I don't have to humble myself.

Some people may have the opposite problem that I do. Some people may find it easy to be served, and more difficult to serve. We all have different struggles. Someone may not understand how I see making myself a servant puts me in a position of power. It separates the "haves" from the "have nots." I have time and a little extra money. The one I'm serving doesn't. It means that the person I'm serving has some kind of weakness, and I have the power to help them out of that situation.

I don't like exposing my dirty feet. It means that I have to give over my "power." My "I-can-do-it-all-without-any-help" attitude.

I know I had a liver transplant yesterday, but I don't need your help! I can make it to the bathroom by myself, thankyouverymuch!

Right. The truth is, I couldn't make it to the bathroom. I couldn't cook a meal. I couldn't do my own laundry. I couldn't do the normal day-to-day stuff that everyone takes for granted. People saw my dirty feet, and it forced me to become more humble. It forced me to rely on people that I never thought I would have to rely on for very simple things.

Thanks, Rick, for taking up the slack and being my support system over the last year.
Thanks, Mom and Dad, for staying with me and sticking it out with us.
Thanks, Grandma, for stroking my hair and cleaning me up after getting so sick from the iron.
Thanks, family and friends, for simply being there for us.
Thanks, Otter Creek, for the food, the visits, the cards, and the massive amounts of love and support you offered us.

You all saw my dirty feet, and you did an amazing job of washing them.

????

2005-06-09T09:10:00.000-07:00

I'm exhausted. I expected the American Society of Microbiology meeting (ASM) to be lots of fun, and it was. But after pushing my body and mind to it's limits for the last 5 days, I can't go any more. I realize now that when my boss comes back from these meetings, the bags under his eyes aren't from too much drinking, they're from too much science.

I learned a lot. Perhaps the most important thing that I learned is that I'm not as stupid as I've thought I was for the last two years. Being the lowest person on the education totem poll can really do a number on your self-confidence.

The ride back was worth the whole trip. I've known my boss for 5 years. The first three of those 5 years I was the nanny for his children. On the 4 hour ride home yesterday I learned that we're still friends, that he still really trusts me, and that he really has a lot of faith in me. It's kind of scary.

But, today will give no rest to the weary. I'm motivated again and too tired to do much about it, yet I must push on. There is work to do. Science. And lots of it. The ride home yesterday gave me lots of renewed confidence in myself, my relationship with my boss (not that it was ever bad) and a lot more responsibility on my plate.

It's time for me to step up. So, here it goes.....

Going Again

2005-06-03T14:09:00.000-07:00

I wanted to post something profound and spiritual today, but I didn't get around to it. It'll have to wait until the end of next week.

I'm heading off to Atlanta for work on Sunday. I'll be back sometime at the end of next week.

Have a great weekend, everyone!