Longer Lessons

A lot of things have changed since the end of last September. I really keep looking back at that progression of time as I heal from the last surgery.

There were two types of changes and really, I'm glad I got to taste both groups. There were the lessons I was very aware of. The fights and battles to learn what I needed to in crisis situations. Things like patience in a wheelchair or dependance and trust when handicapped. Things like love for those like me and love for those with more than me. These things were fast and I'm glad I learned them.

Then there were the lessons I just realized were going on this whole time. These were the slow things. The things you learn not by trying, but by being shaped day by day into a completely different person. These are the lessons learned from enduring sickness or enduring trials where the end is not apparent and often not even looked for. Since I just barely realized this week these lessons were going on, I'd like to focus on those ones.

I joked with a friend about one just this Wednesday, but it's true. Through the sickness, one lesson that has finally come about is a certain “wisdom.” Perhaps it is just knowing how to work around my own stupidity most of the time and not trying to pretend it's not there. And sometimes this wisdom simply looks like knowing when to be still and quiet. There's a lot of wisdom to be had in a silent pair of eyes.

Another lesson that took even longer is trust in God. That one had to be learned both the quick and the long ways. The quick one was hard, but in its own way the long one was far harder. It reminds me of a C.S. Lewis quote about how when man looks out and sees no sign of God, but still obeys, then that is the worst predicament for a tempter of his soul. I guess I've felt that quite a few times. Even when I was at my worst in a state of withdrawal, I cursed God, but couldn't deny Him. At my depths, I did not know what else to do, but pray. In fact, I still don't know what else to do.

That's the depth with which He has changed me over the past year and months. Because every time I felt sick or the spasms hit, I learned to turn to Him. So now, whenever anything hits, I know no other way to be.

Endurance is of course the best long lesson to learn. I know I still have a long way on that one, but still the depth of the lesson surprises me. I knew I had to keep going even when my strength was gone and now that I've been given a new chance at energy and life, I hardly know how to contain myself.

Then appreciation for life. Golly, that one just hit me today! I forgot how exciting every breath is, every step is, every chance to see the sun and stars or read a book. And this isn't even heaven! Ha!

I'm glad for the accident. At the beginning, I guessed it was all part of God's plan for me. Good guess, but now I know even some of the good that has come of this and I've got to say (though I do not recommend getting hit by a truck) that it was totally worth it.

Humility and Respect

I really came to appreciate the guys in my interdisciplinary class this year and it culminated in this final watching and voting on final projects for the multimedia series concert.

Sure, a lot of them tried to put on the appearance of "laid back" and "cool slacker," but I came to know better as the semester went on. They may have been light about things on the outside, but when it came to projects, the work really showed. All 7 projects that were shown in class were exceptional. I was surprised at the level that we each produced. The film students learned to score and the music students learned to shoot and everyone learned to use symbolism craftily to express emotion.

But that wasn't the real neat thing about that class. What was really neat about all of the guys was their true humility. They would create something so beautiful and not be timid that they did, but then they were just as thrilled to see the next person's work as they were their own. So, just because you made something incredible, didn't mean the next guy's work was more or less incredible. So when it came to voting, we were all excited with the choices that got on the show. Like my favorite was honestly not my own, though I really loved how it turned out, it was Jeremy's. And all of us cheered when Edgar made it.

I guess it was the love in that class that impressed me.

Just as I was surprised to finally understand something we have had in our Physics class the whole time. On the last day when Carla was about to leave so we could fill out evaluations, our whole class clapped and cheered. Not because she was leaving, but as a sign of deep respect for Carla as a teacher. She was surprised at first, but then did a bit of a bow. I smiled because her eyes said that she was touched, like she was going to cry from love. Carla doesn't get emotional, but none of us held that against her. I realized it was like a "Dead Poet's Society" moment. Where we said, "Oh Captain, my Captain," and meant it. And she knew that we meant it. I don't know how many professors earn standing ovations for a required course, but Carla did.

Each one of us was proud to call her our teacher and she changed lives in there. Just from a Physics 3 class.

Milestone in Adulthood

Today was a big day. We had simply wonderful weather, it was my "day off" that I force myself to take each week, Christmas is coming up, I live in a house, and I didn't feel sick. So, I went out and got some on sale Christmas lights and clips from Ace Hardware. I did the first half myself with a smaller ladder borrowed from Stacy. That part went really well.

Then I got the bigger ladder for the tall roof stuff and had Will help (it takes one to hold the ladder and one to climb). It was difficult and we kept running into problems. Thankfully both of us are easy-going, but hard working and laughed our way through much of it. Now all the lights are hung, though we need one more 8 ft extension cord and aren't actually turning them on until after Thanksgiving is over.

It was a milestone in adulthood to me to have a house and put Christmas lights up on it (the frustration helped me feel justified in the milestone label). Like that first time you have a blocked up toilet or the first time you get a flat tire, it was a neat way to say, "Well golly, I'm growing up."


(And since we're not turning them on for a week, I don't have pictures yet.)

More Thoughts on Wife Stuff

Tonight, we watched "A Beautiful Mind," and for once I put myself in Alicia's position. What would I do if confronted with her situation? Before now, I always put myself in John Nash's shoes. What would I do if my husband went insane?

This last Sunday the sermon at Grace was on being a wife. I can't say that I enjoyed it, but I did get lots of questions at least. It emphasized being submissive, humble, and trusting God. All good, I just was hoping that domestic abuse might be addressed. I have a few friends that need some counsel there and don't feel they can ask for help because they'll just be told they are obviously not submitting properly.

Alicia is a very headstrong woman. Aggressive enough to pull the two of them together when John Nash had no social skills. And yet, there was something undeniably beautiful and right about her too. She accepted John and advised him while giving him room and time to grow. She stopped him when he was wrong (sinning, so to speak) and loved him as much as she could. I think that there were two parts to that love she gave him. One was supporting him without coddling and another was rebuking his sin without coddling. No matter how far gone he was, she always tried to give him chances and didn't throw it in his face when he was not the man she needed him to be. She was an admirable woman even in very tough circumstances.

I was watching some musicians through the practice room doors the other day. I watched as the vocalist would tell the pianist what piece they were to do and the pianist would start playing that song (she was prepared to do so, of course) and at the right time, the vocalist would come in over top of her harmony. She would play loud or soft depending on the vocalist's dynamic choices. The vocalist messed up occasionally, but he fixed it later without the pianist saying anything or hinting that he did. And because of that, he took responsibility for those mistakes and the pianist helped him fix them by telling him if he got it right, encouraging him.

It was a beautiful picture of a relationship. I noticed that the two weren't playing the same instrument or even the same part. That's because it only works if you have two different parts. One clearly supported the other while he led and the vocalist respected the pianist's opinion and talents highly, even if he couldn't truly appreciate all she did. And you know what, she never did enlighten him on that bit of just how hard she works outside the time together.

Just a few thoughts.

For The Love of Music

So, as it happens, I really do love music. Excuse the romanticism, but I'm rather twitterpated and the object of twitterpation can't be embarrassed by my posting.

While I was searching for extra classes (just in case) for next semester, I saw the university had private harp lessons. The idea of harp lessons struck me as fun, so I looked up the teacher and when I couldn't find her listed as faculty, I e-mailed Kim, the main music secretary. While I waited, I played around on my 22-string at home and worked on Gamelan music and other timing related stuff until she e-mailed me back this morning.

Since there were no harp students this semester, the teacher is taking at least a year off. I was a bit disappointed at the news, so I walked past the practice room with the Orchestral Harp and gazed in longingly at it. 47 strings, 4 feet, 7 double pedals and overall simply gorgeous. After staring, I e-mailed Kim back and asked her if I could at least practice on that harp if it was school property and she knows how gentle I am when it comes to my instruments. She said that would be just fine and let me in to practice room X.

Okay...so, I didn't have the time to play like this. I knew there was a myriad of other things I could be doing, but once inside the room, I fell in love again and I was lost. It's hard to describe the wonder and childlike fascination when a musician is presented an instrument like that to play. Like a baby grand after an upright or an amp when you've been playing electric unplugged. I squeezed in around the harpsichord and situated myself in the proper harp technique, pressing the pedals with my feet while gazing up at all of the synchronized gears turning, listening to the overtones inadvertantly plucked as I did so. I got in proper hand positions, closed my eyes and played "Musette's Waltz" by Puccini. Oh, how wonderful it felt! Since, like the double bass, you lean against the harp I could feel it through my whole body, different tones resonating with different bones and filling me up to my ears. I rolled chords and played with dynamics, using far more octaves than the original arrangement I had memorized called for. And when I was done with that, I settled into a ballad emoting through the strings what I don't have words for yet.

I fell in love with music in a way I haven't done in a while. Sure, music always gets me quite a bit and I like practicing and performing, but this... It was transporting me to another dimension of interaction. I enjoyed every minute, dusting the harp off, tuning every one of the 47 keys, just everything. It was terribly difficult to part, but I had to go to class. I plucked one last bass note and put on the cover. But somehow, it renewed me to music in a way I've forgotten for a while. My flute playing had heart and my composing had emotion again. I guess that's what love does. I forget every time.

"Innerconnections"

So, in film we just turned in our self portraits. There were many parameters on the project, but the basic gist was we were to pick an idea about ourselves and express it symbolically through film and music.

I chose to do mine on how I mix the worlds of science, faith, and music indiscriminately.

The class really liked it and honestly I was pleasantly surprised. Though of the three subjects I chose, my classmates were only really a part of the music world, each one expressed how they liked different parts mixing. None are Christian, none are physicists, but they all had positive things to say about even those parts of me and how they were expressed. One guy said, "It's like you're saying the same thing just in three languages that I hadn't heard translated between before. Here, it's like they're...they're the same thing just said different."

The piece reflected the happiness I've found as well as the peace. And the excitement of the ever-changing parts of each subject. The really happy section of almost all Gamelan made them laugh because, yes, I am far too happy to be allowed sometimes. Then there were comments on the interesting instruments I used. They asked what they were and I had to admit that mostly it was simply my voice made to sound like a flute or harp or drum.

So, here it is. Compressed a lot on video and audio for easier internet streaming:
"Innerconnections"

"The Authority" and "The Unnamed God"

Lately (within the past month) I have been squeezing in reading a few books that had inspiration for thoughts about God. First of all, I went back and reread "The Golden Compass" and its sequels which is known to be a very adamant atheist series. The first time around when I read it, I didn't remember it to be so and decided it would be good to find out why.

The answer to that one was easy. I didn't know God back then.

In the second book, they begin talking about god and how the main character's dad, Lord Asriel, was going to try to kill him. This god they spoke of was referred to as "The Authority." The reason I don't capitalize this god is he's not God. And anyone who knows Him sees that right away. The Authority was tired of the human race, indifferent, and no longer even ran things, he gave over authority to an angel and decided to wipe out the whole race down to a single Adam and Eve again.
I didn't even recognize this god. He wasn't even a good parody of God. How could the true Creator of all that is and was and every will be not love His creations?
He tells us He does and has proved it countless times, the biggest example being Christ. In this series, there was no mention of Christ and I could understand why. "The Authority" never would have sacrificed himself to save us, but God did.

In the next book, "Wicked" the minister at the beginning uses an odd name for God. He keeps saying, "The Unnamed God" and makes all these crazy assumptions. One of the biggest lies was "God wants me to be content, without strife in this life." Ha.
Then I realized that he doesn't know God either. How could he know Him and say He is unnamed? He is not unnamed! He is Christ, He is the Great I Am! Name Him and love Him.

Just like in "A Wind in the Door," there is a concept of people being named and naming people. Once you name someone, you can't help but love them for who they are, as they are, good and bad. God gave us some of His names. Every time I use one, I get this thrill of love in my stomach.

What then saddened me is that these views are real ones. I mean, there are really, actively people out there who don't know Him for who He is. All god is to them is an absent, angry, unknowable being or else someone who demands obedience but does not earn it.

My God is the God of Love. He's my Dad and actively interested in my every thought. He's a God who wants my best, not my comfort, and He would love me if I didn't obey His laws, but I do and only serve Him gladly, not out of a sense of should haves.
I am proud to say I know Him and that's about all I'm really proud about: That He is my God!

Switching Wills

Though I have a lot of stress, not often do I actually "feel" stressed. (Exams being an obvious exception.) Usually I just try to delve in and do all that I can without looking to when the craziness will end. But today was one of those rare days that I actually felt stressed out for a while.

To be short: I have a project for film, my SD card for the video didn't work, the cord for my external harddrive died, there was no cord to hook up the camera directly, the cord I bought for the harddrive didn't work with the USB hub, the computer that I had to use did not have the right conversion program, that computer also had no internet to download that program, no internet meant no online help manual, the physical help manual was outdated, after getting the files to the computer they were the wrong type, the camera wouldn't copy to the newly purchased SD card, camera needed turned back in for another student, the harddrive crashed...etc, etc, etc.

During all of this I was feeling stressed out. As is my habit now, I began to pray before really stopping to think about it. I said that I was stressed and that I knew worrying couldn't add an hour to my life, but could it help me not lose 12 hours of recorded film footage? Then I said that I knew this was all for my good and I'm sure if I worked it right, this whole thing could make me look more like Christ (the ultimate good God refers to). 

Then I stopped to think about that last thought. This was meant to shape me into someone looking more like Christ. Was Christ ever stressed and struggling with human nature?

After that my prayer changed entirely. I asked for help because I wasn't strong enough to do this without getting stressed, but you can't love by worrying like that. And though part of me felt perfectly justified in my feelings I remembered that worship is an act of discipline. I asked God to help me throw out my own perfectly strong will and replace it with His will. It wasn't something I could do half-heartedly, I really meant for His will to be done and not mine. Mine was to be frustrated. His will for me was to trust in Him even if that meant things not "working out." It was a battle that went on for hours down there in the lab, but every time the battle to give over my will became easier. 

It felt strange because I was fighting myself and not Him, which is opposite of how my sin-based self operates. My human instinct is to blame bad luck and get angry, this time I felt as though I was fighting to lay my self on an altar. I suppose now that I said it that way, I can see how right that is and I'm going to try to get on that altar whenever I can.

One Year

It's strange to think of, but it's only been one year since I was hit by that truck. Exactly one year ago I was sitting at Carol's house in a wheelchair looking ahead with intense trepidation to surgery and cheering myself up by figuring out how to solve the problems I could while faced with so many I couldn't. Like how to take a picture of myself including wheelchair without a camera timer and limited range of motion in all limbs or how to maneuver the wheelchair at the end of the hall to get into my room without help.

I look back on that time with a smile in my eyes because that's when the seed of faith that had been planted and sprouted that spring took some real root and grew. It's when I learned a little piece of another world and  started fighting to learn the lessons that I otherwise would have had a worse time learning.

Just yesterday, I asked a few people for help without them prompting me. You see, one thing that was a major battle for me (Carol and Dad as my main witnesses) was needing help and asking for it. I never wanted to be weak. And I couldn't stand the thought of actually asking for help from someone. But I had to learn...again...and again and again how to do that. Now, a year later, I can say that humility is really starting to internalize. The battle comes up every once in a while, but admitting weakness isn't a trial anymore.

I've found that just walking is enough cause to smile. I was asked about it the other day in between classes, what I was smiling about and I asked in turn, "Do you realize how amazing it is to have two functional legs and all the muscle and bone intact and working together? Or how wonderful that feeling is each time you switch your weight to one side or another without any crutches? It's plenty enough to smile at."

There's another lesson that has become more a part of who I am. And that's that it's very hard for me not to initially love people. I don't even want to fight them now where before I loved debating. I guess that's patience. Sure, I loved people initially before, but now the patience extends beyond that so that I love them later too.

I don't particularly advise getting hit by a truck, but it really was exactly what I needed. I've deepened as a person and in relation to God... In fact those two are really intimately connected.

              “What I believe about God is the most important thing about me.”- A.W. Tozer

 I've still got so much to learn...in fact, getting hit smacked this idea into my skull that I really am not near as wise as I'd like to think. Wisdom was realizing that you can't run as fast as you can as soon as you're allowed to. Wisdom was asking for a ride to the doctor instead of trying to wheel there. Wisdom was not being jealous of people who could walk and run. Wisdom was knowing that that wheelchair was exactly where I was meant to be at that time. 

I can now, honestly, look back with nothing short of complete gratitude for this experience. All in one year.  

Marriage

So my secular friends will have to forgive my spiritual take on this and my spiritual friends will have to forgive my secular take on this, but I've been looking into the subject of marriage.

I've been watching young couples and couplings and old married couples and trying to figure this out the best that I can. Because we're in a fallen world, things, including this high commitment, aren't how they're supposed to be. In fact, for a while there from what I saw, there seemed to be no reason at all to get married. At least not for the girl.

All I saw were wives rolling over while husbands lorded over them, girlfriends compromising beyond all reason, and everyone generally trying to hide who they really were around their spouses. I asked one friend who is against marriage why people bothered and she answered, “For sex and stability and because social training says marriage is how you get those two things.”

I saw how children were affected by all this too and it was just sad. What I see there is a prime little petri dish for growing those women who just have sex with no strings and those who want nothing to do with it or marriage. Because they sure aren't going to go through that sort of unhappiness when they grow up. And quite frankly I was of the latter half. My sex drive isn't strong and I've got God for stability, so what other reasons would there be for marriage?

Yet, even deep in my cynicism, there were couples, married couples, that shine through. I'm not talking when I first meet them, but when I get to see how they treat each other without thinking later on. Anyone can make a front at first, but there were little things about these couples. Like how the wife would sidle over to lean against her husband or how the two would look at each other and their eyes would soften or how they would do something crazy like set a newspaper in the hallway and when I'd ask why they would answer, “Oh. Well, I do that whenever there's a good article. Saves them the trouble of reading all of them.”

These were the relationships that I wondered about. Kinda like when I was looking at Christianity. There were people who just exuded love that was out of this world and it came out in the little things. That's what drew me in then too. So, these people had something...something I couldn't quite grasp.

But I see this in Christian and non-Christian alike. Both the good and the bad. So it wasn't necessarily a matter of being saved.

One friend responded to my observations with, “Well, Jen. That's what we call love.” I wasn't sure about that. Then again, love's a difficult concept. Inspiring, but difficult like faith.

So, I began looking up love and saw the verses about what love looks like in the Bible. After reading things like the good Samaritan, the prodigal son, Abraham, Esther, and Christ, I had to agree it's love. The same feeling I had watching those (like I wanted to sigh, skip and dance and cry) is the same as when I see the couples that give me faith in marriage.

Sure, they fight, disagree, compromise, and sin, but love's more powerful than that if you let it work through you. 1^st Peter taught me a lot about both husband and wife. It talks in Chapter 5 of using your authority over those you are in charge of as God wanted you to, basically with love and consideration. 1^st Peter 3:7 especially. I remembered love things from Christ's life and how to lead is to serve. Yup, that's a Godly man. Not the one who says, “I'm in charge, so overall when we disagree, you submit.”

Though whether or not they do right, the wife should be firm to God and gentle and submissive. The reason totally compromising gets me is at that point you are no longer firm to God. As it said in chapter 3, the man may be turned by his wife's example. Do not give way to fear (including that of your husband's approval). And what I mean there is that when it comes down to it, follow God first and husband second. Submissive can be a beautiful thing and feel completely right. Like in dancing being led isn't being forced, nor is it taking charge and leading yourself. It's also an active thing, at least for me. Submitting isn't passive, just like dancing swing style is a breathless whoosh of constantly listening with every sense you have for the leading on what crazy move you both about to do next. If you just say, "Sure, whatever you want to do," without actually getting into the move it will be real awkward real fast. I think relationships are like that with submitting.

Also know that your beauty is in your character. And boy, I don't have to look far to see that that is true. Have you ever met that brave, strong, but gentle woman? I've met quite a few and they are indeed beautiful. And meeting that considerate man who cherishes his wife? Amazing.

It's almost impossible not to smile when you see that old couple walking side by side in the park. And that's not dependent on whether you agree with marriage or not. There's just something totally, undeniably right with it when you see them shuffling along the path holding hands. And that gives me hope.

He Gives and Takes Away

Thursday, I went on a great hike with 3 wonderful Christ-like ladies, one of which I had only heard stories about, but never met before.

Near the beginning of the hike, Stacy (my friend on the far left), told this lady, Sharon (to my right), that I had just had a terrible bike accident since I usually forget to mention it to new people. Sharon was interested and asked me to tell the whole story which I outlined for her. She said, "Wow. Well, at least that's over. And with only two surgeries." I confessed that it had been 4 surgeries so far with one more to go.

She's a believer too, so she wasn't too surprised at my happiness. But she was surprised when I said, "After the first time I was told I needed more surgery, I was depressed. The next time, it was worse, but then the third time, I realized the real lesson that He gives and takes away."

Sharon (I sure came to love that girl) said, "Oooh! Tell me more!"

I told her that my worst time during all of this was my best time. I told her about the night after surgery, just a few days after I got hit, when we planned poorly and had me totally off pain pills. I called and called for someone to help and they didn't hear. I was stripped of everything. I was out of my mind with pain. I couldn't move. I could hardly breathe. My mind was crippled. And my help was not answering my desperate yells. There was nothing left, but prayer.

That was when I prayed. The pain did not leave, there was no miraculous healing. My mind still was confused and help still did not come. But God filled me. He filled me with so much spirit that I can never forget it. And I realized that everything I had was His, but even if I had nothing to give, He loved me the same.

And also, I fully realized, God's more than enough for all of me. A wheelchair isn't the end of the world, as funny as that sounds. And I can face being stripped of everything because God fills what I can't fill anyway.

Sharon was surprised. When I told her that I'd learned a lesson, she wasn't expecting the lesson to be so deep coming from one so young.

And it's not just blind faith. I am not lightly saying, "Here am I." The pain of seeing yourself as bad as you really are hurts terribly. And this life holds pain as well. But He is my strength, comfort, and hope. And that's why i can fully accept all He gives and takes away.

Depths

Tonight a friend and I talked about experience, faith and death.

It started with a conversation on heaven and all the different views on it and on afterlife in general. There are so many ideas, like flutes and harps, or wings and halos. And to be honest, I was rather fascinated with that before now. Whether I was LDS, wicken, pagan, taoist, it mattered a lot. I've faced death enough times to honestly consider this topic.

But since accepting Christ into my life, things changed. As I said to this friend, “I used to care about the afterlife or heaven and I guess I still do somehow. I remember asking Carol questions about it when we first started talking. But when I accepted Christ then I shrugged it off and haven't though about it much since then. Because past this point there's not really anything I can do to change where I'm going to go after I die. And if it's good enough for God, then it's good enough for me and I don't think I need to worry myself about heaven's details.”

She said that it made sense, since in other religions you worry about the afterlife because you still have the chance to change it. And if you can't, you don't worry much. “It shows your depth of faith in God, Jen. We do believe, as Christians, that we can't earn our way to heaven, but often in life we try to manipulate it anyway as if we could.”

I thought about what she said and agreed that it was true. Then I thought about how many times in my life where I've been at that moment where you are looking death in the face and you see rushing at you. In that moment you realize that this may be the last moment you have on earth and you go through an amazing amount of thought in those one or two seconds. Not a whole life flashing behind your eyes thing, at least not for me, but beyond the fear is a serious query of where are you going when you die.

When I saw the car would smash into the mountain, when I saw the rocks rushing up to meet us over the waterfall, I had fear that this was it, or worse, that there was an eternity that I hadn't been prepared for and was doomed because of it. This last time as I was lying on the road, possibly going to be run over by a car as I lay helpless, it was different. This time, I could feel God was there. I didn't worry about heaven or hell for once. He'd be there and that was what really mattered at that moment. As I thought this and expressed some verbally, the depth of my change hit me. I'm not who I was.

I suppose that means I'm learning to trust God.

The conversation shifted to experience. Just the day before, I had someone think I was 30 after talking to me because I'd “experienced so much life in 22 years, that it could give many a 50 year old a run for their money” as she said. My friend there also said, “There's not really a replacement for experience. We can sympathize and empathize to our hearts content, but once we've gone through it, we understand fully in a way we never did before.”

I told her, “One experience I haven't had fully, but understand much more now than ever before is cancer. I've watched friends go through it and lost many. I've held hands and helped cheer up. But this time... I have now experienced what it is like to work out and work at building your strength up, working so hard, knowing that you are about to go through another procedure that will strip all of that work away. But more than that. To do this again and again, knowing that all the struggle will be for nothing except to keep you strong enough to be stripped of your strength. You don't know if you'll ever win the battle and sometimes you even know that you won't. It's tougher than I could have ever known before. And being a Christian, mentally, you know that Christ is all you need, so you shouldn't be depressed by all of this. Depression isn't really acceptable as a side effect where other stuff is, though, really it's natural.”

My friend said, “I've watched my mom get diagnosed and die from cancer. And despite how close I was to her, you just verbalized what I could see in her struggle better than I ever could have said it. But I've never been through that myself, so I can only imagine.”

Depth. I suppose that one word describes much of what I've gained during all of this. Depth in relationships, including with God. Depth of understanding. Depths of humility. Depths of pain and depression. Depths of joy. Depths of peace. Depths of trust in God.

Some Lessons Learned in a Wheelchair

There have been some truly amazing things going on in my life this past week, and more generally these past six months.

Slowly, but surely, everything that needs to stop being a part of me is being chipped away and I'm being sculpted into something else. It makes me smile because the night before the accident I prayed to be Christ-like and now I'm seeing that's what's been going on this whole time.

One thing that's been hard for me is "submitting to another person's will" even when that will is the will of my surgeon or the ER doctor. But today it hit me during the sermon that Christ's will was that the bitter cup should pass from him and God's will was that it needed to happen. So Christ submitted. As strange as it is, I want to be like that. And finally past this third surgery (with help from friends) I'm beginning to accept that what I want is not always the best route (though when it comes to stuff besides my health, I'm generally pretty wise).

Then today I was stacking chairs and a three year old girl came up to me. She and I talked and got along pretty well and I found myself playing with her and teaching her as opposed to doing my job for quite some time. I found that I felt this was all right and remembered that Christ sure liked little children probably more than I did. Besides, as funny as it was, we spoke the same language: Bluntly straightforward and pretty happy.

I wondered if I would have been patient enough to have that hour or so with her had I not learned stillness in a wheelchair, though. Since before I had more work priority.

And there was more peace as the day went. Someone forgot they were to meet with me today. I was inconvenienced to be sure, but somehow I couldn't be angry. It was totally her fault, but I simply didn't mind. Now that one was sure a new feeling. And one I really liked. But once again, it was a lesson learned in a wheelchair.

Someone asked today if I needed help and for one of the first times I said, "Yes," and quite frankly did not feel entitled, just grateful. That was learned near the end of my time in a wheelchair. Humility. Because you can still hold onto pride for a surprisingly long time after being crippled I found.

Then I remembered how during those first ten days, I learned to trust. I've always had issues with that. But this forced me to trust in Carol and really really trust in God more than I ever naturally would have because I simply could not do it on my own.

And today as people marveled at me being able to walk again, I was amused. They seemed surprised that I could be so happy when I was going through so much hard stuff. But really, how could I not be happy when I was so blessed?! You see, when I was stripped of everything, I realized nothing is truly mine. everything is a gift from Him. So if my bouncing stride gives Him glory, great. If my voice or my mind or my hands can praise Him, great. It was a hard lesson that by no means is over, but it sure makes life more joyful to realized how utterly loved you are.

And all this was learned through pain and humiliation. Through fear, terror, and depression. But He's right. It's way worth it in the end.

A Noble Calling

It's amazing how the more you slow down, the faster you can learn. I teach this with my students by telling them to slow down and learn things right slowly rather than to only halfway understand all the material. I also know this works in canoeing and kayaking. A slow steady stroke always gets you the furthest. Who knew it works spiritually too?

In response to this strictly enforced bed rest deal, there's been a lot of learning going on. You see, the way it worked out, I got to see two people each day. One in the morning, one in the evening. Always different people. And by the time they came, I wanted to get out some energy in the only way I could figure was allowed: Games. And the funny thing about board games and card games and sharing meals is you end up inevitably talking to the person. And if you're not careful, you might learn something.

There have been a lot of really good lessons, but one I wish to share is part of one that I had with a friend of mine on Saturday.

It came up between us about big changes that had happened to both of us, being newer converts especially. Deep changes God put on us about what it is we wanted in life.

I finally got to express something that had been forming for a while now. I've been blessed with so many amazing people around. Like a single friend that would foster a troubled teen boy, or some friends that would go on missions, or friends that are learning to be pastors and counselors, or friends that spend a lot of their time in teaching bible studies. I feel blessed to be around all of them, but also left out.

Each time I talk to them, they say that God called them to it and I can tell that they mean it. And yet, when I pray, I haven't heard Him call me to any of those things. I told my friend on Saturday that it felt like all of these people had "noble" callings or spiritual callings, but not me. I wanted one too.

My friend wisely brought up the "body of Christ" imagery and said that she had to remind herself that we are not all eyes, though we might want to be. The body is made up of all sorts and remembering that is key.

That made me think all right. It also made me remember a a quote from Joni Eareckson Tada talking about praising God and saying if it was her call to praise Him from a wheelchair, she'd just praise all the louder.

It humbled me a lot to realize that what I'm going through right now...that is my calling. And it may not be noble, but it's where God wants me to be. And I can rest in that.

Not In Control

It's amazing what can happen in such a short time. On Sunday, I was so depressed. That morning I had found out for certain what I had feared before, much to my disappointment, that the hospital stuff is not over. I will need to go back for the hip several times more and there is a real possibility that I could have to have painful surgeries frequently for the next while. Things felt so unfair. Why was it that so much pain and suffering and just plain bad luck could happen to me when I tried so dang hard? I asked the question I never really questioned much, even during the accident:
"Why me?"

Life felt out of control. I knew a while ago I needed to slow down, which is a pretty hard concept for me. And I had actually managed to do so, but things kept being piled on, so that despite slowing, I didn't have the free time I needed. I also felt so alone. I didn't have much time to give to my friends and they were busy too. I didn't feel like I could really ask for help. So, I wondered what I was supposed to do. Hold on and fight even harder, more stubborn than ever before? Or give up and just let go of everything?

There were two things that the Holy Ghost whispered to me after that very long day. The first really hit me, since it had been a while since I heard Him so clearly.
"Slowing down is not giving up."

I thought about it and realized that I had decided in my own mind that I was a failure for slowing down. The reminder was much needed at this time, so I knew the answer was not to let go of everything, at least not in the way I thought of it.

Still, everything was so crazy. I tried and tried, but it was all too much for me to handle. Then I understood the next statement to be simply, "You are not in control."

Oh...

I realized that I had put myself in the center of my little universe and was getting angry that I wasn't very good at being my own deity of it.

So, was I to hold on tighter? No. Not to my throne. I needed to back off and have patience enough to trust that God can be a god so much better than I can. But at the same time, I wasn't to give up. Trusting God is no passive thing. At least not in my life. Some can trust Him pretty easily, but I question, doubt, and give in to stubbornness on quite a regular basis, so it's a battle just to give it up to Him.

That night, when I finally got it, I felt a huge weight off of my shoulders. I wasn't in control. ...phwew...

And in the morning, life was crazy once more, but thankfully, I wasn't in charge of it. He is.

Optimistic

It's happened quite a few times now.

First I saw a friend from choir at intervarsity and he told me that my blog posts and facebook posts had been really uplifting. I kinda figured he was just being nice, but expressed my surprise anyway. It seemed odd for him to make such a claim, after all, I wrote stuff like "I've been fighting depression" and "it hurt more than I thought possible." He still maintained that it was inspirational, but I didn't get it.

Then at bible study, I was saying, "I understand that. It's really hard not to be depressed when you can't move. I mean, I remember when I could first walk with crutches, it was like a cloud was lifted off me. I was happy again."
One of the girls I've become close to in there said, "But you were always happy."

I was confused. How could they not see it? Both of these people are perceptive, so how could they miss my sadness and my internal battles against giving up?

It was strange, but that was another thing to come up in the multiple talks from wise people I got this week. Many have said I'm optimistic, hopeful, and never lose my smile in the hard times.

And then I realized how this could be. I may let down my smile, but people remember that I kept fighting. That's what my friends tried to tell me. It's that I don't sugar-coat what's happening, but I say, "I've been fighting this sadness," not "I wish I was happy." They remember the fact that there was a fight, they see what it is I'm fighting and then remember that afterwards, I'll laugh and smile.

It came up again tonight when I told someone to stop worrying. She laughed and said, "Jen, I'm not like you. I can't face your demons with grace from who knows where and come out victorious. I worry when I hear the word surgery. I care what people think. I panic when the world is crashing down. I just don't have your optimism."

Even Kim, my long time roommate to which I can say I share very few qualities with, said that, "Well of course you're happy. I've seen you get hit by a truck, go through surgeries, and still positively beam when you see a soap bubble in the sink of dirty dishes."
I pointed out that she had seen me when I wasn't quite so chipper.
Kim said, "Yes. You have your nasty moments and pushy moments. Good thing too or I'd think you weren't human...even more than I do now."

It's so strange to think of since it's a quality I had considered unattainable for someone as left brained and logic based as I was and am. Yet, it was a combination of logic and faith that gets me through things. Maybe that's really the optimism perceived. It's trust in God and that there's something better than all this.

Just for fun

So, I did something fairly silly this semester. Perfectly in my character, but totally silly. I stubbornly jumped back into life as if I was my usual 120% self. Taking on way more than was possible for someone who is healed to 80% normal or so.

I broke down quite a few times, not wanting to give up anything, but at the same time, I wasn't really enjoying much of anything either. It really hit me when I started losing my enjoyment of music that I'd pushed things far too far. Several very wise people have cornered me in the past few days and though they each said many things, one thing they all said was to step back and find out what I enjoy.

Post-surgery on the hip also reminded me of that. When you've only got a few hours per day to do things, you are forced to prioritize what you really want to do.

I'm still processing a lot of the other stuff they said, so in the spirit of the one concept I got, I found that i really like challenging myself and find some sort of overwhelming enjoyment of sound and color put together in loops or with movement, so I found this neat program online and started playing around for a little. It's not something I'd do for an extended period of time, but it was nice to break away for a bit.

Just for fun.
And try 2.

Disappointments and Discoveries

This last week has been an amazing combination of disappointments and discoveries. On Saturday, I was out with a shop-a-holic and we went to an antique store. That was the first discovery, when I found myself drawn to a book. I didn't feel like spending money, so I kept on walking around the store, looking at all the other stuff, but 5 times I found myself standing next to the one bookshelf, looking at it. I took that as a hint and bought it. As I finally gave in and paid for "The Shack" it felt right, though I had no time to read it and I knew it.

Monday started out with realizing I had forgotten entirely to do a piece of important homework for an online class. I was disappointed in myself with that only to discover that I had completely forgotten several other things and nearly forgot quite a few more. Then I picked up an A+ exam from the end of last semester. AS the teacher congratulated me on getting the best grade in the class, I was looking at the exam and my stomach churned. I didn't remember any of it. I didn't remember the problems or the answers, even though obviously I had known them all well recently. A few more tests and I found that most of my memory in general from those three months was gone. Not to mention this loss of memory that is continuing.

I limped along, feeling like kicking something as my whole right side ached. Cramps started that day and a near crippling migraine blasted my right side continually. It was nearly the end of the month and the last roommate I had set up to look at the place just cancelled on me. I was to go to a meeting for a committee I'd forgotten I was even on. I lost the page of things I was supposed to remember that day, so I knew there'd be tons of things to deal with at some later time. The depression came back in full and in trying to find out what I could remember, I brought up a lot of memories I'd rather not. My nap was full of nightmares and my day was beset with flashbacks I couldn't seem to fight. I was hiding myself behind a cloak of happiness I didn't feel, spreading excitement to people when I felt so far removed from the concept.

In that moment, I didn't exactly show God my best side. I asked Him "why" without really expecting Him to answer. I'm not quite sure if I was first angry at God and that transferred to being angry with myself or if I was really angry with myself and put that into our relationship. Either way I knew they were connected. I told Him how I felt so alone in so many ways and how I felt like He was just becoming a fictional character that I'd read in a reputable book.

So, that night He spoke to me. Not audibly, but clearly. He said to take the whole day Tuesday off at least and that He'd make it work out (even though I was panicking due to lack of trust). I was still in the depression, but logic pointed out that even if nothing else happened, I really could use some sleep and physical healing.

After chorus that night, I did some homework and then sat down to pray. At first I tried to kneel, but that didn't work and with that, the frustration began to pour out. Honest prayers are quite usual for me and this one was no exception to that part. But the thing that changed was when I was done with all of my complaining and it was quiet for a while, He spoke back. He lead me through scriptures and books. He whispered to me and I brought every hard question I could think of to Him. I can't say I understood all of the answers and of the ones I did get, I didn't like more than two thirds of them. But He was speaking to me. And there weren't any pat answers. The healing continued through that night. There was rather a lot that He was leading me through, correcting a lot of the walls of safety I had put around myself to block Him out.

Then He told me to bring out that book He had me get on Saturday. I listened to Him and He was right. It was exactly what I needed at that moment. The whole day was spent reading praying and listening. Change happened. A whole lot of change. I fought with Him over things still. Like why would He let little children suffer? Why was He so hard to hear? Why did He have so many rules? Why did he let so much bad stuff happen? How could He love us? What balance is there supposed to be between our lives and time we spend in devotion to Him? How can we love someone, but be under obligation to try to change them? Why do some people get life so easy and others of us so hard?

And through that book and prayer and scripture, I got more than answers. (...how can I say it?) I guess I became best friends with Him. It's a relationship thing, where before it was a hierarchical thing. It's not like I don't question (in fact, I'm built to be that way) but now I feel safe to question. And funny enough, I don't think I would have recognized the best friendship thing had I not been blessed with something close to that here on Earth. It's that same thrill of the stomach and bouncing on the balls of your feet feeling that I get when I think about spending time with my best friends. Except, it's all the time.

I've cried over a lot of stuff. Which is quite strange for me. But it was the stuff He cried about.

By the time Wednesday came around, I was changed. Things were just as tough in so many ways, but they were better. Meaning that the experiences hurt, but now there's hope and purpose in that. Not to mention someone to share discoveries with, which makes the whole thing easier.

I would recommend "The Shack," but just as a warning, the front cover says, "Where tragedy meets eternity." And it does have some hard stuff in there. But real. Real pain and real healing, by the only One who really can.

Trained with Love

As I was walking with a friend this morning the subject of my dog, Benjamin's, training came up. She said, "I can see why you wanted him with you so bad. He's a really good dog."

I laughed and said, "Yes. With a good sense of humor too." I told her how I'd trained dogs before, but with Ben, I decided to train him with love. "You see, he will get off our favorite chair so I can sit, just because he loves me that much. Or when the dogs in our neighborhood started jumping their fences, Ben did too. The difference was when I went in the backyard, I'd call him and he'd jump back over to meet me while the other owners had to chase their dogs back in."

I thought of the last time it was tested. At the vet, Ben was getting shots. Dad was holding him, but Ben would still struggle to get out. Then we had me hold him down while Dad helped the vet look at his teeth and give him two more shots. As soon as I held him, I talked softly into his neck and wrapped my arms around him in a loose hug. He didn't move, though he was experiencing something terrible that he had no previous reference for. But since he knew I loved him with all my heart and only wanted the best for him always, he fought the panic and simply obeyed me and listened to my voice.

Later this morning, I was praying. Talking to God about these changes with the surgery and all the fears that have cropped up from the accident. I told Him that I didn't understand why and I had no previous reference for dealing with all this. But I also said I trusted Him and knew that He always wanted the best for me. And I sang, "So I will be still and know You are God."

The connection hit me after the prayer and I smiled. You know what that means? I was trained, not simply with obedience, but rather, with love. Trained with love. It means that even when I do wrong, He calls me and I come running back to Him. It means that when I put myself on our favorite chair (His throne) then I will empty it only for Him because I love Him just that much. It means that when I'm scared, He wraps His arms around me in a loose hug and speaks to me. And since I love Him, I will be still and listen to His voice.