project 365: 06.08-21.09

{06.08.09: monday} celebrated my 25th birthday (wow, already?). but because the kitchen & food was mostly packed away, we had to improvise: angel food cake, frosting, trail mix for toppings (apparently there is a #25 on the top...), a noodle for the candle (note to self: noodles don't light very well), plastic plates & forks...& tissue for napkins. what you can't see is the apples my mom sliced to adorn our water glasses (in lieu of lemons, which we'd already given away) & the haphazard dinner we ate that night. a birthday to remember :)


{06.09.09: tuesday} a preview of our dinner picnic. tuesday was, by far, our busiest packing day. the house seemed full (& was!) in the morning...& with a little help lifting the heavy objects, it was mostly cleared out by the time we sat down for a carpet-picnic dinner in our bedroom (the only floor space not yet cleaned) at 10pm. the rolled up 'thing' behind us was our bed for that night--the memoryfoam mattress topper covered with old sheets. best sleep i've had in a while.

{06.10.09: wednesday} we finished packing the second POD & surface cleaned the house (according to the provided checklist). this photo was taken around 11:30pm. jon sent me flowers for my birthday (thanks jon!!)--sunflowers & lilacs :) the perfect accessory to our hotel room--and the empty used-to-be-dining-room.


{06.11.09: thursday} jon called in the middle of the night on thursday. in our hotel room, the bathroom was the only place i could escape to. so there i was in my underwear & tanktop, with freshly manicured toes (thanks mom!), bed-hair...sitting on the toilet in the bathroom. we tried for over an hour to get webcam to work but the network connection was too slow.


{06.12.09: friday} the car transport company finally got their truck out of the shop...& the nice smiley man picked it up on friday evening. timing (God's, not ours) was perfect.


{06.13.09: saturday} after getting voluntarily bumped from our flight back home, we spent the night in Atlanta with family.

{06.14.09: sunday} two days traveling, a few run-ins with airport staff (& almost security!), i'd never been so relieved to see the open spaces & windy river of the town i'll call home for the next year :)


{06.15.09: monday} my first night back at the parent's casa & we filled our evening with salmon, wine, & talk in the crisp (non-humid!) air outside on the deck. i forgot how much i love summers here!


{06.16.09: tuesday} putting my face on for the day...jet-lagged, emotionally drained, & exhausted after a somewhat sleepless night, i needed the extra eyeliner in my morning routine.


{06.17.09: wednesday} a clear picture & sound when jon called. :) our conversation was cut short because he was needed elsewhere...but i got a little sneak peak at what his morning routine was like...


{06.18.09: thursday} my preceptor called in sick...giving me a FREE full day to study! i studied most of the morning & at least a few hours in the afternoon--just long enough to realize i've got a long ways to go before i feel remotely ready for Boards in September.


{06.19.09: friday} on call...luckily, no phone calls in the middle of the night. the family was out of town...& i caught up on computer work--with a surprise webcam opportunity with jon thrown in the mix. i'll take those surprises anyday.


{06.20.09: saturday} drove to yakima to visit the Clark's. my little brother had grown a lot since the last time i'd seen him...a few extra pounds and a LOT of extra energy.


{06.21.09: sunday} HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!! we spent the day talking, movie watching (UP!! such an adorable have-to-own-it movie! and it's even better in 3-D!!!), & eating...couldn't ask for much more than that!

project 365: 06.01-07.09

monday: reading material for the evening (Primary Care in Otolaryngology)


tuesday: tomato, spinach, & egg "omelette" for breakfast (in quotations because i try to avoid using too much egg--don't care for the taste, but eat it for the source of protein)


wednesday: cleaning out the pantry--filled SIX bags to donate to the local food bank!


thursday: had to use the leftover baking ingredients...& just happen to have all the mixin's for chocolate chip cookies...bummer


friday: had the gym almost to myself at 7:30pm...


saturday: spent the morning dumping out old, weed-filled potting soil & scrubbing the planters for storage


sunday: frantically looked for the car keys for at least five minutes before church...only to find that they spent the night in the keyhold; good thing i dead-bolted & chain-locked the door, huh? {this is one of jon's biggest pet peeves!!}

project #2: christmas book.

Christmas wins the “favorite season” award in this household. And truth-be-told, Jon usually starts the Christmas music around October. The sleigh bells & jingle swells are welcomed by me, though…I kind of like the season, too.

I bought a double-pack of photo albums about 4 years ago…& while one was filled up immediately, the other sat unused in a box. Around the time of the guest book idea, I ran across yet another idea from Becky Higgins: a Christmas book. This basic Target-brand photo album was perfect…



Being that it is our favorite season & we try to make the most of celebrating it each year, I thought it would be fun to have a book holding the memories surrounding that glorious food-filled jingle-belled holiday season!



Things started out much the same way—I started with a basic sketch that would be relatively consistent throughout the book. Becky’s book is large—but as she shared it via a video on her blog (video is on Nov. 9, 2007), I realized just how cool something like this year-after-year could be! (call me crazy, or nutty, or a paper-nerd…).

{see!! it isn't done yet! this is a page for favorite Christmas memories/tradition in each of our households growing up...}

{Christmas 2006}

I wanted each year to contain a photo of us from that season & the Christmas card we sent out—which, as you’ll notice was included only in 2008 since our lazy selves didn’t send a card out the year prior. In other years, I just substituted another large photo. The smaller photos show other parts of the holiday season—cinnamon rolls, time with family, etc. And the journaling gives a brief description of what we did on & surrounding Christmas.


{Christmas 2008}

Again, although I’m warming up to the idea of digital photobooks (from MyPublisher, Blurb, or Shutterfly), an annual book like this needs to be added-to…hence my paper & glue indulgences (sorry Jon…I LOVE YOU!!).



As time goes on, I’m excited to be able to look back & remember what our lives were like on Christmas each particular year…


{Christmas 2007...& please don't mind the small picture on the lower left...thank Justin & Beth for that one...}

This can obviously be adapted (without making it overwhelming) to any holiday, event, or season…a “birthday” book (oooo!! That’d be fun!!), Halloween book, etc. I try to not let myself get caught up in the “industry” of scrapbooking (& trust me, it IS an industry) because it is all-too-easy to get overwhelmed with self-induced expectations that you are not doing enough. Add to that the realization that my kids are not going to want 37 volumes of “family scrapbooks” to lug around…& we get projects like this one :)

remnants.

With all this moving happening around here, I’ve come across some ehemm…interesting things I didn’t know we owned. Take, for example, the 30+ guitar picks I’ve found in textbooks, change jars, even the underwear drawer. Or perhaps you’d like to know that we have 4 jumbo sized bags of rubberbands? Or 5 sets of measuring cups (the result of college days + graduation gifts + living apart for two years + wedding presents)? Or more CD cases than I can shake a stick at?

Our homes, mine included, often become the dumping ground for things we love—love at least for the short-term.

Around midnight each night I’ve walked down the cluttered hallway toward our bedroom when the thought of just starting over has entered my head. Starting over with STUFF. Starting over with our color-coordinated closets & fuzzy rugs on the bathroom floors. Because the truth is that while our STUFF sits in storage boxes over the next 12 months, I won’t likely miss most of it. Sure, I’ll miss the comforts of having it around—those twinkly candles during movie night & the handmade pillow covers to welcome each new season—but the bulk of it will go unnoticed over the next 365 days.



Her house was loved—it was obvious from the clean blue carpet & the cinnamon smell that penetrated each nose wandering through the house. Their belongings from years of marriage were lined up against the walls, kitchen cupboards open & closet doors flung wide. The jewelry was arranged in glassed-in-boxes in the guest room; crystal vases & china dishes sat on the large dining room table. The same table their meals once rested on, made by loving hands & consumed by hungry tummies.



I didn’t know her—I didn’t know them. But my senses took in their lives.

Clean carpets. Cinnamon. Freshly oiled woodwork, dusted glass figurines. Stacks of old newspaper, jars of chipped dominos.





She cared about her home. She cared about the things in her home. And while the remnants she’d left behind made it obvious she took pride in their humble homestead, something more was present.

A faith, perhaps? The old shelf filled with bibles from the late 1800’s pointed to a family history of Trust.



A love, perhaps? The aprons now hanging in the kitchen once collected dust & sweat from homemaking—her lifetime occupation.

Whatever it was, it was a HOME. Stitched together by a marriage, working hands, & love for one another.

What does your HOME say about you? What remnants will it leave behind? And most importantly, is "it" saying what you want it to?

project #1: guest book

I’ve had this project on the back-burner for quite sometime now. And, like my other scrapbooks, I drew out a basic sketch that would be followed through the entire book.



The idea originally came from Becky Higgins (a scrapbook “celebrity”, if you will—did you know those existed??!). She & her family moved several times before settling in Arizona…& along the way she documented where they lived & who visited them.



I took the idea & ran with it, figuring that because we don’t know our plans in or out of the Army, the frequent moving it would likely bring deserved to be remembered. I though this would be a fun way to remember our many “homes”…& the people that stayed in them.





In all honesty, this took me less than an hour to put together…since the pages are so basic & take very little paper. I journaled beforehand…ordered the pictures via 1-hour photo…& pasted 'em on.

Each "home" page has at least six photos of inside the house--usually the most important rooms. The story of how we came to live there, what happened when we were there, things we liked/didn't like about it, etc. is in the long description below the 4x6 photo. I also included the address & dates we lived in that particular house/location.

Each "guest" portion has three simple fill-in-the-blank: WHO, WHEN, & WHAT. WHO came, WHEN they visited, WHAT we did together...

I’m really warming up to the idea of doing exclusively online digital photo books…but with something like this, I needed to be able to add to it over time. I’ll admit that my indulgence in paper & glue also needs to be satisfied :)

Nonetheless, my main motivation for keeping up with this (sometimes overly expensive) hobby is the reminder that I would love to have something like this from when my parents were our age. I would love to see the houses my grandparents lived in...& what their kitchen's looked like. I hope that someday, avoiding water damage & natural disasters, this book will be flipped through by our own kids in their mid-20's--at which point they'll wonder why i'm such a horrible decorator :)

project 365: 05.27-31.09

Wednesday, 05.27.09: folding laundry


Thursday, 05.28.09: making flannel baby blankets


Friday, 05.29.09: the evening’s treat in a rootbeer float


Saturday, 05.30.09: editing pictures from a maternity photo shoot


Sunday, 05.31.09: cleaned out both of our closets—clothes packed in boxes

long time.

I’m baaaaccckkkk!!!! And I’m alive!!

It has been over a month since I posted last--& life in the interim has been unexpectedly crazy (but oddly relaxing, too).

Toward the end of April during my surgery rotation, my kind preceptors discovered that my husband was going to be out of my life for the next year & let me off a week early. An allowance that changed our travel plans completely…overnight. With two days notice, I moved out of my apartment & crammed my car full of stuff for the LAST four hour drive between my two homes. And because of the generosity of my preceptors, I was able to fly back “home” to spend an extra week with Jon in the glorious land of Eastern Washington (the very next day!!)—a week that I would have spent gazing at hernia’s & poking my fingers in people’s insides (I’ll let your imagination wander…). Needless to say, it was a blessing. We followed up our trip to our Washington “home” with a trip that brought city life into full view: NYC.

So, in the month of May 1:

Packed up my (smelly smelly!) apartment.



Made my final drive between my apartment & our Army home.



Spent time with family…& holding Jon’s hand (I soaked up every bit of our time together).



Had a picnic in central park.



Saw Miss Liberty in all her glory.



Watched a softball game & got a horrible sunburn.



Took a walk in the rain (& lightening…but don’t tell my mom that part).



Punched my husband in the chest.



Got a newly promoted husband!!



Said “hello” to the next 12-months on my own.



Started packing up the house…



Which brings me to today…as I’m STILL packing up the house. I’ve scheduled some posts for the following couple of weeks—I start a new Ears/Nose/Throat rotation here on Monday. I’m going to try my best to study my toosh off in the next couple of months (Boards are only 3 months away!)—which means that posting, pictures, etc. may take a backseat until after they are over.

At the very least, though, I’ll share a fun project Jon & I started for the duration (we hope!) of his LONG vacation. Each Sunday I’ll (try to!) post a picture from each day of the week—a Project 365 of sorts. We are both taking a photo each day & are going to compare notes & make a photobook when all this is behind us J

Until then, however, I’ll be snapping photos & trying to study…can’t ask for much more than that!

ugly confession.PATIENCE

He held the door open for me as we briskly walked out of the office. With a guiltless look on my face I said, “Jon, do I come across stand-off-ish or something?”

And he was honest. He told me that Yes, I did come across like I was just a bit superior to the lady working the desk; that Yes, I did treat her poorly like I was in a hurry to get the answer, and that Yes, I needed to work on it.

This whole experience in medical school, seeing patients, spending hours & days studying by myself, pulling myself through the firey ring of tests & exams & clinical experiences, all of this has undoubtedly changed me.

In many ways, it is for the better. I am more acutely aware of the fragility of life, the inevitability of death, and the gift of health. I look at my husband, my parents, my siblings differently—I see the life in them instead of focusing on the day I’ll lose them as I used to. I am more attentive to the darker side of life: the addictions, the illnesses, the horrible situations that surround the lives of some Biblical-Job-like individuals. And in an entirely different way, all of my experiences have culminated in me desparately trying to just be a better person: to throw aside my worries, to trust the One who put together my days, & to accept my life as it comes serving my Lord, my husband, & my community in the meantime.

On the other side of the coin, however, I have changed for the worse. And in many ways, the parts of my personality, my social-ability, & my compassion have been lost in the shuffle, consumed by the selfish requests of the masses of life-sucking patients.

I used to look at the store clerk, the grocery bagger, the retail assistant & pour out compassion on them. I used to try to relate to them, to be patient with who they are & to meet them where they are at.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, I’ve lost it. I’ve lost my compassion. I’ve misplaced my ability to kindly relate to them.

Each day when I head to work, I’m required to put a smile on my face. With my uterus cramping, my emotions on a roller coaster, my sinuses full of snot, my head pounding, it doesn’t matter: I need to put the patients first, to throw aside my own opinions & judgements & emotions & faith, I need to focus solely, completely, & totally on them. In the midst of listening to her complain about her sore fingernail & him complain about peeing too often & her tell me about her failing relationship & him boast about how many sexual encounters he has had in the last month, I have to reach into the depths of my love-tank & pull out another smile, another nod of approval, another ounce of patience. I’m expected to respond quickly. I’m required to welcome them back to the office. And it is vital I do all of this in 15-20 minutes. Per patient. Which means I have to be quick. I have to talk fast, work quickly, & make decisions almost immediately.

And all this serves me well—in the office or hospital. But outside of the medical environment, outside of those sterile white walls & hard hospital beds, away from the bleeps of machines & sobs of patients’ families, those traits that I’ve acquired to be a better someday-Doctor hinder me.

I’m short with the office clerk. I’m rushed when the grocery bagger bags my fresh produce. I’m particular & overly opinionated with the hairstylist. I’m all-too-degrading in my direction-giving to the man in line behind me at Starbucks.

I’ve changed. I’ve changed for my job, because of my job, & in many ways in spite of my job.

Jon told me I needed to work on better separating work & home, job & family.

I think he is right.

Where do you need a dose of change in your life? In what areas have you grown calloused toward showing the compassion of Christ through words, actions, or service? Who in your life is willing to be honest with you about your actions towards others?

nature vs. nurture

She worried about seeing the doctor because she’d shown up ten minutes late. She worried about the germs on the plastic seats in the waiting room, the three pounds she gained when she stepped on the scale, the smell she left when filled the sterile cup in the bathroom. She worried about the water she wasted when she flushed the toilet.

She worried about all the complaints that she had; she worried how she might come across. She worried about her stomach pain, her abnormal bowel habits,Am I not eating right? She worried about her husband’s performance at work during the day, about whether or not her children would suddenly stop breathing at night. She worried about making her son’s soccer practice and picking her daughter up from preschool. She worried about the food the family ate, about the additives & Red Dye #40 in the Kool Aid her kids drank at the birthday party last weekend. She worried about her house, the untouched laundry by the washer, the termites that might be quietly tearing down their house.

She worried about her children’s college education, about their monthly budget, about spending too much & not saving enough. She worried about not clipping enough coupons, about visiting the doctor too often, about being over-the-top-conscious of all the germs.

She worried about her health, about her fatigue & not feeling well. She worried about her performance as a mother, her involvement at church, her role as a wife. She worried that her stomach pain might be something bigger than just a bad stomach ache.

And it was.

She worried about the medication she was given for the bleeding ulcer. She worried about the side effects & the cost her family had incurred because of it. She worried if it was contagious or genetic—if her children would get it too. She worried that she might die in her sleep, leave her husband earlier than retirement due to unplanned death, or fall into a giant sink-hole on Main Street.

She worried about cancer, about heart attacks, about obesity. She worried that the soup she bought yesterday wasn’t organic or the meat she fed her family might have had hormones in it. She worried that she wasn’t taking enough vitamins, wasn’t getting enough sleep, and wasn’t exercising as she should.

She worried. And she worried. She worried when she woke up, when she ate her meals; she worried as she fell asleep at night.

And I can’t help but wonder if the one who didn’t worry, who took life as it came, who kept stresses to a minimum, who ate the foods he enjoyed, who found a sport that kept him fit, who found a spouse he loved, who raised his children with spontaneity; I can’t help but wonder if that one didn’t live longer, live richer, live happier.

A growing debate exists in modern medicine: nature versus nurture. Is it our genes or our environments that dictate our health, our personalities, our longevity? Is it our upbringing or our innate individuality that dictate who we become? And is it our habits, our exercise, our food-conscious tendencies that keep us healthy, or is health in our genes?

hands.

Those hands. Those young, calloused hands, tired from a hard days work. Those hands that held hers, that got clammy on the first date & shook when he lifted her white veil. Those hands that held their children—the small, delicate children that grew inside her belly. Those hands. Those old, thin hands that hold her thinned, atrophied body now. Those old, thin hands that wrap around her hips while she unsteadily walks, that take her aged hand with comfort & stretch her fingers to ease the contractures. Those hands—the ones that have held her through this journey.

Those feet. Those young, springful feet, sore from running. Those feet that brushed against hers between freshly laundered sheets in the intimate quiet of their bedroom. Those feet that paced the creaky wood floor holding crying babies while she soundly slept on the other side of the wall. Those feet that traveled to work each day, home at night; those feet that carry him to the grocery store to buy their food, those feet that trail behind the vacuum as he cleans their house, those feet that lovingly carry that dinner tray of food to her in bed each night. Those feet—the ones that have carried them through this journey.

Those arms. Those tanned, muscular arms, sore from long days in the trenches. Those arms that were washed clean each night, that sat down at the dinner table to a meal she had prepared for the family. Those arms that pumped by his side on his morning runs, that nuzzled children against his chest, that changed her car tires; those arms that now lifted her into bed each night & guided her to the toilet. Those arms that are always ready to wrap around her in a comforting embrace should she feel alone, even for a second. Those arms—the ones that have wrapped her in comfort during sickness & health.

That smile. That white toothed smile, the one that made her melt from the beginning. The one that lead to the squinted eyes & barreling laugh—the one she looked forward to each night. That smile, the one she saw as he asked if she’d spend forever with him, the one she gazed at from the front of the church on their wedding day, the one she matched as they held their children. That smile that greeted her after a long day at home, that she looked at from across the pillow in the dark of night, the one she still sees everyday lead purely by love. That smile—the one that reminds her, day after day, he is still totally in love.

And that love. The one that has survived job loss, parental loss, & miscarriage. The one that bloomed in the crux of youth, grew through wars & free love, and persevered through economic turmoil. The one that stands by her failing body, fisted hands, shaking head; the one that holds her tightly between the sheets, that fixes her breakfast, is fixated on her heart. That love—the one that outlasts this life.

tough stuff.

We’ve had some tough decisions to make on the home front lately--& a heaping helping of tougher realizations that go along with them. If you haven’t figured it out already, I don’t do well with the future—I think about it, plan for it, think about it some more, but when push comes to shove, all I am really doing is worrying about it. About where we’ll live. About whether or not we’ll get my medical school loans paid off before we turn 40. About the life we’ll build for our children--& whether or not it will match our initial goals when we recited our vows.

I found this article. And I read it. And it totally resonated with me.

Jon just got back from training a couple of weeks ago. He was gone for almost 5 weeks—5 weeks during which I stewed & contemplated & worried about all things ‘future’. Until we finally talked about it when he got home…

And he reminded me the most important thing of all: we are in this together.

That is the beauty of marriage—the beauty of unity in marriage. We are on this journey together, humbly bowing before the One who made us one. Our goal was to follow the path He paves for us daily…and although it may get rocky, bumpy; although the path may end or the trail may make a switchback (or fifty), we’re sweating it out together.

The article was a nice reminder of that: the need to make a decision, regardless of how difficult, & move on together.

Which is what we are trying to do.

We’ve made our decision over much prayer, late night pillow talk, & serious contemplation…now life just has to unfold…& we have to hang on tight to one another while we make a run for it.

ugly confession.WORK

I am not going to lie—not going to fib one little bit to anyone who asks me: medical school is horrid. It is rigorous, exhausting, overwhelming, emotional-breakdown-provoking, trying….really just horrid.

I’ll never forget the looks of approval I got when word got around that I had ‘gotten in’. The sweet ladies at church gave me hugs, their husbands shook my hand firmly; it was almost as if everyone had adopted me & was rooting for me. And although I still feel many of the prayers sent my (& Jon’s) way, it has become a much less “glamorous” experience than I originally thought I’d have.

For the past two years (last 9 months not inclusive), my days, nights, weekends, bathroom time, shower time, workout time, car rides, long drives, and airplane flights have ALL been spent studying. We’d go out to dinner: I’d have my notecards. I had to take a shower: I rigged an extra large plastic baggy with an over-the-shower-head hanging contraption so I could slip a piece of computer paper inside & study while I lathered my hair without ruining my color-coordinated notes. A two hour car ride was in the plans for the weekend: my iPod was full of lectures. A 45 minute stint on the elliptical at the gym meant 45 minutes of studying. IT NEVER ENDED—and actually, I’m coming to the perhaps even more horrid realization that it will never end.

I chose a profession of learning. And while I appreciate the challenge, enjoy the process, & crave new information (information other than this morning’s depressing headlines), I do have days where I’d like to shut my brain off & shut all my medical knowledge in a closet—or deep, dark dungeon. You see, this education has, in many ways, sucked the enjoyment out of many experiences. Stories about “gross stuff” aren’t as funny anymore because I know half of it recited by my friends totally couldn’t be true—the physiology or bacteriology or pharmacology or whatever-ology just isn’t possible. Sick people aren’t as interesting anymore because I’ve grown tired of hearing them complain about conditions they brought upon themselves (chronic knee pain in someone 115 pounds overweight, infected skin in someone who neurotically picks at scabs). Healthy people aren’t as exciting anymore because I know that my love for them in the future will be confounded by the lack-of-reimbursement by insurance companies for well-patient visits. And generally, LIFE has just lost some of its adventurous flavor with the broad knowledge base I know carry around like a ruck-sack strapped to my brain.

About two weeks ago when I was really struggling with my (& that of my family’s) future in medicine, I had to sit down & re-examine my motivations for applying to medical school in the first place.

Jon & I decided from the get-go that we would live solely off of his income—whatever it may be. So poverty line or plush-life aside, we are sticking to our original plan. My motivation for choosing medicine was largely for our children. I wanted to be able to do for them what my parents have done for me, which really came down to two things: support them throughout childhood, giving them ample travel & cross-cultural opportunities and support them financially throughout college, paying for their education in full & thereby giving them the freedom to choose a profession that they like. I figured as well that my working would give us more opportunity as a family to live just a bit more comfortably & travel more.

And those original motivations still hold true, absolutely. But I’m finding my greatest struggle in the balance between my work in medicine & my home life of the future. I’m finding the greatest irony in the fact that the profession I chose deliberately to make a better life for my family may very well be the thing that keeps me away from them. And I’m finding the greatest hesitation in working at all.

I feel the need to add in that I’m certainly not quitting, not throwing in the towel, not letting the poop hit the fan, not giving the fat lady a microphone or making wings for the pigs. I’m NOT QUITTING—in fact, at this point, quitting is not an option for us.

What I do want to get across, however, is that I’m struggling with this whole concept. The concept of balancing life & work & family & children & husband & creativity & writing & photography….it is overwhelming, absolutely. Overwhelming when the physician DISsatisfaction rate hovers around 70%, when the reimbursement for long hours worked continues to fall, when the loans for tuition continue to grow, & when the 24 hours God provided for each day just aren’t enough.

I know I’m not alone in this. I know I’m not the only woman feeling this way. I know many women are my secret heroes I haven’t met yet—the women who balance it all beautifully. I’m just not sure I can be one of those.

It is ugly. And this is my confession.

Jon is overwhelmingly supportive--& I can’t quite put into words how incredibly grateful I am for his support, his stand-by-me, & his tolerance of what I’m about to go through in residency. He is willing to co-parent, willing & wanting to be involved in the lives of our children. He is willing to work hard, extra hours, extra days to provide for us. And for all those things, I am indebted.

In the meantime, however, I am working on trusting God with the details. I am praying that I find a residency program that is family friendly. I am praying that we find affordable housing & are able to live on just a bit more than rice & beans (because beans give me horrible gas). I am praying that we find support in our community, both locally & spiritually. And most of all, I am praying that the Lord provides a job opportunity that allows more balance between a profession I am madly in love with (despite how horrid school is) and a family I am just giddy for.

Where are you most struggling with balance? Is it an event? A commitment? A relationship? A creative outlet? A habit? Did an original motivation exist that has been scewed, obstructed, or changed in the process? How are you coming to terms with its current state--& how do you resolve to change it?

ugly confession.JUDGEMENT.

It was a tough day in church for me yesterday. And actually, it isn’t the first time I’ve walked away with head full of thoughts & heart heavy with the sin of judgement.

It’s no secret that I’m human. And many times I’d like the change the saying “I think, therefore I am.” To “I think, therefore I JUDGE.” Because the truth is that I do. I look at the beggar on the streetcorner & fail to consider his past, his feelings, his hunger for something greater than food. I look at the morbidly obese woman who waddles into the office & my mind usually reverts to the stereotypical thoughts of “laziness”; in fact, I often find myself wondering how she let herself go that far. I see the rambunctious kids tearing down the magazines in the checkout aisle in front of me & judge the mother trying to “shoosh” them—often failing to consider the circumstances of their lives: the father they might have just lost, the stresses they might feel at home around a scantily clad dinner table.

I know that God calls us to be pure of heart, to love our neighbor as we love ourselves, to not judge, not covet, not want … but it is one area of my life I seem to have trouble with. Yesterday mornings' church service drove the point home…again.

Our church has two campuses—one is at the main campus & offers a more “southern gospel” style of praise music with a big (HUGE!) choir & lots of jumping in the aisles; the other (the one we attend) gives a more contemporary style & feel—it is housed in an old movie theater. The alternative service beckons a younger crowd—many college students & couples with young children.

Yesterday morning, the girl in front of us—barely thirty, if I had to guess—was obviously enjoying the presence of the Lord…by screaming. I have trouble closing my eyes & concentrating on worshiping the Lord in the first place (I like to watch the musicians)…but her jumping up & down wasn’t helping. Then, when she let out a scream that would have been better placed at a High School Musical performance from the mouth of a 13-year-old-Zack-Effron-crazed-fan, I really lost my ability to concentrate. Add to that the girl, also seated in the row ahead of us, who praised Jesus by swinging her hips like those of nightclub dancers…and I was really distracted.

The truth, though, is that I’ve let those screams & swinging hips distract me from more than praise during church. I’ve let the world’s distractions—clothes, houses, the internet, striving for the cultural standard of perfection—keep me from concentrating on the One True God.

I’m finding that I either need Spiritual earplugs or time away from distraction…

This week I’m trying the latter.

What people are you most prone to judging? When & in what situations do you find it most difficult to love people for who they are, despite all external circumstances? In what areas of your life could you use a pair of Heavenly Earplugs (or sunglasses??!)??

{be back after Easter…}