Month: February 2007

Day 140 

Today is my friend Abigail’s birthday. Kind of. You see, she’s one of the .0684 percent of the world’s population that had the great privilege of being born on a leap year day, 29 February. But that’s not the ONLY thing that makes this girl, celebrating her 5.75 birthday today, special. She is one of the kindest people I know. She is a true and dear friend.

We lived across the hall from each other in college and met our first night at Moody: after a long day of orientation, we were hanging out in the plaza, tired, acting seriously goofy. And somehowly, we just clicked. For the next 2.5 years as I finished school, our friendship grew. We had our nicknames – she became “Big”(as in aBIGail), I was “Gangsta”. We had our fun moments, our serious moments, our crying moments (yeah, mostly me), our laughing moments (I rarely laugh as much as when I’m with Abigail and our roommates, Bethany and Danielle). Last June, I had the honor of being there in Ohio for the moment when she FINALLY married her Karl.

One of my favorite memories of Abigail is getting “tucked in”. She’d come into my room and tuck me in, then sit down and we’d talk. It was dark and quiet – well, if you didn’t count the frequent amulance and fire truck sirens blaring past on LaSalle or Chicago Ave. At any rate, it was a special time with my friend to talk about whatever was on our minds. And every night as she walked out the door, I’d say, “Hey Big, where we going?”

“Heaven.”

That’s right, Big. That’s right.

Happy birthday, girl. I love you.

Day 141 

I was supposed to pass 100 clinic hours today, but one of my clients cancelled so I’m stuck at 99.25.  At any rate, I’ll pass 100 on Thursday at the latest. For an SLP who’s racked up  thousands of hours of therapy time, 100 is small potatoes. A drop in a bucket. Yawn. But for me, a graduate clinician who 3 years ago didn’t really know what speech-language pathology was, 100 hours is kinda special. I’ve worked with people who couldn’t speak, and with four year olds who didn’t know when to stop, I’ve laughed (and yes, cried) and learned through therapy sessions  with young and old men, and a middle-aged woman.  My RAP kids will always be precious to me – they were among my first clients, and it was when I was with them that I realized one day, I love what I do. This field fits me.

So, 100 hours. It’s not a lot, but it’s my beginning. Wonder what the future holds . . . I’m glad I know Who holds my future!

Onward.

Something I wrote on Psalm 11 last year:

“The upright will behold His face.” Psalm 11:7 

I will see God. Perhaps today. Maybe this very night I will fall asleep, awaken in glory, and see that Face, that beautiful glorified longed-for Face of God incarnate, the Man Christ Jesus. And He will welcome this world-weary wanderer with a welcome that has no goodbye at the other end.  

I will see God, for I am an upright one. No, hardly upright in practice. My spiritual nose is scraped and scarred from falling flat on my face so many times. I sin, rebel willfully, daily. It’s scary to think just  how deep a cesspool of sin dwells within. Yet, inexplicably, I am called righteous. I am justified. I am seated in the heavenlies with the very Son of God. And it’s because of HIM. His mercy. His grace. His agonizing death in my place. His victorious resurrection. His tremendous reaches-to-the-sky-and-plunges-to-the-depths-of-my-sin-darkened-heart love. It’s my Savior’s righteousness that God has imputed to me. I am totally, completely, without reservation, forever accepted in the Beloved. 

I will see God. Those are four small words, yet they carry all the hope of my lifetime here on earth and the delight and joy of my life for all eternity. I read these words, realize (only a little) what promise they hold, and my heart cannot help but sing at such a glorious thought.

 

Day 142 

This morning I was thankful for my boots as I went slush puddle hopping on my way to class at 7:52. I know the exact time because it takes me 7 minutes to get from my apartment to my class and there’s something of a science in getting to class ON TIME but not too early. The science is a bit more complex in the winter as it involves clothing one’s self in items such as scarves, hats, gloves, and coats. Anyways, I was thankful for my boots today – it’s a mess out there. A lovely snowy mess, but a mess nonetheless.

 Onward.

When I study something, I find that I think a lot more about the topic. Neuroscience: I’ll find myself contemplating the guy at the desk at work whose shoulder keeps twitching and hands are trembling and wonder if something’s up with his basal ganglia. Voice Disorders: Hmm – do I have a posterior chink in my vocal cord closure, like the majority of women my age? Stuttering: I notice my disfluencies more and more. We all are disfluent at some time or another – we revise, interject “ums” and “you knows”, repeat words. That’s entirely normal. Still, my awareness is heightened.

Of course, what I study in school is of temporary value. It’s worthwhile to learn these things because I’ll need them in my job as a speech-language pathologist. But if studying these things makes me more aware and conscious of them, how much more important is it to study the eternal Word of God? As I read that and it gets into my thinking, it is infinitely more worthwhile than my school subjects. The Holy Spirit can use the Bible to convict, comfort, and guide me in ways my classes never can. But the wisdom found in Scripture will only be of value if I study it.

Note to self: Get in the Word! 

Hebrews 4:12 For the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. (NAS)

It’s snowing today. Or raining. Not sure which one, really. Still, it’s thinking weather out there.  And this is what I’m thinking today.

I’m gonna start a blog. I’ve never kept up a journal for very long. I’d skip weeks, sometimes months, and then it would fall apart altogether.  But here I go again. Maybe this time it’ll be different. I want to write every day until my family comes back to the States. 18 July. That’s 143 days.

So, 143 days. 143 entries. How hard can that be? Ha.

Onward.

Today I read that James Cameron is putting out a documentary which is supposed to prove Jesus never rose from the dead. When I saw the article, I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel the need to rise up and post a response in order to prove the resurrection actually happened (though I believe it to be true with every fiber of my being). I simply felt a deep sadness for Mr. Cameron and the countless others like him who will someday bow their knee at the name of this very-much-alive Jesus with no excuse for their foolish refusal to believe. And the righteous King will send them to suffer eternally in the lake of fire for their rejection of the Son of God. It is completely just, yet inexpressibly sad.  

Yesterday’s reading of 1 Corinthians 1-4 with Ann included this:

1 Corinthians 1: 18-23, 27 For the word of the cross is to those who are perishing foolishness, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. ¹⁹ For it is written, “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, And the cleverness of the clever I will set aside.” ²⁰ Where is the wise man? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? ²¹ For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not come to know God, God was well-pleased through the foolishness of the message preached to save those who believe. ²² For indeed Jews ask for signs, and Greeks search for wisdom; ²³ but we preach Christ crucified, to Jews a stumbling block, and to Gentiles foolishness . . . 27 but God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong.” (NAS) 

Let them call me a fool for believing in Jesus; believing that he is God who became perfect Man, believing that he died in my place on the cross and yes, believing without even a tinge of doubt that he rose again. To me, a sinner saved by grace, this message is the very power of God.