Month: March 2007

Day 129 

It’s 6:25 pm and it’s still light out. Ah yes, Daylight Saving Time, as all you who did remember to “spring ahead” one hour will know, has arrived. Actually, daylight is not saved. We do not gain an hour of light. We merely shift that hour of light from the morning to the evening. And this shifting is ever so pleasant – a herald of spring and of warmth after a very-cold-at-times-very-snowy-at-others winter. Despite “losing” an hour of sleep, this has got to be one of my favorite days of the year. ‘Course the fact that I managed to get in a two hour nap and a nice long walk helped to make this a rather enjoyable day with or without the shift.

Onward.

2 Corinthians 5:9 “Therefore, we have as our ambition, whether at home or absent, to be pleasing to him.” (NAS)

My mom made a cross stitch of this verse that has hung on the walls of our homes on both sides of the world for as long as I can remember. It is a very convicting verse. I often come to the realization that my ambition in a particular circumstance is not to please him. More often than not, it is to get ahead, to look good in front of others, to glorify myself. But Paul’s ambition, his aim, was to please the Lord.

There’s the other point: he wasn’t trying to please people, to earn the favor of the world. He wanted to please the One before whom he would stand one day to give an account.

What greater goal is there?

Day 130 

I love language. I love listening to people speak in languages I can’t understand. I have a degree in linguistics. I’m studying to be a speech-language pathologist. I’ve studied Latin, Swahili, Greek (for three weeks . . . yeah, that didn’t go so well), Hebrew, Arabic, Kikuyu, and recently have begun dabbling in Spanish. Despite all this study, all the hours of vocab memorization, grammar practice, stilted conversations, and even learning the entirety of Dr. Seuss’ Hop on Pop in Arabic (which by the way, doesn’t flow as nicely as it does in the original), I have a confession to make.

How many languages do I speak fluently?

One. This one. English. I am monolingual.

Sure, I can have a simple conversation in my “best” second language, Swahili . . . but as I wrote in a message to my sister this morning: “Kiswahili yangu ni mgonjwa. Sana.” Which means “my Swahili is quite ill”. At least I think that’s what it means. It’s been a good eleven years since I took a Swahili class, nearly eight since I lived in Kenya. No wonder my Swahili is sickly.

I’d love to be bilingual someday, to seamlessly switch from language to language like my friend in high school who would talk on the phone, her words flowing from Swahili to English to Kikuyu and back again. But for now, just studying the inner mechanisms of language will have to do.

The study of linguistics goes back to the Tower of Babel, or shortly thereafter. God saw man’s incredible pride as they built the Tower to reach to heaven and “to make for [themselves] a name” (Genesis 11:4), and he went down and confused their language, scattering them across the earth. Before that time, there was no need for the study of languages, of phonemes, morphemes, syntax, semantics, and linguistic theory. There was just language, singular. You understood me, I understood you. I wonder how long it took after Babel for someone to hold up something and say, “mkate”, and for someone else to get it and say, “Oh, you mean bread!” 

Voila! Linguistics began, and continues to this day. I love it.

Onward.

Difficult people are just that, difficult. And when I’m dealing with someone who puts me down, demeans me, or hurts me, the best thing to do, easpecially in the moment of hurt or confusion, is remember who I am in Christ. With the focus on him, and not on my circumstances, I am at peace. The Lord has accepted me in Jesus Christ, and it does not matter what anyone else says or does. I am forever loved. What amazing grace.

Ephesians 1:6 “He has made us accepted in the Beloved.”

Psalm 56:4  “In God I have put my trust; I shall not be afraid. What can mere man do to me?”

Day 131 

My friend had her appendix taken out on Monday. She made it to class this morning, walking somewhat gingerly and laughing about the fact that she actually wanted to come to our 8:00 class. (After the week she’s had, can’t say I blame her.) Being fascinated with all things medical, I peppered her with questions about the hospital, the pain meds, the operation. Despite living in the 21st century where surgery is often routine, I’m still in awe of the fact that we can cut a person open, take out or fix something, sew them back up, and in a reasonable amount of time, they heal.

I’ve probably been something of a nuisance when I’ve gone in for a procedure: an ECG, a cortisone shot, a tendon transfer, getting my wisdom teeth removed. I’m curious about everything and ask a lot of questions. Some may misconstrue my queries as nervousness, but in the past, I haven’t really been that nervous. I watch it all and just want to know – I want to understand what the numbers mean, what’s going on in this body of mine, what the drugs from the IV are going to do. For a very long time, I wanted to be a doctor. Sometimes I read anatomy & physiology books for fun.  During breaks from school in Kenya, I went several times to the hospital “theatre” to observe operations. Eventually I got past my squeamishness (including an embarassing near-fainting episode during a cleft-palate repair), and reveled in the opportunity to learn, watch, and of course, ask questions galore.

My interest in the inner workings of the human body goes beyond mere curiosity, though. As I consider the intricacies and  ingenuity of the different systems that (usually) work so seamlessly together, I cannot help but worship their Creator. I know that our bodies are not mere accidents of evolution, but carefully and lovingly designed works of art.  Study sessions involving the basal ganglia, the middle ear, or the larynx can become worship sessions as I enjoy the One who knit me together.

After God created the world, the stars, the plants, and the animals, Genesis tells us that he saw that “it was good”. But after he created humans, male and female, he saw that “it was very good.”

Amen, Lord. I agree.

Day 132 

Yesterday I got my first royalty check from iUniverse for my book, Made for Eternity: Reflections on Time and Timelessness. A whopping $187 and change. I wanted to frame it, but, well, I have loans to pay. There is something special about getting paid, however small the amount, for something you’ve written.

The wonder of the “wow, I’m opening up my first royalty check” moment was tempered by humor in the fact that they mis-spelled my last name. To the publisher, I am Katie Mmorrison. Ah, well. Katie Mmorrison is a published author and Katie Mmorrison is a paid author. She’s got the check to prove it.

Onward.

Last night, Pastor preached on Revelation 13 and the Antichrist. It’s not a pleasant thing to contemplate, and my heart hurts as I think of the billions of people who will follow this false messiah to eternal hell. This is true. This will happen – the Bible says it. At risk of sounding like a doomsday preacher, the end is near. Life is short, “a blip on the radar screen”, to quote Chris Rice. Is your eternity settled? What’s that? You hope you’ll go to heaven? You think you might? You’re a good person, so maybe . . .

Listen up. You’re playing games with your soul. You’re not good enough. I’m not. We are such dirty rotten sinners that even “our righteous acts are like filthy rags” (Isaiah 64:6). Think you can impress God with your filthiness?

Change your mind from thinking you can do something to merit God’s favor, trust only in Jesus Christ’s death for you and his resurrection. Then you can cut out the words like “might” and “maybe” from your conversations about heaven, because “whoever believes in him will not perish but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). You can know for sure where you go the moment you die (which, by the way, could be today).

And believe me, this is something you want to know.

Day 133

I think they should film this new reality show on the MU campus. We have an overabundance of the little critters around here, the majority of whom have lost all sense of fear when it comes to humans. In fact, I have been chased by a squirrel. Twice. I’m serious. The rodents are taking over.

And yes, there was a time I danced with a squirrel. I came around a corner and there he was, blocking my way on the sidewalk. I took a step forward, he did too. I stepped back. He scurried up to me. I lunged forward (um . . . gracefully, of course – in light of the fact that we were dancing). He backed up but held his ground before creeping toward me again. This back and forth waltz continued until I reminded him that my mother had once made some of his distant cousins into a stew and I would be willing to do the same, at which point he turned and scampered off into the bushes so that I was able to continue on my way.

Check the above idea: I suggest we tape a “squirrel reduction show” which we could call Hunting for the Squirrels. Hmmm . . . I can hear the PETA cries already.

Onward.

“Be ye glad, oh be ye glad/Every debt that you ever had/Has been paid up in full by the grace of the Lord/Be ye glad, be ye glad, be ye glad.”

When Jesus died on the cross, he said, “It is finished.” The debt of my sins was paid in full. Nothing left for me to do for eternal salvation but trust that finished work.

Do I not have every reason to be glad?

Day  134

Do you ever stop and pay attention to your hands moving, your fingers typing? I do. It’s a pretty awesome thing to watch them dance (in my case a little slower than most) across the keyboard as I type this. They are moving just as I want them to, – ’til I hit a wrong key, of course.

Consider the intricacy of the process, the millions upon millions of neurons, the bones, the tendons, ligaments, muscles involved in hitting just one key. It’s routine, yet at the same time mind-bogglingly complex, wonderful to contemplate. As the different parts work together in perfect unison, it is a thing of beauty.

Yes, typing is beautiful. And so is brushing your teeth, tying your shoes, and making a sandwich.

Psalm 139:14 “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful, I know this full well.”

Day 135

Today I talked to my friend Amrah, who has just returned to southern California after a year in South Korea. We haven’t talked to each other that whole time. Funny how it is with people you haven’t talked to in a long while.  There is so much to say but you don’t know where to begin. Suddenly the present overwhelms and all you can think about is something mundane like “I’m having macaroni and cheese for lunch.” 8 months ago, 2 months ago, last week – what happened back then? How do you squeeze all that living into a conversation? I feel so tongue-tied. Eventually stories come to mind, but there is a big empty space where you lived your life and they lived their life and you just can’t go and relive that part together. You really can’t “catch up”. 

That’s why I love my mom’s weekly emails from Kenya. She often writes about the details – Daniel’s practicing his trombone, Emily’s running out the door to a meeting, Noah’s washing the dishes and listening to his music really loud. Somehowly, those things bring me into my family’s life, they “catch me up” just a little, make me feel a part of their ordinary. I like that.

Onward.

Jeremiah 29:11-13 “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the LORD, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.”

That’s our memory verse at church this month. I have a future, I have a hope (here I use that word to express a “confident expectation”, not a “wish” as it is often used today). Thanks to God, I know who I am, where I came from, why I am here, and where I’m going. That’s pretty awesome.

Day 136

I’ve been thinking about names recently, names of towns in particular. Where I grew up in southeastern Pennsylvania, there was a distinct Biblical bent – Nazareth, Bethlehem, Zionsville, Emmaus, and of course, Philadelphia. And then there was Bath. Bath was a weird one – some people may think that those other towns are named oddly, but Bath always seemed extra strange to me. 

“Where do you live?”

“Oh, I live in Bath. Yeah, and I have the wrinkly toes to prove it.”

See what I mean?

In 1992, we moved to Kenya where the names Kijabe, Naivasha, Nakuru, Mombasa, Machakos, Limuru, and Nairobi became as familiar to me as New York and Los Angeles are to Americans.

But that was all small potatoes compared to where I live now – Wisconsin has some of the oddest names in the book (as far as English speakers are concerned) . . . Mukwonago? Oconomowoc? Wauwatosa? Ashwaubenon? Weyauwega?    Whew – I’m giving my spell-checker fits! For correct pronunciation of these and other Wisconsin tongue twisters: www.misspronouncer.com.

OK, I guess I should feel comfortable with names like these. After all, my first hometown in PA was . . . Catasauqua.

Onward.

Today Julie and I sang at church. It wasn’t perfect, but the Lord undertook in the situation (especially since we were singing a capella), and I just prayed that he would be honored and people would be encouraged by these words:

“How deep the Father’s love for us/How vast beyond all measure/That he should give his only Son/To make a wretch his treasure/How great the pain of searing loss/The Father turns his face away/As wounds which mar the Chosen One/Bring many sons to glory.

Behold the Man upon the cross/My sin upon his shoulders/Ashamed I hear my mocking voice/Call out among the scoffers/It was my sin that held him there/Until it was accomplished/His dying breath has brought me life/I know that it is finished.

I will not boast in anything/No gifts, no power, no wisdom/But I will boast in Jesus Christ/His death and resurrection/Why should I gain from his reward?/I cannot give an answer/But this I know with all my heart/His wounds have paid my ransom.”

Rich words. The richest truth.

Day 137

Nothing shakes up a session with a five year old client like this question:

“How did the baby get out?”

So, there I am, with . . . hmm. Let’s call him Charlie. Working on pronouns. Subjective pronouns. You know, like he and she. We have Richard Scarry’s book What Do People Do All Day? (which I highly recommend – it’s one of my favorite books from my childhood) and are discussing “what he is doing” and “what she is doing”. Things are going well. Charlie is catching on. Then, we turn to the page with the little bunny who goes to  the hospital to have her tonsils out. While she is getting her tonsils out, her mommy has a baby! There’s a darling picture of Sister Bunny at Mommy Bunny’s bedside with Baby Bunny. Oh, so sweet. Then . . .

“How did the baby get out?”

(Pause) “Uh . . . (hoping I heard incorrectly) what?”

“How did the baby get out?”

“Well . . . (frantically wracking brain for correct response) um . . . the mommy came to the hospital and had the baby.”

“But how did the baby get out?”

“It was just . . . born . . . at the hospital. (One of the most cop-out-ly answers ever.) And now the little girl bunny has a new baby sister. Isn’t that so nice? (This part spoken with a very fast rate of speech as I turn the page.) Oh, Charlie, look! Some people are going on a train trip. What is he doing?”(Annnd we are back on track. No pun intended.)

Life’s an adventure. You just never know when a kid will try to get a biology lesson out of a pronoun drill.

Onward.

“Day by day and with each passing moment/Strength I find to meet my trials here/Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment/I’ve no cause for worry or for fear/He whose heart is kind beyond all measure/Gives unto each day what he deems best/ Lovingly, it’s part of pain and pleasure/Mingling toil with peace and rest.”

Lately (as in the past several months), the attribute of God that has been most sweet to me is his kindness. He is a kind God. He is kinder to me than I will ever be able to understand. When I face trials, I love to think that my kind Father is allowing them, and not some ogre in the sky who just wants to make me miserable. I can trust a God who is infinitely kind even when he sends heartache my way, because I know he knows what’s best for me.

I would not be able to trust a god who I thought might turn on me at any moment if I screwed up, or a god who is just up in heaven playing with mankind’s lives like they were some kind of cosmic joke. People who don’t know my Father often think he is like that. By his grace, I know better.

I know that he is kind.

Day 138

Dysdiadochokinesia: an inability to perform rapid, alternating movements (eg: saying pa-ta-ka quickly). I love this word – it takes a little practice to say, but it’s kinda onamonapeiatic (paradoxically, since if you do suffer from dysdiadochokinesia, saying the word itself might be difficult). Once you get it down, your tongue is flying all over the place. I guess that’s why I like it so much – 16 phonemes of fun. Um. Yes.

I am a nerd.

Onward.

Matthew 11:28-30 “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”

This has been a tough week, a tiring week. I’m weary of school and the grind of the days. I’m burdened with thoughts of grades and clients and tests and money. And then I read this – “I will give you rest.” There are few sweeter promises I have found. Eternal rest, rest for today. There is always rest in my faithful Savior, no matter how hectic life can get.

I only wish I would remember that more.

Day 139

The title is a play on a note left on my mom’s car once when she left too little room for the guy who parked next to her. “Inconsinderate” sort of took some of the sting out of it. Of course myoclonic jerks are very inconsiderate. They can occur frequently and very intrusively in people with brain disorders. In normal people, they occur just as you are falling asleep,relaxing, drifting off into dreamland. You feel like you are sliding, falling, and suddenly your body jerks/twitches/thrashes. Your heart goes into double quick time and you are awake all over again. Grrr. Mr. Brain, this is very irritating.

No one seems to be sure why it happens. One theory is that the brain thinks the body really is falling as you relax and needs to wake the muscles up so they can right the body. I like that idea – kinda fun. 

Onward.

Last night at church, we read through 2 Timothy. There was a smaller gathering than  usual due to weather, so we sat in an circle (oval) and read it through verse by verse.  Good times.

2 Timothy 2:1 You therefore, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.

Everything that follows hinges on this thought. It’s literally “be strengthened in the grace” – the only way we can do anything in our Christian life that will last for eternity is to do it relying on the grace – unmerited favor – of Jesus Christ. By resting in him, we can be strong and accomplish his will for our lives. On our own we have no strength; we may have the desire, but we need his power.