Author: made4eternity

Day 123

7:56 AM. Saturday morning. Don’t hafta to work today, so I’m in lala land when suddenly,

THUNK.

I sit up, dazed, wondering what fell off my wall. Then I see my phone buzzing on the floor. The vibrating had knocked it off my desk. I scramble out from under my covers and lunge for it, reading “Unknown”  as the caller ID. “Unknown” means one thing – my family’s calling from Kenya. I flip the phone open and croak, “Hello?” only to hear slience. Bummer. I wait a few minutes until they leave a message then dial up voicemail.

“Hi, honey, this is Mom. Everything is OK.” Phone calls/messages from the other side of the world usually start this way, especially since we have gotten calls where everything hasn’t been ok. But this time, Mom just wants to chat. We haven’t in several weeks; these calls aren’t cheap.

I throw on some clothes, my hat, my gloves, my coat (still winter here), and head outside – why, you may ask? Cell phone reception is bad in my apartment, so whenever I go to make a longer phone call, it’s out to the alley behind my building. There I settle down on my porch steps and dial the phone card company, then dial the 15 digit phone number for the land line at home.

“You have 46 minutes of call time remaining.” followed by a busy signal. Mom must be on the land line with someone now. I call Dad’s cell. He’s in his office at school. He tries dialing the land line and confirms that it is still busy. He gives me Mom’s cell number. I try to memorize quickly, but I lose it – “0734 um um” – so I just keep calling the land line. Busy. Busy. Busy. I’m pacing and dialing. My dialing’s getting pretty good. If there was a Guiness Book record for the fastest dialer to Kenya, I’d so be in there. (Ha.) “0112542 . . .” I give up, go inside, read the paper. Twenty minutes later, I’m back out there again, and get through the first time. Mom offers to call me back.

Then, it’s 41 minutes of talking to my mom. We chat about a lot of different things, from gravely serious to hilariously funny. I love talking to her. I forget that I’m cold and that my fingers are getting stiffer by the minute. To me, it’s worth it. We say our goodbyes and “I love yous” halfway through the conversation in case we get cut off or her phone card runs out. 

And right at 41 minutes, Mom says, “Kate, I have 15 seconds left. 15 seconds.”

“OK, I love you, Mom. Bye.”

“Love you too, honey. Bye.”

Saying “I love you” seems so much more important when you are 8000 miles apart.

So that’s what a phone call from home is like in my world – what happened this morning was a pretty typical scenario. I’m so grateful that we can do this – it’s complicated and unpredictable sometimes, but it is such a blessing from the Lord. Just a few years ago, this wasn’t possible, or it was far more unpredictable.

Onward.

No more, my God, I boast no more
Of all the duties I have done;
I quit the hopes I held before,
To trust the merits of Thy Son

Chorus:

No more my God,
No more my God,
No more my God,
I boast no more.

Now, for the loss I bear His name,
What was my gain I count my loss;
My former pride I call my shame,
And nail my glory to His cross.

The best obedience of my hands
Dares not appear before Thy throne;
But faith can answer Thy demands,
By pleading what my Lord has done.

– Isaac Watts

“Thus says the LORD, ‘Let not a wise man boast of his wisdom , and let not the mighty man boast of his might , let not a rich man boast of his riches; but let him who boasts boast of this, that he understands and knows Me, that I am the LORD who exercises lovingkindness, justice and righteousness on earth; for I delight in these things,’ declares the LORD.” Jeremiah 9:23-24 (NAS)

Enough said. I’m convicted. 

Day 124

Yes, Office fans, that’s a Dwight Shrute-ism. Good thing he’s not an accountant . . . the Scranton branch would go under faster than you could say that “two” syllable word.

A couple of days ago, my dear brother Pete sent, via e-mail, two heart-warming pictures from where he works in the heart of Africa. Well, one is heart-warming, anyway.

That’s him holding the gun he and Chris (on the right) used to end the life of that 6-ish foot cobra. Lovely, eh? 

The next pic is just sweet. Little African children have stolen my heart for as long as I can remember.

Thanks for sharing, Pete.

And that makes me think of the song a friend of mine blogged the other day.

“Jesus loves the little children/All the children of the world/Red and yellow, black and white/They are precious in his sight/Jesus loves the little children of the world.”

The kids in Cambodia, Guatemela, Zimbabwe, Spain, and the little ones I work with here in downtown Milwaukee. They are all precious in the sight of God.

Matthew 19:14 “Jesus said, ‘Let the liitle children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'” (NIV)

Day 125

Yesterday afternoon, I went to my pastor’s family’s house for a visit. While I was there, they got out a globe and I was showing their three kids (ages six and under) where I have lived in the world, finishing with, “And this is where we live now – Milwaukee.”

At which juncture, two and a half year old Hannah grabs the globe and starts spinning. Pointing at a spot in Southeast Asia, she says “My-waukee.” Another spin. Somewhere in the Mid-Atlantic. “Your-waukee.” And a final spin for good measure. Finger on North Africa. “Ab’s-waukee”(in reference to her sister Abby).

Needless to say, I cracked up. That ranks right up there with Hannah’s brother John stating that his dad took a plane ride to “El Silverdor”. I’m guessing that’s somewhere near the Gold Coast in Chicago.

Onward.

“Sometimes when life seems gentle and blessings flood my way,
I turn my gaze away from You and soon forget to pray.
But when the sky grows darker and courage turns to fear,
My anxious voice cries upward with words you long to hear.

Chorus:

Lord, I need You when the sea of life is calm.
O Lord, I need You when the wind is blowing strong.
Whether trials come or cease, keep me always on my knees.
Lord, I need You. Lord I need You.

Lord, help me to remember I’m weak but You are strong.
I cannot sing apart from You, for Lord You are my song.
Although I’m prone to wander and boast in all I do;
Lord, keep my eyes turned upward so I depend on You.”

This hymn by Ron Hamilton is a tremendous reminder that I need the Lord all the time, not just when I feel  like I need him. I am dependent on him for every heartbeat, every breath, every thought. And what peace I have knowing that he is there to provide for all my needs, both great and small. 

Day 126

Yes, it is, so happy that.

I work two part-time jobs, as indicated by my two timecards. The fact that both places of employment are located in the same building is extremely convenient: I just switch timecards in and out all day long. My upstairs job is mundane and predictable – I go through the tax returns of private foundations in Wisconsin and extract information pertinent to non-profit organizations looking for funding.

Ok, you can wake up now.

My downstairs job can be a little more random (not during spring break, per say, but during certain times of the semester, well . . . ).  When I work at the info desk on the first floor, my duties consist mainly of answering directional and research questions. These can range anywhere from “Can you help me find this article?” to “Do you have any Bibles?” to “How much is everything in the US worth?” to “Do you know where I can buy hemp-flavored cigarettes?” (Yes, those were actual questions.) I also am capable of helping with basic technical issues – paper jams in particular – and of course, answering the phone. 

“Raynor Library Information Desk.” Yawn.

My former roommate works at the University of Louisville in a really cool office. She gets to answer the phone like this (around fifteen times a day):

“Department of Endocrinology and Metabolism.”

You understand my jealousy.

Onward. 

1 John 3:1 “Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God!”

We aren’t born into this world children of God, as many false teachers love to preach – we are born separated from him by the greatest of chasms, and only through faith in his Son’s death in our place and resurrection is that gap closed.  Then, not only are we saved from hell for all eternity; we also have the incomprehensible privilege of becoming his children.

The response to this truth should not be pride, like the little kid who boasts, “My dad is bigger than your dad.” Instead, the fact that the God who holds the universe in his hand loves me lavishly enough to call me his child should be intensely humbling as I consider who I am before the Holy One.

I’m a sinner, a rebel, a former enemy. And due entirely to the merits of Jesus Christ, I’m a child of God.

Day 127

The weird thing about studying neuroscience (even at the basic level I have in the few classes I’ve taken on the subject) is the idea that your brain is actually considering itself. As you look at pictures of the eyeballs and the nerves that run from them to the vision center at the back of your brain, the process of sight is taking place in your head. As you discuss Broca’s and Wernicke’s areas in a study group, these language parts of the brain are hard at work along with your motor cortex and auditory system, as well as many other cognitive components, enabling you to describe the actions they are carrying out at that very instant.

It’s strange and fascinating. When we dissected the brain as a class down in the gross anatomy lab surrounded by cadavers in blue plastic bags, it seemed surreal. As I cradled that grayish mass of tissue in my hand, I was amazed that first of all, I was holding someone’s brain, and secondly, that this person, whoever they were, had sorted out problems, talked, laughed, cried, seen, heard, felt, and lived a life, all of it presided over by this dense formaldehyde-soaked wonder that my classmates and I were about to cut to pieces in the name of science.

My brain, contemplating a brain. Truly amazing.

Onward.

God sings. There’s something to think on – like a daddy singing to his little child, “He will rejoice over you with gladness, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.” (Zeph 3:17 NKJ).

Hold that image for a second. It’s a beautiful one.

Day 128 

Yes, spring break week is, in fact oh-good-now-I-can-work-40-hours-to-make-money-and-catch-up-on-the-several-hundred-pages-of-reading-I-have-put-off-during-the-first-half-of-the-semester-when-I-was-doing-a-zillion-other-things week. I don’t mind it really – in fact, I’d rather be doing what I’m doing this week than take time off to go on a vacation. I can get a jump on some of the second half of semester responsibilities this way. It’s a more relaxed pace and as long as I can get a good night sleep, I’ll feel refreshed. Besides, I’ll be taking off 2.5 weeks from school and work in a mere 128 days . . . I can’t wait!

Onward.

Yesterday, we sang in church again . . . 5 of us this time, and another one of my favorites, emphasizing a believer’s position in Christ.

“Before the throne of God above/I have a strong and perfect plea/A great high priest whose name is Love/Who ever lives and pleads for me./My name is graven on his hands/My name is written on his heart/I know that while in heaven he stands/No tongue can bid me thence depart.

When Satan tempts me to despair/And tells me of my guilt within/Upward I look and see him there/Who made an end of all my sin/Because the sinless Savior died/My sinful soul is counted free/For God the just is satisfied/To look on him and pardon me.

Behold him there, the Risen Lamb/My perfect, spotless righteousness/The great unchangeable I AM/The King of glory and of grace/One with himself I cannot die/My soul is purchased by his blood/My life is hid with Christ on high/With Christ my Savior and my God.”

I love this song because of it’s correct perspective on both me as a sinful human being and Christ as the sinless One who died in my place. He alone is my righteousness.

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.

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)