Height and Depth

A Few More Quotes...

2008-03-01T13:29:00.004-11:00

It's been awhile since I've posted some ridiculous quotes from our class, but a few have happened this week that I want to web-log before I forget....

Spoken during Sex Week in a class entitled Transgendered Patients:
"So you're saying that any man who walks into my clinic with a pink shirt on should be assumed to be a transgender?"
-my roommate
(why did everyone look at me?)

89 year old professor:
"When you suspect this high aldosterone in your patient, go ahead, take the measurement, call up 1-800-Aldosterone, go on with your life for six months, your uncle gets divorced, you forget about your patient, then suddenly one day you get your lab results back."

Said by a homosexual scientist during a video (made in the 70s) shown in our class:
"Do not dare... don't you DARE assume that mankind was made in such a way that biologically or biochemically, we are intended to be mated as a man with a woman. This is ludicrous."
-Hmmm. Interesting. Yes, point well made. Seeing as how in fact we are biologically made with anatomy that would suggest so and biochemically are structured with different biochemicals that would also suggest so.

A professor was trying to make the point that breasts are nothing more than glorified sweat glands. He unsuspectingly singled out one of the two gay men in the classroom and shouted,
"YOU! What do you think about breasts!?!"
He was met with one red face and 149 hysterially laughing ones. I'm fairly certain he was the only one who didn't get the joke. So sad to see the funny ones sink their own ships.

Said I'm Free, I'm Free At Last...

2007-06-07T15:58:00.000-11:00

Free to surf, Free to run, Forget about my past!!!

If you're having difficulty getting a hold of me, look for me on the waves. Or running on River Road. Or perhaps on a cruise in the Bahamas. Or maybe in a small 7 passenger plane in Mexico. Or exploring the coves of the oldest city in the United States. But don't look for me in the library. And don't try to find me cutting up dead bodies. And don't search for me wielding sprays and newspapers on a roach killing spree. And don't even BEGIN to look for me pulling an all-nighter. Go ahead and call me at 3AM. Cause I won't pick up. Why? I'll be sleeping, that's why. Like a normal human being.

God's gift to the world = 6 weeks = no Miami = perfect happiness

Dreams Let Go

2007-05-16T13:24:00.000-11:00

2 Corinthians 4:17 says that our light and momentary afflictions are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs our trouble. After I read this I began to pray that God would prepare my heart for the depth of pain that I will be exposed to, body and soul, with this lifework ahead of me. I then began to wonder and realize that probably my biggest struggle and frustration as a doctor will be the pain that I will not be able to heal, the kind that comes deep down from the soul, the kind that has no tangible answers. I then decided that it will be very hard to look into the eyes of thousands of people from other countries, from other cultures, who had the same dreams that I did but who most certainly did not have the same opportunities. Broken dreams are a nasty thing for a person to process. I’ve had a few of my own, but precious few; will they be enough to empathize with those I'm dying to touch? I doubt it. I’ve been wondering why broken dreams are so hard to recover from; why do we allow something that never happened to make us bitter, to ruin our present realities and the joys and experiences that are ours for the taking? It is one thing for the past to ruin the present. Sad but understandable. But how could a non-existent future ruin the present? That’s simply tragic. I’ve come to the conclusion that when we dream, we hope, and in hoping, we set up false realities in our minds of what the future could look like; we imagine ourselves in that place, or with that person, or in that moment, and down the road, when we finally have to face the impossibility of that reality, we have to let go of something that never even existed. How do you mourn the loss of something that never was yours to have? What do you do with pain that you have no right to feel? Denying it has been proven to be useless. So the only other option is acknowledging it. But by acknowledging it, you give it a place, and how do you give place to something that never was and never will be? It makes me think of a woman who begins to wonder if she is pregnant. For two or three days she holds the possibility of an exciting secret in her heart, wondering and picturing and preparing. Then when she discovers that all is normal, she can’t get rid of the feeling that she has lost her baby. Maybe it doesn’t last for long, or maybe it does, but the point is, she feels the loss of something that never existed, the loss of something that only was present in her mind. What is to be done with this type of pain? Should we to continually try to search our hearts for those things that we are in need of letting go, so that we don’t wake up one day when we are forty-five or fifty and have a breakdown that our lives are interminably set in one direction and cut off from so much of what we dreamed? Some dreams die naturally and without pain, some dreams change, and some dreams are broken as time and circumstances push steadily on without deference to the destruction of a soul in the process. God save us from wasted years given over to deceit and trickery of our own hearts and minds. And give me eyes of understanding and a heart full of compassion and a voice free of judgment for those in the process of letting go.

Mission Trip to Mexico

2007-05-10T17:38:00.000-11:00

Hey kids. Just wanted to throw out a prayer request for anyone frequenting this website. My very dear friend Vicky just moved to Mexico to be a midwife/schoolteacher/lots of other things missionary in the state of Chuauaauauauauau (like the dog). Her boyfriend is a pilot of a small aircraft that allows him to land of the sides of mountains and bring sick people high up in the hills down to the area hospital. They are always in need of prayer for safety especially, but mostly for the hearts of the Taramaura Indians to awaken towards God's Spirit. The people are beautiful and have kind spirits but are in despair and need the Lord so very much. Specific requests are for a Bible study Vicky is starting with women at her compound and safety and efficiency for Mark and his plane and the building of a new and safer hanger. I might get a chance to get down there for a few days this summer. Most likely I'll save a few lives and deliver a few babies. Anyhow, thanks ahead of time for prayer for them, and I'll try to put up occasional updates on their work. Maybe even some pictures if I can ever find a link that lets you do that on this dang blog thing. But don't hold your breath :)

A Right? A Privilege? Our Duty?

2007-02-27T08:13:00.000-11:00

Been struggling with a statement made on a regular basis in my classes, a statement that is made in a way that always assumes that everyone agrees with it, along with the implication that anyone who doesn't is stone-age and should not be allowed to practice medicine. Here it is:

Health care is a human right.

This statement is made in deference to the idea that those to whom health care is NOT being provided to are being denied their rights. This statement is very powerful and political and holds a lot of sway in the arenas my life will consist of from here on out. Before I take this any further concerning my own thoughts, can anyone offer an opinion on the matter? Scriptural back-up would be encouraged.

Who Said Med School Wasn't a Blast?

2007-02-01T10:52:00.000-11:00

Just wanted to share some of my favorite professor/student quotes so far this medical school year, all for the low price of $30,000+ in tuition a year:

"The release of corticosteroids from the adrenal cortex is continuous, but it is not constant."

Student: "Can you explain why cefatoxi...cefalatozi....cefa...why the second drug on that list is anaerobic?"

Professor: "Can anyone venture a guess as to whether this channel is a sodium channel or a potassium channel? Any brave souls? Yes, Catherine?"
Me: "It's sodium."
Professor, with a disappointed smile: "Hmm. Interesting thought. Does everyone in here agree with Catherine's guess?"
(He turns his back to the class to write on the board.)
Me (loudly and drawn out): "Noooooooooo....."
Professor turns around: "Great. Who said that?"

"No. No, in fact, that's completely wrong." -in response to a student's suggested answer.

"Uh, that's not my expertise, so I hesitate to say." -counted approximately 12 times in one lecture.

"This drug is particularly useful for those who are responsive to it. To those unresponsive, it generally is not as useful." -shocking but true.

"From this lecture, you need to memorize the mechanism for the eye as well as the mechanism for the heart...(pause)...you need to memorize the mechanisms for the rest of the body as well." -always useful when they cut down the information for us

VERY old and funnily dressed professor stands at the chalkboard and stares at his notes for a long time in the middle of his lecture.
He finally barks out..."SIEMENS!...." and abruptly stops.
A 10 second pause ensues.
The professor seems embarrassed and stumped as he stares at his notes.
Muffled laughter begins to break out across the room as everyone asks their neighbor if they just heard what they heard.
The professor finally turns with a sheepish smile, "There must be a typo in my notes. MOVING ON."
(-it is discovered later that "siemens" is the SI-derived unit for conductance, but apparently his notes left out that particular explanation and left him speechless as to its relevance.)

"How you as a doctor break bad news to your patients is of absolute importance; clumsily spoken words of bad news can have catastrophic effects on the family." -no pressure.

"I don't like cell phones."

"There are several diseases which will demonstrate complete resistance to any antibiotics for at least 10 years right as you as a class begin your medical profession in several years from now. There is nothing in the pipeline to defend the world against them. Prepare yourselves."

"You need to stop answering questions and give someone else a chance." -said to the class gunner and to the joy of every other student in the class

Me: "For test purposes, how will we know when to take oral bioavailability into account and when not to?"
Professor: "Well, sometimes you need to account for it and sometimes you don't need to account for it."
Me: Long Pause. "Thank you."

"Not to be political or anything, but obviously, if there was a Higher Power, then the need to keep sperm cooler and in a location outside the body core should have been thought about. I believe anyone arguing for Intelligent Design would have difficulty disagreeing with me there."

"I can tell by your lack of response that you must have never had this material before." -spoken about a subject we had just finished being tested on and obviously mastered

"I can say 'Oriental' if I want. I may look American, but I lived in China for longer than any of you have been alive." -spoken by a very old professor in rebuttal to a student's protests against his derogatory racial slurs.

"Yes, we know that you already have forgotten 90% everything we made you memorize in anatomy a month ago. We tested our own surgical residents two years ago and the failing rate for the test we give you was 100%. So does that prove that our methods of teaching and learning are ineffective? Yes. Absolutely. For better or for worse. That's how it is."

Thank You, Angel

2006-12-11T15:07:00.000-11:00

Been in the library studying for a few hours (across from a cute Yale med student).
An older gentleman walks up to me out of nowhere, leans over the short raised part of my "cubicle" where I'm typing, and says, "Excuse me." I look up. He says, "During this time of year, when the wind blows and the air gets chilled, squirrels and sparrows alike begin to chase around some round objects on the ground. Do you know why?" I slowly shake my head, with an appropriate look of wonder and curiousity. "Because they are NUTS."
I giggle hesitatantly. HE is nuts.
He then says, "When a baby ghost got lost in the fog, its family and friends were very upset. Can you think of a 4 OR 6 letter word that describes how they felt?" I slowly shake my head, feeling very disappointed in myself. I can't think of it. I'm reaching far back in the mind. Nope. Nothin'. He encourages me. "Think hard. Two different words that sound the same. Here's a hint...one means the same thing as FOG." I try very hard. Cloud? Smoke? No, Catherine, no. You're an idiot. I can't believe they let you into med school. You should have worked harder on those crossword puzzles in Europe instead of constantly flipping to the back to "check" your answers. Cloud? No, you already thought that! I sadly and VERY disappointedly shake my head. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at these," I sadly admit to the crazy scary white-bearded man with wide-spaced teeth and frighteningly large and engaging eyes. He smiles. "They mist/missed him."
I sigh. I don't deserve to live.
He encourages me. "That's okay. Here, I'll give you one you will DEFINITELY get." My heart starts racing. That's the worst thing he could possibly say. Now I MUST get the answer right or it will prove beyond any doubt that I am a fool. Right there in front of Mr. Yale, who was probably answering each one in his mind so quickly and wondering to himself at the low acceptance standards Miami has for their medical students these days. The man says, "A young and handsome magnet took a lady magnet out to dinner on a date. He said to her across the dinner table...'My dear, I find you very ______.'" I think hard and fast. I'm a little sweaty, even. The word ATTRACTIVE pops in my mind instantly but for some reason I don't believe it could be that easy. I think harder. Magnetic? Is that stupid? That's stupid. I finally go out on the limb with my first instinct. "Attractive...?" He smiles victoriously. "YES! You've GOT it!"
He walks away triumphantly without looking back and I wonder if I've just been visited by a very fat, white-haired, socially inept angel who decided to make my day. Even if he ruined my chances with Mr. Yale, who apparently would have been our one hope at the genius children I've been dreaming of.

Original Passion

2006-12-01T17:09:00.000-11:00

Struggling with the darkness of loneliness tonight. Unfortunately (or fortunately), that doesn't provide much in the way of blogging material. So, moving on to Struggle Number Two... Been wondering a lot lately if I ever have original passion. Beginning to realize how much goes over my head, in the way of innuendo or opinion. Always seem to see both sides of the argument; even can usually ARGUE both sides of the argument, sometimes with almost equal conviction. Used to think that meant I was reasonable. Not so sure anymore. Can't even guess at how many countless times I have walked out of a church service, a class, or a simple conversation with a group of people, who were all riled up about something that was said or insinuated, only to realize that I had no idea that I was supposed to have been offended. Maybe I'm just an idiot. Funny, cause I kinda thought I erred on the side of argumentative, but now that I think about it, I wonder if I've EVER taken up a cause I believed in that I came to believe on my own. Not that I think I have original thought or anything. Don' t think that's really possible for any of us anymore, unless we're inventing cold fusion or something else big and scary. But I also am starting to think that half the stuff I am so very passionate about is because the people I love and admire are passionate about those same things. Of course, not ALL of them believe in ALL the things I believe in at the same time, but you get what I mean. Had a great Bible teacher I loved and respected...poof, I'm part-Calvinist. Had a volleyball coach I adored who drilled in my head that we stop working when we die and not a day sooner... bam, I don't believe in the idea of retirement. Had a dad who was a police officer for twenty-three years...waalaa, I think firemen do 1/10 the work a police officer does. Interesting, now that I'm looking back. MAYBE the reason I "copy" these people's beliefs is because I admire their character and integrity and want to be like them, so I adopt things that unconsciously I agree with because of the PERSON who is promoting it. That's not so bad, probably; but it kind of seems like that's acceptable only up to a certain age, like, five or something. Then again, I know that mentoring is a good idea, and Biblical in fact, so I guess it's okay. On the other hand, why do I care what the Bible says to start with? Lots of answers pop up, but quite frankly, since I was a baby, people I loved and who loved me, made the Book out to be kind of a big deal. So I've never thought differently. Granted, I have my own reasons now, but still, wonder if/when/how I would have come to these same conclusions, if at all, given different circumstances/people. Put a little girl to bed tonight I was babysitting who told me she has never said prayers and didn't want to. Kinda think that's a huge tragedy, given that her parents had the opportunity to shape this mind they were given charge of, a mind that is so incredibly responsive to their leading right now, to love God, and they're kinda blowing it. So I'm kinda torn, because on one hand I (in humility) realize that God's sovereignty and shaping of my mind through the people in my life has brought me to this point with Him; on the other hand, my ego sort of wishes I was brilliant enough to see/discern/understand all things, or at least some things, okay, or even just ONE thing, on my own. Which probably puts me back at the original SIN, of wanting to be like God. Hmm... kinda coming full circle here. Somehow I have a strong feeling that I need to finish up my study of Ecclesiastes pretty soon...

The Spawn of Satan

2006-10-13T17:20:00.000-11:00

I'll never forget the day my brother let me down. The only day he ever did, really. He always killed the roaches in my bedroom, see. I know he didn't LIKE to; I could tell by the graceful, agile tiptoe dance he would do as he chased it down, but I was too desperate and too grateful to risk losing his help by the crime of inappropriate giggling. But all that changed one day. One heartbreaking day of growth. He was a senior in high school and I was but a lowly freshman, and he had college plans fresh in his mind. Once the offending roach was discovered, I did the usual routine, which consisted of first finding myself standing on the dresser or hanging from the light fixture, and then gathering my wits about me enough to call him in while keeping a dartful eye on the enemy. He came as usual, but there was a new air about him. An aura of impending independence, and the new idea that his own independence would mean that I would need to grow up. Today. So he told me gently but firmly that I would need to kill this roach on my own, since he would be leaving soon. As practice. I was sure I had heard wrong and stared at him aghast and almost lost sight of the creature, but after pleading in vain with tear-filled eyes, I calmed my racing heart and decided it was either obedience or go to bed with the fear of a silent visitor in my bed. So with his brotherly eye watching over me, I killed my own very first roach. I loathe roaches. I loathe few things, see. Abortion I loathe. People who key brand new cars in parking lots I loathe. And roaches I loathe. I can now say that although at the time I felt like he meant it for evil, God meant it for good. Why? Because my apartment is roach-infested, and I have been cursed with a roommate who feigns the inability, just absolute inability, to kill a roach. We have tried much: keeping the apartment spotless, keeping the lights on all night, you name it, pesticide after pesticide. Nothing. The little spawns of Satan are getting bolder, deciding they can just pop their heads out in broad daylight. I don't think it's any coincidence that they look like the crawly version of a demon, do you? They didn't even have the decency to be afraid of us! Well, they are getting more fearful, let me tell you. I am becoming quite adept, killing between 2-3, sometimes 4, in a 24 hour period. One even flew and I still got to it. Sometimes if it's a particularly squashy death I leave it out for a while so that its roachy friends and family can smell the chemicals I'm sure are being given off as a warning to stay far, far away. I still struggle with my attitude about the whole situation though. I have different tactics here too. Sometimes I pretend that me and the roach are friends so that I can keep an upbeat tone as I kill them: "Now, Mr. Roach Pants, I'm sorry I have to do this but you should have listened to your mother and not strayed from the ceiling." But then I found that whenever my real life human friends ticked me off I began to automatically approach them threateningly with a paper towel or a book out of habit, so I decided that I should discard the friendly approach. Then I tried being indifferent, acting as though I am very tough and normalized to killing roaches and it actually bores me. That's simply such a strong lie that no part of my mind can accept it. And finally, I've tried to distract myself as I kill them with study material: "Hepatitis B is the only DNA Hepatitis virus and encodes its own reverse transcriptase material, although scientists are still unsure as to the evolutionary benefit." But this does not help either, because then I just begin to wonder how I could come up with a Hepatitis Roach Shot that could wipe out all non-immune roaches on the face of the planet and save the world, one low socio-economic apartment at a time. So I don't think my attitude will change. Through this I've come to realize that I firmly believe now that Satan's greatest real deterrant in keeping single women from the mission field is insects. I've found myself questioning Africa lately, because somehow I feel very sure that I will face more nightmarish crawling creatures there than I could even care to imagine right now. My new prayer is to marry a brave killer by the time I leave for the mission field or else I anticipate God putting me through the most intense spiritual warfare I will have ever faced. I wish sometimes that God didn't really find it necessary to be QUITE so creative during that first week of creation. Maybe He should have taken two days off instead of one....I guess He knows best (but I'm really just saying that because I feel like it's the Christian thing to say).

Thank you, Mary Poppins

2006-10-09T09:55:00.000-11:00

My favorite new quote,
given during Pastor Steve's prayer,
minister of the Heart of God church I visited on Sunday:

"And Lord, You KNOW we done run OUT of superlatives for You, so we is just left saying this: super-caly-fraji-lishy-expe-ally-DISHES!"

Amen and amen.

It must be said...

2006-10-05T13:23:00.000-11:00

Had to go to the trauma ward today to interview some patients. I saw things there that no human eye was ever meant to see. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that I DIDN'T see things that the human eye should never have to NOT see. Gruesome, and yet somehow, strangely strangely incredible. And the best part is, I got to hear the stories that went along with the traumas straight from the patients' mouths, who were not only willing to share but also very good storytellers. Wish I hadn't had to have taken that privacy oath... this one story is just BEGGING to be shared. That's it. I'm officially in love with medical school.

An Honest Confession

2006-09-12T17:23:00.000-11:00

I am about to reveal a subject I struggle with that I rarely allow to be open for discussion because I reached a point of being so tired of ever arguing this subject with any Christian guys who accused me of femi-Nazisim that I decided it best never to go there. But I'm going there, and I think it's okay. I hope. First it must be said that no part of me thinks girls are better than boys. No part of me wants to lead a guy. Ever. I don't think a woman should run our country (especially if her name starts with an H and ends with an ilary) and I think that the mark of a wife wearing the pants in the family is nothing but a pure sign of evil straight from the Fall. And I've never felt differently. I'm not even sure I should necessarily be teaching the word of God to guys my age, and recently refused the opportunity because I'm still wrestling with the line drawn for that. Boys should be in charge, and I don't struggle a bit with that. But I do struggle with man-resentment sometimes. I know it's wrong. I do, and I hate it in myself. I have not felt man-resentment in a very long long time but today it reared its ugly head in full form and I must tell why.
We have been discussing ethical issues of healthcare this week in class. They are not graded or tested lectures, they are simply to spark discussion among us as peers as well as begin the formation of personal opinions and decisions to make change happen. But in my case, these "discussions" make me feel as if I am opening up deep deep wells of turbid passions and emotionally charged subjects that make my insides crawl and scream and scrape to be heard and be understood and be right and to MAKE other people see things my way and adopt that as their own view. Abortion has always made me very emotional, but I have typically been around people of like-mindedness. Here it is not so, and I am finding it difficult to feel compassion for my peers and teachers this week. So how does all this relate to man-hate? Here goes.
So today we discussed the U.S. healthcare system versus socialized healthcare of other countries, and in that discussion we brought up the issue of providing healthcare to unemployed/underserved portions of the community. On the way home my roommate Naureen and I continued our discussion on ethics and healthcare for needy people, for people with no way out. And Naureen, who is Pakistani, shared with me that in her country, girls who become pregnant outside of wedlock are stoned, by Muslim law. So what about girls who are raped? Girls who are raped and choose to report it are actually put on trial for adultery. They have to prove that they did not tempt the man who raped them. Politicians, notorious in Pakistani for their common use of sex slaves, recently passed a law abolishing the old requirement for four witnesses to have to prove that she tempted the man; in other words, it is now his word against hers in a court of law. She usually loses. So what is the result? Girls who are raped usually do not report it, plain and simple. A matter of survival. So what if she gets pregnant? If she can't find a guy compassionate enough to marry her immediately to hide it, and she usually can't, then you can guess her fate. She must choose to have an underground abortion, very dangerously performed, to kill the life within her, to save her own. Naureen is from Karachi, the second largest city in Pakistan and certainly very modernized, and this happens. So let's sum up: a girl goes through the most horrific and nightmarish experience of brutality and helplessness and not only can she not receive treatment, justice, and at the very least, simple human compassion, she is instead put on trial for her character and probably her life. So she waits for a month in dread, praying that she will not have visible effects of "her" crime so that she can pick up the pieces of her life and carry her secret with her to the grave.
This makes me hate the idea of men. Not all men. Not any men I know, sheltered and babied as I am. Just the idea of men, the knowledge that men are bigger and more important and corrupted by power and ultimately, in authority over me. I relate to this girl and I feel this same hatred when I know I am being watched in a dark parking lot or when I drive past my house because I know I am being followed or when I triple-lock my door at night and pray for safety. So I recognize that this hatred comes from fear on my part. I am afraid, and that is sin. And even if I was this girl and this happened to me I still could not hate because God gives me the power to love, even in this. Even.
And so now I need this same grace, this same compassion, to look in the eyes of my peers, my new friends whom I really and truly love, I really do. Sometimes I look at them and see Jesus and that is when I love them, and sometimes I look at them and see in them a killer, and that is when I am afraid of them and I would give my life to change them or have them see without darkness in their hearts. But instead I am opportunity to manifest God's GRACE. Such a beautiful beautiful answer. The only one, I think.

Random Thoughts of an Overslept Druggie

2006-09-01T19:29:00.000-11:00

Found out the surest way to get myself some alone time. With snot coming out of my ears and lips so chapped that children scream at the sight of me, my roommate has decided to head home for the long weekend. I think I heard her mutter something about "a matter of survival." If I had known that earlier, I would have been volunteering my services at the pediatrics ward (the most guaranteed place to contract air-borne bacteria) a couple weeks ago when I felt like I could use some space. Not that my roommate isn't great; she's SO great. But I'm pretty sure she doesn't feel that way about me right now. The problem is, I've slept the entire day away, waking up intermittently to make sure my raw nose still had some skin left on it and getting online occassionally to attempt to diagnose myself. NOW, it's 2:30AM and I'm keyed up and starving. And very, very far from studying. I think it's pre-game jitters. I know that God is going to give me the grace to handle the stress of med school; what I'm still not quite sure about is if He is going to give me the strength to handle both school stress combined with Hurricane football stress. Monday's the big game against nasty Tally-town and I hope that no less than every single FSU fan leaves with wet eyes and hanging heads. I for one am not prepared to have my heart broken by this new-found love.

Representin'

2006-08-10T16:37:00.000-11:00

I was informed recently that there are four categories of newspapers in the United States:

The New York Times is read by the people who THINK they run the country.

The Washington Post is read by the people who SHOULD run the country.

The Wall Street Journal is read by the people who DO run the country.

And the Miami Herald is read both by the people who run ANOTHER country and are running FROM another country.

Ah, yes. Home sweet home.

My Chance

2006-07-29T08:24:00.000-11:00

Have you ever wanted to be someone different? I realize I have finally gotten my chance, perhaps my one and only chance, to play the part of someone other than me. Here, in a new place, where no one knows me or has any other expectation than that I am either smart enough or rich enough to have gotten here. Spent the last 23 years of my life in one place, building up expectation after expectation of my personality and character. But not anymore, oh no, no sirree. I am going by Cathleen. Close enough that I will still turn my head when I hear it called, yet with such an entirely different nuance. I will be rich, NOT smart, thank goodness. I got in because daddy had big bucks and knew the dean of students back in his college days. I drive a Mercedes-Benz in order to fit in with all the other 149 students I will be spending every waking hour of the next four years of my life with, and we will appropriately discuss the hilarity of cutting off the masses in their Oldsmobile Aleros and throw back our heads and laugh at the rising costs of fuel, for our pocketbooks are not affected by such news. I will eat red meat at every meal, except for when I choose mahi-mahi or shrimp cocktails instead. No one will cheat off my test or ask to study with me because I will play dumb and chew and pop my gum and whisper loudly during lectures to make the people who are taking out loans to attend this school wish that I were dead. Or just poorer. I will spend all my free time poring over Cosmopolitan and figuring out what color nail polish will go best with my brand new J.Lo sweatpants suit. Probably coral. Pink is SO last year. And if you miss me and want to catch up on what is going on in my life, I probably won't have time to write to you, but don't fret, you can always look me up in each UMNews' edition's gossip column; I plan to make the weekly headlines.

Beautifully Corrected

2006-04-27T17:16:00.000-11:00

First, I want to start off by saying that the joy that comes to me whenever God illuminates truth to me personally absolutely thrills me and overwhelms me to a point at which I feel I could literally leap to the heavens because I am so filled to overflowing that there is nowhere on earth that could contain so much joy. Words do not aid me now to convey the depth of my heart but I will use their lame ability anyhow, since I so badly want to share what has been taking place by the power of God's incredible, indescribable grace. Whew. Okay, here goes.

So, I responded to God's call on my heart in the 11th grade to serve on the mission field (I guess to specify, full-time ministry, since we're all called to preach, etc.). At the time of my calling, I was brokenhearted about the lack of compassion in my heart, especially considering that I burned to be a doctor and felt led in that direction. God has faithfully answered my prayers and given me a compassion for others since that time (actually, He's gone a little overboard in that gift; I could do without some of the weepiness), but I must emphasize that the whole while, I strongly felt that I needed compassion to better help me carry out the goal of missions, which I thought was to lead people to Christ for their sake, i.e. to be saved from hell. Let me add emphasis to "their" sake. I felt that the most important thing, the entire goal of my life's work, was to further the kingdom of God FOR THE SAKE OF THE LOST. How wrong my thinking. How great is God to clarify His truths! This past Sunday, I came to understand through the expounding of Psalms 96 that the goal of missions works hand in hand with worship. What is worship? It is giving God the glory due His name. What is missions? Making the name of the Lord renown to the nations. Of course I knew all this. And in the back of my mind, there has always been some tension between what I knew was God's greatest passion (Himself) and what was my greatest passion (the lost). But I never thought it through enough to understand my wrong thinking. It should bother me that people are lost...why? Because He is not receiving glory from their lives. The beauty of their salvation is secondary. (But obviously, still great, since LOVE fueled Him to send Christ and save our souls through the process.)

Here comes the blessed part. This entirely changes my life. I am so ridiculously filled with peace and joy at this illumination because knowing that the glory of God is at stake alone, then I am left with this: regardless of mens' response to the Gospel I preach, regardless of the visible fruits of my life's passionate ministry, regardless even of the length of my life...if only I preach the name of Christ, if I make the name of the Lord known to the nations, then my "missions" falls under my life's goal of continued worship. How great is God! How gracious to place the work of the Spirit on Himself alone should we simply trust and obey in the pursuit of His glory.

Here comes a side note - this upsets another long-term argument I have fought within myself for so long. I have always thought that LOVE was the most prominent characteristic of God, being the ultimate driving force in His nature. I based this argument on I Cor. 13 ("the greatest of these is love") and ultimately on the fact that the entire Scriptures center on Christ's coming and His work of redemption. YET if LOVE were God's MOST driving force, He would have let sin enter His kingdom at the cost of His holiness. Instead, HOLINESS (which is of course, His very nature, bringing limitations and demands) is greatest and works WITH LOVE to allow sinful mankind to both enjoy redemption and fellowship with Him without compromising the demands of His nature to be worshiped as the glorious God that He is. This holiness WITH LOVE brings greater glory because His name is proclaimed through the joy of salvation. Psalms 99:3 "Let them praise Your great and awesome name - You are holy." I beg Him to correct all my wrong thinkings in these matters. Even in the beginning stages of understanding this truth, so many tensions I've dealt with through Scripture my entire spiritual life already seem to fall into place like a puzzle well-constructed (considering the WHOLE breadth of Scripture) in light of this new thinking. If you have stuck with me this far, thank you! I hope my change in thinking is clear. If Word comes to your mind as you read this that you feel would add to my understanding I would love so much for you to share it.

Deuteronomy 33:26-27

2006-02-10T02:46:00.000-11:00

Just had a quick INCREDIBLE verse to share because I want everyone I love to see it too. Anyone in Titus' Bible study has already seen this verse but it's stuck with me now for three weeks; God has been romancing me with it and I love love love love love it. I like it too. Here it comes, prepare yourself:

Deuteronomy 33:26-27
"There is no one like the God of Jeshurun,
who rides the heavens to your help
and on the clouds in His majesty.
The eternal God is your refuge,
and underneath are the everlasting arms."

First of all, He "rides the heavens to your help" is one of the most romantic phrases I've ever heard. Sometimes I forget that Jesus' body has all these battle-scars on it from where He fought once to save my life, which is also romantic and every girls' dream (that a guy would cherish her so much that he would have even fought for her and bears the scars to prove it). Next, not only is He a refuge, which seems to me to imply an overhanging or shading (something above), but "underneath are the everlasting arms." So I'm surrounded. Which is more than just comforting. It's FREEDOM. Does that make sense? When I read this verse, it seems extremely laughable to me to envision anything causing me fear. I picture a windy day way up high in the clouds and God is kind of cruising along and here is Catherine, somewhere inside of Him, feeling the rush of the wind but free of fear, of hesitation, of danger. This is His promise. Not that our lives aren't dangerous or difficult, because two seconds in the world will prove that quickly enough, but that in every sense, in every practical way, I am surrounded by God's mercy and love and I am free to live my life in Him with joy and fearlessness. Come danger, come hatred from the world, come death! This passage makes me brave and hopeful and excited and borderline thrilled. I hope you like it too.

Lack Nothing

2006-01-23T02:37:00.000-11:00

And the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.
1 Peter 5:10

I have been indescribably sad lately about leaving. This week has marked the 4-month mark: 4 months till I leave for Miami and walk away from everyone I love and the life that has especially recently been so richly blessed by others. I have been shocked at how emotional and difficult I am already taking this; I feel so silly and stupid for already making such a big deal about it in my heart, but on the other hand, I feel grateful that God is preparing my heart now (NOW, while I'm still surrounded by encouragement and love and a strong community), versus leaving without having considered the cost and being shocked at the pain once I've left. I guess I feel like this chapter of my life - that of my "home" as I have always known it - will never be opened again once I've left. I've got a seven year program ahead of me and once I complete it, I will be heading off into the unknown, returning only for visits and weddings and funerals and short "holidays by the sea." And I'm so SAD. And God is so NEAR to me right now. I want no part in looking back, and the verse above alone has kept my head above water this last week. He promises to restore - GOD does! Himself! The fingers of the Creator will literally put me back together in His way and His timing. Where else could I find such incredible love? Restoration, I think, implies brokeness, brokeness that is healed not by putting back the original materials, but by putting restoring materials where the original materials where in order to make the work stronger. If He requires me to be broken in order to make me stronger, firmer and somehow more steadfast, then thank God for the pain! Praise God for the weakness and hesitation and faltering on my part to keep on, because only in my desperation does He pick up the tools to work on this vessel this is finally willing. "And let patience have its perfect work, so that you may be mature and complete, LACKING NOTHING." Here's to admitting there is nothing good in me so that I eventually lack nothing. No one said it better than J. Eliot: He is no fool who loses what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.

Second Joke

2006-01-12T13:56:00.000-11:00

There are three kinds of people in the world:

Those who can count

And those who can't.

Proud to Be A Christian?

2006-01-04T09:11:00.000-11:00

I have a friend named Jenn. I am tempted to be proud to be called one her best friends. Jenn is cool. She is very funny, she is well-known, and she is beloved by anyone privileged enough to know her well. But I cannot be proud to be associated with Jenn. I’ve done nothing to deserve her friendship. She loves me and graces me with her life, and I am blessed and grateful. But not proud. Is this questionable to you? I cannot change my opinion on this subject, because inasmuch as I may be proud to be associated with one cool person, can I equally make an argument to be ashamed that I am not associated with another person whom I find cool but who has no desire to be my friend? If you are a good friend of mine, you would protest now: Catherine, you cannot get down on yourself because somebody does not want to be your friend! You cannot base your identity, good or bad, on those who love you. You are who you are because of Christ in you, only! So I pose this question: How is it that we may be proud that we are Christians? How is it that I may be proud to be associated with the name of Christ when I have done nothing to deserve it, and in fact have done everything in my nature to oppose this name, without His grace? How can I be proud when even Christ Himself was not proud to be God? "For He considered equality with God something not to be grasped....." I am grateful, ridiculously joyful, eternally wondrous, but not proud. I bear His name with joy and courage, I hope, given by Himself, but not pride. So am I just picking on words? When we, as one body in Christ, my church specifically, declare in a standing ovation and to thunderous applause that we are proud to be Christians, proud to be on the side fighting the war “literally good against evil," do we REALLY mean that we are proud? Yeah, I think we do. At the very least, it is not a spirit of humility. And I am so grieved. I cannot understand how a group of individuals whom I KNOW love Christ and are devoted to knowing Him can define the relationship between US and THEM as GOOD versus EVIL. I was evil only yesterday, before my identity was changed and I became the righteousness of God. And now I have a vision, similar to Paul’s dream of the man from Madagascar. My vision is of millions of people whose skin color is different than mine, who dress differently than I do, and whose culture I can never begin to understand, standing thronged together, with eyes pleading that I come share love and the grief of sin and the joy of Christ instead of distant pride that I am separated from their evil existence. I love my church. I love the people in my church and am humbled by a multitude of their lives. But I am desperately desperately sad that we are so quick to stand and cheer our allegiance to what we claim to be right instead of fall to our knees sobbing in mediation for those whose lives are separated from ours by a huge chasm of seas. I need prayer if you are reading this. I cannot stand in the pulpit and plead with my church with my tears, and I will not write an outraged letter to my pastor. So what is my voice? This grief in my soul is only possible by God’s whispering, and I know it is for a purpose. Should I join my church’s mission board, made up of only 65 years and older saints? Maybe. I don’t know. The last thing I want to do is turn this into a sneaky personal campaign to put missions on the map at my church. Should I pray hard for the body to be directed with a heart of Christ? Most definitely. Prayer is definitely in order. God of mercy, guard me from the weariness of cynicism and give me wisdom and let Christ revolutionize my body's hearts.

Christmas Blues

2005-12-23T13:50:00.000-11:00

I cannot tell you how incredibly excited I have been the last two month about finally experiencing a white Christmas. It would have been my first. I had a white Thanksgiving when I was six. All I remember is crying because I was embarressed that my dearest Mommy forced me to wear ziploc bags over my tennis shoes in front of my snow-savvy cousins, who of course were prepared with shirpah boots. I still remember that day better than almost any other memory from my childhood (except that one time I tricked bare-footed Matthew into stepping into dog doody during a game of freezetag. That's a good one too). Anyhow, all my snow-flurry dreams were shattered four days ago when my family informed me that they were self-quarrantined to their house because my little sister had developed a bad case of walking pneumonia. The trip was off. I played the grown-up, but inside I was throwing myself on the floor, kicking and screaming. I WANT SNOW!!! Louisville and Roanoke had been calling my name, teasing me with their exciting weather reports and whispers of enough snow to make both snow angels AND Mr. Snowman. I was disappointed. I'm still disappointed. The cold weather here is nice, it's beautiful in fact, but it cannot compete with the anticipation of experiencing for MYSELF that every snowflake is indeed different from every other snowflake. (Does anybody REALLY believe that? It's not even provable.) Then, NATURALLY, my thoughts turned spiritual, and I began to think about the fact that the first Christmas was filled with bitter disappointments, so much worse than my own. For a young girl, younger even than myself (even though I just got my ID checked at the PET STORE yesterday to hold a puppy), her dreams of a beautiful traditional marriage were shot with a call from God to a harder road. As if that weren't difficult enough, the good man she married to had to take her to this insanely stupid government body-check so the man in charge of the country could determine how great he was, etc. THEN, sure enough by Murphy's Law, she has labor pains as soon as she's as far from home as she can get. There goes dreams of sharing this precious moment with her mom and pop, her siblings, and most importantly, her best girlfriends. Instead, she shares it with some pigs, maybe some cattle, a couple cats too? Who knows what blessed dumb animals were graced with the birth of the King, but regardless, I'm sure Mary had plenty of time to feel the keen disappointment of her less-than-ideal circumstances. What a trooper she was. The reality of the circumstances of Christ's birth are so very different than I ever thought, growing up. A good friend reminded me lately that disappointment is essentially denying God's perfect plan and ultimately His goodness. I don't want any part of that, that's for sure. So here's to walking pneumonia and smelly stables --- God is good!

Welcome

2005-12-14T03:00:00.000-11:00

Hi. Thanks for stopping by. I had to make a blog in order to respond to some other people's blogs so here I am. Someday soon I'll have something of interest to report or ask, but for now, I'll leave you with this joke:

What did the daddy buffalo say to his kid when he left for school in the morning?

Bison!