dear rory,
this is going to be a highly un-polished letter, so please forgive me now. I am so tired, but I wanted to share a conversation I had with my grandma tonight. maybe it will somehow be as much of a reminder to you as it was to me. and if not... if you already knew all of this stuff... then uh... sorry. I am a slow learner sometimes.
the conversation went like this:
“so do you have any questions YOU want to ask the doctor tomorrow?” my grandma looked at me from across the kitchen table, pen in hand, with a list of questions her and my mother had already written lying before her. the questions included what my new diet would consist of, how long it would take until full recovery, what physical exercises I should be doing, and a lot of other medical things that I had tuned out while pretending to listen.
I started back to reality at my grandma’s voice. my first impulse was to answer her jokingly by saying, “yeah, ask the doctor if we can include chocolate in the diet somehow.”
instead I thought (you heard that right. please be impressed by this rare occassion ;).
DID I have any questions?
“I have a question,” I finally replied, “but it’s more for you than for the doctor.”
she raised her eyebrows in anticipation and set down her pen.
“do you think this doctor will take me seriously? most doctors have started out their sessions almost as if they think I am making everything up. by the end of the appointment, I can tell they believe me, but those first few minutes of being treated like a liar or a child are humiliating.”
my own voice surprised me. it sounded shaky as though I were about to cry.
my grandma was quiet for a moment. “renee,” she said at last, “do you ever gage people and their opinions by percentage?”
“what do you mean?”
“I mean that if somebody said that he had heard that balancing ten plates on your head will cure you of a disease, what would you rank your belief in that statement percentage wise? would you give that 2% of your trust? what if you heard from a more reliable source all about a treatment that had been found to cure most cases of that disease? Would you give that 60% of your trust?”
I was still feeling mystified.
“renee. give God 100% of your trust. if the doctor doesn’t believe you or your symptoms at first, don’t let that drag you down. know that God, who made you, knows what is wrong and has the ability to heal you. let Him be your rock. don’t rest solely upon what others say or think about your sickness. don’t rest solely upon others opinions. rest upon God. God knows.”
I thought about this for a moment. during the past few weeks, I have been feeling like maybe I’m crazy. I know that something is wrong with my body- staying in bed and hanging out on the couch all day is enough indication that something is not right- but what with my test results coming back normal, I have been feeling, yes, grateful, but also phony. thoughts have kept slipping into my mind making me doubt myself. making me feel like maybe I’ve just been being a big baby and if I could just get my act together, I would be better in no time.
and yet the truth is, I am not well. I feel happier in spirit than I did a week or two ago, but tonight my legs began hurting again like crazy and my right foot went all tingly. I am weak. I am tired. my vision is blurry. something is wrong, but nobody knows what.
I have faced many critical doctors, and I feel more worn out with each one. this morning I told my dad that if anyone at church said something about me faking this or just wanting attention I would start crying. (just so you know, nobody did. I love you all.) I have started ranking people’s opinions at a high percentage rate, and I’ve been letting my own doubts get to me. I have stopped looking to God for 100% of all the strength, comfort, and support I need. and doing that has left me feeling empty.
I need to find my refuge in the Creator-not the created.
my grandma’s words struck me hard. I felt as though a burden was lifted, no, knocked off my shoulders. suddenly I remembered that no matter what happens, no matter how long I am sick, no matter if the doctors ever find what is wrong, no matter what others may say, I can rest in knowing that God knows all about what I am feeling, what is going on in my body, why this is happening, and how it will resolve. He’s got it under control, even if all the doctors in the world don’t. even if I feel crazy. even if some may think I’m crazy.
I looked back into my grandma’s eyes and tried to keep the tears out of my own.
“I think I had forgotten that,” I said. “thank you for reminding me.”
she went on to pray for me. praying that I would put on the full armor of God and that I would trust Him and look to Him alone.
and now here I am in bed. writing this all out, because I am a dunce and would forget most of the conversation by morning.
I don’t want to forget this conversation. I want to remember it.
if I could just stop forgetting how awesome God is, I would be a lot better off! maybe I’ll make a sign with the words “Come on you big dummy! Remember that God is in control” written backwards on it, tape it to my forehead, and carry a mirror around with me to look into and remind myself.
of course, then I would be giving the doctors a good reason to think I’m crazy. ;)
well, I’m off to dream world.
nightynight,
muffin
ps- I just have to say thank you, thank you, thank you to my dear friends who have been praying for me. I love you all and I appreciate the prayers more than you know.
pps- no one send me any more chocolate. I can't eat it and watching others eat it... well... it's just not fun. ;)
ppps- maybe my next post should be on the joy of seeing others happy? ......... nahhhh.
29.2.12
if You are willing
hullo, muffin.
I tasted Spring today. it was fresh & lively & tried to knock me off my feet, but I was too quick for it. I dashed between classes & grinned like an idiot when the wind tossed my scarf into my face.
confession: my commute this morning was slightly south of legal. I accidentally left my wallet + drivers license in the car my sister drove away in, & therefore drove sans license. incognito-like. no joke, I passed more police cars than you can shake a stick at. (don't try. they don't like it.) probably looked like a guilty juvenile delinquent as I passed each one. thankfully, they did not pull me over for looking suspicious... & I must admit, it had been a while since I stuck quite that closely to the speed limit.
lecture today was about death. pediatric death. 4-year-olds with cancer, 2-year-olds with Severe Combined Immunodeficiency. we moved from there into child abuse. let's just say that walking out into the blinding sunlight after class was comforting... & I'm once again reminded of how much I have to be thankful for. how very many things (read: people) I'm attached to, & precisely how little control I have over their presence in my life. hold on loosely, but soak up every moment we're blessed to share with each other. perhaps down the road we'll find ourselves looking back at today.
[why yes. oncology lectures tend to leave me feeling melancholy.]
on a side note, Thomas Edison hit me squarely in the face today. oh yes. dead people have a way of doing that. I was in the middle of telling myself how very bad it is indeed that I must be stuck studying on such a beautiful day. and then up popped ol' Thomas, saying--
"Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls & looks like work." ::Thomas Edison
so yeah. been chewing on that one all day.
it's neat how words hold a thought in place until you can absorb it. they give you time to mull a thing over, breaking apart & putting together until something clicks. these days, I've found myself becoming increasingly fond of matthew 8:2:
“Lord, if You are willing, You can make me clean.”
read it again.
if You are willing.
the leper didn't say, "give me what I want!!" and then squeeze his eyes shut and believe God would do it.
If You are willing.
the leper believed that God can. he believed that, if He was willing, He would do it. I lose grasp of this so easily. my request is not the ultimate goal-- it is the means by which my simple mind learns trust. if You are willing, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it will be done. and if You are not... then I'll know it wasn't the best way. after all, perhaps my leprosy is the best thing.
simple thoughts for a simple day. but sometimes I just need to be reminded of this.
so perhaps I'll put my mile-long list of requests on hold for the moment & focus on what I've already been given. the 4-year-olds I know who do not have cancer, & the beautiful days I can enjoy even from a window.
with that said, I'm off to read more about pediatric death.
go hug the closest kid for me, okay?
love always,
rory
18.2.12
sunshine in february
oh hey rory,
this eighteenth of February was a sparkling sort of day. it was sunny. it was warm-ish. my belly was quieted with the yummy contributions of pizza and rice-krispy squares and lattes and popcorn and grilled potatoes. the baby sister completed two laps in Mario Kart all by herself, I got to see my friends, dad helped me come up with the plot for a new story, and strawberry icecream is now waiting for me in the freezer.
at the moment, the dog is sleeping near my feet, hymns are vibrating off my eardrums via Pandora, mismatched fuzzy socks are warming my toes, and I am sitting on the couch with my hair piled into a knot on top of my head feeling the necessity to organize my thoughts into words.
today had the feeling of summer about it.
there was a giddiness in the air that made me want to skip around the block singing a song at the top of my lungs…
just kidding. that would be weird.
but you know what I mean. today was happy. it was like having July in February.
when I woke up this morning and suggested that after going to Starbucks we play Mario Kart and go see a movie at the dollar theater, lauren looked at me strangely and asked what was up.
(as if I’m not usually more fun than a barrel of monkeys… pft.)
well… I guess I *have* been sort of out of it lately. you see, two weeks ago, I had something strange happen to me. I lost most of my vision in my left eye, lost feeling in my right arm, and was so weak I could barely stand. I couldn’t remember most of what had happened that day or what I had said or done. and I was tired. oh so tired. mom was really worried about me and offered to take me to the hospital, but I said I would rather just go to bed.
I laid in bed for awhile thinking that maybe I was going to die. maybe this was the end. maybe eighteen trips around the sun was all the time I had been allotted in this life. and the weirdest part of it all was that I didn’t care. eighteen years seemed long enough. in fact, living for eighteen years had been exhausting. draining really. I was ready to close my eyes and sleep forever.
instead, I slept basically from Sunday night until Tuesday morning.
and since then, I have still been tired and weak and my mind has felt foggy, but my heart is beating and my brain is functioning and I’m ready for more adventures in life. I’m ready to travel many more miles with this planet I live on.
today was the first day I woke up and really felt like my mind was a bit clearer. I think the sun helped. the brightness made wanted to curl up in front of the window and lay still enough to feel my skin absorb the light. and I think I would have done that, but for the fact that my mind, which had been mostly idle for two weeks, was ready to do something besides math.
it’s funny how being sick can give you a new appreciation of life. how the seemingly small things suddenly feel so significant. how every memory begins to glow.
I had a lot of time to think these past two weeks. I went through a lot of my past and realized how much I have to be grateful for… from the big things: family, friends, church, home, food, clothes, etc… to the small things: every drop of rain, every pink-clouded sunset, every smiling face, every loving glance, every warm touch, every kind word, etc.
I realized how my existence has mostly been written with happy sounding chapter titles. sure, my life hasn’t been perfect. like any story, there have been sad parts. there have been parts that I wish I could’ve skipped over or seen coming. and I know that there will be chapters in the future that may not be easy reading. they may be tedious or boring or depressing or scary.
I know there will come a time when this chapter I’m living in will end. when the days of waking up to having my whole family under one roof will be over. I might not see the corner of my dad’s mouth tilt up in an ornery smile as he walks through the door with some surprise for all of us. I might not smell my mom’s perfume as I bury my head in her shoulder and spill out my heart. I might not get to stay up chatting for hours with my middle sister. I might not get to feel the three-year-old's head on my chest as she settles into a deep sleep.
someday, church fellowship meal might not mean the same thing it does now. it might not mean having the people I love most all sitting within a close proximity, laughing at pointless jokes and sarcasm, having one of the boys pick up a Frisbee and call everyone out to play. it might not mean all of us running through the green grass of the huge soccer field barefoot, feeling like nothing in the world could stop us from having a grand time. it might not mean cameras and shining eyes and ready smiles and funny stories and bright hopes.
but despite all of this, despite past memories both good and bad, despite future events both good and bad, one thing I do know is this: God is reigning. He is Sovereign. He is in control. He has a plan for my life and for the lives of those around me.
God is always right there. in every shining moment. in every dark time.
and I know that the sun is always shining. in every clear, blue sky. behind every dark, intimidating cloud.
am I happy to be alive? why yes. yes, I am.
love,
muffin
this eighteenth of February was a sparkling sort of day. it was sunny. it was warm-ish. my belly was quieted with the yummy contributions of pizza and rice-krispy squares and lattes and popcorn and grilled potatoes. the baby sister completed two laps in Mario Kart all by herself, I got to see my friends, dad helped me come up with the plot for a new story, and strawberry icecream is now waiting for me in the freezer.
at the moment, the dog is sleeping near my feet, hymns are vibrating off my eardrums via Pandora, mismatched fuzzy socks are warming my toes, and I am sitting on the couch with my hair piled into a knot on top of my head feeling the necessity to organize my thoughts into words.
today had the feeling of summer about it.
there was a giddiness in the air that made me want to skip around the block singing a song at the top of my lungs…
just kidding. that would be weird.
but you know what I mean. today was happy. it was like having July in February.
when I woke up this morning and suggested that after going to Starbucks we play Mario Kart and go see a movie at the dollar theater, lauren looked at me strangely and asked what was up.
(as if I’m not usually more fun than a barrel of monkeys… pft.)
well… I guess I *have* been sort of out of it lately. you see, two weeks ago, I had something strange happen to me. I lost most of my vision in my left eye, lost feeling in my right arm, and was so weak I could barely stand. I couldn’t remember most of what had happened that day or what I had said or done. and I was tired. oh so tired. mom was really worried about me and offered to take me to the hospital, but I said I would rather just go to bed.
I laid in bed for awhile thinking that maybe I was going to die. maybe this was the end. maybe eighteen trips around the sun was all the time I had been allotted in this life. and the weirdest part of it all was that I didn’t care. eighteen years seemed long enough. in fact, living for eighteen years had been exhausting. draining really. I was ready to close my eyes and sleep forever.
instead, I slept basically from Sunday night until Tuesday morning.
and since then, I have still been tired and weak and my mind has felt foggy, but my heart is beating and my brain is functioning and I’m ready for more adventures in life. I’m ready to travel many more miles with this planet I live on.
today was the first day I woke up and really felt like my mind was a bit clearer. I think the sun helped. the brightness made wanted to curl up in front of the window and lay still enough to feel my skin absorb the light. and I think I would have done that, but for the fact that my mind, which had been mostly idle for two weeks, was ready to do something besides math.
it’s funny how being sick can give you a new appreciation of life. how the seemingly small things suddenly feel so significant. how every memory begins to glow.
I had a lot of time to think these past two weeks. I went through a lot of my past and realized how much I have to be grateful for… from the big things: family, friends, church, home, food, clothes, etc… to the small things: every drop of rain, every pink-clouded sunset, every smiling face, every loving glance, every warm touch, every kind word, etc.
I realized how my existence has mostly been written with happy sounding chapter titles. sure, my life hasn’t been perfect. like any story, there have been sad parts. there have been parts that I wish I could’ve skipped over or seen coming. and I know that there will be chapters in the future that may not be easy reading. they may be tedious or boring or depressing or scary.
I know there will come a time when this chapter I’m living in will end. when the days of waking up to having my whole family under one roof will be over. I might not see the corner of my dad’s mouth tilt up in an ornery smile as he walks through the door with some surprise for all of us. I might not smell my mom’s perfume as I bury my head in her shoulder and spill out my heart. I might not get to stay up chatting for hours with my middle sister. I might not get to feel the three-year-old's head on my chest as she settles into a deep sleep.
someday, church fellowship meal might not mean the same thing it does now. it might not mean having the people I love most all sitting within a close proximity, laughing at pointless jokes and sarcasm, having one of the boys pick up a Frisbee and call everyone out to play. it might not mean all of us running through the green grass of the huge soccer field barefoot, feeling like nothing in the world could stop us from having a grand time. it might not mean cameras and shining eyes and ready smiles and funny stories and bright hopes.
but despite all of this, despite past memories both good and bad, despite future events both good and bad, one thing I do know is this: God is reigning. He is Sovereign. He is in control. He has a plan for my life and for the lives of those around me.
God is always right there. in every shining moment. in every dark time.
and I know that the sun is always shining. in every clear, blue sky. behind every dark, intimidating cloud.
am I happy to be alive? why yes. yes, I am.
love,
muffin
21.1.12
savoring the snow
dearest rory,
hi.
what's up?
if you say 'not much', then I think you are mistaken. just take a walk outside and look up at the dark clouds overhead. a trillion white frozen water droplets floating down from the sky will land on your nose and prove you wrong.
lots is up. and lots is falling down.
snow is wonderful, isn't it?
I first remember seeing snow back when I was four. we lived in Hanover Park at the time. in a duplex that we shared with a man named Larry who was almost seven feet tall and never wore a shirt. the garbage hill was just across the street. so was our neighbor who owned an iguana. but that's besides the point.
that winter we had a huge snowstorm. my sidewalk transformed itself into a tunnel and I still remember the feeling of walking through it, dragging my sled behind me as I hurried towards the garbage hill. yeah... the garbage hill doubled as a sledding paradise.
I don't remember much else about that sledding trip or winter, but I remember loving the snow.
doing school was difficult yesterday. not because the work was hard, but because there was a swirling world of whiteness blowing past my window. several times I realized that I had let my eyes drift from my math book to our front pine tree, watching the snowflakes build up on the evergreen branches. I guess the accumulating snowflakes were more interesting than the compound interest rates failing to accumulate on my notebook paper.
I was thinking about how cool it is that such small things like snowflakes can change the world. they make the winter grass go from brown to bright white. they cover even the dirtiest spots and make them clean.
snow always reminds me of Christ.
Jesus is holy. He is pleasing in the sight of God. when He came to earth and was killed, He took our sins upon Himself, upon the cross, and redeemed us, His children. and He didn't stay dead, but He defeated death and gave us the hope of eternal life. He wiped our accounts clean so that when we stand before God, He doesn't see our filth- He sees Christ's blood- He sees perfection.
one Man's sacrifice changed the world. one Man's sacrifice is slowly coloring our grungy world white.
Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe. sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow.
yesterday I was confined to watching and dreaming about that beautiful world from a window, but today my friends and I went on an adventure and rearranged several million of those snowflakes.
all of us arrayed ourselves in warm sweatshirts, colorful hats, flowing scarves, and poofy snowpants, climbed to the top of a hill, and plowed new courses in the snow as we screamed and laughed and tumbled through it. our sleds carved paths as we sailed down the hill, sending snow in every direction- including backwards into our pink faces.
someone had the bright idea to build human ramps that would launch our sleds into the sky and hopefully set us gently on the ground again. the guys lined up and braced themselves while a sled packed with girls raced towards them. sounds smart, right?
let's just say the ramp failed.
oh we sailed through the air, all right. but we were no longer on our sleds. those were imbedded into the sides of the guys. and I wouldn't really say we had a smooth landing- but we did have a lot of laughs as we rolled through fluffy whiteness.
in the end, our noses got a little chilled, our knees got a little wet, and our hair got a little attacked by our hats. but we had a blast.
and afterwards we went to Wendy's where my cheesy potato and medium coke commited suicide by jumping off the tray and exploding on the floor.
it was humiliating. but I was grateful for friends who could laugh with me.
I'm glad for the snow. for the memories I have surrounding it. for the way it reminds me of Christ's love for us. for the friends I have to play with in it.
what's your favorite snow memory?
your friend,
muffin
hi.
what's up?
if you say 'not much', then I think you are mistaken. just take a walk outside and look up at the dark clouds overhead. a trillion white frozen water droplets floating down from the sky will land on your nose and prove you wrong.
lots is up. and lots is falling down.
snow is wonderful, isn't it?
I first remember seeing snow back when I was four. we lived in Hanover Park at the time. in a duplex that we shared with a man named Larry who was almost seven feet tall and never wore a shirt. the garbage hill was just across the street. so was our neighbor who owned an iguana. but that's besides the point.
that winter we had a huge snowstorm. my sidewalk transformed itself into a tunnel and I still remember the feeling of walking through it, dragging my sled behind me as I hurried towards the garbage hill. yeah... the garbage hill doubled as a sledding paradise.
I don't remember much else about that sledding trip or winter, but I remember loving the snow.
doing school was difficult yesterday. not because the work was hard, but because there was a swirling world of whiteness blowing past my window. several times I realized that I had let my eyes drift from my math book to our front pine tree, watching the snowflakes build up on the evergreen branches. I guess the accumulating snowflakes were more interesting than the compound interest rates failing to accumulate on my notebook paper.
I was thinking about how cool it is that such small things like snowflakes can change the world. they make the winter grass go from brown to bright white. they cover even the dirtiest spots and make them clean.
snow always reminds me of Christ.
Jesus is holy. He is pleasing in the sight of God. when He came to earth and was killed, He took our sins upon Himself, upon the cross, and redeemed us, His children. and He didn't stay dead, but He defeated death and gave us the hope of eternal life. He wiped our accounts clean so that when we stand before God, He doesn't see our filth- He sees Christ's blood- He sees perfection.
one Man's sacrifice changed the world. one Man's sacrifice is slowly coloring our grungy world white.
Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe. sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow.
yesterday I was confined to watching and dreaming about that beautiful world from a window, but today my friends and I went on an adventure and rearranged several million of those snowflakes.
all of us arrayed ourselves in warm sweatshirts, colorful hats, flowing scarves, and poofy snowpants, climbed to the top of a hill, and plowed new courses in the snow as we screamed and laughed and tumbled through it. our sleds carved paths as we sailed down the hill, sending snow in every direction- including backwards into our pink faces.
someone had the bright idea to build human ramps that would launch our sleds into the sky and hopefully set us gently on the ground again. the guys lined up and braced themselves while a sled packed with girls raced towards them. sounds smart, right?
let's just say the ramp failed.
oh we sailed through the air, all right. but we were no longer on our sleds. those were imbedded into the sides of the guys. and I wouldn't really say we had a smooth landing- but we did have a lot of laughs as we rolled through fluffy whiteness.
in the end, our noses got a little chilled, our knees got a little wet, and our hair got a little attacked by our hats. but we had a blast.
and afterwards we went to Wendy's where my cheesy potato and medium coke commited suicide by jumping off the tray and exploding on the floor.
it was humiliating. but I was grateful for friends who could laugh with me.
I'm glad for the snow. for the memories I have surrounding it. for the way it reminds me of Christ's love for us. for the friends I have to play with in it.
what's your favorite snow memory?
your friend,
muffin
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