speeding through chapters

dear rory,

I realize that I have not written for a long while, and for that I am sorry. as it is, this letter will most likely be rushed and unpolished (and considering I just ate a bunch of chocolate, it could be rather curious), but please bear with me.

and if you possibly can, please help me answer the following question:

where on earth has time flown?!?!?!?

doesn't it know winter is long gone? it's time to migrate back! start flapping those wings! come back up north! preferably to northern Illinois! to a little brick house with a bright red door! to a somewhat frazzled blonde! I NEED MORE TIME!

*pants for air*

*regains composure*

sometimes I feel like my life is a boring book. a new chapter can be written about once every six months with a dull title like "school" or "more school" or "GUESS WHAT? more school". but sometimes life comes at me fast and I feel like I can't read my own story quickly enough. I'm turning the pages as fast as I can, but the new chapters have bizarre names and the plot has weird twists that I would never have expected and everyday I wake up and wonder, "what is the Author writing today? am I ready for whatever adventures He gives me?"

recently, my chapters have looked something like this:

Chapter 487: a mini zoo-

that's what our backyard has become. currently it is filled with eleven-ish chicks (I didn't take the time to properly count), an old dog house waiting to be renovated into a coop (stay tuned for the next addition of Extreme Makeover Chicken Coop Edition.... ), a fluffy dog who is afraid of little noisy chicks, and a bunch of the neighborhood kids (whom I am considering charging a fee to see the Smock Circus).

as it is, we're passing out popsicles and generally laughing (and occassionally shrieking when a mess of feathers accidentally flies in our faces) as we try to chase the chickens out of the rose bush and back into their home in the garage.

Chapter 488: a mini store-

that's what the garage has become. it is filled with roller blades and old doors and stop signs and street names and bikes and vaccuums and a refrigerator and a box full of chickens and saws and hammers and nails and sleds and counters and scooters and exercise equipment and old tables and chairs and paint and stain and popsicles. and it seems like people are stopping by quite often to borrow this or that, see a chick, grab a frozen treat, and leave. it's the hang out place. it's my dad's work place. it's the store all the junk place. it's the home of our future breakfasts (not the chickens I hope. just their eggs. though they do sort of remind me of chicken nuggets... mmmm. ;)

Chapter 489: a mini army-

that's what our family has become. my mother is expecting. no, not expecting a package. she's expecting a child. a child who will hopefully make it's appearance in the world sometime next January (if it was wise, it would wait til spring when the weather is nicer... but mother probably wouldn't like that, and to be honest, I'm rather anxious to meet this baby myself). soon there will be at least six of us (if not more... twins do run on my mother's side.... makes them an awful nuisance to catch when they're born... *somebody punch me for being so punny*... and if you don't get it, just keep reading and pretend I didn't try to make a joke). dad is rooting for a boy. so am I. the others have yet to decide. I think Megan would be happy with a squirrel, so her vote doesn't count. nonetheless, a baby is coming, and we are completely overjoyed and starting to get overcrowded. which means figuring out rooms and who sleeps where. dad offered to sleep in the chicken coop... mom laughed. I nodded approvingly. then dad set his jaw, narrowed his eyes, and him and I had a fake boxing match. the outcome is that dad gets to stay in the house after all.

Chapter 490: a mini taxi service-

that's what we're running over here these days. my dad, mom, and I all have regular jobs now and my middle sister often babysits. it feels like we're constantly driving and running and skipping and hopping (okay, well, I'm the only one who really skips and hops anywhere... what can I say? skipping and hopping is fun!). Mom is working at a health foods store and I really hope she doesn't become too much of a health nut, because Cheetos and I have recently reconnected after our long seperartion (my sickness) and I really don't want to break up again. I'm working at a BBQ Smokehouse restaurant and I have found that smelling like smoked pig 24/7 is really quite pleasant. plus, if I get hungry in the night, sometimes I wake up and find that I still have bbq sauce on my arm (which makes for a lovely midnight snack).

Chapter 491: a mini victory dance-

I'M ALMOST DONE WITH HIGHSCHOOL. enough said.

anyways. I won't bother you with any more chapters. but you get the point.

and I know I'm not the only one with a busy life. my dear, dear friends are constantly out running too and sometimes I feel like we have more of a chance of crossing paths than Neptune and Pluto do.

"life's like an hour glass glued to the the table..."

I have nothing terribly deep to add to what I've said.

only this

"WHATEVER YOU DO, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men." Colossians 3:23

Nobody has an emergency break to slow down time when life is driving their car at 150 mph. Nobody has a way to speed things up when the speed limit God has set for the stretch of road they're on is 15 mph.

but I do know this: in the fast times, in the slow times, do everything for God's glory.

and trust Him. He knows what He is doing. He knows where life is taking you.

He writes the boring and exciting chapters.

until we meet again,
muffin

life is beautiful

dear muffin,

she was nervous. I couldn't blame her.

terse replies were all I could draw out as I finished my work; her face was taut, expressionless.

it's doubtful that anyone in the history of the scalpel has not been nervous in those moments of waiting. moments before the wheels begin to clatter along tile floor, rolling past sterile operating rooms. after all, the idea of having one's insides opened to the world has never been a pleasant one. 

"okay then! I think we're ready." the nurse deposited an armful of IV bags & tubing into my waiting hands. "make sure you keep that piggyback higher than the primary fluid," she said in my direction. 

we helped the woman onto her feet, allowing her to smooth back disheveled blonde hair, & began the procession. the nurse led the way with routine briskness, followed by the patient herself. I took up the rear, holding the IV bags at shoulder height & keeping the train of tubing off the floor. 

her surgery was scheduled for 0800 hours, which meant it was already 30 minutes behind schedule. but no matter. the mass of foreign tissue growing below her diaphragm would be removed, the incision sutured, & before she knew it the whole ordeal would be over. still, no reassurance can shorten the moments before the plunge.

inside the operating room, every surface glinted in sterile perfection. scalpels arrayed with mathematical precision, gauze neatly stacked, suction equipment hooked up & tested. sterile blue drapes were spread over the table, ready to receive the patient.

"and, the surgeons are here." announced the circulating nurse. "Michelle, you want to get them ready?" the scrub nurse nodded & began unfolding blue plastic gowns as the surgeons poured into the room, followed by the woman's husband-- who looked ready to faint. while they scrubbed in, the anesthesiologist struck up small talk with the patient.

"so. how're you feeling?" he asked after a moment. the woman laughed shakily.

"you know that part on a roller coaster, when you're going up & all you can hear is 'click...click...click...?' that's what this part feels like." 

"alright!" announced the head surgeon. "we're a go." the light glanced off the first scalpel as it went in. 

blood. blood trickling down a swollen abdomen. the smell of burnt flesh as cautery hits blood vessel. the surgeons opened the skin with a smooth cut & then burned back the yellow fat beneath. I moved to get a better view.

there; I could see it. a mass rose into sight as the abdominal muscles separated. it was smooth, taupe-colored, with a complex pattern of blood vessels visible beneath the surface. it was larger than I had imagined. the surgeon made one final slice, reached in deep, & pulled. as he lifted, the foreign body came free in his hands.

he held up 8 pounds, 3 ounces of tissue. & as he moved it towards the light, it kicked him.

the room launched into motion. nurses closed in, transferring the now-wriggling mass to a table. the table disappeared from view as blue scrubs bent over to perform a well-practiced dance.

"heart rate 150."

"BP 67 over 35."

"O2 sats?"

"68."

"looks good!" announced the pediatrician, laying aside his stethoscope. a nurse gathered up the bundle & brought it over to the woman & her husband, who was furiously rubbing away tears of joy.

"Here you go," said the nurse with a smile. "Congratulations; she's beautiful."

-rory

bigness & smallness

hi muffin!

today I'm feeling small. 

I was just sitting at my desk, minding my own business--

Then I looked, and behold, a Lamb standing on Mount Zion, and with Him one hundred and forty-four thousand, having His Father’s name written on their foreheads. And I heard a voice from heaven, like the voice of many waters, and like the voice of loud thunder.

outside my window, a bird dances nervously at my neighbor's bird-feeder. he can't sit still for fear that he'll lose his perch to his nemesis: mr. squirrel.

Then I saw another angel flying in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach to those who dwell on the earth—to every nation, tribe, tongue, and people— saying with a loud voice, “Fear God and give glory to Him, for the hour of His judgment has come; and worship Him who made heaven and earth, the sea and springs of water.”

my book shelf is dusty. I ought to get up & clean it, wipe away the little fingerprints from 3-foot-tall friends.

The temple was filled with smoke from the glory of God and from His power, and no one was able to enter the temple till the seven plagues of the seven angels were completed.

***

according to census.gov, there are currently 7,003,414,040 people in the world. but that's no longer accurate, because 4 people are born & 2 die every second, & it's taken me several just to type this.

seven billion is a lot. try to picture them all: a billion-odd scattered across China, eating dinner with chopsticks or wading through rice paddies or typing on laptops in the Beijing airport. a paltry 22 million are currently enjoying the middle of winter in Australia, while a mere 7 million are making clocks (and money) while sipping hot chocolate in Switzerland. spin the globe & scatter a few more billion across Brazil, Norway, Congo, Ireland, French Guyana, Poland, Jamaica. save a million or two for Chicago, & one single person to sit at a desk in a house near a bird-feeder. 

I am small. smaller than China, smaller than a Swiss bank account, smaller than my refrigerator.

compare my size to the estimated number of stars in the universe: 30,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 (that's 30 sextillion, for those of you whose brains are small like mine.) and if you really want to blow your mind, go to good old Wikipedia & read the article titled "Observable Universe." read about gigiparsecs, Lyman alpha forests, Hydra superclusters, quasars. read about the Big Bang theory & marvel at the smallness of human wisdom. a few billion lightyears in, I guarantee you'll have forgotten about your own existence.

but not quite. because it's almost lunch time, & what is the universe compared to a grilled cheese sandwich?

we are one cell in a cosmic body. one thought in an Artist's infinite imagination. 

so very small.

I wish I could wrap my mind around this. because as big as our universe seems, it's still small in the hands of the Creator. and someday our big sky will crack open & reveal Bigness unlike anything we could imagine. none of my own perceived importance will matter then: instead, the Creator will pull out His records & remind me of the small stuff. that snarky remark I tossed out thoughtlessly? check. that moment I was proud of my accomplishments? check. that one time I acted out of selfish motivation? check. wait... was that just once, or was it my whole life long? I guess I lost track of time. myself just seemed so important back then. standing here & staring at the six wings of a seraphim, I can't imagine why.

but then the record book closes. the small stuff is forgotten, forgiven by the sacrifice of Someone who stepped down to my level & bought my smallness. 

Lord, teach me to be small. 

or rather... teach me to know my own smallness.

love always,

rory

[Scripture verses from Revelation 14 & 15. number estimates from Google searches. don't hate. basically, just don't use this post as a source for your master's thesis paper. =]

thoughts from a crazy person

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.