There's not much I can put to coincidence these days. I might even go so far as to say that coincidence is choosing not to see God's sovereign work in His kingdom. Yes, there are exceptions and no, not everything is a "sign". But if there's something that I've found to be more true than ever is the more we are walking with Lord, constantly giving Him our love and listening to His voice, the clearer I see His movement EVERYWHERE. It kinda goes along the lines of, "Count your blessings, name them one by one, count your every blessing and see what God has done." You probably can't say that line without singing it, but how many times are we actually living in 'blessing mode'. I'll give you a very good example. Tonight.
Yesterday afternoon I had epidural number two and a spinal block in a span of 4 weeks. For those not so familiar, it involves a lot of injections in the spine, with a whole lot of up-front pain in order to eventually put a stop to the chronic pain... at least that's one way of looking at it! But the point is, it's not an instant gratification and a bit of a tender recovery. But I arose today at 530am to head to work in the hospital to not finish my day until 730pm tonight. I can too easily give you a laundry list of how life has been kind of hard lately. But I could also sit for 5 minutes, and then give you an even longer laundry list of the 100 ways I was so richly blessed and shown grace after grace in just the last 2 days. He loves His children! It's not just a song, and especially not just for the kids. Yes, I'm exhausted. I hurt. And this doesn't always seem that fair. But I have so much hope. God is just the kind of God who loves to show us time and again how much He loves us and will always keep His promise. I am a child of the King. And this King will always protect His people and do what's best for them.
Coincidence. I don't believe so. I don't believe it is any coincidence that for the past 3 consecutive weeks I have been assigned a patient who's primary problem is suffering from acute or chronic pain. That all three of these patients have had so little hope left for life that they doubt the very person who wants to help them. It takes a load of pretty tough stuff in life to curse out the student nurse over the bad hospital food. How many people over the last several weeks have I heard not want to give me the whole truth in fear I won't believe their pain. That somehow I'm there to call them out and tell them they really don't hurt that bad. And how desperately I want to pour my own story out to them and say, "NO! I believe you! You don't have to lie to me and assume I have no idea!" But often I find myself just listening... and in the end it usually ends with "I'm just tired", "I just want to go home", "I'm just so overwhelmed". One can experience the worst pain, but if you have no hope left, that pain just exponentially multiplied. I know it because I've been there. But most of the time my job isn't to tell my patients my own story. It's to listen, to trust, and to share my hope with another fellow who hurts so bad. It's the least you can and should do if you have walked in their shoes at all. "Hope cannot be taught, but only shared by other hopeful people." (Thank you Prof. Butman)
So no. It is not coincidence that God is working in my everyday life. I didn't realize how much hope I had until I sat with these peers of mine. They're peers. They're so vulnerable to life's miseries when pain masks all joy and all hope. Lord help me not forget the hope I have and the love you share every single day. Evidences of your grace. May my eyes see them so much more clearly. May I never lose hope.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Saturday, March 31, 2012
When I'm not in control, it's a great thing.
If you talk to anyone that knew me as a young kid, they'd all be able to tell you in some fashion that there wasn't much I really feared. Life, sports, friends all came pretty easy and I embraced them all with a pretty small amount of fear that I'd fail. In fact, that attitude played itself out even in the rough years following my tubing accident on the mountain. Somehow every year I'd start working towards going back to being on the team or riding my horses again. I wasn't broken, just got stalled a little. All those threats the doctors and therapists were giving me were just scare tactics... I knew better. God. I know better.
That's what I've been sadly telling Him recently. I know what would make me happy and content and trust me Lord, this isn't it. I know better. But I've also had some rare moments where I've given it all up. I gave up figuring out how I was going to make life work and I told God, this is all yours because I can't do it. I give up. I had great fear. A feeling I wasn't too familiar with. Fear of failure? Fear of debt so deep there'd be no getting out? Fear of a small life? I'm not sure. But it was scary. To walk into a hospital and tell a surgeon he could slice my neck and a lot of worst case situations could become reality in a matter of a few hours. But we all know the end of that story and I still have some very tender moments with the Lord when He shows me how much He took care of me. How did a bill the size of a few houses get erased to zero? How did I find so many friends to sacrifice their time and money to nurse me back to health? How can I only be a few months out and have absolutely no residual pain? No, I had no control. And that was such a good thing. Yes, I was scared. More scared than I knew what to do with. But I also knew the astounding love of my Father and I knew He wasn't going to let His child go.
But our stories never end. We aren't given one big event in life and then our testimony is over. We live, we move on and we love and we suffer and we always tell the stories of God's greatness and God's love. But once again I have tried so hard to grasp life with a tight fist. It's very easy for me to see this analogy because I now have one good hand, the left non-dominant one, and one bad one, unfortunately the right, dominant one. It works to some extent but the grasp is weak, the fingers aren't real coordinated, and it often doesn't do exactly what I'd like it to do. I say it has a mind of it's own and sometimes it just hurts a lot and reminds me I've used it too much. But most of us like to grasp life like my left hand can do. With full strength and a tight grasp we power through and ask God to somehow enhance that fervor and keep up with us. But the fear has crept back in, and slowly I've switched hands again. Floods of memories have come back to me as chronic pain has become a part of my life again, and I wonder how I made it all those years. God. I'm weak, uncoordinated, and I complain a lot more as you are working my muscles of faithfulness and trust. It's not a fairy tale world and that reality can send you spiraling real quick. Why me? Why must I learn this lesson of faithfulness in the pain, over, and over and over again? And this is when He speaks very softly and replays for me the stories of His faithfulness. And you know the common theme in all those times. I grasped life like I do with my right hand. With a loose grip, but with a whole lot of determination to do things one step at a time. And He goes before us and comes around us and makes a clumsy weak vessel into something very beautiful.
I've got a new herniated disc and a whole new set of problems. But if there's one thing I know right now, this is not just my problem. I am not in control, and that is a great thing. Just five months ago I was on an operating table having given up every ounce of control and I think God wants that very same attitude today and tomorrow. I don't know how to get up in the morning with gladness of heart when I hurt so much. But I will say, again and again, His grace is sufficient for me and His power is made perfect in my weakness. And that doesn't mean I don't get to pray for healing again. It just means I get to rely on Him every step of the way.
Some day He's going to make all things new! Praise the Lord for this Holy Week to remind us all of that!
That's what I've been sadly telling Him recently. I know what would make me happy and content and trust me Lord, this isn't it. I know better. But I've also had some rare moments where I've given it all up. I gave up figuring out how I was going to make life work and I told God, this is all yours because I can't do it. I give up. I had great fear. A feeling I wasn't too familiar with. Fear of failure? Fear of debt so deep there'd be no getting out? Fear of a small life? I'm not sure. But it was scary. To walk into a hospital and tell a surgeon he could slice my neck and a lot of worst case situations could become reality in a matter of a few hours. But we all know the end of that story and I still have some very tender moments with the Lord when He shows me how much He took care of me. How did a bill the size of a few houses get erased to zero? How did I find so many friends to sacrifice their time and money to nurse me back to health? How can I only be a few months out and have absolutely no residual pain? No, I had no control. And that was such a good thing. Yes, I was scared. More scared than I knew what to do with. But I also knew the astounding love of my Father and I knew He wasn't going to let His child go.
But our stories never end. We aren't given one big event in life and then our testimony is over. We live, we move on and we love and we suffer and we always tell the stories of God's greatness and God's love. But once again I have tried so hard to grasp life with a tight fist. It's very easy for me to see this analogy because I now have one good hand, the left non-dominant one, and one bad one, unfortunately the right, dominant one. It works to some extent but the grasp is weak, the fingers aren't real coordinated, and it often doesn't do exactly what I'd like it to do. I say it has a mind of it's own and sometimes it just hurts a lot and reminds me I've used it too much. But most of us like to grasp life like my left hand can do. With full strength and a tight grasp we power through and ask God to somehow enhance that fervor and keep up with us. But the fear has crept back in, and slowly I've switched hands again. Floods of memories have come back to me as chronic pain has become a part of my life again, and I wonder how I made it all those years. God. I'm weak, uncoordinated, and I complain a lot more as you are working my muscles of faithfulness and trust. It's not a fairy tale world and that reality can send you spiraling real quick. Why me? Why must I learn this lesson of faithfulness in the pain, over, and over and over again? And this is when He speaks very softly and replays for me the stories of His faithfulness. And you know the common theme in all those times. I grasped life like I do with my right hand. With a loose grip, but with a whole lot of determination to do things one step at a time. And He goes before us and comes around us and makes a clumsy weak vessel into something very beautiful.
I've got a new herniated disc and a whole new set of problems. But if there's one thing I know right now, this is not just my problem. I am not in control, and that is a great thing. Just five months ago I was on an operating table having given up every ounce of control and I think God wants that very same attitude today and tomorrow. I don't know how to get up in the morning with gladness of heart when I hurt so much. But I will say, again and again, His grace is sufficient for me and His power is made perfect in my weakness. And that doesn't mean I don't get to pray for healing again. It just means I get to rely on Him every step of the way.
Some day He's going to make all things new! Praise the Lord for this Holy Week to remind us all of that!
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Remembering Mercy
I remember Mercy Joan today. It's her birthday. And 8 days later it will be the anniversary of her death. Oh Lord in Your mercy...
So just as I am often fervently praying for my own soul during this hard transition back into life, I am reminded to also join my friends who are still healing from a harsh and painful death. It's amazing how when tragedy hits our path we are able to somehow walk our way through it... through much prayer, much support and encouragement from community, and a whole lot of resolve to reach the other side. But we get through this journey and then the really tough stuff begins. We have to somehow move forward... back, into normal life again. I can only imagine the terror of those mourning the death of someone they have so deeply loved, when they're supposed to pick themselves off the ground and move on. When all the family have left, goodbyes have been said in a thousand ways, and responsibilities face you every morning again, how do you pray and hope once more?
It is the one year anniversary of a very cherished little girl's birth today... and she was only able to be with her family for a little over a week. Little Mercy Joan, your family still grieves your absence from them. Lord in your mercy, hear their prayer. And I am once again reminded to pray for this precious family because I don't believe grieving ever really ends. They have tasted death, but I know they have also tasted His goodness and I pray He has mercy on them this week and reminds them of His compassion on their weary souls.
In a very small, tangible way I have been given understanding into this flight. As the doctor told me at my last appointment, "You're free to go." And as I replied, "Great, I'll just move on with life." I had no idea how much that was easier said than done. We can't just move on when we've been exposed, when we've been hurt so deeply and are still guarding our wounds. It's a road to travel, a valley to walk through... it's a really dark valley. And so as I pray and cry for my own healing wounds, I remember my dear friends that still feel the raw wound of death. And I thank the Lord for His mercy on them and the hundreds that were able to see Christ more fully because of their steadfastness in the Lord. I have cried a thousand times for the unfairness that I must fight this battle with my fragile body every day, but I can only imagine the cry of death screaming in your face.
Lord in Your mercy, Hear our Prayer.
"Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession.
For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize
with our weaknesses,
but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are,
yet without sin.
Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace,
that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." (Heb. 4:14-16)
"In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications,
with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death,
and he was heard because of his reverence.
Although he was a son, he learned obedience through what he suffered." (Heb 5:7-8)
So just as I am often fervently praying for my own soul during this hard transition back into life, I am reminded to also join my friends who are still healing from a harsh and painful death. It's amazing how when tragedy hits our path we are able to somehow walk our way through it... through much prayer, much support and encouragement from community, and a whole lot of resolve to reach the other side. But we get through this journey and then the really tough stuff begins. We have to somehow move forward... back, into normal life again. I can only imagine the terror of those mourning the death of someone they have so deeply loved, when they're supposed to pick themselves off the ground and move on. When all the family have left, goodbyes have been said in a thousand ways, and responsibilities face you every morning again, how do you pray and hope once more?
It is the one year anniversary of a very cherished little girl's birth today... and she was only able to be with her family for a little over a week. Little Mercy Joan, your family still grieves your absence from them. Lord in your mercy, hear their prayer. And I am once again reminded to pray for this precious family because I don't believe grieving ever really ends. They have tasted death, but I know they have also tasted His goodness and I pray He has mercy on them this week and reminds them of His compassion on their weary souls.
In a very small, tangible way I have been given understanding into this flight. As the doctor told me at my last appointment, "You're free to go." And as I replied, "Great, I'll just move on with life." I had no idea how much that was easier said than done. We can't just move on when we've been exposed, when we've been hurt so deeply and are still guarding our wounds. It's a road to travel, a valley to walk through... it's a really dark valley. And so as I pray and cry for my own healing wounds, I remember my dear friends that still feel the raw wound of death. And I thank the Lord for His mercy on them and the hundreds that were able to see Christ more fully because of their steadfastness in the Lord. I have cried a thousand times for the unfairness that I must fight this battle with my fragile body every day, but I can only imagine the cry of death screaming in your face.
Lord in Your mercy, Hear our Prayer.
"Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession.
For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize
with our weaknesses,
but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are,
yet without sin.
Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace,
that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." (Heb. 4:14-16)
"In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications,
with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death,
and he was heard because of his reverence.
Although he was a son, he learned obedience through what he suffered." (Heb 5:7-8)
Friday, January 27, 2012
Share the Gospel Through Really Bad Art??? OK!
So God must have been hearing the very depths of my heart, I mean, the very very depths of my heart to share the gospel that day, because it was 8 am, made it just in time for class, physically there but still mentally getting out of bed, bemoaning the fact that I had to sit in that lecture hall for 8 hours that day when I heard my name called loud and clear over the morning rustle. "Julie... Julie!" What? No... surely no. "Julie, come down!" Twenty new eyes focus around me and I realize with utter fear that I am the only person in that room of 70 people who's name is anything close to Julie. I slowly rise from my chair and immediately start panicking about if I had brushed my teeth that morning, why I decided to wear this outfit, what if my typical morning frog jumps out and I can't find words. There is nothing "morning person" about me!
Ok, so you're all probably thinking this is some bad dream, right? Right??? NO! I am being completely and utterly honest! And so the story continues...
Everyone around me is now making comments like, Oh Julie, what have you done? It was my second time to even come to this class, not that much damage could have been done, truly?! So I walk down to the front and a very eery silence takes place, the professor smiling at me and my class all eyes and ears to what happens next. And with that she turns on the projector and says ok, tell us your story.
Ok, stop there again! Rewind to one week previous when once again we sit in this 8am class to be given sheets of paper and pencils and told that as nurses we need to have a framework that we operate and work by and so lets start by drawing what our own life's framework looks like. Be creative they say, think about what and who makes you who you are and draw something that represents what makes you, you! Ha! If you know anything about me or anybody in my family for that matter, you'll immediately be very afraid because none of us were graciously given any artistic talent, whatsoever. But I didn't seem to care that morning because this was my little drawing, my 8 am drawing, and so I naturally began drawing mountains. They're pretty, easy triangles to draw, and I thought to myself, that's basically my life, a serious of mountains and valleys and you could argue what were the better parts of those journeys. So I doodled for a while and I was thinking to myself it's one of those things we turn in and get to look at when we graduate and snicker at all our big life goals and bad attempts at abstract art!
Ok, you can fast forward to me panicking on stage again. Here I am, facing my class of 70 students, a few professors, and all of a sudden I see with utter horror, my little doodle drawing, up on the big white screen in the big lecture hall. I was stunned, mortified, and even more traumatized when my "sweet" professor told me to explain myself and this picture. What was I thinking?! I don't even remember half the deep thoughts or reasons for my weird picture now, especially when I'm standing in the bright lights. And so I stumbled for words, said a few wows, laughed a little, and proceeded to say something, anything, to break the silence. I tried to at least explain why I chose to draw a bunch of mountains given my background of growing up in them in Montana, but then I got to go much further as I saw and remembered what I had written. At the base camp, the base trail that ran the low lines of the mount, was written, My Faith in Christ, and above the mountains written in bold was, My Joy in Christ. And each mountain held momentous and influential events and people that have formed me. And so I basically got to share my testimony and talk briefly about the God I live for, the people and trials that have shaped me and the joy I live with today. It all seemed trite and I really didn't want to sound preachy and I really really didn't want to sound one bit ashamed either. And so I ended in much more peace than when I walked down those stairs and laughed and smiled at God's sense of humor. So I have absolutely no idea what if any difference that will make on my journey through this program, but I'm so grateful I got to be so upfront and in many ways, my actions will be watched and looked upon. My love, my demeanor, my life is a reflection and I guess God wanted there to be no mistake who it was a reflection of.
And there be my most embarrassing story of the week, hopefully the month! Still blushing that my "art" display was so ashamedly exposed, but so thankful I got to share a little of my story to my cohort this early on our journey.
More thoughts soon...
Love Jules
Ok, so you're all probably thinking this is some bad dream, right? Right??? NO! I am being completely and utterly honest! And so the story continues...
Everyone around me is now making comments like, Oh Julie, what have you done? It was my second time to even come to this class, not that much damage could have been done, truly?! So I walk down to the front and a very eery silence takes place, the professor smiling at me and my class all eyes and ears to what happens next. And with that she turns on the projector and says ok, tell us your story.
Ok, stop there again! Rewind to one week previous when once again we sit in this 8am class to be given sheets of paper and pencils and told that as nurses we need to have a framework that we operate and work by and so lets start by drawing what our own life's framework looks like. Be creative they say, think about what and who makes you who you are and draw something that represents what makes you, you! Ha! If you know anything about me or anybody in my family for that matter, you'll immediately be very afraid because none of us were graciously given any artistic talent, whatsoever. But I didn't seem to care that morning because this was my little drawing, my 8 am drawing, and so I naturally began drawing mountains. They're pretty, easy triangles to draw, and I thought to myself, that's basically my life, a serious of mountains and valleys and you could argue what were the better parts of those journeys. So I doodled for a while and I was thinking to myself it's one of those things we turn in and get to look at when we graduate and snicker at all our big life goals and bad attempts at abstract art!
Ok, you can fast forward to me panicking on stage again. Here I am, facing my class of 70 students, a few professors, and all of a sudden I see with utter horror, my little doodle drawing, up on the big white screen in the big lecture hall. I was stunned, mortified, and even more traumatized when my "sweet" professor told me to explain myself and this picture. What was I thinking?! I don't even remember half the deep thoughts or reasons for my weird picture now, especially when I'm standing in the bright lights. And so I stumbled for words, said a few wows, laughed a little, and proceeded to say something, anything, to break the silence. I tried to at least explain why I chose to draw a bunch of mountains given my background of growing up in them in Montana, but then I got to go much further as I saw and remembered what I had written. At the base camp, the base trail that ran the low lines of the mount, was written, My Faith in Christ, and above the mountains written in bold was, My Joy in Christ. And each mountain held momentous and influential events and people that have formed me. And so I basically got to share my testimony and talk briefly about the God I live for, the people and trials that have shaped me and the joy I live with today. It all seemed trite and I really didn't want to sound preachy and I really really didn't want to sound one bit ashamed either. And so I ended in much more peace than when I walked down those stairs and laughed and smiled at God's sense of humor. So I have absolutely no idea what if any difference that will make on my journey through this program, but I'm so grateful I got to be so upfront and in many ways, my actions will be watched and looked upon. My love, my demeanor, my life is a reflection and I guess God wanted there to be no mistake who it was a reflection of.
And there be my most embarrassing story of the week, hopefully the month! Still blushing that my "art" display was so ashamedly exposed, but so thankful I got to share a little of my story to my cohort this early on our journey.
More thoughts soon...
Love Jules
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Reflections on the "New Girl"
So I've often tried to analyze myself, ask others, and reflect on why I don't appreciate transitions all that much. Not that I am the only one or even probably a minority, but what is so upsetting about moving, starting new adventures, going to new jobs and new schools? Should be a pretty exciting and happy thing, right? Some do thrive on these things so maybe this note is not for you. But I realized that I sincerely love to know others and to be known by them. I love relationships, the giving and receiving and beauty that comes from old friends. These are all uprooted when I move. But my challenge is to not recoil from the new beginnings, but try even harder to be present in my new place and live fully where I've been called.
On that note, the answer to how is my transition to Durham and Duke going?? Aghh!! That's about it. It's new and scary and exciting and really sweet.
The really sweet things: I live in downtown old Durham and I love that I have already discovered that I can walk to my local grocery, the one stop mail shop, the trusted mechanic (yes, my car broke down first day of classes and yes, I once again let go of my cling to money and my pride in how good I was doing with my thriftiness), great coffee shops, and several great neighbors all within a few blocks! I'm still thanking the Lord for this gift of an amazing nursing program to be a part of. And I'm so thankful for my sweet friend Elizabeth and so many other people who've been at my side in this transition, making meals, moving furniture, and giving me the inside scoop about how to live well here.
The challenges: Looks like this program is pretty intense and my body is still adjusting to a busy life. Although I've healed remarkably, I am exhausted after a full day and yes, sometimes I've even questioned if my strength will hold out. But in the next moment I remember that I did barely anything this last year on my own strength and God will continue to remind me of that when I've reached my end. Duke is great, but they expect a lot. Durham is so fun, but it's far away from many beloved friends and family.
If you want to know how to pray please ask the Lord to continue to remind me of His sovereignty and strength as I get weary and overwhelmed, and that I would seek the places and people He would have me invest in. I am quick to despair and quick to retreat. Please ask the Lord with me to change those habits.
I really love hearing little snippets from any of you that have time so please please keep me posted! And may the peace and love of Christ dwell in you richly as we start this new year!
Love Jules
On that note, the answer to how is my transition to Durham and Duke going?? Aghh!! That's about it. It's new and scary and exciting and really sweet.
The really sweet things: I live in downtown old Durham and I love that I have already discovered that I can walk to my local grocery, the one stop mail shop, the trusted mechanic (yes, my car broke down first day of classes and yes, I once again let go of my cling to money and my pride in how good I was doing with my thriftiness), great coffee shops, and several great neighbors all within a few blocks! I'm still thanking the Lord for this gift of an amazing nursing program to be a part of. And I'm so thankful for my sweet friend Elizabeth and so many other people who've been at my side in this transition, making meals, moving furniture, and giving me the inside scoop about how to live well here.
The challenges: Looks like this program is pretty intense and my body is still adjusting to a busy life. Although I've healed remarkably, I am exhausted after a full day and yes, sometimes I've even questioned if my strength will hold out. But in the next moment I remember that I did barely anything this last year on my own strength and God will continue to remind me of that when I've reached my end. Duke is great, but they expect a lot. Durham is so fun, but it's far away from many beloved friends and family.
If you want to know how to pray please ask the Lord to continue to remind me of His sovereignty and strength as I get weary and overwhelmed, and that I would seek the places and people He would have me invest in. I am quick to despair and quick to retreat. Please ask the Lord with me to change those habits.
I really love hearing little snippets from any of you that have time so please please keep me posted! And may the peace and love of Christ dwell in you richly as we start this new year!
Love Jules
Monday, January 9, 2012
My Year of Triumph
The irony of this title is astounding. I could have never guessed if you asked me even 7 months into it how I would label this previous year, but any synonym related to triumph certainly wouldn’t have made the list. To be honest, I questioned and wrestled and cried more “why’s” this year to God than I have in a long time. And to the world’s standards, I had failed, in many tangible ways. I didn’t understand why I was reaping all these consequences after what I thought was a very close walking and talking period with God. I was a Job, sitting in my pity, crying out to God for some sort of answers. Ah, it gives me fresh tears every time I write or think about this because He must have hurt so terribly for his young child that couldn’t possibly understand what He was doing. As I told those around me, I knew with my head that He was still sovereign but all my feelings and all my reality seemed to tell me otherwise. And that is why, as I mentioned earlier, that my prayer this last year was a continual fervent cry to be able to taste and see that He was indeed, still good. And oh, how abundantly did He answer my cries for mercy.
But I want to first say that it’s not just or even because of changing circumstances that I was able to see this year so rich and beautiful. God did more of a work in my heart and after a very long time, I started to learn how it was to possible to give thanks in the dark days. God is not worried, startled, or surprised by our circumstances. He knows them, understands them and still wants our praise. How? For what? This simple mind didn’t get that for a while. But the longer I searched, the more I found that, as I was searching, the more the scales from my eyes were slowly being lifted. I started seeing each day so differently. I no longer compared myself to anybody’s standard’s but Christ’s, which is also pretty daunting but ever so freeing. I no longer saw my day as successful if I had accomplished x, y, or z and maybe all those other like-to’s as well. Especially in college, if you’re not learning something amazing, getting a lot of homework done, or having some great conversation or party, that day was usually pretty lousy. It’s a blessing and a curse of our culture I guess. They’re all pretty great things but none of them decide how worthy we are of Christ or how much we can praise Him that day. And so some of my most contented days became my “time warp” period as I call it, the months I had no job or school but purely preparing for and then recuperating from surgery. I was able to spend however many hours I wanted to read, write and sometimes talk out my many struggles with my faith. But I don’t mean to paint an unreal picture and say it was all fun and relaxing. These were some of my hardest moments, dealing with very real fears related to where my future was headed, my quickly declining health, and strong bouts of loneliness. But I clung tightly to hope each day, to choose joy, to see each day as another sacrifice of praise.
And that is simply why I can say with confidence that I had a great year of triumph. I have come to know God in such a profoundly more intimate way; I could never ask Him to erase all those crummy circumstances. But isn’t it amazing how I got to move to Indiana and live with a best friend?! And isn’t it amazing how I found the most sweetest churches so quickly to be fed and encouraged by?! And isn’t it amazing how when my body finally decided it had enough I was in just the right place, with the perfect doctors and friends to take care of me?! And isn’t it amazing how God orchestrated it to be at just the right hospital where they would erase my massive bill?! And isn't it amazing how I got into one of the best nursing programs in the States?! And isn’t it amazing that after only 12 months in Indiana I left with more dear friends than I think I made in the past 3 years combined?! Isn’t God amazing?! I could not let this year go by without letting you in to this incredible journey and letting you thank the Lord with me, for His unrelenting faithfulness and goodness.
Oh, and as a small side note- a quick update on my last appointment with my surgeon. It was truly bittersweet. So sweet, he let me go free. Free to go about life again as normal, with my usual restrictions with physical activities due to my fragile spine. So sweet that my fusion is working, it’s healing so well and I got a lot of function back that I was losing. I didn’t allow myself to think about what was happening to me before surgery but he let me know how much trouble I could have been in and in what a great state I really am in now! The harder things to swallow was to understand that my arms might just be this way. It’s manageable, just not how I would have liked it to heal. And again hard to see my x-rays and discuss how this was only the beginning of surgeries. As I made a joking remark about how I’d be all fused by the time I was 50 he very seriously told me I’d be very lucky to make it to 50. Oh, I said, well good to know. And so he sent me off and said, you’re free to go! And I replied, Well great, thank you, and I guess I’ll go move on with my life! And that was our farewell. But the great news is I haven’t felt this strong in over a year and I’ve been given a sweet gift of a full life again.
Ok, more to come. I’ll let you know how first days at Duke has been soon and all my fun first beginnings here in Durham! Thank you all for your continued prayer and encouragement. I am truly blessed by so many of you.
Love Julie
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