Why I do what I do...

I was talking with some of my teacher friends the other day about the upcoming school year. Somehow the issue of salary came up (I think I was having to explain why I am still going to work so much at the hospital during the school year). It's true, teachers aren't paid nearly enough and it doesn't get better the higher the education you happen to teach! I really had to sit and think for a moment why I'm about to sign this contract or why anybody does for that matter. It's obviously not for the money. Maybe that that's what makes teachers so incredible, they do what they do because they love it (or at least some of the time) and/or God told them to do it.
Somebody once told me that teachers are really some of the only people who get the opportunity to make an impact everyone in the entire the world. I suppose indirectly there is some truth to that.
This morning I had a breakfast with one of my former students. We talked about her first job, her first death, her future hopes of grad. school and becoming an educator... Now I remember, this is why I worked so hard to become a real teacher. So, thank you to all of my teacher friends who prayed for me and encouraged me throughout grad school. I'm excited to join the ranks!
You gotta love 'em!

Pink Kool Aid (Part 2)

No, I didn't want to run away. I wanted to stay, to sit a corner and to work/pray through anything and everything that came up. I wanted to let myself be angry at the "joy robbers" or to a least feel something and do so in a safe place. Why didn't that happen then? Why couldn't I have just stayed, prayed and sought the Lord?
Granted I had a prior commitment I needed to honor, but did I miss the point of why God had brought me there by keeping it? I don't get it, I thought I was ready for something and now I find myself waiting again. I know this can't just be a mean trick but sometimes it feels like it.
In some ways I feel like the lame man who waits each day by the Pool of Bethesda but never makes it to the water in time be healed. The man waited 38 years for what seems in some ways to be a rather anticlimactic moment. Jesus walks up to him and says "Take up thy bed and walk." So what does he do but get up and proceed to walk off carrying his mat. I've got to be missing something here...
Is the Pink Kool Aid perhaps fear and doubt? Could I myself be accused to drinking the Pink Kool Aid?

Pink Kool Aid

It was Saturday night and there was no sleep to be had. My body was calm but my mind was restless. Could God really be telling me to drive to Portland?!? Indeed He was... When I could stand it no longer, I got up, got dressed (in a green skirt no less) and left the house at 0530.
After so some amount of dawdling, I arrived at the dreaded camp meeting at 0915. Afraid to just randomly saunter right onto the campus, I called Angela and asked her to walk outside. I'll bet she didn't expect to see me standing there! As we walked into the office I was immediately "greeted" by Angela's mom who was practically in tears. I must admit that I was too but for vastly different reasons. Apparently word travels fast with the AF crowd because it wasn't long before I was seeing other folks I knew coming out of the woodwork. It would seem that there is quite the text messaging chain...
Later on that morning as Angela and I walked about the campground on "official business" I couldn't help but think that the place reminded me of some type of internment camp. The 1 room cabins which had no windows and were about 2 feet from eachother, the fenced compound, the codes on the gates... All these things add to the story but they weren't the real reason for the fear and trembling.
Poor Lindsey was the one who had to sit next to me during church service. As long as she wasn't looking at me, I was "fine." Actually, the whole experience was more difficult than anticipated but oddly enough I didn't want to run away...

Earning a Living

I'm sitting here at work lulled into a sort of semi-conscious state by the rhythmic sound of my patients ventilator feeling slightly burned out streaming Spanish worship music on youtube to combat the post Mexicali blues. I can't help but think about how much it stinks sometimes trying to "earn a living." It's funny what we put ourselves through all in the name of earning a living, the time we lose, the gray hairs we get, the elevated blood pressures, the ulcers, and the list goes on... Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that we shouldn't have jobs and pay our bills but to think that we can somehow "earn a living?" No, I'm not really talking about the whole salvation by works thing; I'm talking about the innate tendency to we have to feel like we need to constantly be doing things to legitimize our very existence.
I often think about this in regards to my patients. I wonder how they must feel about thier own lives when thier minds and bodies couldn't possibly be capable of "earning a living." The truth is that we can't earn the right to live or the right to exist and we cerntainly can't earn LIFE. All these things are a gift; if we could only live them as such.
While "youtubing" some Spanish worship music I came across this song "Razones Pa'Vivir" (Reasons to Live) which I have heard many times before but never truly listened hard enough to figure out the words. Translated it says something like this (I think):

You have given me so much
I cannot express my gratitude
I cannot tell of all you have done for me
You give me love, you give me peace
You took from your plentitude
In order to fill me with your light
My heart is blessed to live this way
Your blessing has touched my existance

I have reasons to live
I have songs to write
I have a voice and I have a heart
I have a Way to follow
I have love to share
I have a voice and a heart

You have inundated me with your love
With understanding and compassion
With your care and with your warmth
Every morning I can see
When I breathe I can see the sun
You are always faithful
My heart is blessed to live this way
Your blessing has touched my existance