The Light

I had the distinct pleasure this Easter morning of enjoying a sunrise service on the top of a mountain. Well, ok, if Stone Mountain counts as a mountain... in actuality it is a bug hunk of granite rock. Nevertheless, I was at a high elevation with a view of the entire city of Atlanta and beyond. It all started at 5:15am, when I met up with some of my friends from church at one of their houses. We drove to Stone Mountain Park and then proceeded to hike up the mountain towards the top. It's 1 mile up the side of the rock. As we were walking, Don commented on the beautiful full moon that we were enjoying, as otherwise the sky was completely dark. He said, "You know, if someone had never seen the sun, they would probably think that the moon was really bright, but it pales in comparison to the real light of the sun." Something I'm sure you have heard before, as I have, but really it is amazing the clear picture that we saw of this as darkness turned into light before our eyes. You can see in this first photo what the sky looked like when we got to the top of the mountain. Dark. Actually, this was not right when we got there because the skyline was not even lighting up yet at that time, but still you can see that it was dark. If you scan the middle of the picture, just below the lightening horizon, that is the ground below. It is where we live. It was completely black. And even though we have created little lights to help us see the roads or our front doors or parking lots, viewed from this elevation it is clear that we do not provide much light for ourselves at all. See the little specks dotting the ground? This was not a forest, you are looking at the city, granted it is not the downtown area. I'm sure I don't have to point out, but I will, that this is what our lives are like when we attempt to live on our own. We attempt to shed a little light on our circumstances or those of our friends and family. We try to understand the world around us. We even try to show others the way. But if we are not living in the true Light and leading each other there constantly, we reduce ourselves to the little specks of light. They don't illuminate beyond our little personal space, if that. Ok, moving on….




So this next photo was taken at literally the first moment that I saw the sun peek up over the horizon. See the little top edge of the sun? It is barely there at all, and yet look at the brightness! The world is suddenly illuminated. The little specks of light on the ground are vastly outshined. They are insignificant, and so are our own efforts to lead ourselves and others in this world. I had to ask myself later, am I truly experiencing the Light in my life right now? Or am I blindly feeling my way through tough decisions and relationships and demands? Is my flashlight shining, or have I done away with my insignificant source of light? Am I more comfortable with the flashlight, not wanting to really see my life for what it is? And you will probably agree that was enough questions for one day. Praise God that He loves us enough to provide Light when we are lost, which if we are honest is pretty much every day.

The rest of the sunrise…

You do the Math

A few weeks ago, I realized that I was going to have to board my dog for a then upcoming trip. I was heading to Orlando for a conference and would be gone for 4 days. Because I was returning on a Saturday night, in boarding terms that would equal to 6 days as they are not open on Sundays. The place that I normally board my dog is conveniently within a few miles of my place, but it costs $27/night. For 6 nights, that would be over $162. So, being the resourceful person that I am, I decided to find a different kennel for Kelsey. I was very excited to locate a place in Alpharetta (about 30 miles from my place) that would board her for $18/night. AND as a special bonus, they offered a 5th night free discount, and furthermore, they had a Sunday pickup time! With this wonderful find, I was down to $72 total plus a $20 bath - why not? Even with the extra cost of gas for driving to Alpharetta and back (twice) it was still much cheaper than the alternative.

Everything went swimmingly until a few days after I picked Kelsey up from this kennel. In the middle of the night last Thursday, at about precisely 3am, she startled me in the middle of the night with a fit of coughing and heaving that had me fearing her imminent death. After a few minutes of freaking out for both of us, she stopped hacking and sort of looked at me like what just happened and why didn't you prevent it? I apologized profusely (yes, to my dog), gave her a few love pats, and then settled back into bed. A few hours later, same deal, hacking, coughing, heaving, freaking, etc. Then it was over again. I sort of hoped it would go away, but Friday night proved to be about the same, not to mention she had a few fits during the day on Friday. Saturday morning, it hit me all of a sudden - one of the required vaccinations for boarding your dog is for kennel cough. I quickly googled this and found that Kelsey's symptoms were remarkably similar to the description. It turns out kennel cough is highly contagious in dogs and not surpisingly is commonly picked up in kennels. So off we went to the vet, who was thankfully able to see her on a Saturday and on short notice. She agreed that it was probably kennel cough and prescribed some antibiotics.

Here is where the math comes in. The vet cost $78 for the visit and medication. So did I save any money after all? Ok, I'll do the math for you. No, I did not save money. In fact, it has now cost me more money in total than it would have been to just board Kelsey at the expensive kennel. Sigh. I sort of felt God laughing at me as I realized all of this. Not that he enjoys seeing me get exasperated, but in the grand scheme of things, all of my planning and scheming just didn't amount to much. Pretty typical of the planning and scheming of my little earthly self.

The Fabric of America

This week has been extremely eye-opening for me, my circumstances causing me several times to stop and think about this country that we live in, for good or for bad. If you know me well, then you know that I LOVE America. The 4th of July has become my favorite holiday as an adult, not for the fireworks but for the sheer joy of celebrating this great country. Go to another country for a week - not a vacation hot spot, but seriously just another normal place - and your patriotism will also be increased. But then there are places in this country that might challenge that patriotism as well. In Atlanta, that place is downtown at night, or along Ponce de Leon Ave even in the middle of the day. These are the places where freedom is not so clearly experienced, where the law is often optional, and where your understanding of your place in this world will be challenged if you aren't driving by fast enough or if you make eye contact with one of the unfortunate souls who call the streets their home. But I am getting ahead of myself here. Let's go back to Monday of this week...

On Monday I arrived promptly at the Fulton County Courthouse at 7:45am, ready to perform my civic duty as a juror. It is interesting to me that this "civic duty" is undertaken by Americans with such apathy and disdain. If someone from another planet (not that I think there is life on other planets) were to peek in on the multitude of faces assembled for jury duty, they might mistake the gathering for a prison camp. The grumblings of the early morning continue on throughout the day as this torturous duty continues to rob each person present of their daily life, the job that they probably complain about anyway, the mundane tasks like grocery shopping and house cleaning, the solitude of a lonely home for some and the overcrowded bustle of the city for others. Is one day of sitting in a room with a few hudred of your fellow citizens really that bad? If I were the person on trial or on the side of the prosecution, I would surely hope that this group did not decide my fate. But isn't the crowd just being a little melodramatic? When actually faced with the prospect of a trial and a decision, isn't the average American pretty responsible, fair, and genuinely interested in doing the right thing? I don't know, but I hope so. As I was leaving the court house that afternoon with this same crowded mass of potential jurors (those of us who didn't get picked), one man's comments on the presidential primary election was disturbing to me. He was obviously a Democrat, but that was not the disturbing part. What got me was his overgeneralization, his stereotyping, and the realization that he probably represented with his words what the average American understands of our election process. He said, "Well, Edwards dropped out of the election. All the women will vote for Hillary, all the black folks will vote for Obama, but there's noone left now for the white man to vote for." Initially, this may seem funny to you, but it was not funny to me because I could tell that this guy was not joking. He was actually that shallow. How many Americans out there do this, just looking at each candidate and voting for the one that most looks like themselves? Am I the only one that finds this more than a little bit disturbing? I'm not even terribly big into politics, but honestly, I do take the time if I am going to vote to at least review the views and opininons of the candidates, voting based on ideology rather than on skin color. Ok, that's enough ranting about that issue. But while we're on the subject of voting...

On Tuesday morning, I pulled myself out of bed early again, this time not for a civic duty but for a civic right, my right to vote. This is another place where the fabric of America comes alive, but not quite as much as at jury duty, the voting polls of course being determined based on more specific residential location. My residential location is in a rather affluent part of the city, so I was mostly surrounded by people like me except with a lot more money. I will spare you my comments on the volunteers and their lack of computer acuity, but suffice it to say that I waited 30 minutes while one person at a time voted in a room with 10 voting stations.

The night before the primary election, while doing my typical quick review of the candidates, I was struck most of all by Mitt Romney. Not struck in the sense that I wanted to vote for Mitt Romney, but struck by discovering the power and prestige and pedigree of education that his family holds. I don't fault him or his four very well-to-do (and not so bad-looking) sons for having what they have. Nor can I argue with the probability that this man could surely handle the job of the presidency. It just strikes me as odd that this is still America. Mitt Romney is America just as much as the poorly-informed man at jury duty, and the men and women who live on the streets of Atlanta are just as much part of this fabric as well. Truly, America is woven in such a way that it is nearly impossible at times to see the transition from one thread to another, and at the same time the opposite ends of the fabric don't even look like they are part of the same cloth. I guess it is the freedoms we have that allow our differences to co-exist. And yet some of those differences look more like oppression at times than simple diversity.

So back to Ponce de Leon Ave here in Atlanta. My church is actually on Ponce, and therefore we are one block from the Fabulous Fox Theater on one side and one block from a haven of prostitution, addiction, and hopelessness on the other side. This is America. Last night we had an Ash Wednesday service, and afterwards I went downstairs to use the bathroom. I was warned before going in that a woman was in there changing clothes but that it was ok to go anyway. I walked in to find Kelli there, half naked and talking somewhat incoherently but praising God in her own way for the fresh set of clothes. I met Kelli a few months ago when she wandered up in ftont of our church before Sunday morning service. We talked a little, she cried, we prayed. She had some coffee and pastries and then went on her way, not returning later that day for help that was promised in finding a place to sleep that night. This happened again two more times over the last few months, a quick hello, her report that things aren't good, a call for help, but inevitably the refusal of real assistance beyond food and the freedom to sleep on our church steps at night. Last night was different, but I didn't stay long enough at first to find out. I was uncomfortable with continuing to go through the motions with Kelli, my heart a little bit hardened and confused at her behavior, and so I left. I was praying on my way home for Kelli and for my own heart when my phone rang. It was Daniel from church asking if I had time to turn around and go back to the church to help Kelli. God answered my prayer with the opportunity to help, and he answered Kelli's prayer to be removed from the streets, from heroin, from her pimp, from the harsh cold of the night, and from constant desperation. I went with another lady in the church to dinner with Kelli (a real restaurant! she exclaimed, and wow, it is so different being in a car instead of walking on these streets), and then we took her to the Atlanta Greyhound bus station and bought her a ticket home to North Carolina. She called her mother who of course agreed to meet her at the bus station in the morning. We sat at the station for a few hours, wanting to make sure that Kelli got on that bus and not into the strip club across the street. And so I had a few more hours of experiencing another part of America that I don't usually think of when I celebrate our freedom on July 4th - the not-so-glorious or efficient but ever-bustling bus station. There were people of all ages and races waiting to go to Texas or Florida, Mississippi or North Carolina. One lady had been travelling all the way from Phoenix and was headed to parents' day with her daughter at Fort Bragg in North Carolina. I thought, why would anyone take a bus that far instead of a plane? Of course, she probably didn't have the money to fly. I may complain about the high price of airline tickets, but I am still fortunate enough to be able to pay the high price. And so my America is a little different from that lady's America.

Right about now you may be wondering whether I have a point in all of this discussion, and I am wondering the same thing. I guess I have been a little disappointed in America a few times this week, and I have also been brimming with pride a few times. At the end of the day, it's just sort a beautiful thing that we all fit, and that this great country does work, however dysfunctionally. I still don't know what to say, though, about the man who's looking for a white guy to vote for. I hope that God blesses America with an abundance of people who actually think before voting. This won't change the Fabric of America, for better or worse, but maybe it will at least reduce the dysfunction a little bit.

Overdue Update, Part II

The rest of the story…

So, we arrived in Baton Rouge and parked on the outskirts of the LSU campus at a house that belongs to friends of Hale and Sandra. We tailgated there for several hours. I met several friends of theirs who I assume knew who I was. Mostly everyone was talking about the impending LSU-Florida game so there was no need for getting into deep discussions about why I was there, which was fine with me. Everyone was a little concerned about my affiliation with Auburn but happy to know that I was pulling for LSU that day. After a few hours of tailgating there, eating wonderful food and having a few pre-game drinks, we began a somewhat long walk towards campus to look for Allison, Hale’s daughter, and his goddaughter Jenny (both students at LSU). After a few cell phone calls and quite a bit of walking, we were able to find Allison and Jenny, so I met them for the first time right near the LSU Memorial clock tower by the library. Allison is a junior at LSU. After a few quick introductions, we walked over to a building nearby and met up with my parents, who were tailgating there with friends. More introductions followed, and we all sort of mingled for several minutes before Allison, Jenny, and Brian decided to take off and do their own thing. Hale and Sandra stayed with me for a little bit longer to visit with my parents, and then I took off with them to head towards the stadium. The campus was absolutely crazy, so we enjoyed taking in the sights, the crowds, and the chaos. Eventually we made our way to the stadium and found our seats, right near the very top of the nosebleed section. Surprisingly though, because it was such a big game and the crowd was so wild, it really didn’t seem like we were so high up in the stands. It was a great game. Long story short – LSU won and we had a great time cheering for them together. I didn’t know if Sandra was very into football, but she was right there in the mix and just as excited as anyone around, so we all had a great time. Geaux tigers!

Sandra, Jenny, Hale, Allison, Brian, me

With Mom and Dad Pre-Game

With Hale and Sandra Post-Game

After the game, Hale and Sandra gave me a ride to my parents’ house, so I stayed the night there while they stayed with some friends of theirs nearby. They had lunch that day with Brian and Allison while I went to church and ate lunch with my parents, and they stopped by mid-afternoon to pick me up and to spend a few more minutes with my parents. I rode back to Jeanerette with Hale, Sandra, and Brian, and I spent a little time late afternoon at the bayou house relaxing while they went home. Hale picked me up for dinner, and we went to a very posh sushi restaurant at a casino in the middle of the sugar cane fields about 15 minutes or so from his house. Who would have thunk that this nice restaurant would be right there in the backwoods, but there it was, and it was very good. We enjoyed fresh sushi and a wine selection chosen by the restaurant manager.

That night I ended up staying at Hale’s house, and Monday morning we went to my favorite restaurant for breakfast. After some eggs, scrambled light, and hashbrowns just the way I like ‘em, we headed towards the airport. We started to say our goodbyes as Hale walked me in to check in, but before we knew it we were walking right back out – flight delayed. We ended up having quite a few hours of extra time to linger around in Lafayette, so I had the opportunity and pleasure to meet a gentleman named Mr. Lee.

Let me now diverge a little to explain who Mr. Lee is... The first night that I met Hale, when I stayed at his bayou house, I noticed a few wooden bowls and vases in the kitchen. They were very beautiful, made of many different types of wood, and appeared to be hand-crafted. I lifted one of them up and noticed on the bottom a name, a date, and a description of the types of wood in that piece. After appreciating the small collection of bowls in the kitchen, I happened to see a few of them in the bedroom, and in the bathroom, and then I noticed the mother-load stored in the bedroom closet. Wow, I thought, I’ll have to remember to ask about these things. Of course, this was at the end of a long and monumental day. At some point in the weekend I did remember to ask about the bowls, thinking that maybe a relative of Hale’s had made them. He explained to me that he had bought one of them one day at a craft fair, and after driving off and examining it closely, he promptly drove back and bought the rest of them that were for sale. When he asked for information about the artist who crafted them, he got no further than the name of the man who lived in Lafayette. So, getting to the point, Hale has since found and befriended Mr. Lee, a retired engineer who has picked up the hobby of woodworking in his retirement. Every couple of weeks, Hale stops by Mr. Lee’s house for a visit and pretty much buys everything he makes. I was intrigued by this, so when we found ourselves with the extra time on Monday morning, Hale took me to meet Mr. Lee. He and his wife were at home and invited us in to visit. Mr. Lee took us back into his shop and showed me all of his woodworking tools and machines. He was working on a new bowl for which he showed me his CAD design printout, and he let us watch him work for a few minutes.

Needless to say, meeting Mr. Lee was a nice and unexpected surprise, but of course the whole weekend was a new and exciting adventure. Hale and his family were welcoming hosts, and I have already had the opportunity during my Christmas break to visit them again.

So, now I don’t have any more huge unanswered questions about my past and my adoption. Of course, this is not the end but another beginning.

Overdue Update, Part I

The snow is falling here in Atlanta, building up a nice little collection on the cars, trees, and grass outside. This is big news here in Georgia, so the news stations are reporting very diligently that in fact the snow is falling, that it is white, and that the roads will inevitably be slick tonight. One Department of Transportation representative suggested that everyone “just don’t go out”. I am obediently staying in, trying to keep a fire going, and enjoying the view out of my window. Incidentally, the snow looks about the same in Cobb, Fulton, and Gwinnett counties per the local broadcasts.

This should be a great day to take advantage of being homebound and study for the big exam that I have on Tuesday, but alas, I am not in the mood. So until the mood hits me, I will busy myself with other things. The poor, unattended blog has thus entered my mind, so I will attempt to make up for some lost time. As the fire in my fireplace is virtually dying, I will take a stab at bringing to life some long-overdue updates on life.

If you have kept up with this narrative of my random thoughts and occasional updates, you probably remember that in August of 2006 I began a new adventure by contacting Marcia, my birth mother. It has been a wonderful year and half since that time of catching up on the 28 years we did not know one another, meeting and getting to know each other’s families, and generally moving forward with a new relationship that I had never quite imagined would be so enriching.

The new news is that in August of 2007, I took another big leap of faith and contacted my biological father. His name is Hale, and he lives in the small town of Jeanerette, LA. This is a little less than a 2 hour drive from Baton Rouge, where I grew up. After a few weeks of writing back and forth with Hale, he proposed that I fly down to Louisiana for a football game so that we could meet one another and enjoy something together that we both happen to love (ie – football). After a little disappointment that I would not be able to make it down for the Auburn-LSU game, we were able to arrange for me to fly down the first weekend of October. I arrived at the Lafayette, LA airport on a Friday afternoon with bags packed and heart pounding. In this small regional airport, it took only seconds after walking off of the plane to spot the 6’4” Hale, who was grinning from ear to ear and looking at me with sparkling eyes and a little glistening of tears. I could sense now in person the gentle spirit of this man who I had corresponded with and already come to appreciate as an easygoing and kind-hearted person. We walked outside and were greeted by his very loyal companion, Abby (a 6-yr old golden lab), who was obediently waiting in the back of his white pick-up truck. The drive down to Jeanerette was pleasant as we started to talk more about our lives and I heard the interesting story of how Hale ended up in what has become a dream job for him. We saw a beautiful rainbow in the sky, as there was a light rain in the air, and we could see both ends of its span across the highway and beyond. He took me first to his bayou property along the Bayou Teche, on which he has built a house for entertaining as well as relaxing (and building things in the adjacent workshop). This was to be my lodging for the night, and Abby stayed with me to keep me company. Hale and I had a drink or two, ate some wonderful gumbo that he had made earlier in the week, and chatted a bit more before he headed back home to his house up the road.

I spent a little time just sitting around after he left, taking in the environment and processing the past few hours, and then I popped in a VHS of Groundhog Day and zoned out for the night. I made it about half way through the movie before falling asleep to the sound of rain falling on the tin roof. The next morning Hale picked me up, and we went to have breakfast at a little café in downtown New Iberia (a slightly larger town near Jeanerette). While we were down there, we made a few stops. We went to see his houseboat, which was docked on the Bayou Teche right near the restaurant, having been stationed conveniently there for the Gumbo Festival which I believe had taken place the previous weekend in downtown New Iberia. We stopped by to see a friend of Hale’s who owns and operates an auto repair shop on the same street where we ate. We went to see a cousin of Hale’s who lived nearby and to whom he needed to deliver some tickets for the LSU game that night (vs Florida). We then went to visit Hale’s mother, Eve, and it was a joy to visit with her for the first time. She is in her early 70s, in overall good health, twice widowed, and according to Hale is a very strong woman. Her home was impeccably clean and orderly but at the same time warm and inviting. After a brief visit with her, we drove a few more minutes to stop by Hale’s sister Adrian’s house. She was also very inviting and is a nurse with 3 children, only one of which still lives at home but was not there at the time. Our last stop of that morning was at Hale’s cousin Wardell’s house, who was just getting ready to mow his 1-mile long (but only about 25 yds wide) stretch of backyard. Wardell, like everyone else, was very friendly, very easy-going, and we enjoyed a few minutes of laughing and talking together before leaving him to the awaiting grass.

Next on the agenda was to head back to Hale’s house and make preparations for going to the LSU game that night. We arrived around lunch time at his house, and I finally met his wife Sandra and son Brian, who is 18. I would meet his daughter later that day at LSU. Admittedly it was strange to enter their home and to make small talk, a stranger and yet in some strange way a part of this family, but we all survived the uncomfortable beginning and managed to get loaded up in the truck for the trip to Baton Rouge.

…. I’m starting to get a little tired of typing now (and you’re probably getting tired of reading), so I’ll continue this story later, probably today but I can’t say for sure.

Here are a few photos in the meantime…

Hale and his mother, Eve

Me and Eve

Bayou house (and Abby)

Bayou Teche at Sunrise

Sigh of Relief

It is nice every now and then to actually remember the freedom we have to trust in God and to know that He is in control of everything. Not that "God is doing a great job of implementing my plans" or "on Sunday God can handle my life but on Monday through Saturday I have to carry the load" or "God doesn't know about my little problems and why would he care anyway". No, none of those will do. Only a confidence that He is truly in control, and moreover, He likes us - no, loves us - so much that everything we think or do or say or desire is of the utmost concern to Him. Only if we hoard our little corner of this world and try to protect it from God, then we will be left wanting. But if we leave our little lives open to Him, or better yet, if we bring ourselves and our needs and our whatever it is to Him, "he will give you the desires of your heart" (Psalm 37:4). And in the words of Anne Lamott:

"It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend to keep things running right is not what keeps things running right."

Holes in My Soles

For the last few days, praise God, we have had lots of rain here in Atlanta. I really don't like rain, but hey, in a drought I will pray for it with the best of 'em. Anyway, I was walking the dog yesterday morning (in the rain) and noticed after a few minutes that my foot started feeling a little wet in my left shoe. I kept walking, but I was all the while quite perplexed as to how my foot could be getting wet on the bottom and near my toes. I kept looking down, wondering if maybe I was walking in deep water, but no, it was just surface water on the road, no puddles. Then, before I could make sense of this peculiar feeling, my right foot started feeling wet. At this point I had no choice but to keep walking, let Kelsey do her business, and worry about it when I got back inside. I wasn't up for troubleshooting while holding an umbrella in one hand, a leash in the other, and not to mention freezing my butt off.

So I got home and found, in disbelief, that my trusty old shoes (operative word OLD) had developed holes in the soles. Both of them! If you look in this picture, it's not so obvious...

But with a little sold bending, the cavernous culprit is exposed.

Darn the luck. I guess it's time for a new pair!

Overdoing It?

I have been a bit under the weather this week. Woke up with a killer sore throat on Tuesday, the day of one of the biggest (and longest) presentations of the semester for our spinal orthotics class. That went well, thankfully. I started taking medicine that night for a cold and sore throat, and for a few days I went through the usual array of symptoms... mild fever, coughing, coughing up delightful stuff, sneezing, etc. Yesterday I felt pretty good most of the day, and then today it returned as mostly sinus congestion and coughing. I stopped by the Georgia Tech Health Services to get some free medicine (one of the joys of being a student). If you go in there and write down your symptoms and then check off which medicines you would like for your given symptoms, they will give you (up to a certain amount) any over-the-counter medication for free. This is very nice. Well, today I went through the form and answered all the questions, handed it in, and they rejected me from the quick service because I had answered "Yes" to blood in mucous. I tried to explain that it was not a big deal, that I was not coughing up a lung, and that I simply wanted some Sudafed so I could go home and take a nap and clear my sinuses. They insisted that I see the doctor, which took well over an hour. She very thoroughly checked me out, agreed that it was nothing serious, and then sent me out the door with the following assortment of medications:

So, I got sudafed plus 5 additional pills, sprays, and syrups. I hope this will be enough to cure the common cold. And I'd hate to see the prescription list if I actually did have something serious!

No Work

I don't know why, but I absolutely cannot bring myself to do anything remotely productive this evening. I got home a bit later than usual, and of course I had to take a break to watch The Office, but seriously I have done nothing worthwhile since I got home. This is not giving me a good feeling about Friday night. I might have to make myself stay home and work. This will probably be ok because noone has asked me to do anything on Friday night, but still it is not ideal.

Commercial Conspiracy

I just noticed something about TV that I haven't noticed before. It is possible that this has been going on for a long time, but I don't watch enough tv to catch it. I do, however, watch The Office. So right after The Office tonight, Scrubs was coming on. What I noticed was that there was no break whatsoever between the two shows. No commercials, no nothing. As soon as the final scene ended on The Office, before I reached for the remote and turned off the tv, Scrubs was already starting. It seems to me that several years ago, ok maybe 10 years ago, the standard was to have one commercial break during a 30-minute show and one break in between shows. Today, there are at least two commercial breaks in a 30-minute show and no breaks in between. So I guess the brilliant marketing people have realized that (1) if you have commercials during a show, people are more likely to sit through them, and (2) if you don't have commercials between shows, people are more likely to get hooked on the next show and then watch more commercials during that one. Am I the only one who thinks this is a conspiracy? I did not fall for it this time because I think Scrubs is a stupid show, but if I had nothing better to do, I might just sit and get hooked into one show after another all night long. Be careful, they are out to get you. And then after you watch tv all night long, you will go out and buy a new cell phone that you don't need, or a new and improved tv so you can watch more commercials and see them more clearly.

Back to the Blog

Well, well, where to begin again after many months of bloglessness? I don't know. I guess rather than trying to recap the last two months all at once, I will start with now and fill in the rest later. I'm not sure why I all of a sudden stopped writing here, but I have to say I miss it and vow to get back in the swing of things. So, more to come later on September and October, but let's talk about the first few days of November.

First of all, this week has brought with it not only a new month but also a new average low temperature here in Atlanta. Let's just say in the mornings when it is time to take Kelsey for her walk, I am now bundling up and can see my breath in the crisp, cool air. I am not a fan of this.

The first week of November also brings with it the realization that this semester of school is very quickly winding down. We have about 4 weeks left of class and then final exams, and then a break! I am looking forward to the break, but I have also enjoyed this semester. I am loving what we are learning in spinal orthotics and in transfemoral prosthetics. Just trust me, it's fun if you are me. And even if you aren't me, you can't argue that watching someone walk on an artificial leg that you made for them would be fun.

I will briefly mention the time change, since that did occur this week. I only like it for one day because of the extra hour added to that day. Otherwise, I do not appreciate this seemingly small change that makes the mornings all the more cold and the evenings darker sooner. Again, I am not a fan.

I am a fan, however, of LSU football. I was very proud of the Fighting Tigers this past weekend as they effectively broke the hearts of the Alabama Crimson Tide. Geaux team! The Georgia Tech Yellowjackets were not so exciting this week as they lost miserably to Virginia Tech Thursday night. The only two exciting things about that game were (1) my friend Julian came to the game, and (2) Big Boi of Outkast played a concert at halftime.

And to round out this quick update, I will share a picture from a Halloween party last weekend. I dressed up last year, but I wasn't really that into it. This year I somehow received inspiration and managed to whip up this Wonder Woman costume the day of the party. I incorporated a spinal orthosis just for fun and because I am a nerd like that. The shoes were everyone's favorite part of the costume, which were well worth wearing even though they were the most uncomfortable shoes I've ever worn. If you can't see them very well, they are high top tennis shoes with stiletto heels. I have no idea why anyone would make such a thing. Hopefully they were supposed to be a joke.

Me As an Amputee

This is one of the fun and exciting things my classmates and I did last week when a company called Ohio Willow Wood hosted us at their facility. They have created this "bent-knee device" for non-amputees to try out and bear weight on different prosthetic feet. A few comments about the experience:

1. I know that this cannot possibly mimic what it REALLY feels like to have an amputation.
2. The "bent-knee device" was very heavy and cumbersome to use, more so than any actual prosthesis should be, which is good for people who wear prostheses.
3. It felt VERY strange to bear weight on the prosthetic feet. I heard someone who wears a prosthesis say that it is good but a poor substitute for the real thing. Now I sort of understand what he meant. No matter how fancy a prosthetic foot is, it's still just a lump of inanimate materials.
4. It freaked me out, even knowing that I still had my leg safely attached, to look down and see this prosthesis in place of my left leg. Very stange indeed.

Random Photo

I was looking through some pictures from my summer and found this one of my niece, Liza (2) at the beach. I assume that as she gazes from the balcony of our condo at an early hour of the morning, she is contemplating the meaning of life. I'm not sure, because she doesn't talk at this point, so I couldn't ask her. But when I look at this picture, that is what I see. Don't you just want to reach right out and grab that little cutie and give her a big hug? I do.

Gratefulness

So lately I have been all over the map in terms of emotions towards God and life, God of course being the center of life. I've been enamoured with the world around me and the people I have had the immense pleasure of knowing and spending time with. I've been reminded of God's mercy and faithfulness to me and other people. On the other hand, I've felt helpless as I walked amongst people on the street who have no hope and are physically distraught, addicted, and/or oppressed. I don't understand why they have to suffer and why there is nothing I can do to make their situation go away.

On a more personal level, this past year has been an emotional ride in itself as I have found, met, and gotten to know my birth mother. I have been elated to discover a woman who loves me and accepts me and does not harbor regret. I have been delighted to see for the first time hints of myself in people who I am related to by blood. I have been overwhelmed with the love and support of my family as they have walked through this time of uncertainty and newness with me. And yet, in the midst of all of God's goodness to me and around me, there is a part of me (a larger part of me than I want to admit) that is ungrateful to God. I find myself deep down wanting to shake my fist at the One who loves me more than I will ever know because I don't understand His ways. I don't understand why it was his will for me to be born out of wedlock, to be adopted, to be reunited, and to be where I now am with a beautiful but frankly sometimes complicated family situation. I am grateful for God's tender hand that has designed every fiber of my being and every moment of my time on this earth, and I am simultaneously bitter at how He has chosen to weave that design. I know that when I shake my fist at God like this, I am proving the power of my flesh over my spirit. I feel like His ungrateful child, not understanding the breadth and width and depth of His love for me because I cannot see or know all that He knows.

I saw another picture of this fickle ungratefulness in my nephew this past week, on his 4th birthday. His daddy (my brother), who loves him unconditionally and with the patience that only a father can extend to his own son, bought him a bright red bicycle complete with training wheels and a shiny bell on the handlebars. This bike is a little boy's dream come true. When it was unveiled to Ben for the first time, however, he exhibited no joy, no excitement , no thankfulness or gratitude. His countenance exhibited contempt towards his daddy and disgust at the beautiful new bicycle. (I don't really know why this was his first reaction. It got better later, but let's focus on the initial reaction.) It must have been tough for his daddy to see, in a moment of sheer joy at providing such a glorious gift to his son, a response of disgust rather than ecstatic surprise. And this must be the same sunken feeling that my Heavenly Father has when I respond to his precious gifts to me with an air of disappointment. I am repenting even now for such a lack of faith, such a lack of trust in the ways of my Father. He takes great delight in showering me with love and affection. I hope that my countenance inside and out will respond less with discontentment and more and more with gratefulness. The beautiful thing is that it is not my response that fuels or earns God's love for me. He chooses to love me regardless.

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." ~Zephaniah 3:17

God's Faithfulness

Of all books in the Bible, my small group study this week led me to a chapter in 2 Kings. Now, I am intrigued by the Old Testament and have read all of it at one point or another, but I tend to forget just how much it tells of God’s character. On the other hand, it also very plainly denotes the character of men and women, and it is sometimes comforting to me to realize that kings and powerful advocates of the Lord were just as likely to screw up as I am. They were human too, so obviously they battled sin just like we do. Anyway, our reading for Bible study was in 2 Kings 1, but I am continuing to read through the book and couldn’t help but notice a few trends. Almost every event that happens in the lives of the great kings of Israel and Judah was prophesied before it happened. In other words, someone somewhere already predicted so-and-so would kill whats-his-name or that this particular guy would serve God faithfully. But despite each king’s prophesied fate, one fact remains: God’s promises for each of them were never revoked or removed. For instance:

“In the fifth year of Joram son of Ahab king of Israel, when Jehoshaphat was king of Judah, Jehoram son of Jehoshaphat began his reign as king of Judah. …
He walked in the ways of the kings of Israel, as the house of Ahab had done, for he married a daughter of Ahab. He did evil in the eyes of the Lord. Nevertheless, for the sake of his servant David, the Lord was not willing to destroy Judah. He had promised to maintain a lamp for David and his descendants forever.” -2 Kings 8:16,18-19

“Hazael king of Aram oppressed Israel throughout the reign of Jehoahaz. But the Lord was gracious to them and had compassion and showed concern for them because of his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. To this day he has been unwilling to destroy them or banish them from his presence.” -2 Kings 13:22-23

So, if that doesn’t get you excited about who God is, which it should, try this one from the New Testament (which, providentially, I have seen twice this week in separate places):

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
-Romans 8:39-39

Camp

I had the privilege to spend last week with 31 campers and a crew of other volunteers at Adventure Amputee Camp. We descended, actually ascended, onto the Nantahala Outdoor Center in full force on Wednesday and hit the ground running. The campers were kids from all over, though mostly Georgia and Tennessee, with amputations ranging from one amputated finger to triple limb amputations. Some of the kids were born with these amputations, while others suffered in accidents or had cancer or other diseases. I honestly don’t know all of their stories, but I do know that they are all still kids, most with an extra dose of courage and resolve. I watched in awe as most of the campers tackled such challenges as whitewater rafting, ropes course climbing, and waterskiing. They found themselves last week in an environment where they were not the only ones with an amputation (as most of them are in school and at home) and where everyone around them accepted them for who they are as a person. It was heart-wrenching to hear some of them say that even their families don’t treat them as well as they are treated at camp. As a future prosthetist, it was also amazing to see how hard the kids were on their prosthetic limbs. If you have spent any time around kids, you know they can break, ruin, or just wear out anything you give them. The fact that something is expensive and custom-made makes no difference to them when they want to run, jump, and play. I will certainly keep this in mind when I am faced with making prosthetic limbs for active kids or even adults. Being with those kids and also the several volunteers with amputations reminded me of why I changed careers. I already have and will continue to have the opportunity to meet people and their families who inspire me and who I can help to get back on their feet or live more comfortably. Honestly, I almost have to pinch myself every now and then when I realize how much fun I am having in this new profession – and I’m not even getting paid yet! Here are a few pictures from camp:

Summer Self Analysis

It's interesting, when you have a relative lack of responsibility and a little time on your hands, how much you can learn about yourself. Now, I understand that for the last six years I was not the busiest person in the world, not by a longshot. However, my mind was almost always engaged in something that required it's attention. If I wasn't working or spending time with friends, I was cleaning or organizing, or fixing whatever recently broke at my house, tending to my dog or my yard, and if all else failed I was planning how to utilize whatever amount of free time might be in store for me in the near future, be it one hour or one week. In fact, I would even plan what to do with free time I knew I didn't have. Now, here I am with little to no responsibility, no house, and more free time than I have money to indulge in it with. And this is what I have learned...

I seem to have an obsession with puzzles. Not just jigsaw puzzles, but those will do in a pinch. Mostly, I have realized that I cannot not try to do the puzzles in the newspaper every day. The good news in light of this obsession is that I don't get the paper in Atlanta. In Baton Rouge, however, or New Orleans, or even in Lakeland, FL (where I was this past weekend), I cannot resist the Sodoku (not sure how to spell that), the word jumble, and even crossword puzzles. Now, crossword puzzles are kind of like golf for me: I am absolutely horrible at them, but just one little taste of potential success pushes me to try even harder and waste even more time. Luckily, as mentioned before, I have a lot of time to waste.

In addition to reading, watching movies, running, eating, a cruise, and a few weddings, what does this summer puzzle obsession tell me? Well, I think I am simply suffering from a case of chronic boredom. Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed spending time with my family and travelling and all around relaxing. I am thrilled that I have had time to read and watch movies to my heart's content. However, I am realizing that I just need a little more mental stimulation to keep me going.

Alternatively, there may be another explanation. I think that deep down I am starting to suffer from some minor symptoms of EWS (Engineering Withdrawal Syndrome). As a born engineer, I suppose I have a need for closure. I absolutely love what I am studying now as I work on my masters degree, but honestly there just aren't enough "right" answers to suit me. I have immensely enjoyed the pleasure each day of tackling a puzzle, however simple it may be, and knowing that I can eventually determine (on a good day) what the one right answer is. This of course does not apply to crossword puzzles, which I cannot complete to save my life.

Only time will tell if the diagnosis is chronic boredom or Engineering Withdrawal Syndrome. If I get back to school this year and forget all about puzzles, then it must have been boredom, already cured. If I still find myself searching out occassional (or frequent) puzzles, then I will know it is EWS, something I will have to treat for the rest of my life.

The Cruise

I have to say, I’m not really sure why I am so slack in blogging here during the lazy days of summer. I certainly have enjoyed my fair share of laziness, though on the other hand I have been busier than I intended. I’m spending a few days a week in New Orleans at an O&P clinic down there (staying the night at Marcia’s house in between) and a few days a week at a clinic here in Baton Rouge. Other than that, I have been to Houston for a 48-hour visit and on a 6-day cruise. In my free time, I have been reading some, running some, watching a few movies, and packing/unpacking bags a lot.

The cruise was quite an adventure, as most cruises tend to be. The added adventure for me was that I went on this cruise with Marcia and her family, which of course are my family as well by blood. By “family” I mean a group of about 30-40 people that were either related or close friends. Thankfully, I had already met most of the family at Christmas, so I was not totally overwhelmed but excited to spend more time with them.

I drove down to New Orleans the morning of Memorial Day to meet up at Marcia’s house before we went to the terminal for boarding. I was in a gloriously good mood – all packed and ready, dressed for the occasion in casual clothes, flip-flops, and a cowboy hat – and all was well until I got pulled over in La Place, Louisiana for speeding. I didn’t have it in me to beg and plead in order to get out of the ticket, so I just took it and fumed over it for the next 10-15 minutes. As I neared New Orleans, I put the ticket in the glove compartment (to deal with after the cruise) and resumed my glorious good mood. With Marcia, Roy, Stephen, Jonathan, and myself, we had quite a few bags to transport, not to mention people. One of Roy’s brothers and his wife showed up with two SUVs to bring us and our bags down to the river. After waiting in a few long lines and getting our pre-cruise picture made, we finally clambered on board the ship, the Carnival Fantasy. From there the rest of the cruise is somewhat of a blur, but I’ll try my best to summarize.

I spent a lot of time on the Lido Deck (the sun deck) reading and trying to get some sun, despite the mostly cloudy and often rainy weather we encountered. I typically ate breakfast alone because I was the only one ready to leave the room at 7am every morning when I woke up starving. During lunch, though, I usually managed to meet up with at least a few other people in our group, and we ate dinner together every night. If you’ve been on a cruise before, you already know how good the food is. If not, trust me, it is pretty good. I think my favorite meal was the filet mignon I had the first night. It was downhill from there but by no means bad.

Our two stops were Costa Maya on Wednesday and Cozumel on Thursday. In Costa Maya we went on an excursion to tour the Mayan ruins, which was guided by a local woman named Ophelia (I think). I loved it when she said “my country” in her thick accent and then smiled at us with the understanding that we surely did not appreciate her country as much as she did. I tried to appreciate it but at the same time was saddened by the living conditions that we saw, shacks along the highways and people lining the roads desperate to sell their wares to anyone that would stop. The ruins were impressive and the jungle a beautiful (though hot) mixture of exotic vegetation and not-so-exotic mosquitoes. Thankfully, the rain held off until just after we re-boarded our tour bus to return to the port. We had a nice nap for an hour as we drove through the pelting rain, and we spent another hour or so shopping near the port while trying to stay dry. The following day in Cozumel started out beautiful and stayed nice all morning. We left the boat at about 8am and headed to a nearby park to swim with dolphins. I had no idea what to expect of this excursion, but it was really a lot of fun. We each had the chance to perform a number of tricks with our dolphin, Chac, including kissing him on the nose, hugging him, and even riding on his belly as he swam upside down underwater. I’m not sure if those short descriptions adequately describe the experience, but trust me it was very fun and exciting. Chac also performed other tricks without us like jumping straight up out of the water, splashing us with water, waving to us with his pectoral fins, and finally waving to us with his tail fin as he floated head down in the water. We went back to the port area and shopped around a little bit after that adventure, and then we boarded the boat for lunch. Unfortunately, the weather got ugly after lunch, so we did not go back out to the port at Cozumel again.

The last full day of the cruise (one day after Cozumel), I mysteriously woke up sick and miserable. I wondered if it might be a hangover, though I had not had too much to drink and my head didn’t hurt like it would in that case. It was mostly intestinal if you catch my drift. Well, I managed to nurse myself to decent health by that afternoon and enjoyed that day, but I carried that bug with me back onto land. One dose of antibiotics had me back in full swing about 5 days later. Thankfully, I am officially on vacation and did not HAVE to go to the clinics I had planned to go to that week. So I rested up and gave myself an extended cruise-like break for a few days.

As for the family time, I have to say it was hard to spend much quality time with anyone in such a large group. I did, however, enjoy hanging around with everyone and was able to spend time getting to know a few of my new cousins. It is strange to be the outsider all of a sudden entering into this large family, but they have been very gracious and inviting. In fact, they have been extremely nice to me and accepting of me, for which I am grateful.

So that has been my vacation highlight so far. I leave later this week to go to my cousin’s wedding in Florida and then spend next week at the beach with my parents and my brother’s family. After that I’ll be back in Louisiana for a few more weeks before my whirlwind volunteer tour starts. I’ll be sure to share about all that when the time comes.
Finally, I apologize for the lack of pictures to document most of the cruise. I didn’t take many with my camera (just the sunsets as you see) and am a little technologically challenged here at my parents’ house, so I can’t scan the prints that Marcia gave me.

Christ and The Price is Right

I was on a cruise last week (which is a whole different story that I will hopefully get around to telling later) and I saw a girl wearing a T-shirt for some Chistian camp or youth group or something. The shirt was playing off of The Price is Right game show but instead said “Christ is Right”. At first I just thought, well that’s pretty cheesy, but I guess it’s cute. And true. But then I saw the shirt a few more times, and it started to bother me. I thought to myself, is that what Jesus himself would want to broadcast to the world if he made his own T-shirt, that He is “right”? Granted, I do think he was right, and I think he wants people to realize that, but His message was not about right and wrong, and neither was His life. His whole reason for living and dying was because He paid the price for our sins, the sins of the whole world, mine, yours, everyone’s. So I think if Jesus wanted to make a cute shirt about Himself based on The Price is Right, it would have said “The Price is Christ”. He didn’t come to prove anything to anyone but to be everything for everyone. Isn’t that what our world needs to hear? Not that Christ is right but that He is the answer to all of our questions, the redemption for all of our shame, and the salvation for our very souls? If you and I have come to know that Christ is all of these things, should we not present Him as such to the people around us who don’t know? I hope that given the opportunity to share Christ with someone, I do not find myself trying to convince them that He is right. It would miss the whole point.

Fancy Hats

I had to smile when I saw this. My neighborhood paper in Atlanta, which comes weekly, always has a pretty extensive section outlining the social outings and happenings of the previous week. Pictures of Atlanta's socialites dressed in their finest (or whatever dress is appropriate for the event) are plenteous. Last week I noticed an entire page graced with pictures of old ladies in fancy hats. Oh, how nice, I thought, and how boring:

And then I saw a different hat. I love it that this lady decided to top her frilly outfit with a diner hat from the Atlanta landmark Varsity restaurant, risking her social appropriateness. When I am that age, if I am invited to such an event, I will of course show up sporting my very own Waffle House diner hat.