The Blame Game- Everybody Loses

My brain is full of thoughts and they roll around and bump into one another so I'll try my best to put them down in a coherent way. I'm a medical social worker and by virtue of this profession I deal a lot with the disenfranchised, poor, and for lack of a better word, needy. Consequently, I also work with some of the most privileged and elite of our society, medical professionals. These interactions prove interesting on a daily basis. It is these interactions that have spurred a lot of thinking and led me to this blog post. I guess it's too early in my career to be frustrated, but here I am. I'm tired of the endless blaming. I'm tired of the victim getting the short end of the stick. I'm tired of people who always talk about those that abuse the system. I'm oh so very tired of claiming Christianity as a nation and doing the exact opposite of what Jesus commands. Why is it we are so adamant about the abortion issue yet we hate our neighbors? Is it because unborn children are innocent and are aborted by no fault of their own? I think so. Interestingly enough, these children we save from abortion will likely grow up in poverty on welfare and food stamps and we'll get a chance to blame them later when they have children as teenagers, too. (ps. don't hate me strait away- I'm for children being born, just saying) I hear time and time again (and I confess, I think this at times, too) that people don't deserve help for some set of reasons or another. Perhaps, they keep having babies just to get a check from the government. Or maybe they have perfectly done fingernails and ask for help with bus fair? Or maybe they smoked their whole life and now they have lung cancer? What about the battered wife who just won't leave the husband. At some point she deserves what she gets, right? Have we forgotten that within our own hearts resides the same hypocrisy? Shame on us. Do we not realize that an unborn child and a homeless man who got that way from drinking are equally loved by the Father? Why should this be a flagrant statement? This is GOOD NEWS! We are all in the same sinking boat begging for salvation. Some of us are wearing nicer clothes and know the right people but that is all that is separating us from one another. We are ALL sinking. See Romans 3. We have failed one another, ironically most of the time in the name of Jesus. We blame those who "abuse the system" and argue the government shouldn't provide for everyone. Yet, we do not extend our homes and help. We're scared. We close our eyes and hope they'll all just disappear. Sometimes, we do more than that. We don't want the government to help. We don't want to help. What we really want is to not be faced with depravity. But shouldn't this produce a conflict within ourselves? Hear this, if only this, Jesus doesn't command us to love the unlovable b/c it's the hipster, Tom shoes wearing, organic chicken eating, World Vision sponsored child, thing to do. Jesus commands us to love the unlovable so we realize the depths of our own sin AND that we demonstrate the UNCONDITIONAL (read: you don't earn it OR lose it) love of the Father. The End.

9 Months.

It's hard to believe on this day nine months ago I was wearing an amazing dress and celebrating our marriage with all of our favorites. I meet people on a daily basis at the hospital who have been married for 50+ years and our short 9 months feels like chump change. Even still, we celebrate as a lot can be accomplished in 9 months. The most obvious being a baby. To the dismay of all of our parents, that isn't the case just yet. Yet, we have still accomplished quite a bit in this short period of time and learned more than we bargained for. People have told us that your first year is one of the hardest. I certainly did not believe them. In spite of all our changes the first 6 months felt like a breeze. And then there was routine. Had marriage really boiled down to debating what was for dinner and watching wayyyy too many episodes of Law and Order: SVU (my personal favorite)? It feels like, at times, all we do is wake up (wish some difficulty for me), work, eat, watch tv, and sleep. Even now I can hear my parents laughing. I don't know what I thought marriage was and I'm certain I still don't know but surely it has to be more exciting than this. Before I make you all worry I'll skip to the good part. :) I am reminded looking back on our amazing wedding day that we were certain these days would come and we promised one another to learn from them, and we have. We have learned so much in these 9 months and I would love to catalog them here for us to look back on. First, I am so grateful we had a wedding. I am sure there were tons of things we didn't have to have that I obsessed over but mostly I'm glad I did. When it gets hard for whatever reason, I can look back on that day and remember with great certainty this is where I am supposed to be. Now I'd be pretty blind to not see the small but significant parallel in my own faith. Certainly the joys of life are not reprieve from the sufferings but rather strength to endure them.

Second, I am so grateful I have a partner in life. I was reminded of this fact just this past week as I had a serious bout with my stomach. It won and I really really reluctantly went to the emergency room. I felt as though I needed a limb severed to ever go to the ER but my loving husband and great mother advised it was the best plan going into the weekend. Two things I learned, I'm a terrible stick and my husband gets to sign all the paperwork. Honestly, it was so great to have Andy there to look to when I was worried or hurting. They couldn't find a vein and after multiple attempts I just looked at him and we talked about whatever we could think of to ignore the needles. I don't have any fear of needles but 5+ sticks and I was hurting. Also, it's such a small thing but it was pretty cool to have someone take responsibility for you and sign all these papers. Here's hoping he didn't sign away our few possessions! :) PS. I'm fine, going for some more tests on Monday but it's probably just some over active ulcers.

Third, I am grateful I have good friends. We have learned that friends are even more important than they were when we were single. Remembering who you are apart from your spouse is just as important as who you are together. In your first year you spend so much time learning who you are together it's easy to forget your friends and yourself apart from marriage. I'm grateful we give each other space to play disc golf (Andy) and have drinks with the girls (Kara), important distinction. The list could definitely go on but I'll leave it in good southern baptist (oops, great commission) fashion at three points. In summation, we aren't pregnant (I know, I'm sorry), I'm grateful we got married, even more grateful I'm married to Andy, and so blessed to have good friends. Amen. Pass the plate.

To my love-

As you are probably aware, today is the 26th birthday of my best friend. I think it is only appropriate a blog entry be dedicated to him. I don't have to tell any of you just how precious and kind Andy is to me. I say it all the time and it may sound cliche but Andy is my best friend. Over the years I've had some amazing friends, and still do, but Andy is the one. I'm so blessed that he will never move to a far away city without me. I love knowing I'm by his side til the end. Speaking of moving, Andy has been so gracious in his support of my passions and career. He was willing and even encouraged me to take my job here in Chattanooga to further my career while giving up a job he loved in Atlanta. Andy has made me a far more confident woman because he believes in me so very much. Andy is selfless, humble, and really freaking good looking. He is smart and funny. He isn't afraid to make a fool of himself all for a laugh. He delights in the small things in life and encourages me to seek God with the same consistency that he does. He is a great dad to our furry babies and I'm certain one day (God willing) he will be to our children. I look forward to all our future holds and I'm so so very very thankful that Andy was born 26 years ago. My life just wouldn't be the same without him.

It's the small things that count

It seems in my prayers God has continually pointed me to remember the small things and be thankful. I thought I'd share a few of those here with you. Maybe a list will be best?

Let's see...

My view driving to work makes getting up early worth it.

A 93 year old patient shared his best piece of advice in one word: listen.

I made a friend, she's 97, and she shared how she lost over a 100 pounds and was tickled to death to be more healthy.

Andy's here! Andy's here! Andy's here! Andy finished his final day at the YMCA this past Friday. He was sad to go and blessed by the kindness of so many he saw every day. But I'm so glad to have him back! We celebrated with a little Sticky Fingers and coffee for dessert.

Mina has taken up residence in the bathroom sink.

I made a great friend, Angela, who has not only taught me how to do my job (the right way) but has also made me a friend. I am so very thankful for her.

We've almost gotten unpacked-ish. It's feeling more like home and we really like it.

Rembrandt's Coffee has become a favorite spot for us both. Not to mention, they have a little shop in the hospital! I ration myself to once a week- ish.

We tried out our first church this past Sunday. The experience was fun but the church was not for us. We are so excited for a new option Andy discovered. We'll try it this Sunday and let you know how it goes.

The leaves on the trees are outstanding and we are enjoying our views.

Braylen is the cutest kid to date and I get to see his face a lot!

Andy has joined an ultimate frisbee league he learned of through Neal, Angela's husband, also our new friend.

Andy got his wish for bbq on Sunday at the Chattanooga Market.

We continue to be thankful for our friends and family all over that support us in love, prayer, and friendship. We miss you in one way or the other.

Chick-fil-A and Packing Tape

As I type this oh so overdue blog an empty bag of Chick-fil-A and a fresh roll of packing tape stare back at me. Yes, we are moving AGAIN but this time to a new city. How did this happen you ask? (For the record, so do I) Well, it has been a series of crazy events that have led us to Chattanooga. First being, that I got a job! I am working as a medical social worker at Memorial Hospital. This move has been more of a "transition" than I would have liked but you do what you have to do. Or at least that's what I tell myself every day. I started working at the hospital three weeks ago and my Mom had surgery a week prior to that so I have been "living" in Chatt for a month now. Andy and I see each other on weekends and will be permanently reunited in two weeks! Oh, how I long for that day. My sister and her lovely family have graciously allowed me to crash in their spare bedroom all this time. I've enjoyed seeing them a lot! I'm not sure they'd say the same. :) Andy will finish his time at the YMCA in two weeks and will continue searching for his dream job in Chatt. So, you see, it's a bit of a mess but we are taking it with grace and enjoying what we feel is God's plan working itself out.
A little more about my job...
Most people I run into don't exactly know what it is a medical social worker does and they usually inform me that they couldn't do whatever this mystery job is, either. So, since I have your attention, I'll tell you what I do. Most days it feels like I order potty chairs and walkers but in reality I help sick people transition back into normal life or adjusted normal after their illness. At times this means I get them access to food, financial assistance, insurance coverage (ha), transportation but also that I listen. I listen to what they say but I hear so much more; their heartache, their loneliness, their fear, their hope. It is my job and hope that in some small way, above ordering potty chairs, that I am there when it is hard for many others to be for whatever the reason. So, I love and hate my job. I hate seeing sick people struggle, especially the ones without family or friends. I hate being around death and dying. I hate knowing there is only so much one person can do. But I love doing what I can. I love seeing people survive and triumph. I love seeing the devotion and support that people can give. I love being reminded that life is short and people are what matters.
Overall, I do believe that God is leading this crazy life we are a part of but it is hard right now. It's a lot of changes and loneliness but as I cried yesterday about the size of our new bedroom, I'm reminded that most of my pains are first world problems. I know that God cares about my struggles but a dose of perspective goes a long way. We are blessed by many and so excited to see what marriage and life looks like in Tennessee. Come visit? That'd be great.

God likes when we lose.

I married a guy who is good at everything. Really, he is. If you know him I'm sure you've had the pleasure of losing to him in tennis, golf, board games, etc. It's annoying but somewhat endearing until it's your every day reality. I am coming to grips with the fact that I'll probably never genuinely beat Andy at any competition except for the occasional game of Yahtzee that is left totally to chance. About a year ago I decided I was tired of losing to Andy and took up losing to 50 year old women in a local tennis league. It was about four months ago that I quit. I was overwhelmed with finishing graduate school and planning a wedding. I just had too much on my plate to schedule tennis matches with ladies that seemed to not have anything better to do than harass me about hard or soft courts. I'm sure this isn't true but I was bitter. Then there was the fateful day, the day that led me to quit, in which I played a not so nice lady that kicked my butt. I could hardly make it off the court before the tears started to explode from my eyes. I thanked her (for a miserable time) and ran to the locker room. I hid myself in a stall and cried very hard. I'm sure there was a lot more behind my tears than just a bad match but I decided then I would quit playing competitively. Competition is not for those who cry over stray puppies.
In hind sight my quitting has made me realize two things. First, that I hate how competition makes me feel. I hate disliking a person based solely on the fact that they are on the other side of the net. I hate sending another person home upset should they lose. Though, I'm certain they don't cry in bathroom stalls. I just hate it. So, in that regard I'm glad I made the choice that I did. I can enjoy it for fun again.
However, the second thought I have, is that we learn more when we lose. When and if I win, I am certain it is because I finally perfected my forehand ground stroke. I am confident that my abilities are finally being displayed. I go home and think nothing more about the match.
When I lose, it is a very different story. First, I must figure out how to lose. Everyone comes to the moment where they realize this isn't going to end so well. At this moment, I have a rush of thoughts. I want to cuss, cry, blame, and the ugliness that lives somewhere inside of me comes to the surface and I run to the bathroom. Perhaps, it isn't always this dramatic. If playing doubles, it is even worse. If only my partner wasn't a ditz! Did you see her? She doesn't even know how to call the score?! I think what is worst of all, is that I have to face the fact that someone is better than me. I showed up to win and I lost. This is a terrible feeling.
Now you can see why I quit, right? No person who feels this way should ever be in competition. Well, perhaps I did myself an injustice. Sure, there is a lot of discussion about pushing through and conquering. We can do anything we put our minds to, right? Maybe I quit just before I got better and now I'll never know. Sure.
But, this isn't the reason I feel I might have preempted something here. Forgive me for making something trivial into something deeply spiritual, but I didn't develop character in losing. I just wanted all the thoughts and emotions to stop so I quit. Unfortunately, in life we lose a lot. We lose people, we lose jobs, we lose houses, we lose faith, we lose...and we can't quit any of it. We have to endure it. We certainly can band aid it and most of us know exactly what band aids work the best: shopping, drinking, eating, television, friends,isolation, etc. The truth is, God likes when we lose. Not because He is mean but because He knows we learn the most when we lose. If I won everything and never faced my depravity even in tennis, I would not feel the deep down need for something more. I would keep blaming and hiding in bathroom stalls. In a subtle way Jesus taught me through tennis that it is better to lose. I am better for it.
So, in this way isn't it better to be last? Not because last is noble but because first is easy. Am I not better if I lose my job? Not because being unemployed is ideal but because I have a unique opportunity to recognize my dependence upon God. Am I not better if people manipulate me and take me for granted? Not because I can show I'm better than that, but because I get to show grace and patience. I think the Bible says it best, and in a lot less words.

2 Corinthians 4:16
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.

Masters Degree and Mermaids

I recently had the pain pleasure of graduating from Georgia State with my Masters of Social Work. My graduation came only three weeks before our wedding so I haven't had the pain pleasure of looking for jobs until now. After a short search in the job market, I'm convinced there is a conspiracy happening right before my eyes. Let me explain, when I graduated with a bachelors degree all of my "dream" jobs required a masters degree. I was told that all I needed to do was give two years of my life to "furthering my education" and I would be set. Reluctantly I agreed and lived and breathed late nights writing what felt like the same paper. Over a 1000 hours in unpaid internships and here I am two years later ripe and ready to get those "dream" jobs I referred to, and now the job descriptions require a minimum of 5 years experience in addition to alllll that education. Listen, I spent 7 years and a whole lot of money to help people get out of sex trafficking, gain access to healthcare, and lots of other socially undesirable situations and get paid very little for it. Someone just give a girl a break?!

Alright, enough with my whining. I know that God is gracious and He will lead me to the right job. I just have to be diligent and that isn't very fun. But for now, I have the blessing to keep Katie and Ellie full time until I find a job.

This means my days are filled with mermaids, princesses, Dora the Explorer (could live without this one), and lots of coloring. I've been working with their family since just before Ellie was born so it's more fun than "work". Added bonus, they are members of the Y where Andy works so we get to see him a lot while we swim. :)

Anyway, if you think to say a prayer of direction and favor for my job hunt that would be just swell. Until then, I'll be singing "Part of Your World" (little mermaid) and hoping for the day it comes true!