God's will

Tonight on Total Axxess, Wally was doing his Monday School, talking about how the verse "Your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path" was literally talking about small candle-like lamps that attached on the front of sandals for walking at night (note: the truth of this historical fact has not been verified by me. who cares). So instead of today, where we can see a whole city block with one street lamp, road-weary travelers circa 1000 BC could see just the dirt in front of their feet, far enough to take the next step. That's as far as most of us can see of God's will for our lives, just enough for the next step. God sees the whole road, all the obstacles and crevices and raging streams with rickety bridges, and He knows we would bow out if we could see all that too. So we put one foot in front of the other, praying not to know the Master plan, but to know enough that we stay on the right path, wherever that may lead. And we know that looking back, we can see God's handiwork all over our lives, His plan intricately woven for each one of us. That where we are now is only possible because of how we've come, and Who has been leading us.

Blessings.

(Wally gets the credit for this, I just wanted to share)

Thoughts to ponder

I'm studying pysch/neuro today, and standard treatment for specific phobias is gradual exposure. Not only am I opposed to this when it comes to my own fear of spiders (I don't care how successful it is), but I'm wondering at the wisdom of this technique when dealing with a gamophobe (someone afraid of marriage)...hmmm. Perhaps not.

Although sometimes we lament sticking our feet in our mouth--"What I should have said was nothing...What I said was (fill in the blank)"--it certainly is hysterical when other people do it. I have never heard Laura B. laugh so hard.

However small, the thermic effect of food is very real. Good Friday, I found myself huddled next to the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, not having the energy to do much except lay down and study. I began to appreciate how difficult it would be to truly be starving, and to lack the energy to do anything about it. Needless to say I was very glad when the day was over. Though perhaps not as glad as my neighbor, who was planning a breakfast of chocolate-chip cookies the next morning.

It's finally spring. I wore my birks yesterday, all day. Woohoo.

Seeing people I know at daily Mass is one of my favorite blessings. Especially today as we all stood in line for confession, "Consecration" in hand, smiling at each other knowingly. For as much as I enjoy daily Mass, it sure is too rare an occasion.

I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels as if life will seem better when I (fill in the blank: get married, have kids, become a doctor, buy a house), but I'm more than open to suggestions of how to get the most out of life now. Sort of in that vein, I'm tentatively planning trips during fourth year to Peru (for an elective, hopefully), to Vancouver for the Olympics, and one other one that I am suddenly blanking out on...oh, I think the Grand Canyon, or maybe another good backpacking trip. Travel buddies welcome.

Alright, kids, back to studying. For me, not for you.

Hear the bells ringing

He is risen (Christos anesti), Alleluia!

Happy Easter!

Why lamaze classes actually are important

Top o' the morning (afternoon) to you! Just had a hilarious story that I heard last night that I had to share with you. So, when my mom was pregnant with Michelle and me, we tried to come out very early, as is common with twins, especially ones as big as we were. We were so rarin' to go that my parents only got one Lamaze class in before she was ordered to bed-rest to try to delay labor as long as possible, so we could continue developing. (Apparently one class isn't enough...) By the time she actually went into labor several weeks later, her muscles had all wasted away from inactivity, including any muscles she would have used in delivery, so when the doctor said, "Push!" she had a nurse on either side, literally pushing on her huge belly to get us out. Well, my dad, this being the first delivery he had seen, didn't think anything of it until four years later, come Mary's time to be born. This time, my mom still had plenty of muscles to use, so she didn't need extra help. However my dad thought that since no nurses were present, when the time came to "Push!" my mom was going to put her own hands on her stomach and "push" Mary out. Thankfully, mom had enough common sense to do it the right way, and Mary came out just fine on her own. Note to all those having twins...start Lamaze classes early just in case.

Becoming a healer, part 1

While I maintain that my desire to become a doctor didn't take hold until my sophomore year of college, I find a few memories of my childhood that betray my innate desire for healing others. I remember our Fisher Price doctor's kits, in the black faux-leather bag with the interlocking plastic handles. The stethoscope that actually did work somewhat aas an amplifier, but not enough to really hear heart sounds, which was of course a disappointment. I think there's something captivating about uncovering the mysteries of the human body that even a five-year-old could have appreciated if given a real stethoscope. I was also disappointed to find that the thermometer didn't actually give a temperature reading, but merely had a red line that gradually turned to show "fever" and if you kept turning, would return to normal. The greatest addition to our kits was the Ace bandage that showed up probably soon after we started playing soccer (and therefore would have probably "needed" it frequently). This was such a great replacement for the plastic band-aids and casts that were hardly convincing, and I remember we would spend hours wrapping and re-wrapping each-other's wrists and ankles, pretending that we were truly injured and in need of a doctor's touch. I remember one time Michelle got wrapped up and limped around the house, fooling my parents into thinking she had really hurt herself. Perhaps this was the "cry wolf" that made them not believe her years later when she shattered her tibia and my mom told her to "Get up and walk on it." I think even then, the Ace bandage provided us with an outlet for what I think is one of the most basic human instincts: to love each other. In a very simple, playful way, we were taking care of each other, trying to prove our ability to heal part of someone's life. That's what excites me even now about being a doctor. I think the desire to love is one of two yearnings burned into us at the moment of our creation, the other being a longing for Truth. Too bad there are no Fisher Price kits to help us out with this one.

My brain is fried

Two and a half days in and I already want to scream. I'm not surprised, just hoping that I get a little energy here to plow through the last 350 practice questions that I just did to see why I got so many wrong. I'm slightly more confidant that I can actually get through these four weeks than I was a few days ago, but I now know that there is way too much information for me to learn...in pharmacology alone. I'm screwed. Oh boy. All I really want to do is go outside and sit on the grass with a big piece of caramel cake and read the rest of Dr. Sri's book, which is fantastic by the way. At least at Marian group last night, I got to unload a bit, though not completely; that would have taken far too long, and I'm not sure anyone deserves that kind of punishment. Also, if I keep writing, I think I'll get more sarcastic and bitter about the fact that I have to study, so I'll leave off. Hasta.

Ojos asi

So I was listening to Shakira while working out today, and I decided that upbeat music with words I can't understand is a pretty good combination for pumping me up without distracting me. Makes up for the chocolate cake I had in class today (I can't help myself). By the way, in case you were wondering, that class was the last class that I will ever have (minus some competency-type stuff between rotations). A-woo-hoo.