oh so this is church…..

I have spent three summers working overseas with disabled children and never once did my church at home ask me to talk about it beyond speaking to the youth group. It never really bothered me too much but I was always a little saddened by it because it reflected so much that was wrong with my conception and relationship with church.

I was only in the church in Roanoke for 11th and 12th grade (thats when we gave up our nomadic ways). It should be noted that my church at home took a very hard right turn right before I graduated from high school with a new pastor. It should also be noted that my parents and I received concerned letters (including newspaper articles with highlighted portions of crazy Liberal professors from Wake Forest) about my decision to go to Wake and my parents’ decision to let me…. Being the heathens that we are my family was not phased. My Dad kept calling me my freshmen year saying he told the whole church I was majoring militant feminism (I kept waiting to come and find my name on the prayer list). You might say this the beginning of the end of my family’s participation in conservative Baptist life. Because we lived in a small town (for the first time really ever) and because we didn’t have a lot of church options, my parents reluctantly stayed in the church hoping to infuse it with sanity….we were basically closet missionaries to southern baptists (yep we thrive on irony).

SO all through college, I came home to this church. Every summer I came home to this church and then I went and did mission work. I never had anyone tell me but I think my work confused them, I never seem to bring dramatic statistics of conversion or passed out bibles. And I talked about things like liberation theology of disability…I didn’t seem to think that disability was some sort of evil side effect of the FALL. I talked about inclusion not conversion. It was a problem for them.

I am sure they wondered if the militant feminism rumors were true. I am sure some wondered where my parents had gone wrong? As I wondered where in the world my parents came from? How did they raise us so differently as navy nomads with the same basic beliefs as these folks yet such vast differences in interpretation? Things got worse, they outlawed women not from preaching (that apparently was given…who knew?) but then from teaching anyone over the age of 18. We also got letters about the dangers of wine…we are still waiting for the one about dancing…when it comes we plan having a heathen dance party in our living room….with wine and possibly tequila. My Dad resigned from the Deacon board, my mother and sister tearfully said goodbye to our friend who was the only female pastor on staff before the new policies. Church depressed me, church made me feel confused, church made me ashamed to be a Christian.

Then I grew up and found a small church here. And was anxious to get my name off the rolls of the church in Roanoke. So I joined the small church with a little bit of anxiety because like I said church was depressing. And this church is not a perfect church but after a couple months, I began to realize that church was about community and love and listening and not about politics and rules. I had heard this existed but had not experienced such a place during my young adult life. When I was asked to speak about Romania, I was honored and a little nervous. Because I like what can I say? Can I talk about the real issues? Can I talk about preaching in Romanian churches? Can I talk about drinking Romanian wine, can I talk about everything? Can I share my heart in church? And no one wonder what the heck happened to that kid? Will some one raise their hand and ask if I converted anyone?

Tonight for the first time I actually spoke to a faith community that included everyone from a 4 yr old to 89 yr old. I said everything from abortion on down to how I didn’t covert anyone. I talked about inclusion and NO PITY and able-ism. And at the end they had questions but not crazy ones, real honest ones that encouraged discussion and thought not division. And at the end the strangest thing happened. The pastor he came up and asked if the church could affirm my calling, my vocation to serve children overseas and to work for justice for my people and for patience to finish my education/preparation for the task. And the church came up and they surrounded me not in a scary sort of faith healing televagnelism TV special sort of way but in a loving communal sort of way….for the first time church reminded me of my girl friends praying over chips and tea and homework or parables huddling before a performance. A way of saying, hey we support your vision, your faith (even with its crazy theology) and we share your dreams. And as I sat there surrounded by the 4 yr old to the 89 yr old, I realized oh so this is church.

it makes so much more sense now this church thing.

a little elevator affirmation

I roll into a crowded elevator on its way up into Brenner’s Children’s Hospital:

A small voice: Hi

(I turn around and there is a little girl in green hospital gown with various tubes and acessories)

Me: Hi, how are you today?

Little girl: I’m good (she smiles) I’m in a wheelchair TOO!!!!

Me: I know just like me!

Little girl: COOL!

Random adult: You could race!

Me: We could! Have they taught you how to do wheelies yet?

Little Girl: No..Could I?

Me: Sure you could. Gotta go, but have fun with your wheels.

Then I got off. But it made me smile.

extraordinary task

First years are refreshing creatures. I was talking to a first year the other day and she wants to be a medical missionary in Africa. She said, “I’m am so excited I got picked for this, so excited that this is my task. It’s extraordinary that this is my life.”

And I had to take a step away and ponder for a while. She reminds me how extraordinary the task really is. What a privilege it all is. Its a privilege to be in medical school, particularly a decent medical school in the United States no less.

Similarly ever once in a while when I am cruising in the green machine it occurs to me that it is such a privilege to be here and such a task. I do feel that its about a little bit more than medical education. I would be naive to think that I am not representing my people in a unique and at times challenging way. I didn’t really plan on signing up for that but it came with the package deal. Its a extraordinary task.

In my ordinary day to day study and routine I find my heart and mind wanders elsewhere and wishes for life to be a bit more exciting and little less frustrating and with less time spent with my nose in the book. But I realize that I am being narrow minded. I am not seeing the scope. I am not seeing the task before me, only the task in front of me.

While I sit here stewing about the disaster that was cardio or how I am now living in PDA central (my roomies both have boys who spend a lot of time in our living room) or how much I miss people and places and lesser tasks, I am missing the point. Because beyond the waves of anxiety, inadequateness and pettiness my calling, my task, my dreams are still there just ahead of me. The same as there were holding an abandoned infant, or walking with Aurel or holding my college diploma or staring at a star studded sky on a crisp fall night back in the mid 90s when all of this was just a daydream.

All I have to do is just keep following them. Looking at the extraordinary things that come to pass (Roanoke, Wake, Romania, Belarus, LP, so many wonderful amazing things), how can I not be excited about the future and the extraordinary task ahead?

there shall be no more birthdays

I have decided that I shall not have birthdays any more. Not because I am getting old but because I can’t have parties when all my friends get together. No matter how hard we all try when we are all together we all delicately jump around old tensions as we were hopping from stepping stone to stepping stone on a roaring mountain stream. In the we slip and fall and are carried back to places and people we have been before. I am just done with all that, I am just leaving the stream  entirely.  Perhaps not the most mature solution but its what I can handle right now…we all know it won’t last I love birthdays a bit too much to give them up.  Perhaps I shall have a birthday but no large gatherings. Also maybe eloping would be excellent.

yeah. ugh. well that went differently in my head.

I think I’m in the wrong room

So today was medical student research day…. As I previously ranted…I am not particularly thrilled with academic medicine.

Our keynote speaker was a researcher from the Midwest and he spent an hour talking quite passionately about he started a biotech company that is now making cardiac and kidney therapies. He says that this commercialization of research is the wave of the future…at the end of the presentation he had a slide with an angel and Darth Vader and asked in jest if he had gone to the dark side? Everyone chuckled, I sort of set there wondering how the heck I ended up in that room. Commercializing advances in health care sounds nice, the researchers get a cut of the profit..but what about the rest of the world….If we are selling clinical trials and thearpies like real estate how do the developing world folks afford them? We are practically already doing this as it is, but if you commercialize academic medicine entirely…it will be so much worse.

Then we had the actual poster presentations. I had a guy come up to me and he said he was impressed with my project and he wanted me to consider his Masters in something research-y program. He talked to me for like 10 mins. At the end, I said hey I want to go overseas, how would that work? Um…something about well we could talk about it, I thought with your research skills you could find a place in academic medicne. As if I might grow out of it or their is no academic medicine overseas.  Heck, where did you get the idea I wanted to do academic medicine anyways…wait…oh right I am that room again.

My classmates had done projects on things I can’t pronounce and  they were passionate about their gby47 or Roto98 or substance C and I felt a little laughable with my poster of pictures of the children I am in love with.  One of the judges asked me at the end, did you do any volunteer work while you were there? And I had to catch myself because I almost said yeah that was why I was there in the first place.

As I rolled up my poster, I felt a little ridiculous and I realized that I will never think in terms of statistics, molecules, or sensitivity and I certainly rarely care about the expense. I can fake it, I can play the game, I can play the part but its all just for show. In the end, I see people, I see lives and I see needs. I don’t care who they are, how much money they can pay me or where they fit into the statistics. I just want to take care of them and fight for them.

I know, I know I am a hopeless idealist.