"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. "- Matthew 6:19
It was kinda nice to take a walk around the farm this weekend. Although every building on the premise was razed, the house, the barn, and even the old tractor shed, it brought a sense of peace and closure that I've been seeking for almost a year. The rubble of the structures that represented the passing of one of the cornerstones of my life will soon be replaced by highly-modern uniform edifices promoting the education of your future children. As my dog and I traversed the acres of once-grazed pastures and scouted the rubble of wood and rocks and weather-rusted farm implements, the verse above kept appearing in my mind. So many of us value the temporary. Almost every item of the rubble was once valued by someone whether it be the builders of the house 200 years ago or my horse who greeted me many frosty mornings from his stall in the barn. Yet, all these things are gone now. However, each of these items have left an impression on many and left me with many wonderful memories. More importantly is the impact of which the occupants and owners of these items left on me, and I realize that treasures are not to be found among the pile of rubble, now only valued by men with metal detectors, that was part of what I once called "home." Rather, enduring treasure is found in relationships with those we love and that which leads to eternity, ultimately, the cross. (I think heaven was made for eternity so we'll have time to get to know everyone there).
So as I think of what I want for Christmas, I can only come up with a simple request. I don't want the latest must-have that will be come the most recent has-been in a few months. I don't want to participate in the feast of materialism that descends upon our society at this time of year. What I want for Christmas is to spend time with those who God has blessed me with knowing for my precious time here on Earth. If you're in the middle TN area between 12/19-1/2 or passing along I-81 sometime between now and then, feel free to give me a call or email me and we'll try get together sometime.
In regards to the title of this blog, I'm taking a blogging hiatus for the next few weeks (with maybe a few short posts of verses and such) to concentrate on my upcoming exams, the end of the semester, and all that God has shown me the past few months. I will still be checking it from time to time so feel free to leave me a comment or drop me a message.
I Love Y'all and Good Luck with Exams!!
11.26.2004
11.22.2004
What's Your MP?
(before reading see disclaimer at bottom)
Current color: Fuschia
Current song: Start the Commotion
Current mood: Goofball
Seeing as how I'm in a half silly/giddy mood (too much time on the elliptical can do that), I thought I'd address the serious subject of MP. If you don't know what MP stands for you're:
a. too young
b. not around enough little old ladies at church
c. not eligible anymore
Calculating one's MP is a time consuming and complicated process involving at least two years of upper level math or a crash course in statistics. However, knowing one's MP is helpful with things such as determining the size of an apartment to rent, how many fluffy white cats one should buy, or what church one should attend. This being said, I've calculated my MP to be -2 (0 being neutral, neither advantageous nor disadvantageous). Many factors such as the ones below were taken into consideration.
1.Location. This is a very important factor when calculating MP. In fact, my MP dropped two points when I moved to Johnson City (not so many fish in the sea to speak). Where you eventually want to live also is a factor. Since I want to move to a hut in the middle of Central America, my MP dropped to -4. If you live in Knoxville add 3 to your MP.
2. Career. Another important consideration. Since women in med. school is viewed differently by different people, it is a neutral factor in the calculation of my MP. +/-5
3.Personality. Another one of the Big 3 in calculating MP. If you're charming, witty, and intelligent such as myself then add 6. If people would rather play with the cardboard box their PlayStation came in than spend an hour with you, then subtract 4.
4.Christian. A big player in my book. +20
5. Hobbies. The saying "opposites attract" isn't entirely true. +1 for every interesting thing about you (yes collecting pickle jars counts).
6. Personal Hygiene. Some might title this "attractiveness" but in order to not sound more shallow than I already am, I'm focusing on hygiene instead. Partake in daily showering and grooming habits? +2 Too much perfume or makeup? -2
7.Health. You gotta live long enough to realize your MP (aka don't keel over from eating too many McCardboard burgers). Committed to keeping fit? +1
8. Español. Since our nation is fast becoming an amalgam of Hispanics and "Americans," knowing another language is helpful and also comes in handy if you plan on moving to a hut in the middle of Central America. +1 if you like to speak other languages. -1 if your friends groan because you insist on talking to them as if they understood every language you do.
9.Puppies and/or borrowed babies. Since some of my friends seems to think that having these items while out in public enhances your MP, add 2 if you utilize these items to attract others.
10. Age. I suppose I haven't quite reached old-fogeydom yet. Not an old fogey? +3
Simple enough, eh? Not quite. Confounding factors of place and date of birth, genetic anomalies, pronuncionation of the plural form of "you," if you're featured on Mer's "e-harmony" blog, and whether or not the dog you owned when you were 5 liked tomato soup must all be taken into consideration. This leads me to have a score of -2. Bring on the fluffy white cats and hardwood floors! ;o)
What's Your MP?
Disclaimer: The author takes no responsibility for the writings of this blog or anything taken seriously from it. She attributes all thoughts and poor attempts at humor to too much caffeine, endorphins, and "Frank" No white cats were mistreated in the writing of this blog.
Current color: Fuschia
Current song: Start the Commotion
Current mood: Goofball
Seeing as how I'm in a half silly/giddy mood (too much time on the elliptical can do that), I thought I'd address the serious subject of MP. If you don't know what MP stands for you're:
a. too young
b. not around enough little old ladies at church
c. not eligible anymore
Calculating one's MP is a time consuming and complicated process involving at least two years of upper level math or a crash course in statistics. However, knowing one's MP is helpful with things such as determining the size of an apartment to rent, how many fluffy white cats one should buy, or what church one should attend. This being said, I've calculated my MP to be -2 (0 being neutral, neither advantageous nor disadvantageous). Many factors such as the ones below were taken into consideration.
1.Location. This is a very important factor when calculating MP. In fact, my MP dropped two points when I moved to Johnson City (not so many fish in the sea to speak). Where you eventually want to live also is a factor. Since I want to move to a hut in the middle of Central America, my MP dropped to -4. If you live in Knoxville add 3 to your MP.
2. Career. Another important consideration. Since women in med. school is viewed differently by different people, it is a neutral factor in the calculation of my MP. +/-5
3.Personality. Another one of the Big 3 in calculating MP. If you're charming, witty, and intelligent such as myself then add 6. If people would rather play with the cardboard box their PlayStation came in than spend an hour with you, then subtract 4.
4.Christian. A big player in my book. +20
5. Hobbies. The saying "opposites attract" isn't entirely true. +1 for every interesting thing about you (yes collecting pickle jars counts).
6. Personal Hygiene. Some might title this "attractiveness" but in order to not sound more shallow than I already am, I'm focusing on hygiene instead. Partake in daily showering and grooming habits? +2 Too much perfume or makeup? -2
7.Health. You gotta live long enough to realize your MP (aka don't keel over from eating too many McCardboard burgers). Committed to keeping fit? +1
8. Español. Since our nation is fast becoming an amalgam of Hispanics and "Americans," knowing another language is helpful and also comes in handy if you plan on moving to a hut in the middle of Central America. +1 if you like to speak other languages. -1 if your friends groan because you insist on talking to them as if they understood every language you do.
9.Puppies and/or borrowed babies. Since some of my friends seems to think that having these items while out in public enhances your MP, add 2 if you utilize these items to attract others.
10. Age. I suppose I haven't quite reached old-fogeydom yet. Not an old fogey? +3
Simple enough, eh? Not quite. Confounding factors of place and date of birth, genetic anomalies, pronuncionation of the plural form of "you," if you're featured on Mer's "e-harmony" blog, and whether or not the dog you owned when you were 5 liked tomato soup must all be taken into consideration. This leads me to have a score of -2. Bring on the fluffy white cats and hardwood floors! ;o)
What's Your MP?
Disclaimer: The author takes no responsibility for the writings of this blog or anything taken seriously from it. She attributes all thoughts and poor attempts at humor to too much caffeine, endorphins, and "Frank" No white cats were mistreated in the writing of this blog.
11.21.2004
A Tribute to Tim
It's hard to believe it's been five years, but now you're immortalized in stone with all the other heroic Aggies on the stack that night. Thanks for the wonderful memories from GSS and for teaching me that it's not the petty things in life that matter but how your life affects others.
(In memory of Tim Kerlee, Jr.)
http://www.utexas.edu/spotlight/2004/bonfire_memorial041118.html
(In memory of Tim Kerlee, Jr.)
http://www.utexas.edu/spotlight/2004/bonfire_memorial041118.html
11.19.2004
The Devaluation of American Society...
...or why we need antique shops.
Once a month after spending a Thursday afternoon in Rogersville, my classmate Elizabeth and I volunteer at a free Christian clinic in Church Hill, Tennessee. Since our day in Rogersville ends around 4pm and the clinic doesn't open until 6pm, we have ample time to do things besides study. It just so happen that there is a large antique store next to the clinic and a bakery and deli across the parking lot. Now most of you might consider an antique store a "Junk Shop." I on the other hand find these as a great reflection of our society, a one-stop shopping place of American history you might say, and are a great necessity to our society.
Outside this particular shop are a variety of farm implements Inside one can find anything from 1963 issues of Life magazine and National Geographic to Victorian-era furniture and Art Deco spring-necked cat statues. The one thing you won't find, however, is a plethera of items from the last 20 years (except maybe an occasional lime green-headed Troll doll or a dust-covered Beanie Baby). Of course, you say, it's only been twenty years and these things aren't antiques. I'm convinced, rather, that you won't find these items because nothing in our society is meant to last anymore. You see, what makes an antique an antique is the value it holds, the feeling of nostalgia it brings to the owner, and the permanence of a memory from the past it renders.
Unfortunately, for the past twenty years or so, our society has been sliding down a slippery slope of depreciation of anything lasting. We have in effect become a disposable people. If you look in the antique shop, all the dishes were made of high quality china or other unbreakable materials. Even the lunchboxes were made of sturdy aluminum or tin. Today's equivalents? Paper plates and plastic bags. I don't think you'll find those in an antique shop anytime soon. We have become a society of "Cheap and Easy" of the "Here and Now." We buy the latest fad only to throw it away. We no longer need the "company china" because we no longer have time to prepare a meal and have company. We buy the latest fashion in bulk only to toss it to Goodwill at the next season of clothing. Working the good earth and eating its harvest has been replaced by a greasy bag of McCardboard Fries. Even our very substance, the relationships we share, are disposable. A ring symbolizes forever as much as that hula-girl themed bamboo screen hanging in booth #29 symbolizes beauty. If something doesn't suit our whims we toss it, sell it, move it, or replace it. Nothing is rare, special, or valued for we live in a society of the mass-marketed, over-produced, and plastered-on-the wall-everywhere advertisements. Our society is such a rat race of over-scheduled lives that we don't even have the time to contemplate the demise and devaluation of our society.
The next time you drive by an antique shop, before you write it off as a house of junk, remember all the nostalgia it holds and remember how it symbolizes an era when people actually had time to appreciate the beauty of a potter's craft, a well-made childhood toy, a Sunday afternoon dinner with friends, or the simple enjoyment of life itself. For now, will have to content ourselves with the cast-aways hidden among the thousands of antique shops across America.
Excuse me, I think it's time to go buy that hand-made quilt from booth #17 and the gaudy 60's vintage bright orange pyrex pitcher. Happy Antique Hunting!
Once a month after spending a Thursday afternoon in Rogersville, my classmate Elizabeth and I volunteer at a free Christian clinic in Church Hill, Tennessee. Since our day in Rogersville ends around 4pm and the clinic doesn't open until 6pm, we have ample time to do things besides study. It just so happen that there is a large antique store next to the clinic and a bakery and deli across the parking lot. Now most of you might consider an antique store a "Junk Shop." I on the other hand find these as a great reflection of our society, a one-stop shopping place of American history you might say, and are a great necessity to our society.
Outside this particular shop are a variety of farm implements Inside one can find anything from 1963 issues of Life magazine and National Geographic to Victorian-era furniture and Art Deco spring-necked cat statues. The one thing you won't find, however, is a plethera of items from the last 20 years (except maybe an occasional lime green-headed Troll doll or a dust-covered Beanie Baby). Of course, you say, it's only been twenty years and these things aren't antiques. I'm convinced, rather, that you won't find these items because nothing in our society is meant to last anymore. You see, what makes an antique an antique is the value it holds, the feeling of nostalgia it brings to the owner, and the permanence of a memory from the past it renders.
Unfortunately, for the past twenty years or so, our society has been sliding down a slippery slope of depreciation of anything lasting. We have in effect become a disposable people. If you look in the antique shop, all the dishes were made of high quality china or other unbreakable materials. Even the lunchboxes were made of sturdy aluminum or tin. Today's equivalents? Paper plates and plastic bags. I don't think you'll find those in an antique shop anytime soon. We have become a society of "Cheap and Easy" of the "Here and Now." We buy the latest fad only to throw it away. We no longer need the "company china" because we no longer have time to prepare a meal and have company. We buy the latest fashion in bulk only to toss it to Goodwill at the next season of clothing. Working the good earth and eating its harvest has been replaced by a greasy bag of McCardboard Fries. Even our very substance, the relationships we share, are disposable. A ring symbolizes forever as much as that hula-girl themed bamboo screen hanging in booth #29 symbolizes beauty. If something doesn't suit our whims we toss it, sell it, move it, or replace it. Nothing is rare, special, or valued for we live in a society of the mass-marketed, over-produced, and plastered-on-the wall-everywhere advertisements. Our society is such a rat race of over-scheduled lives that we don't even have the time to contemplate the demise and devaluation of our society.
The next time you drive by an antique shop, before you write it off as a house of junk, remember all the nostalgia it holds and remember how it symbolizes an era when people actually had time to appreciate the beauty of a potter's craft, a well-made childhood toy, a Sunday afternoon dinner with friends, or the simple enjoyment of life itself. For now, will have to content ourselves with the cast-aways hidden among the thousands of antique shops across America.
Excuse me, I think it's time to go buy that hand-made quilt from booth #17 and the gaudy 60's vintage bright orange pyrex pitcher. Happy Antique Hunting!
11.17.2004
All I Ever Need to Know...
...is that I'll never know everything.
It's been 3 1/2 months since I started school here at Quillen and what a 3 1/2 months it's been! Med school has taught me a lot of things. I've learned:
I'm not going to fail out of med school (at least not yet), and I'm never going to know everything about medicine. It's a continual process of learning.
Once you move away, the places and people you left will never be the same. Each new direction of our life gives us a new perspective on the paths we've already traveled.
Time is a precious commodity and the lack of it gives us a new appreciation for the mundane: a tree clothed in autumn color, the sun rise, a quick phone call from friends and family.
The complexity and beauty that exists within each one of us and how masterfully designed our bodies are.
That each of us possesses our own anomalies and genetic defects. It's what we do with them and how we view others with this realization that makes a difference.
There are a lot of bad physicians out there and there also some very compassionate and caring ones who realize the power of the white coat is the power to change a life.
That at those times in our lifes when we ask God for strength is when he burdens us so that we must come to our knees and acknowledge that He is our only source of strength.
Just like I'll never practice medicine perfectly, I will never be a perfect Christian. Just like I have physical defects, I have spiritual ones as well. I'm just thankful that the One who is Perfect has grace that will cover and heal both.
Health is a multi-faceted entity that is a conglomeration of physical, spiritual, and emotional components and often it is more within the power of the person than the physician to achieve a balance between the three.
Discpline is not something gained; rather, it is earned through experience and effort.
And finally....
I've learned that it's better to take the aluminum cap off the container of soup BEFORE putting it in the microwave. :o)
It's been 3 1/2 months since I started school here at Quillen and what a 3 1/2 months it's been! Med school has taught me a lot of things. I've learned:
I'm not going to fail out of med school (at least not yet), and I'm never going to know everything about medicine. It's a continual process of learning.
Once you move away, the places and people you left will never be the same. Each new direction of our life gives us a new perspective on the paths we've already traveled.
Time is a precious commodity and the lack of it gives us a new appreciation for the mundane: a tree clothed in autumn color, the sun rise, a quick phone call from friends and family.
The complexity and beauty that exists within each one of us and how masterfully designed our bodies are.
That each of us possesses our own anomalies and genetic defects. It's what we do with them and how we view others with this realization that makes a difference.
There are a lot of bad physicians out there and there also some very compassionate and caring ones who realize the power of the white coat is the power to change a life.
That at those times in our lifes when we ask God for strength is when he burdens us so that we must come to our knees and acknowledge that He is our only source of strength.
Just like I'll never practice medicine perfectly, I will never be a perfect Christian. Just like I have physical defects, I have spiritual ones as well. I'm just thankful that the One who is Perfect has grace that will cover and heal both.
Health is a multi-faceted entity that is a conglomeration of physical, spiritual, and emotional components and often it is more within the power of the person than the physician to achieve a balance between the three.
Discpline is not something gained; rather, it is earned through experience and effort.
And finally....
I've learned that it's better to take the aluminum cap off the container of soup BEFORE putting it in the microwave. :o)
11.14.2004
Flashback!!
"Los Guatemaltecos"
So I was listening to the local Sunday night Latin hour on the radio when "El Za Za Za" came on the radio. Those of you MET people know this brings back many fond memories of rides on the big white van and all those fun memories we made spending time as Gringos in Guate.
Anyways, I don't really have anything to say this week nor time to say anything. Just thought I'd write about what "El Za Za Za" means to me and post a nostalgic picture. Which reminds me that it's only six more months til I can head south again.
So...this is your blog. Leave an opinion about whatever strikes your fancy, the immigration of Latin Americans to this country, what you think about people like me who want to go live in a 3rd world country and listen to crazy Latin music, doctors, medical students, whatever. It's your blog and your chance to post (even if you never have). Either sign in with your name or post anonymously. Otherwise, this blog is going to get pretty lonely.
Hasta luego chavos y chavas!
So I was listening to the local Sunday night Latin hour on the radio when "El Za Za Za" came on the radio. Those of you MET people know this brings back many fond memories of rides on the big white van and all those fun memories we made spending time as Gringos in Guate.
Anyways, I don't really have anything to say this week nor time to say anything. Just thought I'd write about what "El Za Za Za" means to me and post a nostalgic picture. Which reminds me that it's only six more months til I can head south again.
So...this is your blog. Leave an opinion about whatever strikes your fancy, the immigration of Latin Americans to this country, what you think about people like me who want to go live in a 3rd world country and listen to crazy Latin music, doctors, medical students, whatever. It's your blog and your chance to post (even if you never have). Either sign in with your name or post anonymously. Otherwise, this blog is going to get pretty lonely.
Hasta luego chavos y chavas!
11.09.2004
Finding Fun on a Friday Night
So I was going to post this earlier this week, but with all the studying for my Ab/Pelvis test and my inherent laziness this past weekend, it's being posted today. Friday's fun-finding adventure all started when I decided to open up the local paper in my attempts to put off studying. In it there was an ad for "Festival of Seasons" a local Christmas craft fair/fundraiser for Milligan College. I know, you're thinking, "ooh a craft fair" but you have to understand that this was not just any craft fair. Not only were there going to be all kinds of useless baubles and trinkets and other things to satiate our materialistic society, on Friday night there was to be live jazz music and free coffee and desserts.
Convinced that this was better than doing the usual Friday-night study routine, I recruited two of my classmates, Hannah and Kyoo (pronounced Kee-O), to come with me. Armed with our $5 admission fee and loan money in pocket, the three of us not-dressed-in-scrubs dazzling divas set off on a shopping adventure. We should have known things would get interesting when the lady at the door turned out to be one of our standardized patients. Trying to refrain from asking her questions such as, "So how does that make you feel?" and from listening to her lungs we just paid our admission fee and received our tickets. She kindly directed us upstairs where room upon room of creative flair awaited our book-sore eyes. We immediately realized that the upscale prices of this craft fair were not in line with our poor med student budget. So we contented ourselves to "oohing" and "aahhing" over the ret patent purses, flamboyant jewelry and sampling the delectable culinary masterpieces that graced the Christmas gift baskets for a low $29.99. Kyoo and I even ran into some of the distinguished members of the "Red-Hat" club. I'm determined to join this club when I get older (thanks, Lindsey for your inspiration that day in Charleston). Basically, it allows an older female to wear outrageous jewelry, big gaudy hats, and act in an ecentric manner. I hope you don't have to be married to join or else my idea of the accompanying fluffy white cat and hardwood floor apartment won't fit the picture.
Shopping sprees always lead to hungry bellies as well as hungry wallets, so we went for coffee and desserts. I must say the selection was quite interesting. Hannah went for the "Blueberry Crisp" coffee while I opted for the "Butterfinger Delight" flavor (whatever happened to just plain caf and decaf?). Needless to say, Butterfingers and blueberries are meant for desserts and should not be mixed with hot beverages. Even so, we still had an enjoyable time listening to the jazz trio as Kyoo and I remenisced about the days when we had the time to participate in such ensembles. Our wallets almost stayed full until our dollar bills made a break for it when we hit the pottery room. You see, I have a fondness for homemade crafty things, a fondness usually supressed by my more rational mind telling me that it's just another knick-knack to sit on my shelf. However, when this crafty, homemade thing is not only crafty but functional, it's hard to say no to my escape-happy money. To make a long story short, three pieces of pottery went home with the three med school divas.
While I was trying to make up my indecisive mind as to which piece of pottery should grace my cabinet shelf, our comrade and uniquely dressed friend Daniel called us to see if we wanted to go to a downtown art exhibit. Unaware that Johnson City was even hip enough to have something like an art exhibit, much less a showing on a Friday night, I was eager to see what was in store. We arrived to a collection of galleries housing local artists' (ie mostly ETSU students) latest works. I must say I'm no art critic but some of the stuff on the wall was not exactly what I would call art. Example: A 4x6 picture hung in a creative matte that amounted to a picture of a gravel mud puddle outside a roadside flea market. Price? $79.00 Even better, two galleries down the street I found almost the same picture but this time for the bargain of $49 (must be some kind of mud-puddle picture trend). I would like to find out if the pictures ever sold. If so, I'm putting my entire collection of random pictures in interesting mattes and financing my med. school education selling "art." The other curious thing was that seemingly every artist was dressed in black, black shoes, black shirt, black-dyed hair. One would assume that such creative people would use that same creativity in their attire. I suppose all their inspiration is consumed in contriving new ideas for art such as taking pictures of grey mud puddles.
Overall, I have to say I was impressed that this little conservative Northeast Tennessee town could contain so much culture on a Friday night. Too bad the Anatomy Lab can't be as exciting. Maybe Kyoo, Hannah and I should have bought some of those pieces of "art."
Convinced that this was better than doing the usual Friday-night study routine, I recruited two of my classmates, Hannah and Kyoo (pronounced Kee-O), to come with me. Armed with our $5 admission fee and loan money in pocket, the three of us not-dressed-in-scrubs dazzling divas set off on a shopping adventure. We should have known things would get interesting when the lady at the door turned out to be one of our standardized patients. Trying to refrain from asking her questions such as, "So how does that make you feel?" and from listening to her lungs we just paid our admission fee and received our tickets. She kindly directed us upstairs where room upon room of creative flair awaited our book-sore eyes. We immediately realized that the upscale prices of this craft fair were not in line with our poor med student budget. So we contented ourselves to "oohing" and "aahhing" over the ret patent purses, flamboyant jewelry and sampling the delectable culinary masterpieces that graced the Christmas gift baskets for a low $29.99. Kyoo and I even ran into some of the distinguished members of the "Red-Hat" club. I'm determined to join this club when I get older (thanks, Lindsey for your inspiration that day in Charleston). Basically, it allows an older female to wear outrageous jewelry, big gaudy hats, and act in an ecentric manner. I hope you don't have to be married to join or else my idea of the accompanying fluffy white cat and hardwood floor apartment won't fit the picture.
Shopping sprees always lead to hungry bellies as well as hungry wallets, so we went for coffee and desserts. I must say the selection was quite interesting. Hannah went for the "Blueberry Crisp" coffee while I opted for the "Butterfinger Delight" flavor (whatever happened to just plain caf and decaf?). Needless to say, Butterfingers and blueberries are meant for desserts and should not be mixed with hot beverages. Even so, we still had an enjoyable time listening to the jazz trio as Kyoo and I remenisced about the days when we had the time to participate in such ensembles. Our wallets almost stayed full until our dollar bills made a break for it when we hit the pottery room. You see, I have a fondness for homemade crafty things, a fondness usually supressed by my more rational mind telling me that it's just another knick-knack to sit on my shelf. However, when this crafty, homemade thing is not only crafty but functional, it's hard to say no to my escape-happy money. To make a long story short, three pieces of pottery went home with the three med school divas.
While I was trying to make up my indecisive mind as to which piece of pottery should grace my cabinet shelf, our comrade and uniquely dressed friend Daniel called us to see if we wanted to go to a downtown art exhibit. Unaware that Johnson City was even hip enough to have something like an art exhibit, much less a showing on a Friday night, I was eager to see what was in store. We arrived to a collection of galleries housing local artists' (ie mostly ETSU students) latest works. I must say I'm no art critic but some of the stuff on the wall was not exactly what I would call art. Example: A 4x6 picture hung in a creative matte that amounted to a picture of a gravel mud puddle outside a roadside flea market. Price? $79.00 Even better, two galleries down the street I found almost the same picture but this time for the bargain of $49 (must be some kind of mud-puddle picture trend). I would like to find out if the pictures ever sold. If so, I'm putting my entire collection of random pictures in interesting mattes and financing my med. school education selling "art." The other curious thing was that seemingly every artist was dressed in black, black shoes, black shirt, black-dyed hair. One would assume that such creative people would use that same creativity in their attire. I suppose all their inspiration is consumed in contriving new ideas for art such as taking pictures of grey mud puddles.
Overall, I have to say I was impressed that this little conservative Northeast Tennessee town could contain so much culture on a Friday night. Too bad the Anatomy Lab can't be as exciting. Maybe Kyoo, Hannah and I should have bought some of those pieces of "art."
11.03.2004
A Vision Renewed
My nene: Jose
It is at those times in our life when the light begins to fade and our vision dims that God sends a glimmer of light, a star to light our way, in the form of individuals whose integrity and resolute determination to achieve that task which has been given them inspires all. Such was the case for me today in the form of Dr.Towlan at the CMDA’s monthly luncheon at Quillen. Once a medical student, he went into medical school with the desire to serve in Africa. Almost a quarter of a century later, he stood in front of me and my colleagues recounting 15 years of memories and a richly-lived life of service as a medical missionary.
What a travesty it is that the majority of our population will never experience such a life. Barraged by thousands of images each day promoting our American deities of “Affluence” and “Academia,” many attempt to satiate the God-shaped chasm in their lives by paying homage to these through materialism and knowledge. What the dollar can’t satisfy, we satisfy by our pride in the number of degrees we hold or the knowledge that at least we know more about Michigan water snakes’ kinesiology than our neighbor; therefore, giving our lives meaning and an immortal quality through our contribution to some soon-to-be-outdated textbook. How sad, too, that some robe themselves with the title of “Christian,” living in a squalor of ignorant piety and spending time debating moot issues of doctrine and forgetting to ascribe to the actual meaning of the Bible such as loving the homeless strung-out guy that sits on the marble church steps every morning or showing compassion to the elderly babushka on the cold streets of Russia.
As Dr.Towlan recounted story after story of the relationships he had formed through his medical service, my mind wandered from the cold, blanched classroom to the warm, verdant scenes of Guatemala and Honduras and to all the memories inscribed on my heart such as the one above, a 5 year old who shared a home and his life with me this past summer in Guatemala. Cognizant of the realization that I could pursue a career here in the States for six digit + income, Dr.Towlan’s talk reminded me of my real purpose here, to serve my fellow man and to impart on him the hope which has bestowed on me a life richly blessed in memories, relationships, and glimpses of true humanity which many will never open their eyes to see.
While some of my colleagues may attempt to shovel the material of their titles and salaries into that God-shaped chasm, I will fill mine with the perfect shaped God and rejoice in the delight He gives me through compassion-shaped windows that display all of His wonderfully made creations, my patients and fellow man. So I may never have a hospital ward and a staff to wait on me hand and foot nor the salary to buy that cozy little hut in Maui, but I will have a lifetime full of priceless memories and experience and a wealth of knowledge and contentment in knowing that my life was lived with purpose.
It is at those times in our life when the light begins to fade and our vision dims that God sends a glimmer of light, a star to light our way, in the form of individuals whose integrity and resolute determination to achieve that task which has been given them inspires all. Such was the case for me today in the form of Dr.Towlan at the CMDA’s monthly luncheon at Quillen. Once a medical student, he went into medical school with the desire to serve in Africa. Almost a quarter of a century later, he stood in front of me and my colleagues recounting 15 years of memories and a richly-lived life of service as a medical missionary.
What a travesty it is that the majority of our population will never experience such a life. Barraged by thousands of images each day promoting our American deities of “Affluence” and “Academia,” many attempt to satiate the God-shaped chasm in their lives by paying homage to these through materialism and knowledge. What the dollar can’t satisfy, we satisfy by our pride in the number of degrees we hold or the knowledge that at least we know more about Michigan water snakes’ kinesiology than our neighbor; therefore, giving our lives meaning and an immortal quality through our contribution to some soon-to-be-outdated textbook. How sad, too, that some robe themselves with the title of “Christian,” living in a squalor of ignorant piety and spending time debating moot issues of doctrine and forgetting to ascribe to the actual meaning of the Bible such as loving the homeless strung-out guy that sits on the marble church steps every morning or showing compassion to the elderly babushka on the cold streets of Russia.
As Dr.Towlan recounted story after story of the relationships he had formed through his medical service, my mind wandered from the cold, blanched classroom to the warm, verdant scenes of Guatemala and Honduras and to all the memories inscribed on my heart such as the one above, a 5 year old who shared a home and his life with me this past summer in Guatemala. Cognizant of the realization that I could pursue a career here in the States for six digit + income, Dr.Towlan’s talk reminded me of my real purpose here, to serve my fellow man and to impart on him the hope which has bestowed on me a life richly blessed in memories, relationships, and glimpses of true humanity which many will never open their eyes to see.
While some of my colleagues may attempt to shovel the material of their titles and salaries into that God-shaped chasm, I will fill mine with the perfect shaped God and rejoice in the delight He gives me through compassion-shaped windows that display all of His wonderfully made creations, my patients and fellow man. So I may never have a hospital ward and a staff to wait on me hand and foot nor the salary to buy that cozy little hut in Maui, but I will have a lifetime full of priceless memories and experience and a wealth of knowledge and contentment in knowing that my life was lived with purpose.
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