Mom and I went shopping yesterday. Even though I'd only been gone for a period of months, this county is growing so fast that several times I had to ask her for directions to familiar locations. I remember when there were more cow fields in Smyrna than surburbs, and Nissan was the biggest employer. Now it's hard to find a cow, but subdivisions seems to be sprouting daily like unwanted weeds in a summer flowerbed. Even next door I'm forced to face the change. The verdant rolling hills of pasture that were my playground have now been replaced by mounds of dirt in the name of progress. Alongside the driveway that led to my grandparents' house, and the gravel track of many races of my cousins and me (Jim you always beat me), now stand a sentinel of bulldozers and other mechanical behemoths. All this construction and all this progress mean one thing: all kinds of people are moving into Smyrna including people seeking a Savior.
The leaders at church have also noted this influx, and Sunday they told us that Wednesday we'd be doing our part to minister to our new neighbors. So tomorrow night we will be loading our cars and headed out around the city to pray for her and her new inhabitants, to pray for ways to reach out to her occupants and to pray that our lights may shine. It's so wonderful to not be focusing on telling people what's wrong with Christianity, and instead, to be focusing on telling people what's right with Christ. I had never thought about praying for a city, yet Christ did that very thing. Upon a trip back to Jerusalem he saw the city and wept. I imagine that He wept for all those lost souls searching for salvation, hurting from life's burdens. I remember driving back one night from San Pedro Sula to Tegucigalpa, Honduras. I remember seeing the hills lit up with thousands of twinkling lights, each its own Christmas tree, but I did not weep for the city.
Maybe I should start praying for those "Jerusalems" I've encountered: for Johnson City and the thousands of students on campus seeking out the meaning of life, for Knoxville, for Smyrna, for Tegucigalpa, for Chicacao, Guatemala, and the list could go on and on.
So tomorrow night I'll be out somewhere around Smyrna praying. If you happen to live here, know that you are being prayed for. If you live somewhere else, use this as an opportunity to pray for that somewhere else. Prayer is a powerful thing and you can never do it enough.
5.31.2005
5.28.2005
"What's Playing at the Roxy?"
So I finally went to see Star Wars. My cousin had been wanting to see it so I agreed to see it with him tonight. It met my expectations though it is a much darker film than the previous four. I won't give away the story line, but it reminded me of how powerful evil can be, especially when we let our own pride and priorities take precedence over our calling. On a brighter note, Disney is releasing a movie version of one of my favorite childhood books, C.S. Lewis' The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. The movie promises to be every bit as creative and unique as my imagination envisioned the book to be some years ago.
Unfortunately, tonight happened to be Lebanon's annual "Slammin and Jammin" event aka an opportunity for every redneck to come out of the local communities and towns, like cockroaches out of the cracks in the walls at night, for the purpose of displaying their low riders and sports cars with shiny blue flames emblazoned on the side. I regretfully forgot to bring my nun's habit to wear as I was driving down "the strip" trying to get home. Needless to say, the exit for I-40 didn't come a yard too soon. What was appalling was all the young girls running around with the much older proud owners of the vehicles. It still amazes me that parents take such little interest in their precious children's lives to permit them to behave in such a way. Maybe I'm just an old fogey.
Only a week until I fly Northwest. Hopefully, I won't have encounters with such uncouth individuals. If I do, maybe I'll just have to have my own line of redneck show cars. I'll call it, "Customs for Christ" and instead of throwing Mardi Gras beads out the window and whistling cat calls, maybe I'll shout "Jesus Loves You," and hand out flyers to a local revival. Ok maybe not. It's late. I should probably sleep. Thanks for reading another one of my stream-of-consciousness posts.
Unfortunately, tonight happened to be Lebanon's annual "Slammin and Jammin" event aka an opportunity for every redneck to come out of the local communities and towns, like cockroaches out of the cracks in the walls at night, for the purpose of displaying their low riders and sports cars with shiny blue flames emblazoned on the side. I regretfully forgot to bring my nun's habit to wear as I was driving down "the strip" trying to get home. Needless to say, the exit for I-40 didn't come a yard too soon. What was appalling was all the young girls running around with the much older proud owners of the vehicles. It still amazes me that parents take such little interest in their precious children's lives to permit them to behave in such a way. Maybe I'm just an old fogey.
Only a week until I fly Northwest. Hopefully, I won't have encounters with such uncouth individuals. If I do, maybe I'll just have to have my own line of redneck show cars. I'll call it, "Customs for Christ" and instead of throwing Mardi Gras beads out the window and whistling cat calls, maybe I'll shout "Jesus Loves You," and hand out flyers to a local revival. Ok maybe not. It's late. I should probably sleep. Thanks for reading another one of my stream-of-consciousness posts.
5.26.2005
Pearls of Wisdom from a former M1
After many tests the past few weeks and much activity and travel the past few days, I can finally say I'm done, I'm home, and I'm officially to be called "M2." It's a wonderful feeling though sometimes I still feel like I'm just on a break and that the craziness starts back in a few days. Spending 6 or more hours on the road the past two days (I took a few detours) has given me lots of time to think about the past year of my life and what exactly I learned as an M1. Enjoy!
1. When they said medical school was hard, they were right. Medical school is hard.
2. Buying 3 inch binders is a good idea.
3. Joining student interest groups is a good way to cut your food budget in half.
4. The speed limit on campus is 20mph. Repeat: the speed limit on campus is 20mph
5. Cadaver Ball has nothing to do with cadavers.
6. "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven," including studying.
7. Even though you may be wearing a white coat and say that you attend medical school, people will still ask you, "So are you going to be a doctor or a nurse?"
8. Chocolate cake with the girls makes everything better.
9. Despite being medical school nerds, we still know how to play a little football.
10. Through prayer and faith, God can take even your most obscure talent and weave it into His perfect plan.
11. An open heart and an open mind open doors to many opportunities.
12. Movie nights and pizza after exams are a requirement.
13. Once a Vol, always a Vol
14. Cell and Tissue is a lot more fun on the "big screen."
15. Prayer is a powerful thing; be careful of what you pray for because it just might happen.
16. God never gives us more than we can bear, but sometimes He weighs us down enough to bring us to our knees.
17. There is life outside of medical school, albeit a small one.
18. I still don't know anything.
19. Appalachia is pronounced "Appa-lat-chuh" not "Appa-lay-shuh"
20. Johnson City drivers are worse than Knoxville drivers but better than Honduran drivers.
21. I will never be a perfect physician. I only need to remember to refer my patients to the one who was.
22. "Air goes in and out. Blood goes round and round."
23. Professors aren't scary monsters.
24. Skipping class can be good for your grade.
25. It is possible to survive the first year of medical school.
1. When they said medical school was hard, they were right. Medical school is hard.
2. Buying 3 inch binders is a good idea.
3. Joining student interest groups is a good way to cut your food budget in half.
4. The speed limit on campus is 20mph. Repeat: the speed limit on campus is 20mph
5. Cadaver Ball has nothing to do with cadavers.
6. "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven," including studying.
7. Even though you may be wearing a white coat and say that you attend medical school, people will still ask you, "So are you going to be a doctor or a nurse?"
8. Chocolate cake with the girls makes everything better.
9. Despite being medical school nerds, we still know how to play a little football.
10. Through prayer and faith, God can take even your most obscure talent and weave it into His perfect plan.
11. An open heart and an open mind open doors to many opportunities.
12. Movie nights and pizza after exams are a requirement.
13. Once a Vol, always a Vol
14. Cell and Tissue is a lot more fun on the "big screen."
15. Prayer is a powerful thing; be careful of what you pray for because it just might happen.
16. God never gives us more than we can bear, but sometimes He weighs us down enough to bring us to our knees.
17. There is life outside of medical school, albeit a small one.
18. I still don't know anything.
19. Appalachia is pronounced "Appa-lat-chuh" not "Appa-lay-shuh"
20. Johnson City drivers are worse than Knoxville drivers but better than Honduran drivers.
21. I will never be a perfect physician. I only need to remember to refer my patients to the one who was.
22. "Air goes in and out. Blood goes round and round."
23. Professors aren't scary monsters.
24. Skipping class can be good for your grade.
25. It is possible to survive the first year of medical school.
5.23.2005
Pictures and Print
While my parents were in town this past weekend, we found ourselves out running errands. Since I actually have time to read something besides pages of notes about cholesterol synthesis and degradation, a stop at Barnes and Nobles was a must. After viewing the newest must-haves and surveying the store, I was drawn to the travel section, particularly to the books about local culture. I scanned a few paragraphs about Sneedville's famed Melungeons and then picked up another book about 50 day hikes in Southern Virginia. On the top rack were a number of photography books about Appalachia and the region. Curious, I opened one up to the middle and began looking at the pictures. What I saw astonished me. These pictures of rural Appalachia could have almost been pulled from the landscapes of Central America. In particular, one picture burned an imprint on my mind. It was the inside of a house, if you could call it a house. The walls were constructed of degrading weatherboard painted a soft blue green, like a robin's egg. On them hung icons of the Christ and Mary cradling the infant Jesus surrounding a larger picture, presumably of a loved one. Below the walls sat a simple wrought-iron frame bed with a feather-stuffed mattress. An elderly lady sat in the middle of the bed; squat and stolid in her expression. Simple cotton garments hung from her elderly frame. The lines of poverty had worn deep furrows in her brow, leathery from years of work out in the hot sun. I looked in the back of the book to see when this picture was taken: 1998 and less than fifty miles from where I sit tonight.
In a few brief moments, this book of photographs had given me a deeper and more complete perspective of a culture than any Tennessee history book I studied in grade school ever did. Why is it that a piece of paper with colors and lines formed in the shape of the human countenance evoke such emotion, such thought? Why is it that an image will be forever ingrained in my memory while I can't remember two sentences from a book I read last night?
The photography book inspired me to re-read Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, a collaborative work by James Agee and Walker Evans. Walker Evans didn't write a single word yet his contribution is just as great, if not greater, as Agee's. Prefacing the four hundred pages that follow are fifty or so photos. With careful study, those fifty photographs unfold the entire story that Agee would become famous for writing.
So why is it "a picture is worth a 1000 words?" Why is it that the written word fails to capture the observed image? Maybe I should refrain from using words and just post pictures to my blog. Below are two images which evoke the same emotion and interest as the photograph of the Appalachian woman. Words aren't sufficient to describe them so I won't even make the attempt. All I can say is their date and location: 2003, Montaña de la Flor, Honduras.
Just some ponderings about pictures and my inability to convey what I see by what I write.
In a few brief moments, this book of photographs had given me a deeper and more complete perspective of a culture than any Tennessee history book I studied in grade school ever did. Why is it that a piece of paper with colors and lines formed in the shape of the human countenance evoke such emotion, such thought? Why is it that an image will be forever ingrained in my memory while I can't remember two sentences from a book I read last night?
The photography book inspired me to re-read Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, a collaborative work by James Agee and Walker Evans. Walker Evans didn't write a single word yet his contribution is just as great, if not greater, as Agee's. Prefacing the four hundred pages that follow are fifty or so photos. With careful study, those fifty photographs unfold the entire story that Agee would become famous for writing.
So why is it "a picture is worth a 1000 words?" Why is it that the written word fails to capture the observed image? Maybe I should refrain from using words and just post pictures to my blog. Below are two images which evoke the same emotion and interest as the photograph of the Appalachian woman. Words aren't sufficient to describe them so I won't even make the attempt. All I can say is their date and location: 2003, Montaña de la Flor, Honduras.
Just some ponderings about pictures and my inability to convey what I see by what I write.
5.19.2005
Off the Beaten Path
What do thirty-three miles, eight wheels, and four medical students equal?
One great adventure.
As a well-deserved reward for completing our first year of medical school, some of my classmates and I decided to bike the Virginia Creeper Trail today. The day started early with a motly group of exam-wearied students: Hannah, who spent most of her life in Ethiopia; Chris, the thirty year old Memphian; Kyoo, the judo fighter, and myself. We met our shuttle at Abingdon, loaded our bikes, and rode up to the top of the trail. The drive was nice and reminded me of the convoluted highways of Honduras, minus the tropical foilage and "loco" bus drivers trying to pass two-abreast on blind curves. We knew we were entering a rural section of Virginia when we started noticing town names such as "Mouth of Wilson" and "Voldey" on the road signs. When we reached an old railroad station between the middle-of-nowhere and a Christmas tree farm, our guide stopped the van and unloaded our bikes, leaving us on our own to pedal the thirty-three miles back to Abingdon.
Wondering what we had gotten ourselves into, having never ridden for thirty-three miles, we started down the trail. The first seventeen miles were all downhill, literally. There's something about being in God's creation that's good for the ones He created. As we rode, the stress of constantly studying since January blew away like the gentle Virginia mountain breeze around me. Rhodedendron lined the path, and bright crimson, yellow, and lavender-colored flowers were on the ground beneath. On one side of the trail, Laurel Creek quietly gurgled and poured over limestone rocks while stands of hemlock and oak and cut-out rock walls defined the other side of the trail and the Mt.Rogers Wilderness Area. Occasionally, we would ride through fields and be greeted by an elderly lady sitting on the front porch of her farmhouse or by a man, knee deep in water, intent on improving his fly-fishing abilities.
Just in time, we rode into Damascus and stopped at a local mom and pop restuarant that sold sandwiches, baked-goods, and other sundries. It was a welcome relief. We spent time enjoyng each others' company and refraining from mentioning anything about the past four months of our lives (well, there were a few comments like, "My insulin and glucagon are working at the same time," made by Kyoo as she tried to ride her bicycle and eat her ice cream cone at the same time) Remember, we are medical school nerds.
I couldn't have asked for a more perfect day. The temperature was a pleasant seventy-five degrees and the cerulean sky was painted with only a few flecks of clouds. The trail, fairly level, led us through Damascus and then narrowed to a single track surrounded by fields of cattle and the occasional trailer or small frame house. When we reached a field of horses, we considered borrowing one of its inhabitants to assist us in our journey. After brief contemplation, we decided we'd better stay on our bikes.
The trail continued to wind its way toward our destination, leading us over wooden trestles like the one that hovered high over the Holston River. The last seven miles, the trail began a gradual ascent toward Abingdon, and we soon reached the end. We couldn't believe it. we had just ridden thirty-three miles! Tired but thrilled at having just spent a day doing something completely unrelated to the medical field, we paused for a moment and savored our accomplishment. I have to say that we probably felt the same way at having just completed our first year of medical school.
I'll probably be sore tomorrow and remembering the names of all the muscles I've already forgotten exist, but the journey down the Creeper Trail was well worth the effort. So was my first year of medical school. I'm glad summer has finally come.
5.17.2005
Blog on the Road
I've seemed to notice that the number of blogs per week proportionally increases as the days until exams decrease. In a week, I'll be leaving the sleepy, almost-Appalachian city of Johnson City to begin my fun-filled summer in any place but Northeast Tennessee. Here's a preview of where you might see future posts from:
Smyrna, Tennessee: Of course I have to stop by home for a few weeks and see the parents, friends and family, and hear all the local gossip about who's married who and what new restaurant is in town.
Magic Valley, Idaho: In the early 60's my grandparents and their five kids packed up all their belongings and moved from Smyrna to Magic Valley, Idaho. No they weren't condoning the attitude of the 60's and moving to some hippie farm as the name suggests. Rather, my grandfather was helping start Magic Valley Christian College (for those of you who are Stone-Campbell "aficionados" you can look up MVCC in the new encyclopedia). Needless to say, putting a college in the middle of nowhere wasn't the greatest idea, and after less than two years they moved back to Tennessee. However, Dad has always wanted to return to Magic Valley so we're spending a week there as well as taking in some of the nearby attractions of Yellowstone.
Southwest: My friend Cammie and I were spending time together over winter break and realized that neither of us has ventured west of Dallas. This will all change come mid-June when we pack up her car, hit the road, and drive off into the sunset for a few weeks.
Guatemala: Of course a summer isn't complete without paying a visit to Central America. I've been blessed with the opportunity to return again to Guatemala to work with the Los Piñares del Norte church for a few weeks and with Health Talents International for one week. I'm not exactly sure of my itinerary, but God usually changes it to something more wonderful anyways. Vamos a ver.
So there you have it. Should any of you faithful blog readers be in any of these areas, come say hello. If you have any suggestions or random relatives who don't mind housing 2 20-somethings for a night or if you have any suggestions about things out west, let me know. Send me your address and perhaps I'll send you a postcard. For now it's back to the books and wishing it were next week.
5.16.2005
Another Long Week
The first week of medical school had to have been the longest week of my life. I think this week is going to come in a close second. I only have one more week left of my first year of medical school and two more exams, yet it feels like an eternity until Monday comes. Only one week until I am released from this concentration camp of academia and medical minutia.
Was it really just nine months ago when I donned that white coat and entered the swollen womb of a dream deferred?
Only one more week until I earn my freedom of a few months of vacation spent with those who've been there for me: a trip out West with the parents, a roadtrip with Cammie, and three weeks in Central America with my dear friends who always seem to send me an encouraging emails just when I feel like I'm about to slip off the cliff into the abyss of failure.
One more week. Two more tests. Hours of studying. Numbed mind. I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. Almost.
Was it really just nine months ago when I donned that white coat and entered the swollen womb of a dream deferred?
Only one more week until I earn my freedom of a few months of vacation spent with those who've been there for me: a trip out West with the parents, a roadtrip with Cammie, and three weeks in Central America with my dear friends who always seem to send me an encouraging emails just when I feel like I'm about to slip off the cliff into the abyss of failure.
One more week. Two more tests. Hours of studying. Numbed mind. I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. Almost.
5.14.2005
It Just so Happens
It just so happens that I came to ETSU's Quillen College of Medicine instead of UT-Memphis, WF, South Carolina, etc.. to study medicine.
It just so happens that the man who grades Amado's Bible correspondence lessons in Texas decided to email the preacher here in Tennessee with Amado's contact information.
It just so happens that I was at church on a Sunday night instead of studying for a test the next day when the preacher asked if there was anyone in the congregation who spoke Spanish.
It just so happens that the Morales family moved to Johnson City from Guatemala.
It just so happens that our youth minister went to Nicaragua in March on a mission trip.
It just so happens that his translator was a bilingual young man from Costa Rica.
It just so happens that this young man is the brother of one of my friends who attended Baxter.
It just so happens that this man is coming to help start the Hispanic ministry here in Johnson City right as I'm leaving for the summer.
Some may call these happenings coincidence. I call it statistically impossible without God's providence. I'm constantly amazed and delighted at how God takes the seemingly unrelated threads of different people's lives and circumstances and weaves them together into the tapestry of His wonderful and meaningful plan. Open your eyes and see where He's weaving the threads of your life!
It just so happens that the man who grades Amado's Bible correspondence lessons in Texas decided to email the preacher here in Tennessee with Amado's contact information.
It just so happens that I was at church on a Sunday night instead of studying for a test the next day when the preacher asked if there was anyone in the congregation who spoke Spanish.
It just so happens that the Morales family moved to Johnson City from Guatemala.
It just so happens that our youth minister went to Nicaragua in March on a mission trip.
It just so happens that his translator was a bilingual young man from Costa Rica.
It just so happens that this young man is the brother of one of my friends who attended Baxter.
It just so happens that this man is coming to help start the Hispanic ministry here in Johnson City right as I'm leaving for the summer.
Some may call these happenings coincidence. I call it statistically impossible without God's providence. I'm constantly amazed and delighted at how God takes the seemingly unrelated threads of different people's lives and circumstances and weaves them together into the tapestry of His wonderful and meaningful plan. Open your eyes and see where He's weaving the threads of your life!
5.11.2005
Post-exam Thoughts
It is at those times in our lives when we have traversed the limits of our abilities and resigned our idols of self-sufficiency that our Lord says, "Finally, I can use you for what I intended." It is at these times when we are nothing but empty worn-out vessels that He abundantly fills us with the Holy Spirit, renewing us to fulfill the wonderful plan He has had for us all along.
A year ago today, I was closing a chapter in my life, the final lines being written as I walked across the stage and received the orange, cardboard tube containing a letter saying my diploma would be in the mail. Here I am today looking at the first few pages of the new chapter I have started. The pages are marked with ?s, ink smudges, !!!, cross-outs and jumbles of experiences as I've stumbled over all the new pieces of my life, trying to decipher their proper location.
Many times this year I've felt like Moses: not the strong Moses who led his people out of Israel and came down the mountain with God's glory radiating from his face; rather, the stuttering Jew who felt hopelessly incapable of the task God had set before him. Other times, I've felt like Jonah, swallowed up by my own doubts and telling God that His plan is impossible. On the other hand, sometimes I have felt like Ester, as if I were put here at such a time and a place for a great purpose.
Medicine, like the military, is such an esoteric and demanding experience, that I suppose only those who have been through it would understand it. I can't begin to describe the past nine months. It has been a time of transformation in my life. In August, I entered a three-story, modern building and beheld the gazes of 60 strangers. In a week, I will walk out of Stanton-Gerber Hall, my second home, and bid a temporary goodbye to those who have shared in the majority of my existence over the past year. I have learned more about the meaning of the words sacrifice, grace, discipline, sin , and perserverance than I ever did in throughout my college experience. I have been broken and emptied and blessed at the same time. It has been a time of failure and a time of faith-building-a time of crying out to God to fill my worn-out vessel.
Summer eagerly awaits, only 12 more days and 3 more exams. I cannot wait to see the glorious and wonderful plans God has ready to be inscribed on the next few lines of my life.
A year ago today, I was closing a chapter in my life, the final lines being written as I walked across the stage and received the orange, cardboard tube containing a letter saying my diploma would be in the mail. Here I am today looking at the first few pages of the new chapter I have started. The pages are marked with ?s, ink smudges, !!!, cross-outs and jumbles of experiences as I've stumbled over all the new pieces of my life, trying to decipher their proper location.
Many times this year I've felt like Moses: not the strong Moses who led his people out of Israel and came down the mountain with God's glory radiating from his face; rather, the stuttering Jew who felt hopelessly incapable of the task God had set before him. Other times, I've felt like Jonah, swallowed up by my own doubts and telling God that His plan is impossible. On the other hand, sometimes I have felt like Ester, as if I were put here at such a time and a place for a great purpose.
Medicine, like the military, is such an esoteric and demanding experience, that I suppose only those who have been through it would understand it. I can't begin to describe the past nine months. It has been a time of transformation in my life. In August, I entered a three-story, modern building and beheld the gazes of 60 strangers. In a week, I will walk out of Stanton-Gerber Hall, my second home, and bid a temporary goodbye to those who have shared in the majority of my existence over the past year. I have learned more about the meaning of the words sacrifice, grace, discipline, sin , and perserverance than I ever did in throughout my college experience. I have been broken and emptied and blessed at the same time. It has been a time of failure and a time of faith-building-a time of crying out to God to fill my worn-out vessel.
Summer eagerly awaits, only 12 more days and 3 more exams. I cannot wait to see the glorious and wonderful plans God has ready to be inscribed on the next few lines of my life.
5.02.2005
Help!
This is an interactive post brought to you by Michele's indecisiveness:
As stated in a previous blog, I have a week-long preceptorship coming up this October that I have to decide about ASAP. I've chosen mine to be in Emergency Medicine so I can pretend to be like all those cool actors on TV. That being said, my dilemma is that I don't know where I want this preceptorship to take place.
1. I could go with two of my classmates to Miami for the week and stay with the family of one of the aforementioned classmates and maybe have the opportunity to be exposed to Spanish-speaking patients in an emergency setting.
2. I could go to Indianapolis, IN to walk in the footsteps of a former missionary doc who worked for ten years in Africa and who now practices Emergency Medicine in Indiana.
3. I could stay in the Nashville-area.
There are ups and downs to each (working in an Christian environment, going someplace cool, logistics, etc...) and I'm clueless as to which place I should go.
Please let me know, what do you think?!?
As stated in a previous blog, I have a week-long preceptorship coming up this October that I have to decide about ASAP. I've chosen mine to be in Emergency Medicine so I can pretend to be like all those cool actors on TV. That being said, my dilemma is that I don't know where I want this preceptorship to take place.
1. I could go with two of my classmates to Miami for the week and stay with the family of one of the aforementioned classmates and maybe have the opportunity to be exposed to Spanish-speaking patients in an emergency setting.
2. I could go to Indianapolis, IN to walk in the footsteps of a former missionary doc who worked for ten years in Africa and who now practices Emergency Medicine in Indiana.
3. I could stay in the Nashville-area.
There are ups and downs to each (working in an Christian environment, going someplace cool, logistics, etc...) and I'm clueless as to which place I should go.
Please let me know, what do you think?!?
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