One Week

One week until I leave for Guatemala. One week until I begin the journey that I have been looking forward to, though didn't know it, since the day I stepped off the plane last July. Many things have changed in that year and my glasses aren't so rose-tinted; I just hope my heart for the work and the people haven't changed. It will be a bittersweet trip-no trip to Honduras for the first time in years. My friends have been emailing me asking when I will return; I have to answer them "I don't know." It was my brothers/sisters/friends in Honduras that truly taught me what it was to live the life of a Christian and what it means to be a part of the family of God. Their unwilling devotion to the causes of Christ taught me it's not about saying "I'm a Christian. A member of the (insert favorite political party here) and actively involved in my community and church committees." Rather, it's about living a pure life of sacrificial love and a life whose purpose is to show Christ to everyone, taking that next step even when one doesn't know where that next step leads.
But I'm rambling as usual. I'm looking forward to Guatemala and what it holds whatever and wherever in Guatemala that may be. You could say I don't exactly know my itinerary but then do I ever know? I suppose this will be a week of preparation and prayer for me. I ask for your prayers too:
That I am open and willing to do whatever God asks of me
That he will open the hearts of the people we encounter
That language and cultural values will not be a barrier in sharing God's love with others
That He gives us all strength and courage to face whatever we encounter

Thanks for your prayers. I know the previous trips would have not been what they were without them. More to come later...

Kingman, Arizona

So I'm finally back from my epic roadtrip that ended a few days early (long story.) Let's just say that Southern Utah and Colorado will have to be seen on another trip (spring break anyone?) If given the chance, I think everyone should hit the road for a few days and explore a part of our country they haven't seen. It gives one an appreciation for the vastness and diversity that exists under the stars and stripes.
It was an amazing to camp in the Grand Canyon for three nights and days. I remember waking up one night and peeping my head out of our tent door like some little kid spying on mom putting "Santa's gifts" under the Christmas tree. What I saw were stars-thousands of tiny scintillations decorating the night-blackened sky. Do we even have that many stars in the sky here in Tennessee? I must have sat there in awe just gazing into the blackness until I realized that my tentmate might not like drafts of 40 degree night air joining us in our tent. Then there was the experience of Cammie and I watching the sun set at Hopi point with people from all around the world, each of us unsuccessfully in our own language trying to describe the transformation of the canyon's colors as each butte paid homage to the dying golden light before fading into the obscurity of evening.
Of course, anyone knows that a roadtrip is just as much about the journey as it is about the destination which leads me to an interesting story that happened to us in Kingman, Arizona:
The incident would have never happened except that I'm allergic to the Grand Canyon or to my tent or maybe just to the state of Arizona in general. Sunday morning Cammie and I awoke early and packed up our tent so that we could make it to Las Vegas in time to check into our hotel at go to church. Yes, I'm quite aware of the irony of the previous statement, but we had plans to go to church in Vegas that night. We ate breakfast at a local coffee shop and started our drive to Las Vegas.
As we descended in altitude, the pressure in my ears correspondingly increased. My left ear adjusted to the pressure changes but my right ear just wouldn't "pop." I tried everything to make it pop: Swallowing, chewing gum, taking Sudafed, holding my nose and blowing, saying the names of all my relatives 5 times backwards (ok so maybe not this one.) Nothing worked. Two hours later we were on one of those stretches of interstate that have the sign "No services for the next 65 miles" and my ear felt like someone was jabbing an ice pick into the canal. I've never experienced an ice pick being jabbed into my ear nor do I think that such a device would fit; however, I am certain that if such a thing could happen, it would feel just like the pain I was experiencing. Something had to be done.
About this time, we arrived at Kingman, Arizona and Cammie stopped for gas. The only time I had ever heard of Kingman, Arizona was in the famous song about the mother road, Route 66. While Cammie was trying to pump gas into the car, I ran in and asked the attendant where the nearest walk-in clinic or hospital was. Looking at me like I was slightly retarded the attendant replied that the nearest hospital was across the street. I walked out of the gas station and beheld a wonderful sight: on the other side of the street the large sign saying "Emergency Department." We drove across the street where I checked myself in. I must say, I felt somewhat silly signing my chief complaint as "right ear won't pop." It was if I had written "nasal laceration from hot dog injury." Fortunately, un-popping of right ears is high on the triage list because I was in and out of the busy ER within an hour and a half. Unfortunately, it wasn't high enough on the triage list to be seen by a physician, rather by a PA. We had a somewhat interesting and not so productive visit as shared below (my thoughts interjected):

PA: So how are you today?
Me: I should respond with fine, but if I were fine then I wouldn't be spending time visiting the ER. Good...I guess...
PA: So I see your "right ear won't pop?"
Me: Actually, my friend and I have been camping in the Grand Canyon for a few days, and my sinuses have been bothering me. This morning...
PA: (interrupting) Let me just look in your ear (looks in ear.) You seem to have a slight infection in your right ear. I'm going to give you a prescription for an antibiotic and a nasal spray.
Me: Ok. Thanks.....and what should I do for the pain and to make my right ear pop?
PA: You can try some Sudafed. You can purchase it at the drugstore.
Me: Are you kidding me? So you're telling me I could have saved lots of time and money by picking up another box of Sudafed? Tried it.
PA: Well...Sudafed's not a magic pill. It may take it a few times to work... I'm just going to listen to your heart and lungs before you go. If you have any further problems, I'd see your regular doctor.
Me: Apparently she didn't take Dr.Eason's physical exam course. I think the exam is supposed to come before the diagnosis. Does she realize that my primary care doctor is 2000 miles away? Ok. Well, thanks for your help.

I went to Walgreen's nearby and picked up my prescriptions (another long story) my right ear still unpopped. An hour and a half later and almost 6 hours since the initial pain, my ear finally popped about the time we were stuck in traffic driving over one of the engineering wonders of the world. I guess I shouldn't complain too much. The little girl in the room next door had (no joke) rocks in her ears.

So that's my experience with the famed Kingman, Arizona. Sometimes the journey is just as interesting as the destination.

Thanks

I just wanted to thank you for your prayers the past few weeks. My grandfather has made remarkable improvement, from coding in the hospital a few weeks ago to sitting up in a chair and talking with my mom last night. He's in a nursing home right now, and I'm not sure when/if he'll be able to come home seeing as how my grandma isn't in much better health than he. I suppose all things will continue to work out the way the Lord wills them.

After 2000 miles and 3 days on the road I'm home a few days early from a crazy and interesting trip out west. More to come on that when I've had time to recover from spending the majority of the past few days in the seat of a car watching I-40 fly by. It's been a crazy few weeks for the Gourley household. Gotta love the crooks and curves of life's road!

Quick Request

If you could keep my 86 year old grandfather and my family (especially my mom) in your prayers, I'd appreciate it. My grandfather's been in and out of ICU at the hospital the past few days and I'm about to leave for a road trip out west for a few weeks though it looks like my trip may get cut short. I guess during times like these you just have to have faith that everything will work out the way it should. Thanks for your prayers.

A Week Out West

I was supposed to go with Mom and Dad to hear the Mormon Tabernacle Choir rehearse tonight. Instead, I'm waiting in my hotel room for a phone call from Guatemala to finalize plans for next month's trip. I thought I'd post a summary of the past few days, but then I realized, "How do you summarize a week of memories and unforgettable moments?" How do you describe one of the best worship services on a Sunday morning in a small town in Idaho, the peaceful setting of an agrarian community, the feeling upon seeing those snow-covered rocky sentinels surrounding a placid mountain lake, the sounds of solitude when the only visible man-made thing is the trail in front of you, or the wonder of a myriad of different bubbling waters erupting from the ground?
There's something about being among such grandiose creations that calms the worries in your soul and causes you to realize that your problems and fears are trivial in the grand scheme of life. It has been a joyful week of picking up all those little pieces of my life that have gotten lost on the wayside the past few years and remembering to savor the small surprises found in every day.
I thought I'd share a few pictiures from the past week:

Magic Valley Christian College

The site of the building where my dad used to live at MVCC in the quaint and dying town of Albion, Idaho.

Caution: Slow Moving Vehicles

One of our many encounters with wildlife while at Yellowstone. At last count, we'd seen buffalo, elk, big horn sheep, buffalo, swans, bald eagles, buffalo, black bear, grizzly cubs, buffalo, geese, yellow-bellied marmots, ground squirrels, and numerous species of birds. Did I mention that we saw buffalo?


The Great Divide

Yes, that's snow in the background! It was freezing cold most of our visit which sent me scrambling to the store for a hat and wearing every bit of semi-warm clothing I'd brought (the weather man said it'd be 60 degrees-can't trust weathermen.)

Clepsydra Geyser

One of the many wonders of our nation's first national park.

Grand Tetons

This picture was taken from Jackson Lake. It certainly doesn't portray the imcomprable beauty of these lofty peaks.


What can I say? The West is a beautiful place. I wonder if they'll need an MD in a few years?

Blog on a Break

Last night was one of those deja vu moments. As we boarded the bus in the rain to traverse the city on our prayer campaign, I was sharply reminded of Tuesday nights in Honduras. You see, most Tuesday nights some of the Baxter students and myself would meet at the clinic to catch the church bus in the rain (it always rains at night in Honduras) to go to church. There we would spend the hour in small prayer groups praying for whatever was on our hearts or sharing how God answered our prayers the week before. It was a fond recollection as the church in Smyrna rode the bus(es) together last night and gathered in prayer.
Due to the overwhelming demands I have made on my blog, it has decided that it needs a vacation. Besides, I don't think that towns with populations of less than 300 people nor the vast wilderness of the national parks provide ready access to the internet. Therefore, it is unlikely that you'll be hearing from me for the next week or so. However, I will have my cell phone with me should it work or you can try to reach me by homing pigeon (I hear they find Old Faithful quite delightful.)
Trite as it may seem, I ask for your prayers for our safety and that everything goes smoothly the next week. I hope you all have a wonderful week wherever you may be!!!

Around the Town

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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?!?

May is National Bike Month

What Can Biking do for You?


I'm sure you all know that February is Black History Month, that March is dedicated to women, but did you know that May is National Bike Month? Yes, it's that time of year to dust off your seat, oil up the gears and put your feet on the pedals. May 16th has been designated as "Bike to Work" day so I urge all of you to try a different means of commuting than a key in the ignition.
In honor of such a month, to promote a cleaner environment, and to save gas money, I will be commuting to school on two rubber wheels and a metal frame. The reality is, all this talk about diet and exercise in Biochemistry made me feel guilty about my exercise habits and made me realize that while walking 1.5 miles to school uphill both ways in the snow barefoot might be a challenge, perhaps biking would be somewhat easier. So last week I broke down and invested in my health and in a mountain bike. I can't think of a better way to start the day than a short ride to school with no radio blaring in my ear and only the sounds of rubber on the road and my heart beating, waking me up from my drowsy state as I pedal to Stanton-Gerber Hall for an 8am class.
Speaking of Biochemistry and health, I've recently been thinking about such issues in regards to the patients I've seen and my own health. Almost certainly, over half of my future patient load could be eliminated by proper diet and exercise. So many of our health related issues stem from an improper balance of diet and lack of exercise. I find it ironic that we will pay for premium gasoline, that we will buy the best quality brand of clothes, detergents, vehicles, etc.. However, when it comes to our bodies, we settle for junk. We load it with partially-hydrogenated, chemically saturated, high fructose corn syrup carbonated junk. Though our bodies were beautifully and intricately designed, it is illogical to think that they were engineered to daily combat such chemical creations.
I may not be able to control my genetic composition nor any accidents that may be beset me, but I can control what I allow to enter my body and how I use it. It is for such reasons that I have, when possible, made the switch to organic foods. Before you tell me that my time in Appalachia has turned me into some bike-riding, tree-hugging, hippie chick, keep reading. Not only is organic food lacking in unknown and carcinogenic chemicals, organic foods are produced in such a way that benefits the community and the environment. They promote family farms and support local communities and eliminate the chemical byproducts that come from regular, mass-producing agrarian businesses. In particular, organic milk and meat from organic (range-fed) animals lack the antibiotics and steroid hormones that come non-organic sources. Did you know that every time you order a meat dish at your favorite restaurant that that animal was probably kept from birth in a small stall and never allowed out to roam the verdant hills like any God-created cow or chicken should be allowed to do? Do you realize that every bottle of milk you buy probably came from a cow who was pumped up with antibiotics and possibly fed feed that had meat from other animals mixed in with it? Just a few things to think about.
Even if I have convinced you to buy organic, you're probably thinking, "Michele, this is going to be expensive, and it all tastes like rabbit food!"
Actually, it's not anymore expensive than picking up a few Greastals and an order of fat fries everyday. I can go and buy an organic pizza for the same price of a take-out pizza. I can buy enough organic food for lunch everyday cheaper than I could go out to eat for those same lunches. As far as tasting like rabbit food, just open up a box of Health Valley granola bars, a container of Horizon yogurt, or a can of Amy's brand soups and try it. I personally find the lack of chemical additives as a supplement to the taste.
Here are some helpful links to understanding the term "Organic" and why we should all consider making the switch:

SustainableTable.org

Guidelines Regarding Food Additives

I'm not saying that I don't enjoy going out for that occasional pizza or indulging in a piece of chocolate birthday cake. However, I was given one body on this earth, and I intend to take care of it as best I can. So go ahead, comment away about your "Appalachian, bike-riding, organic food-loving" friend's post. In the meantime, go try something organic, and don't forget your bike helmet! Remember, May is National Bike Month!

A Wet Weekend

With camping plans already axed due to Friday night's storms and going against my better judgment, I decided to join some friends in Cades Cove Saturday evening to break in my new bike and spend some time away from Johnson City. I have to say, there's almost nothing more beautiful than the Smokies in springtime. The drive itself, minus the slight detention in the "Mecca of Materialism:Pigeon Forge" was a continual display of new spring life and colors around every bend of curvy Wears Valley Road. When I arrived at the Cove, my friends were just finishing dinner, and the weather was a balmy 50 degrees. The ride started out nicely with an expansive view of the mountains surrounding the valley and an abundance of wildlife: deer and turkey. However, just as we reached the halfway mark of the loop, it started to rain and rain and rain. Fortunately, it was limited to a fine drizzle for the majority of the ride and we stumbled upon an old log house for shelter when the drizzle changed to a steady rain. By the end of the ride, our bikes and ourselves were soaked upon our return, but the adventure was well worth it.
After worship on Sunday at Laurel, I drove back to Johnson City only to be greeted by another wet surprise: my water heater had sprung a leak and was determined to turn my laundry room into Johnson City's newest indoor swimming pool. Thank goodness for emergency maintenance service.
Then there's the wetness of my runny nose as I've had to miss the last two days of med. school due to a sinus infection. "Wet" seems to be a pervading characteristic of my life these past few days. Even as I was eating breakfast this morning, I was greeted by April's HTI calendar's picture of an old Quiche man taking cover under a plastic poncho during the seasonal afternoon rains of Guatemala. I remember those rains: how we all despised our daily drenching until one day it didn't rain and we had to suffer from the heat until the next afternoon.
Though I've been snuggled under my covers and sick, I'm thankful that I've been given two rainy days, so to speak, days where I can just sit and think. I've actually had time to catch up on my Daily Bible reading, to journey with Paul through his letters to the Thessalonians and Corinthians, to be reminded of the joy that comes from sharing in the suffering on the Cross, and to be reminded that my purpose is not motivated by a fear of Hell, rather; by a love for the One who conquered it. I've had time to think about how this time last year I was about to polish off an undergraduate degree, and how a year later, I'm still wet behind the ears in the study of medicine. I've had time to think about how many storms I've faced this past year, how many streams crossed, and how every time God has protected me and provided me a way through them.
I suppose tomorrow the sun will shine brightly and clearly display how far behind I am in my studies and how much I still have to accomplish over the next month to finish my first year of medical school. For now, it's back to bed to sleep and rid myself of these sinus sniffles!

Mark Your Calendars!

I know this is early to announce but I thought I'd post this "hot-off-the-press" poster. Needless to say, this poster didn't make the cut so feel privileged to view such a rarity.
If things work out, there may be specific sessions for college/medical students regarding missions. If anyone needs a place to stay, my apartment has an open-door policy.
Any questions? Just send me an email! Cya in September!!

ER?

Though I barely know what I'm doing from day to day, the powers at be at Quillen are already asking me to consider where I want to go and what I want to do for October's week-long preceptorship (aka doctor shadowing). I think I've figured out the "what," Emergency Medicine because would expose me to a wide variety of scenarios, not to mention the fact that I secretly admire all those great actors that come on TV every Thursday night.
The "where," on the other hand, is another story. Anyone know of any Christian ER docs? Should I go hang out with some of you guys in a random city, should I go back home, or should I succumb to the persuasive powers of one of my classmates and spend the week in Miami?
(Note: By this time I should have a FF mile ticket so airfare isn't an issue).
Any suggestions besides going to Hollywood and hanging out with the TV "ER" docs? I have until Monday or a few days after to decide. Decisions, decisions.
Any help or ideas will be appreciated!