In the Land of Jason

Four Fraternal Farming Fellows

Mon, 30 May 2011 00:53:00 +0000

Once upon a time in a magical land far, far away were four fraternal farming fellows. While not a common topic for fairy tales I would like to remind the inquisitive reader that even fairy godmothers have more natural uses for pumpkins and pigs than carriages and construction. Theses four fraternal farming fellows had like many farmers in the old far away lands struggled with the problem of mundane rats. A generation before their father had discovered the wonder of the Kung Fu Felines to keep the rats in check. Rarely seen and never ever heard these fantastical creatures kept the order for a few decades. It wasn’t until the rats began their own formal Ninja training that the four fraternal farming fellows began to realize that they might have a problem.

Like all fraternal kin in these stories they came up with four very different solutions that no doubt would result in a learning experience for small children long after their own passing. This is considered a rite of passage for those living in magical lands far, far away.

The first brother, a good stout fellow though a bit intellectually blunted, consulted with an employee at the local hardware store. In fact, he happened upon an employee whose cousin just had had such an infestation, though unsure of what martial discipline said infesting rats had received. He suggested a tasty poison that just happened to be on sale that week. The first fraternal farming fellow satisfied and pleased with his good proceeded, proceeded to spread the Rat Be Thou Gone over his field. The results were almost immediate and the destruction to his field virtually ceased. However two weeks later he found dozens of deceased birds amongst his golden grains. With a shock he realized that the poison was being absorbed by the plants and was itself a conduit for the poison. Dejected he shared his misfortune with other fraternal farming fellows.

The second brother headed to the library to research the history and success of various poisons. He discovered that only one poison would work to kill rats but not be absorbed into the golden crop. Purchasing it in mass quantities, he mixed it into a batch of Ye old Cheesy Bacon [1] and spread it amongst the golden grains. Within a few days rats began to die; some of high cholesterol but mostly from the poison. This good fortune and triumph he shared with his fraternal farming fellowship. Being more in the vain of traditional farmers the other two brothers nodded their heads, discussed the recent weather patterns, and waited for any unforeseen consequences. Unbeknownst to the second brother however, ninja rats abstain from processed foods thus having nothing to do with the tainted Ye Old Cheesy Bacon [1]. However Kung Fu Felines and mundane rats have no such compunction. Within two weeks, the ninja rats multiplied unchecked by the now former Fu Felines. The ninja rats quickly ballooned beyond 40 pound that not only consumed the field but had begun to bully the billy goats for their bearded bounties.

The third brother seeing the results of his second brother consulted other farmers down the road. There was no consensus at to which poison would work. All acknowledged the importance of Kung Fu Felines and concluded that any poison must not harm the clever but gastronomically mundane felines. One farmer had had a similar problem some years earlier and added the poison to the whipped topping used at a local coffee place that local domesticated fauna frequented. The third brother seeing the wisdom in this did just that. Kung Fu feline have little appetite for artificial dairy products always insisting on whole milk whereas the rats would consume just about anything. The rat population diminished quickly and the third farmers golden grains quickly recovered from the initial damage done. However since Ninja rats abstain from processed abominations they were left unaffected. Without competition from other rats for the golden grains, the Ninja rat population multiplied and ran the Kung Fu felines off the land. In desperation the third farmer brother spread the poison, as his first brother had, indiscriminately across his land but without any results. The ninja rats grew even larger and began to hold magical creatures hostage for gourmet organic jelly bean trees that were once the domain of popular fairytale princess franchisees. United Princess Freedom Workers Union #452 was not pleased.

The four fraternal farming fellows were stumped. They looked upon the third brother’s acres of deteriorating crops with fear. If they did nothing, the crop would be too small to produce seed for the coming season. With another error the Ninja rats would be unstoppable and surely begin taking over pumpkin patches, gingerbread houses, and candy cane palaces. On some questionable advice from the Yahoo answers (an indication of their desperation), the fourth farming fellow approached the first successful alchemist AKA The Alchemist (one does not need to be creative when selecting a name if you are the only quasi-scientific mind surrounded by magical minions). He had himself made a several mistakes with his sudden success, the first being that he shared his formula with an unscrupulous but charming elderly apple sales woman. [2] While being the first successful alchemist ought to bring one wealth, it only does so if you do not share your secret [3]. Gold became a very cheap and gaudy material so plentiful that even Trump tired of it. Still the alchemist had a keen mind and quickly set upon the problem.

For nearly a month The Alchemist daily watched the ninja rats as they practiced in Ninja nooks. He noted that they were deeply disciplined when it came to their diet if not their toiletries. They shunned the local eateries whose primary ingredients were alphabetically long or dipped in anything. The ninja noble norvegici infested only the finest organic dinning restaurants. Taking note of this The Alchemist also made long lists of foods they considered delicacies; wheat germ grass, pumpkin ganache, cocoa infused colas, and fair trade triple mocha lattes. Startled by their sophistication and clear superiority over his own palate the demoralized poor alchemist returned to his gaudy and very cheap solid gold Faberge trailer home [4]. For several days he sat upon a spun gold seat when he came upon an idea. He decided to offer the remaining Kung Fu Felines some of the very fine pumpkin ganache. Though hesitant at first some of the cats did in fact take a liking it to them; though most of them were of a subspecies known for their pretentiousness. Taking heart in the general rejection, he tested the lattes next, however the cream proved very popular resulting in a few dozen very energized high trained Kung Fu Felines fairly freaking out [5]. After the Kung Fu Felines came to their senses The Alchemist offered them wheat germ grass soy smoothies. However few helpers were able handle the ensuing hacking havoc. The Alchemist had his venomous vehicle.

The Alchemist then explained his theory to the last farming fellow.[6] The Alchemist purchased a floundering Whole Food Market that had been overrun with rats and turned it into the Golden Gastronomist, an all natural drink bar that catered to the discerning rat population. They became so popular that many rats themselves purchased franchises with their ill gotten jelly bean fortune. A Golden Gastronomist could be found in the corner of every field, bank, or garbage dump.

Then suddenly ninja rats began to fall ill. By then they were hooked by the highly addictive nature of wheat germ grass on cerebellums that can only be measured in millimeters. The fourth fraternal farming fellow’s field quickly recuperated. The Kung Fu Felines kept the common rats in check and the Ninja rats were wiped out. The Golden Gastronomist chains where taken over by The Alchemist who finally realized the wealth that had for so long eluded his clever fingers. After some negotiations with the United Princess Freedom Workers #452, he obtained exclusive distribution of Princess’ Peas and Teas [6]. The four fraternal farming fellows found four fair females and founded fantastic farming futures. And of course lived happily ever after.

As in all fairy tales about farmers and martial arts there are morals to be learned.

Using the wrong kind of medicine can be dangerous. We must be careful that the medicine doesn’t hurt the person using it. There are some medicines that work very well but in the end have unintended and potentially severe consequences. For this reason you shouldn’t take someone else’s medicine without consulting a medical provider first. What might be fine for them may worsen your situation in the end.

Like the second farmer’s poor plan, improper use can destroy the balance. We need bacteria. If you kill off the more mundane bacteria you can set yourself up to be overrun by a much less pleasant species. This is why medical providers don’t write for antibiotics for bronchitis, earaches, and colds like we did in the past. It’s also why antibiotic soaps, douching, and the overuse of antibiotics in farm animals are bad ideas.

The third farmers plan didn’t hurt the helpful species but didn’t do enough to remove the more serious threat. Inadequate use of an antibiotic can create a stronger bacteria. If your medical provider has determined that a bacteria is dangerous enough to kill, it must be completely killed off. Likewise, using someone else’s antibiotics creates the potential for super bugs. It is not a good to leave behind an orphaned embittered bacteria that has been studying ancient street fighting techniques in secret so as to come back to infect you two weeks later.

Antibiotics are most successful when they don’t cause unintended harm, they attack the correct bug, when they completely kill of the bug, and are used sparingly. Also if you are an alchemist in training remember to not share you secret until you’ve properly diversified your investments.

Enjoy the weekend. I am so grateful that I have a little extra time to indulge my creative side a bit after such a long week. Your prayers are needed as I am growing.

Que Dios les bendiga,

Jason

Postscipt_______________________________________________________________________

1.) Ye Old Cheesy Bacon like crumbles-Not in any way intended to be mistaken for either bacon or cheese. May cause vision vomiting, intestinal sailing, and uncontrollable quoting of bad sitcoms.

2.) Snow White incorporated this into her myth so as to anger her far lovelier and health conscience sister’s apple orchards. See also “Yellowed Snow; a ruthless woman’s climb to power via exploitation of little people, song birds, and the publics fear of the elderly angiosperm salespersons.”

3.) The gnome formerly known as rumpelstiltskin (having changed his name into an unpronounceable symbol to avoid another “incident” ) would often remind the poor alchemist of this error.

4.) Gold’s heaviness and it’s over abundance made it a natural in the construction of trailers to protect them from the occasional tornado that blew in from nearby OZ.

5.) They have since erected a monument to the memories of the curtains lost in the ensuing madness

6.) With a dwindling crop the last brother financed the trip for the Alchemist to request a wish for a giant blender from a distant much diminished fairy godmother of technology. She was delighted to accept as payment the conversion of her rare hamster busts into golden “works of art”.

7.) The jelly bean trees were restored to princess’ ownership but they felt less than enthusiastic about reclaiming ownership after rats seeing the preponderance of rat dropping in the fields. Wading boots do not even come in shades of pink or purple.

Update 15 May

Mon, 30 May 2011 00:27:00 +0000

I haven't had access to the internet via my computer for a while so here's my entry for the 15th of May.

Blog entry for 15 may 2011

59 degrees and cloudy gas 3.70 a gallon

I've been systematically visiting area churches in the community. I'm trying to find a church home but also get a feel for those most activity in the area of my clinic. Most have been very large and predominately African American though I've also visited some house churches as well. I find myself drawn to the intimacy and authenticity I find with the house churches but love the outreach and diversity of the bigger churches.

I visited a really nice church today that though predominately caucasian had a large African American presence and had begun an outreach to Hispanics. The music was mostly country southern gospel and after years of mostly rhythmic Hispanic praise or urban gospel it was a bit jolting. It reminded me how "other" I am down here.

On Sundays, Im experimenting with wings places. This Sunday I found a bw3 and was excited to eat something familiar again. It tasted just like the bw3s at home but wasn't all that great. I smiled when I realized that in at least one way I was becoming southern. After trying all of these other wings places, I have definitely developed a taste for southern hickory smoking. About a mile up the road from my apt is a placed called Ted Neelys Hickory B-B-Q. All of the meat it tenderized and properly smoked. Wings include both parts plus part of the flank. BEST....WINGS...EVER. It's a small place but if your ever in town I will likely drag you there.

Yesterday, I had my couch and dinner table delivered and it feels weird to have some place to sit again besides my directors chairs. Didnt think they would make me so happy. Next Sunday my recliner comes and I should have chairs for the table by then.

Work is coming along and I'm finding some kind of rhythm. I still find it weird at times to be the one giving medical orders rather than take them. After a procedure in the office last week, I instinctively dressed the wound rather than passing it on to one of our nursing staff. I still have a lot of growing to do but it's a good environment to do it in.

The poor access to health care leads to a lot of complicated cases. There are so few providers in the area that once someone loses insurance or insurance requires changes to who they can see, it can be months without care. I could easily spend an hour with most of my patients but am learning to prioritize issues and encourage frequent shorter visits rather fewer longer visits. plus there are the differences in culture, education, communications, race, and religious perspectives.

While talking about our apartment complex with one of my African American neighbors I mentioned how much nicer it was than the last several places I had lived. As I had lived primarily in higher crime areas in the last 10 years. referencing the fact that I now were dress clothes to work, " I know I don't look like it but its taking me a bit to adjust to being in a place like this after being in a bit of a ghetto." My neighbor laughed loudly and nodded. "Yeah partner I got you." while he rubbed his arm and pointed to my very pale arm. I was so surprised that he assumed I was referencing my race (rather than my clothes, demenour or accent).

Earlier today I was working on a handout on things people can do at home for allergies. as a huge allergy city (it gives Cincinnati a run for it's money) I spend A LOT of time talking about allergies. my hope is that this will make it speedier so that I can focus more on other more critical topics. I realize that I cannot just give a handout, but it should make it easier than doing this by hand over and over again.

Thanks for all of the support and encouragement. It is deeply appreciated. specifically pray for my growth as a provider, my search for a church home, and guidance on what my role in the community ought to be. In a couple of months we go live with electronic charting. while this will be great long term for the care of our patients I'm ready to get it over with. Please keep this in your prayers as well.

Que Dio les bendiga,

Jason

The biggest bonus so far to doing electronic records is that I have been given an iPad to get used to ahead of the change. In fact I composed this entry via the iPad. (However wasn't able to post it to my site since the serves software is incompatible.)

Bumps and bruises

Sun, 17 Apr 2011 01:43:00 +0000

This is the same post but with a few changes. If you've already read this, your not missing anything new. Some grammatical restructuring clarified a few points.

My time in Memphis has been good but stressful. New city, new cultureS, new job, new neighbors, and new responsibilities. Before I left Cincinnati I had intended to have a few days of fasting and prayer for what I knew would be a big adjustment. It never happened with the hustle to get things done.

Fast forward several weeks to when I started my job and seeing patients. Though I was excited about the clinic, my coworkers, and using my skills to serve God I was wearing down. The previous Saturday, the 27th of March, I spent the afternoon in worship, prayer, and devotional reading. It had been exactly what I’d needed after a stressful week of change. The following week, I found myself again feeling feverish about getting time alone with God to recharge. Saturday April 2nd, after running some errands I chose a park not far from the clinic to meet with God. I figured I’d check it out for when I might need some time away at work.

It was a warm, perfect day. Spring had firmly taken root, the poplar trees already starting to lose some of their blossoms. The park was set back in a subdivision built maybe 30 years ago. I parked my car, grabbed my backpack, and started looking for a place to sit and be with God. There wasn’t anyone in the park at the time. I walked through a huge playground made of brightly painted metal and cushioned by deep red rubber pavement. Weird that with all the kids I’d passed on the way in that none was there. There were a few broken liquor bottles near one of the slides, very incongruent with the cleanliness and modernity of the playground. Seemed a good metaphor for the decay I’d seen around Memphis. So much promise left unattended. Shrugging off the temptation to swing on the monkey bars, I headed to a far corner where a baseball field was shaded by trees next to a small stream. The subtle sweet smell of clover drifted to me and made me forget the broken bottles as I strode toward the diamond. I wandered over to check out the stream and was disappointed to see a chain link fence had been erected to keep kids out of it. I could see a huge hubcap-sized turtle sunning itself and smiled at the blessings of finding a place both quiet and close to nature.

I found a spot on the pealing bleachers about 2/3 of the way up and set up for some worship. The afternoon sun was hot but it felt good. An hour later I was deep into the book I’d brought along, Dallas Willard’s Spirit of the Disciplines, when I noticed some kids rough housing or playing football some 100 yards off to my left. Thinking nothing of it I returned to reading; very content to lose myself in my book.

Sometime later I heard someone yell something at me. Already at the base of bleacher a young kid told me I was in the wrong park. He couldn’t have been much more than 16 and looked scared to death. I still remember how much fear was in his eyes. Confused I thought he was warning me that I needed to get out of the park which I was more than fine with doing. I could see 3 or 4 other kids with him and had sense some had come behind me while I’d been reading. Quickly climbing the bleacher he then asked what I had in my pockets. Again seeing his fear, I thought he was asking if I had weapons; dully oblivious that I was about to be robbed. I answered that I had nothing. I don’t remember if he’d finished asking me a second time before I was sucker punched. Shortly afterwards when talking to the police I said that I thought someone had hit me from behind but it’s possible that the first blow was followed quickly by a few blows on the back of my head. Of everything this moment of confusion is clearest to me, being unsure of what I’d done but needing to get out and get out now. I think I made it off the bleachers before I was tackled or tripped. My next clear thought was them screaming at me for the “rest of my money”. Again confused since I had 80 bucks on me, I yelled back that all I had was in my wallet which they had freed me of as well as my keys and new cell phone. (It's rare that I carry more than 20 bucks on me after working so long in Over-the-Rhine and living in Lower Price Hill.) They took off a moment later disappearing back towards the woods.

My vision was blurred and I was completely turned around. They’d left my backpack after searching it for valuables. Forgetting that I’d forgotten my glasses at home I stumbled back to the bleachers to look for them before realizing that I was still in danger. I was feeling woozy and the adrenaline was pumping. Crossing the playground I left the park and looked for a house to call the police. I found a Hispanic family in their front yard. I almost walked by because I thought I must have been scary but knew I needed to get to call the police. My brain wasn’t working well in Spanish and it took several tries to explain to the dad that I needed to call the police. The boys were around 5, 7, and 9. They quickly caught on and were trying to describe people that they had seen leaving the park wondering if any of them might be the guys that attacked me. It’s still a very vivid memory of trying to figure out a way to redirect them onto another topic. I never saw the attacker’s faces, they had pulled on handkerchiefs just as I had looked up. The kids were clearly both excited and worried, especially the littlest guy. I was worried that I might be endangering the family so after giving the address to the dispatcher I went to the end of the driveway and sat on the curb.

So many things were racing through my head. After all my time working in the inner-city how could I do something so stupid; going by myself into an unknown park in an unknown neighborhood and seeking out a place to be alone. What if something happened to this kind family? How would this affect my coworkers? What had I done? Why hadn’t spent more time with God before all this? Eventually I’d have a black eye, a few chipped teeth, some bruises, and few lumps on the back of my head. (Nothing that my agent says has lessened calls for me in Hollywood). At the same time, I was so grateful that it hadn’t been worse. It was like being attacked while using the restroom or eating breakfast. I had been completely consumed in what I was reading oblivious to my danger.

My right eye wouldn’t stop tearing up and my vision was blurry. One of the kids brought me out a glass of water and offered it to me. His kindness and sincerity was sorely appreciated. It took the police about 30 minutes to get there. Their mother came home and spoke some more English; she inquired of my well being and offered me some kind of blessing though. I can’t really remember their faces very well. I was too ashamed to make much eye contact. I realized just a few minutes before they arrived that one of the older kids was sitting behind me and to my left keeping an eye out. The 7 year old was riding a circle around me also keeping watch.

The police arrive in two separate squad cars and took my story about what happened. I found it really hard for some reason to explain why I was in the park and keep my composure. It made feel vulnerable and naked to admit how badly I needed to be with God and at the same time knew it must sound strange to see this big guy getting all choked about it. As one of the officers typed in my list of stolen belonging the other looked at me strangely especially when I mentioned that I was fasting and asked if I was some kind of Mormon missionary. I was confused by the question. Nope just a Christian, an evangelical. I said something about where I worked and that that was why I’d moved to Memphis. Really though I just wanted to get back to my apartment to get my spare set of keys. Looking back I missed an opportunity to share more about God but my thoughts were a bit jumbled.

After what seemed like an hour of the same questions over and over again, one of the cops drove me home. He apologized but I was required to sit in the backseat. I didn’t care. I just wanted to be home. As we drove home, so many emotions crowded in. The officer was polite but clearly had no idea what to make of me. We drove into my apartment complex’s gates and I asked to be let out there not wanting to be driven up to my apartment as I was with the police. As the officer opened my door I rasped some kind of thanks, shook his hand, and then hustled to my apartment to get my spare keys.

My old cell phone from Cincy was still active and I started making phone calls. That was so hard. What had happened was so embarrassing, emasculating but I knew that I had to make them if my car would still be there when I got back. I’d told the Hispanic family that I’d be back that night and I wanted to get there before dark. I don’t remember looking at myself in the mirror though I must have because I flushed my right eye with natural tears because I thought something was in there. One of the docs from another clinic called me back quickly and arranged someone to come get me. In the meantime I called my credit card companies to cancel my cards, inadvertently making one of the customer rep people cry when I told her what happened.

John, a dentist, at another clinic picked me up at the gates and followed me back to the park to pick up the car. The family had left so I went next door to another neighbor that was working on his car. I didn’t want them to worry that my car had been stolen. I explained to the neighbor what had happened. “This park? Behind us here? Really, stuff like that never happens-we watch out for each other.” I shrugged. I told him my abbreviated story (I wanted to get my car back home) and he got really quiet. “Wow you just got here. Memphis isn’t all like that. So sorry that happened. That stuff just doesn’t happen around here.” And then added patting the front seat, “...But you know that’s why I keep my gun under my here.” I laughed a little at the irony and he apologized again for my experience and asked if there was anything he could do for me. I left after he promised to tell his neighbor that I’d picked up my care. After dropping my car off, John took me to be checked out by one of the docs. I think he had to persuade me a bit as I really just wanted to be alone.

On the drive over what had happened was starting to sink in. Relief that it could have been so very much worse and embarrassment that I’d let myself get into such a vulnerable position. One of the other docs checked me out and they both prayed with me. Not just for me but also for the kids. The kid was scared, he wasn’t hardened yet. I had been part of the loss of his innocence and somehow that made it so much worse. It felt dirty. Those kids so needed God and I couldn’t find the words to do it myself. We then went over to John David’s house and just hung out for a bit. Later we went over another guy’s house and watch UCON eliminate UK. (A very bright ending to dark Saturday after UK having eliminated OSU previously-Sorry to the UK fans I watched it with). Folks were incredibly supportive and there was a lot of encouragement. Later the doc called in a prescription for the scratch on my eye to prevent an infection from setting up. John the dentist offered to lend me his credit card until I got access to the banks on Monday. We had a good laugh at what would happen if a 6’1” guy with a black eye tried to explain to the police why he was using someone else’s credit card and couldn’t show proof of who he really was.

The next day I’d planned on visiting some of the Hispanic churches but found that I didn’t want to explain what had happened. Even less I didn’t want to deal with the racial implications. I decided to attend the same cell-church meeting that John and Stacy held in their house. Enough people there knew my story and I hoped to not need to talk much about it. There were a lot of visitors that Sunday so I ended up sharing the story again. A large part of why I’m posting this blog is that I’ve found that as I tell and retell what happen is that it feels more like story rather than a retelling. In many ways that’s easier, the feelings are more distant and safely contained in story telling elements. In another way, it becomes artificial and tiresome. In writing this down I want to share what happened because some are curious and some are concerned. Even more so I don’t wish people to build what happened into something it wasn’t or more reaction to it into something better than what it is.

During the gathering folks break into smaller groups to pray. The prayers were beautiful with nearly everyone praying for the guys as well as for me. One person in particular prayed with moving depth not only for their salvation but also in an imprecatory way. You don’t hear those kinds of prayers very often. She prayed for their discomfort, misery, and suffering until they found repentance. Though it made me uncomfortable, it was not unjust. In truth I wish God to use all of His power to draw them to Him be it either in kindness or feral strength.

By the time we headed to lunch I was feeling much more normal. One of the other Nurse Practitioner asked me something about what I had been reading and I reached into my backpack (because I rarely go anywhere without it after a decade in school) and pulled out my copy. Some brittle dried Oak leaves and grass fell from it. My stomach flipped and I paused with a brief “Ohhh” and then moved on. It caught me off guard how strong the leaves had evoked emotion in me. Stupid leaves. Later when I was in my apartment I found myself avoiding the book. I don’t remember if it was Sunday or Monday but I made myself read from it. It gave me a weird sense of peace that I could and am reading from it without any oddness.

That following Monday I took off to run errands and try to catch up with some of the things I didn’t get done that weekend and get my chipped teeth repaired (the dentist rocked-my teeth are much better looking that they were before). I also had to talk to a whole lot more folks about what happened; coworkers, family, people at the bank, people I didn’t know at the store. By the end of the day I was looking forward to getting back to work. My first day back was busy and blessedly none of my patients asked what had happened. It occurred to me later that those that had been through something violent aren’t nearly as likely to be nosey as those that have not. The most inappropriate questions didn’t come from those that had experienced something bad but from those openly said things like; “I can’t imagine", "Nothing like that has ever happened to someone I know", or "That would make it hard for me to keep from crying.”

When stressed I tend to draw up into myself. The less you see of me, the greater the likelihood that I am overwhelmed. The concern that folks at Christ Community Health Services showed for me forcefully pulled me in the other direction. I went from being the one of hundreds and sort of vague to everyone knowing who I am. Nearly every night I was eating with another group of people, the exact opposite of my instinctual direction. It proved, unfortunately for my pride, to be exactly what I needed not only in regards to what had happened but also in helping me cope with the stress of my new job. I was much happier talking about what both stressed and made me happy about work than talking about what had happened. In doing so I shared much more than I would’ve otherwise. Looking back it has been the deepest blessing of the whole thing.

This has highlighted just how prideful I am. So much of the difficulty of the aftermath is how vulnerable and neophyte it made me feel. After all of those years of working in and around the inner-city, I still did something so stupid. I didn’t want to depend on others, especially not people I didn’t know. It’s OK of course for me to help complete strangers but not the other way around. I don’t like being vulnerable and would rather do without than admit that I have a real need to someone that I don’t know. The ensuing lack of resources stressed me at time way more than what happened in the park. It also underscored insecurity in my competence as new practitioner. My pride and confidence dissipated together. I’m still trying to grow into my big boy shoes as a Nurse Practitioner. There’s always something more to learn or relearn. The past week, I’m learning to let God rebuild something different in their place. I’m doing well though. It’s not something that shows up in my dreams or something that I think much on. It’s forced me onto a different footing with God and with my coworkers; I’m not really sure what that means just yet. I’m just so grateful for Him right now.

Despite how intense or emotional this post might feel as you read it, know that I am writing about it at a distance. I have tremendous amount of peace about what has happened. God has so blessed and watched over me.

This above all else is true. God was there in the park as He is in Memphis. I am humbled to be both His servant and son. This hasn’t made me more dedicated or in love with this city, it has made me more committed to serving her in His name. No matter what happens to me, she deeply needs Him. Even before all of this happened, I was impressed with how violently God is fighting for the folks here.

Memphis needs your prayers. Please pray for the Christians here that they would draw close to our Maker and be open to His will. Pray that I would be softened toward His wishes as well. Pray for balance as I get acclimated to my new roles and greater competence as a provider. I feel even more intensely that I must root myself deeper in Him. I am so thankful for His presence and for those of you that have been praying for me. Pray that this will be something that God uses within Christ Community Health and the Hickory Hill community somehow. Praise God for who He is.

Como siempre, Que Dios les bendiga en su busqueda de Su voluntad,

Jason

Eye of the storm

Sat, 19 Mar 2011 23:30:00 +0000

‘Well, really, you know, I am not aware of a thirst for some ready-made truth which puts an end to intellectual activity in the way you seem to be describing. Will it leave me the free pay of Mind, Dick? I must insist on that, you know’

‘Free, as man is free to drink while he is drinking. He is not free still to be dry.’ The Ghost seemed to think for a moment. ‘I can make nothing of that idea,’ it said.

‘Listen!’ said the White Spirit. ‘Once you were a child. Once you knew what inquiry was for. There was a time when you asked questions because you wanted answers, and were glad when you had found them. Become that child again: even now’

‘Ah, but when I became a man I put away childish things’

‘You have gone far wrong. Thirst was made for water; inquiry for truth. What you now call the free play of inquiry has neither more nor less to do with the ends for which intelligence was given you than masturbation has to do with marriage’

‘If we cannot be reverent, there is at least no need to be obscene. The suggestion that I should return at my age to the mere factual inquisitiveness of boyhood strikes me as preposterous. In any case, the question-and-answer conception of through only applies to matters of fact. Religious and speculative questions are surely on a different level.’

‘We know nothing of religion here; we think only of Christ. We know nothing of speculation. Came and see. I will bring you to Eternal Fact, the Father of all other fact-hood.’

Excerpt from CS Lewis’ “The Great Diveorce” Chapter 5 p 41

Always inquisitive as a kid, I’m sure I drove my parents crazy. Whenever I asked something that my mom could answer she’d always tell that I could ask God when I met Him. Over time I developed a view that heaven was a bit like a giant campfire with God answering questions interspersed with worship songs. As I grew older I found myself envisioning heaven like a giant lecture hall with walls of books that stretched for miles upward. Their words oozing out of their covers and then cascade down the mahogany shelving. Their onslot would mix and be interspersed with the Truth and wisdom rushing from God, rippling up the steps of the hall. History and science baptized in the Truth of our Maker. We as students would worship and learn in a wash of some other kind of glory.

While serving with the Air Force, my unit was in the Dominican Republic doing a humanitarian mission along the Haiti/DR border. Our last couple of days a hurricane blew through the island coming east to west. Before we were to go home, we stayed at a hotel near the airport waiting for the storm to pass over. After the storm passed over, the sun and a subtle breeze flowed in. It was bizarre how the calm had come so quickly. Some of us went to a little cluster of stands to buy hand-made crafts. Lots of bartering and animated persuasion rose from each of the little stalls that had opened for a chance of business with bored tourists. As a Spanish speaker, I offered to negotiate for a few folks. In the excitement and my growing weariness (I don’t like shopping), I failed to see how many merchants had nervously closed up shop. Suddenly the merchant we were negotiating with paused, looked over my shoulder and was done with the debate. He was started batting down his stand. Other members of our group realized that something was wrong as the wind started to pick up again. Now the shops were closing in earnest. We took our purchases and started back to the hotel. Now the sky was dark and unsettled. The wind was strong now and bullied us as we struggled along the sandy shore to make safety. I can’t remember what I was thinking at the time, just knew that we needed to get back.

We had been in the eye of the hurricane when we set out and our return was just as the eye was passing out of the region. I learned later that by the time the hurricane had reached us it had lost most of its power. This bit of info gave me a new and profound respect for hurricanes.

When I think of heaven now, I think of it as being in a hurricane of glory with God at the center. Nothing else will matter. As much as I love my family and old friends, they will fade when I one day can humbly stand before Our Maker. It gives me intense joy to know that many will be there but I know in the moment I will care little. As much as I value knowledge, science, and beauty they will be whisked into the winds of His Glory. Instead of the swirling dark clouds and whipping rain it’ll be vast innumerable beings caught up into the worship of Our Maker. Things that John struggled to describe with lists of precious jewels and metals will fade into the background as we focus on the eye of the storm.

As we approach, Easter I am so very grateful for a God that not only cares for us but wishes us to one day experience Him as He is in His fullness via Grace. “Thirst is made for water; inquiry for Truth.”

"Thomas said to Him, 'Lord, we do not know where You are going, how do we know the way?'
Jesus said to him, 'I am the way the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me. If you had known Me, you would have known My Father also; from now on you know Him, and have seen Him.' John 14:5-7

Double Rainbow

Sat, 12 Mar 2011 20:58:00 +0000

Having passed under the Romanesque marble pillars and through the massive ornate doors, I enter the three story rotunda. Sounds of the ocean from a hundred feet below the surface ripple past me. The light plays on massive interactive displays designed as much for beauty and entertainment as for education. A massive whale swims through the open space above. There appears to be windows near the ornate domed ceiling that peak out onto the ocean floor giving you the sense as that the museum has been built into a Caribbean coral reef. A real giant squid over 20 feet long lies in state beneath glass, just low enough so that kids can peer in but high enough that cautious parents can steer the jittery little ones away. The touch screens displays are variable heights some at 2 feet for little fingers, others at 4 feet for their parents. The colors are vivid and the information fascinating in the Smithsonian Natural History Museum. It was a double rainbow moment for me.

One of the keys to selling the Disneyland theme parks is a sense of wonder, magic, and discovery. I visited Disneyland some years ago as an adult and was impressed with the attention to detail and the hidden joys of the place. There are hidden characters throughout the park. I spotted some birds in trees from the Lion King, one of the chipmunks, and of course the hidden mouse. The rides were creative and interactive. Everything was clean and organized. Though the place was huge it was hard to feel as if you were lost. Yet the sense of wonder wears off pretty quickly, when you’re standing in line with a thousand tired kids and their frustrated parents. I found THIS the other day and thought it summed things up pretty well.

The good folks at Disney have done a wonderful job of creating a sense of wonder and magic. BUT IT’S NOT REAL. The moments of magic fade quickly into the reality of amusement parks-hot smelly expensive venus flytraps with a taste for the tourist. So many children are told how to imagine and how to be creative. Things are spelled out for them. This is what you want to play with, this is what fun is. No other place is a better culmination of this than the Disney parks. I read an article once in Men's Health about things that father's must teach their children. One of their suggestions was to take the kids once to disney world to get it out of the way then take them to some place truly amazing like Yosemite or the Grand Canyon.

Curiosity and imagination are some of the greatest gifts you can give your children. “Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” Albert Einstein. It enables us as adults to see what might be, not just what is. It helps us get through the dark shades of the woods to the vista just beyond the turn. They enable us to delight in the colors on a fly’s wing or completing a deck or repairing a v8 engine or sit in a duck blind for hours or baking a most excellent cake. It’s part of what makes us take an interest in others.

As I passed from Smithsonian museum to museum I found myself becoming weary of walking. There was so much to discovery in such a short period of time. I wandered down the mall to the US botanical garden conservatory. It’s a five story steel and glass structure built at the turn of the 19th century. The entry way is flanked by azure fountains with stretching basins nestled amongst soaring trees tropical trees. Thin filaments drop from the trees to drink from the fountains. Even in January, plants were blooming. I entered the main hall passing a small waterfall and climb the ornate cast iron stairwell that led to a circumferential balcony. Delicate orchids made use of pockets in the iron work to display brilliant purples, yellows, and scarlets. It was a decidedly quiet, peaceful, adult place to be.

Yet there were a lot for children here too. In another large open space there were giant colorful sunflowers made of aluminum that held common fragrances that encouraged children to smell and guess its origin. Another table had an interactive display with products that come from plants. At another there were plants that we commonly use in cooking. I saw one creative mother was using the space to rest by breaking out some coloring books. While she propped her feet up and took in the warmth her kids entertained themselves. I couldn’t imagine that happening at Disneyland (though I’m sure it does).

Even the capitol building which I visited strictly out of civic responsibility was an interesting place to discovery. I visited the national art gallery only because I had run out of time to see much else in my hour left. I saw kids with tour guides and felt instantly sorry for them. Art may be fun to make for a kid but art has to be most boring thing for a kid. As I traipsed through halls hung with DaVinci’s (and other famous painters that my ignorance is too deep to know) I came upon a tour guide explaining a giant golden frieze. What an incredible story teller, the kids were enthralled with her passionate retelling of the incident that inspired the sculptor. A little further down the hall, was a gallery of still life (I love still life paintings-it’s incredible how life like and three dimensional they can be). The teacher had the kids on the floor drawing their own versions with crayons. The tour guide was pointing out hidden things in the paintings like flies or a window. The kids were having a blast. All of this for free, including tour guides (Disney would be lucky to have these folks).

As I’ve gotten older my sense of adventure has diminished a bit. Things like cost, safety, and time have squeezed it out. I am just as content to spend the afternoon sitting by a window with a good book as I am to be out hiking, finding new trails. Still the desire to be in the presence of the awe-inspiring is still there. When I took the position in Memphis, I was excited that I would be able to use my skills to serve God. I loved that I was going to be PAID to use my Spanish and hone my skill as a nurse practitioner. Memphis as a city though had little interest for me. Not that it was a bad city, just no pull to be there. Despite its history with Elvis, the blues, and Johnny Cash it inspired little curiosity in me.

Last week I came down to sign my contract and find an apartment. I explored the area near the clinic in Hickory Hill trying to find a place to live within the community. Driving along I came upon this giant replica of the statue of liberty. It’s freaking enormous, it must stand nearly 100 feet tall. You can read about the Statue of Liberation through Christ here. Across the street is the huge Winchester Farmers Market with signs in what appears to be Vietnamese and Spanish. Upon entering the store,giant piñatas line one wall, with exotic fruits and vegetable sandwiched between the piñatas and a little tortilleria on the opposite wall. This part of the store feels very Latin. As I work my way around the outer wall, there is a huge counter of fresh monster sized fish, squid, and various other oceanic creepy crawlies with their names and prices in Korean and Spanish only. The latter part of the Kroger’s sized store is all Asian; mostly Korean, Vietnamese, and Japanese (I think). The check-out lines were manned by 6 people; 3 of Asian heritage and 3 of Hispanic. A little store within the store past the check outs seemed a little schizophrenic as it had a little plastic Buddha sitting next to a Lady of Guadalupe, next to bling for your cell phones next to calling cards for Mexico and Guatemala next to incense for memorials for ancestors. Later as I drove up and down the strip, I saw Vietnamese restaurants nestled next to wig shops (BOGO yesterday-so tempting) and a BBQ ribs place next to an authentic Mexican taqueria.

My discovery meter is now off the charts. As I type this I’m sitting in the big, beautiful, and unquestionably sexy main library for Memphis; a six story building full of giant windows, prismatic sculptures and quiet. I start work next week but am so grateful that God has blessed me with a chance to see just how much there is to discover not just about the city but also His people that reside here. I know that in the weeks and months to come it will be difficult. His creation both natural and that secondary to man can be awe inspiring and so often brings me back to worship. I am so grateful to be a part of it.

On a more practical side, I'm just about unpacked. My books are put away and my closet is organized. I feel like the apartment is just the right size and definately a step up for me (I've got all new appliances including washer, dryer, and dishwasher!) I'm headed to a soccer game in a few minutes to get to know some of the other providers from the clinic. I haven't played since my knee injury/surgery 5 years ago (hard to believe its been that long). I'm meeting with folks this week to learn about the ministries and services in the area.

Thanks for the many prayers and support over the last several weeks. If I didn't catch you before I moved, you are always welcome down here. I can take you out for some noodles then BBQ with BB King.

Jason

Child Abuse and other happy Facebook postings

Mon, 06 Dec 2010 14:29:00 +0000

"Change your FB profile picture to a cartoon from your childhood. The goal? To not see a human face on FB until Monday, December 6th. Join the fight against child abuse. Copy & paste to your staus to invite your friends to do the same."

It was a really fun idea. Its really cool to see everyone post about their favorite cartoons. There were some surprises in there, cartoons I’d forgotten about. On the other side though, it also demonstrated how shallow folks are. When I saw the first post, I did some research and tried to find out its origins. I was hoping it was a national compaign for some kind of kids charity. Nope, appears to be strictly a popular idea that swept through Facebook. I wondered if I should change my avatar. I try not to give into the those insulting fads like “If you love Jesus…, If you don’t hate America…, If you care about your mother…, If you’re not a terrorist…., If you find foot fungus unpleasant… post on your status.” While I post all kinds of stupid and wasteful things on my status I try to keep “annoying” away from good causes. A ton of my friends changed their pics on Facebook this weekend. Here are some quick stats I trolled from my friends; 63 people out 351 changed their pics, 1 dealt with it being a possible connection to pedophilia and noted that Child Abuse awareness month is actually in April, 1 recognized the futility but also the fun of comics, and 1 recognized the value and posted a phone number if you need help.

So what does changing my profile pic to a cartoon picture do to stop child abuse?

1. It keeps child abuse in the forefront of people’s thoughts. It’s easy to not want to think about it.

2. It makes it socially acceptable to discuss.

3. Cartoons make talking about something uncomfortable palletable (who doesn’t want to change his profile picture to an awesome cartoon.

4.)Makes me feel better about a very real problem without obligating me to do anything difficult or sincere.

What it doesn’t do

1.) Pretty much anything of value.

2.) Stop abusers. No one needs to be told child abuse is bad.

3.) Offer help to those who are being abused or have been abused. Say someone was abused as a child, don’t you want to offer them avenues to help in this semi-anonymous way.

4.) Offer tools for those that have or are witnessing abuse to do anything about it. So if someone saw something abusive what do you do?

5.) Address the myths surrounding abuse (EG Myth #1 if you were abused you will be abusive towards your own children).

6.) Offer ways for people to become involved or volunteer.

7.) Offer solutions

We have tremendous power to influence one another. This was a great idea to raise awareness but it must be couple with useful tools. If you care about breast cancer awareness and screenings you will make sure your mother, aunts, and sisters get a mammogram, you don't wear a pink ribbon. If you care about being more ecologically minded, you will reuse not just put stickers on your car. If you care about soldiers you will write them when they are deployed and send care packages to their families not just post flags on your status. If you’re a Christian you’ll do more than just posting “Jesus is lord of my life. If you don’t post this then Jesus will deny you on judgement day”.

This kind of activity has been around for years on the web. It feels good to the poster but produces nothing and makes people very uncomfortable when we stumble across it. Do something don’t just post something.

Sex is great. God gave us sex. It was meant to be something intimate between two people. It produces great things like kids, deeper intimacy, and pleasure (though usually in the reverse order). In the wrong context or done alone it can get all weird and creepy. How do I say this politely?....I’m tired of all of the emotional self-pleasuring on Facebook. There is a proper context for this kind of thing. Folks don’t seem to understand that these kinds of posting are egotistical onanism; unproductive, awkward, and creepy.

So if you have every been abused I want you to know that I do care and want to offer you a way to get help. If you want to talk, call me. It'll be weird and it'll probably be uncomfortable but I really do want you get stronger and feel more accepted. Here are some resources that might be a good starting place.

National Domestic Violence Hotline 1.800.799.SAFE (7233)

Information from the Human Society (they protect both kids and animals) on how to protect kids from abuse

211-if available in you area can give you resources to seek out help or report abuse

241-KIDS- you can report suspected abuse or neglect anonymously in the Cincinnati area.

Jason

Black Bean Soup from Casa del Rey

Mon, 01 Nov 2010 23:22:00 +0000

So, I scheduled myself to work 4-5 days in a row starting this Friday so that I can then have off the following Thursday, Friday, and Saturday for the medical missions conference and use this week to send out resumes and make calls. This spacing will make it easier to call offices while I’m awake rather than just before I got to bed or as I’m getting up. No one wants to hire someone that sounds foggy at 10am or worse admits they just got up at 4pm. Plus, it’s easier for me to get errands done during the day which leads me into today entry.

I was served the best frickin black bean soup while I was at the Hotel Casa Del Rey in Chichicastenango, Guatemala. Chichi is world famous for its market on Thursday and Saturday and is also the location of the church where the Pop Wuj was rediscovered. Located just a few minutes from the market its situated in the hillside and is close enough to walk to market but just far enough that the air is clean and the night is quiet. The hotel also doubles as a job training facility. Their ministry is to train local Guatemalan in hospitality, cooking, and ministry. It’s a beautiful place; you can see some of the pictures I took of it here. The hotel is competitively priced and a very safe, clean option. Plus they also have a pool. Normally black bean soup is OK but this was so good that it was startling. After profusely complimenting the cook, I asked if I could have the recipe. The waiter came back out with the cook and hand written instructions.

Should you be going to Chichi I encourage you to stay there not only to support the ministry but also for a bowl of the best black bean chili I’ve ever tried. I gave it a try to today. Below is my translation with alterations or trouble spots in parenthesis.

Black bean soup

Ingredients

½ pound of black beans (Dried or cans? I usually start with dry beans. I/2 dry or reconstituted? However since most bags of beans come in ½ pounds I think I got this one right. Though I used a full pound of dried beans)

Chopped Onion-one onion (unsure what kind of onion-I used a med yellow and that seemed about right)

Chile pimiento-One medium bell pepper (chile pimiento can be a few different kinds. I used a red pepper because I remember the red flecks.)

Chopped bacon-4 strips of bacon

Salt to taste

Directions

1. Cook the beans after liquefying them. (I liquefied mine in a blender after prepping beans (aka boiling and softening them)

2. Fry the bacon, onion, green pepper. (I fried the bacon first and set it aside and then fried the onions and red pepper in the grease. I should have chopped the onions more finely. I fried them on a med heat until the onions were caramelized. You don’t want crunchy onions. Same goes for the bacon).

3. Cook with a sprig (literally branch) of hierba buena* and salt to taste (this actually was a part of step 2 but I moved it to step 3.

4. Serve with chunk of toasted bread with butter (margarine).

*Also spelled Yerba Buena. This can refer to several kinds of spices in the mint/coriander family-I went to our international market and couldn’t find any there. All over Latin America there are different members of the coriander family that are called hierba buena. I bought both Mexican dried spearmint and fresh cilantro. I added them to different batches and while close to the taste I know it must be another similar herb. The species most commonly found in Central America according to Wikipedia is known as Mentha Citrata and may go by Bergamot mint, Eau-de-cologne Mint, Horsemint, Lemon Mint, Lime Mint, Orange Mint,Pineapple Mint, Su Nanesi, Water Capitate Mint, Water Mint, Watermunt, Wild Water Mint

I’m disappointed that the soup didn’t come out the same but it was still really good. Very simple to make and very satisfying. Best part is that despite the bacon it’s incredibly nutritious food and tastes great. Black beans are a wonder food. Rich in protein, iron (15% in one serving), calcium (4%), fiber (60 %!!!!!), and no fat. I’ve been trying to add more beans to my diet. They’re cheap, nutritious, taste pretty good (once you know how to season them), and have lots of fiber. Below is what I calculated the nutritional content of the soup to be. Take it with a grain of salt since I’m not expert and went by package numbers and everything has been estimated. A bowl is about 2 cups and I’d say I have about 10 servings in my pot

I think next time I’ll had in some cumin and maybe a little cinnamon. If you have any suggestions feel free to leave them in the comments section for me and for others. Any of you folks in Guatemala, if you can tell me exactly the name of the spice that…would…be….awesome. Post it here and I’ll give it a go on if I can find it her.

Remember November 11-13 is the medical missions conference down in Louisville, KY. I’ll be there all three days; hopefully I’ll see you there. I’ll be taking my resumes with me and maybe I’ll get a lead for job or maybe even an interview (it would be great to be able to do an interview there, instead of maybe flying to Texas or driving to Nashville). Looks like my cousins Charleston, Max, and my Tio Tomas will be going down for a day. Charleston is thinking of studying to be a doctor after high school so I encouraged him to come down. I’m really excited that they’re going to be able to come down. I’m hoping to maybe see some folks from work there as well. Whenever there’s a convention like this big decisions get made. Regular people doing really great things. I’m so excited my toes are all tingly.

Have a great week.

Jason

Its that time of year again...

Sat, 30 Oct 2010 16:30:00 +0000

Buenos Dias.

I am so excited that its time again for the Global Missions Health Conference. If you've ever considered doing a medical mission trip or maybe something a bit more long term, this is the place to be. Here's a brochure that has the basic info. Consider it my personal invitation. Would love to see you at the conference. I'll be the third tall guy with brown hair you see.

Que Dios les bendiga,

Jason

The "B" word shudder

Thu, 28 Oct 2010 08:44:00 +0000

The night before boards, I stayed in a Holiday Inn. I made sure that I had a room far from the front desk and not near any exits. I checked for bedbugs before I brought my bags into the room. My review books, fiction, and a comfortable set of clothes were laid out for the next morning. I’d already set the rooms two alarms for about 0530-almost 3 hours before my test time- when I called the front desk for a 0630 wakeup call since I wanted to be out the door for breakfast at about that time. After I’d settled in, I went to the Kroger’s across the street to purchase a healthy dinner that wouldn’t cause any gas, indigestion, bloating, or potentially diarrhea. I also purchased Gas-X, antacids, and Motrin just in case. Then I drove to the testing site so that I could find it easily in the morning. Since I’d made sure that the hotel was close by, it took less than 10 minutes to find it. When I got back, I worked out on the stationary bike for almost 40 minutes since I wanted to sleep well. Upon returning to my room I took a luxurious hot shower (my apartment has a safety mechanism that keeps the water from getting more than tepid). I sat down in front of the TV opened my dinner of salad with chicken (sans cheese and droplets of salad dressing) and the biggest grapes I’d seen in a long time. I reviewed some study materials and then decided to turn in.

I slept fitfully waking every 40-50 minutes and then falling back to sleep. At about 0030, I decided to go out to my car and take a couple of Benadryl to help me sleep (I usually take some kind of antihistamine at bedtime since I have an allergy to dust mites). A cold rain had begun to fall but I was in a hurry to fall asleep so I just rolled up my pant legs and went out in my bare feet. The cold rain felt good against my achy feet but it also woke me further. I spent 30 minutes playing Angry Birds on my iPod before I drifted off.

An hour later I awoke and realized that in all of my planning I had not spent any time with God. All of this prep and I had forgotten the central thing. Whether I passed or not was a miniscule concern. Deeply humbled and mortified I spent some time with Him. After all the effort I’d put in to get everything just right, I’d failed to recognize how much more God had done. I remember thinking about a superstitious acquaintance that believed that if everything wasn’t “just perfect” that if the proper ritual or devotion was not in place, God would instantly take retribution. Should I not have pass this friend would (I imagined) likely point to this as the cause. Meh. If I didn’t pass in the morning, so be it. I may have failed in the previous day’s duty but I know Who I serve (even if often very, very poorly). I spent a very short amount of time in worship and then fell fitfully asleep.

The next morning I woke late about 0600 and hustled to get to breakfast. I went to the hotel buffet choosing oatmeal, fruit, scrambled eggs, water, a single cup of coffee, and water (complex carbs, protein, caffeine, and water to insure proper hydration). I sat and reviewed the topic of anemia, perceiving no pressure or stress just excitement. (And irritation that the bar’s TVs were blaring crap about the upcoming election). I checked in with God. I took my morning meds after eating, paid my bill, and arrived at the testing center at 0750. I hadn’t wanted to arrive too early and have needed to wait.

They processed me relatively quickly. All of my finger prints were scanned and my picture was taken multiple times.

ID please. State your name, address, and social. Again please. Is this correct? Is this your name address and birthday? Sign here…and here. Stand in front of the camera again please. Are your pockets empty? Do you have your key to the locker for your belongings? See the screens? We will be recording and monitoring you. Here are pencils and scrap paper. These are the rules of the test… Any questions? Place your fingers again on the scanner.

All was done in the polite almost gentle fashion of someone adapted to working with very anxious (and probably belligerent) people. His speech was clear and his words well chosen though not stiff or sharply scripted.

I sat down in my cubicle, placed the center’s earmuffs on, and started the test. The test allows you to flag questions so that you can review them later and possibly change answers. I went through the 175 questions in little over an hour and a half then took a break to use the restroom. Please stand in front of the camera, place your fingers here, and sign here. I used the restroom, washed my face, continued my dialogue with God, and then came back to the test. Please sign here, please empty your pockets, stand in front of the camera, and place your fingers here. I sat back down at my cubicle and began going over the questions I’d flagged (which was any question that I thought about more than once). Deep breath, stretch, pray for focus. Then I reviewed every question again. Deep breath, stretch, and pray. I went back over my flagged questions again. Then I submitted my answers. Deep breath, stretch, and pray. Lastly the computer requires you to evaluate the test center and the test itself.

Collecting my pencils and paper, I headed back out to the monitor. Stand in front of the camera, place your fingers here (he had to hold my fingers still over the scanner-for some reason they were trembling- I laughed at this), and sign here and here and here. Go pick up your belongings from the locker and your results should be done by the time you get back. Deep breathe, stretch, and quick prayer of thanks that it was over.

Looking back I didn’t make eye contact with the examiner. He stated simply, “you passed” and then turned around to hand me my results. I took the paper but my hands were trembling, “What?”

"You passed."

"What does this paper mean? What is my score?" I couldn’t read it, my hands were trembling. "This is your score here."

" What did I need?"

"This number here."

"What does that mean?"

"You passed." He was smiling now. "Here let me put my seal on it. Are you OK?”

"Uh, Yes. So I passed.?”

I felt a bit wobbly so I went to sit in the lobby area and started to getting teary eyed. Then realized that I must look distressing to those coming in for their own tests, I went out to my car. I reread the results and then called my sister. I didn’t realized how overcome I was until I heard my own voice breaking as I left her a message. I took a few minutes, prayed, and then went looking for the park that I knew was nearby. The week prior, I’d planned on having a time of worship regardless of what my outcome had been. The desire now was overwhelming, almost frantic to get somewhere alone with God.

After turning off my cell phone, I grabbed the ratty flannel I keep in my trunk (when you grow up in northern Ohio you always keep a jacket in the trunk) and shoved my iPod (it has a bible on it) in my pocket. I found a bike trail that wound next to the Olentangy River. There were few people there despite the sunny day. I spent several minutes worshiping, praying, and reading. It was such an amazing time of worship, thanksgiving, and blissful joy. I know the river bank that I sat on, the hawks I watched overhead, and the smell of fallen leaves will be pleasantly imprinted in a deeper place in my memory indices.

I took the test on Thursday morning. Friday through Tuesday I worked 13 hour shifts each night. People shared their congratulations, “Atta boys”, and “I knew you could do it”s. Weekend crew brought in forbidden food to celebrate and I was glad I got to work with them soon after passing my boards. I’d worked nearly every Friday and Saturday for nearly 3 years because of school. Still, I didn’t think much about the test at all. I’d planned on sending out resumes on Friday and was already making my lists of things to do.

After getting off work on Wednesday morning, I stayed up so that I could change to sleeping at night. I visited Harriet Beacher Stowe’s house/museum and then went to Cincinnati Art Museum, thinking that I might not get another chance to see it should I get a job outside of the area. I’d packed my camera and took pics (sans flash) of things that were interesting; A golden plate from Darius the Great of Persia, Cuneiform text from an Assyrian palace, a 1300 y/o terra cotta horse from China, a Damascan prayer room built during the Ottoman rule, Rookwood pottery that has an image of a hawk I’m sure will be the template for my upcoming tattoo, and ornate, intricate watches from the around the revolutionary war. lt was nerdilicious. Then I slept for a very long time. The next morning I woke very late and then slept a very long time that evening. I met with Belinda on Saturday night and I relished sharing with her. We ate waffles. I drove home and then Sunday came. I worked the last two nights and feel like that perhaps tonight is my first real day of rest.

I’m still pondering people’s reaction to my passing boards. Some of it seemed misplaced or awkward. Others seemed even happier than me; this was really fun to watch. So much kindness and apparently so many, many prayers on my behalf. Yesterday someone told me “Congratulations. That really is an accomplishment. You should be proud.” The emotion behind it was strong and from an unexpected source. This is what I find myself thinking of tonight.

A few years ago I was startled to realize that I’m a bit of an athlete. I worked out for years largely because I was in the military and felt it was the right thing to do. I was never a jock; I never played basketball or football. It was always a means to an end. I was also never perfect in my diet or exercise regimen. This year I got into the habit of working out before studying at the library. Now that school is out I work out at the end of every shift before going home. It diminishes my stress, stretches out my sore back, and helps me clear my head before I go to bed. I’ve had a net change of about 40 pounds this year. I lost 30-35 pounds of fat and put on about 5 pounds of muscle (mostly in my legs). Being physically active feels better and has enabled me to do much more than had I might have without it. I became an athlete unintentionally by doing athletic thing intentionally.

Today I’m startled to realize that I’m a big “B” believer. I have always been amazed at people that seem to trust so blindly in God. Often they were the kind of people that irritated because they seemed so fluffy and emotional. I didn’t want all that effusive religious goo to get on me. I loved people that had what I call “dirty faith”. These are those that are really messed up people that stumble and turned again to God. Folks that seemed so much more real that were strong enough (or made themselves vulnerable) to share their real struggles or despite their weakness were doing what we were made to do in service or worship. Much of what I’ve done over the years is because I believe it to be the right thing to do not because I felt emotionally compelled to do so. This doesn’t mean that I didn’t believe in God or that I didn’t believe in the reality of spiritual life, I did and I do. I’ve always perceived myself as a reluctant believer, the adopted but other. Over the years, I have shifted from struggling with what my faith is or means, to seeking out His presence. My realization that I’m a Believer means that I’ve more fully accepted what it means to Believe and how I ought to relate to God.

This is a bit more complex than I can write about here. (and probably way less interesting)

Getting my masters and passing boards was an incredible accomplishment. I cannot see myself as the sole originator of this milestone. I believe that God cleared ienough rubbles off my path that it wasn’t too great for me to struggle over. Huge boulders and bramble that I never foresaw were cleared before I came around the bend. Excess weight in my backpack that I wouldn't put down God shouldered and made it tolerable until I was grown up enough to want to be rid of it. I shudder to think about what I’m refusing even now to be rid of that I haven't wanted to acknowledge. I believe that as I’ve wandered from the path God has goaded, guided, and caressed me back toward the right direction. I know I’ve pulled boulders down over paths that God would have had me walk if I’d been wiser or more humble. Still I'm here looking out at this incredible vista. God isn’t a Sherpa guiding up the face of a mountain so that I may accomplish great things for the sake of accomplishment itself. God enables His servants to do more at times because of His desire for His creation to return to Him. Our accomplishments are vain unless we offer them to the God that has included us in His plans. I am proud that I passed my boards but I value so much more the incredible time of worship and kinship with my Remaker afterwards.

Que Dios les bendiga en su busqueda de Su voluntad.

Jason

I believe help my unbelief

Tue, 12 Oct 2010 17:31:00 +0000

I hesitated as to whether or not to post this entry as it feels very raw and a bit histrionic. I think its an important thing even if extremely uncomfortable thing to share. I began writing this blog over 3 years ago as I was midway through my bachelors program at UC. My purpose was to learn how to maintain a website and to introduce myself to folks. I’m a strong believer that you should know those that you support in missions both their strengths and weaknesses. Missionaries need people to care enough to pray regularly, hold them accountable, and offer respite when necessary. So now I’m at another crossroads in my path to become a nurse practitioner. Thursday I sit for my boards. If I pass I plan on working in the US for about 3 years to get experience before going overseas. In 1994, while working in the barrios of La Dolarita-Caracas, Venezuela I was moved to offer my life to God and humanity by serving in medicine. Its taken me much longer than I anticipated to get to this place. Its been a very long road for me.

A while back someone posted that “God is with you” in regards to my boards. It made me think and reflect a bit. The last four years have been particularly rough-lots of change and work. I don’t only want God to be with me, I want to be with God. I don’t want Him to always be seeking me out as I stumble through things. The power and holy quotient will always weight heavier on His side. I blogged after going to Nicaragua about “humble expectation”.(Click here to read the original post) Today when I go think about Thursday I approach Him in humble expectation. I know that because of metallic blood that was shed I can come into His presence. I know that I can ask for forgiveness or strength or patience or wisdom, I’m His adopted son. (I John 1:8-9, Mat 7:7-11)

Saturday I was reading in Luke and came across this in chapter 3:3-18

He went into all the country around the Jordan, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. As is written in the book of the words of Isaiah the prophet:

"A voice of one calling in the desert,

'Prepare the way for the Lord,

make straight paths for him.

Every valley shall be filled in,

every mountain and hill made low.

The crooked roads shall become straight,

the rough ways smooth.

And all mankind will see God's salvation.' "[a]

John said to the crowds coming out to be baptized by him, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not begin to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father.' For I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. The axe is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire."

"What should we do then?" the crowd asked.

John answered, "The man with two tunics should share with him who has none, and the one who has food should do the same."

Tax collectors also came to be baptized. "Teacher," they asked, "what should we do?"

"Don't collect any more than you are required to," he told them.

Then some soldiers asked him, "And what should we do?"

He replied, "Don't extort money and don't accuse people falsely—be content with your pay."

The people were waiting expectantly and were all wondering in their hearts if John might possibly be the Christ. John answered them all, 'I baptize you with water. But one more powerful than I will come, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his barn, but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.'And with many other words John exhorted the people and preached the good news to them."

Wow such strong language. When I read "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?”it startled me. Can you imagine someone coming asking for forgiveness and confession after a sermon on repentance and the preacher responds like this. Its confusing and startling. John is trying to reset the basis for why these people where coming for forgiveness. You can’t expect forgiveness based just on your heritage or your just your religious affiliation. Repentence must come from some place deeper. The kind of repentence that produces authentic change. Change that invites God to come in and tear things apart and rebuild us as He would do. It’s a humbling passage. Still I come to God with humble expectation. I can because of Yeshua.

My prayer to God is that I would pass my boards if He feels that I am ready. I pray that He gives me patience and focus during the test. I pray that God will help me focus on the long things should I not pass. I will double down in my studies to retake this. I’ve asked for comfirmation that this is the path that He would have me be on and He has done so. I pray that I will not set this up as a test of God’s faithfulness. I will not test the Lord my God. I pray that if I pass that I can use the privilege as a tool to bless others in His name. Whether I pass or not I will give glory to God.

16 years since that first trip and I feel like a horse pawing impatiently at the starting gate. Have you seen them before the gates open? They restly push their body against the walls. The sound of shaking harness and snorting nostrils momentarily become audible as the crowd quiets in anticipation. Muscles contract and relax in anticipation. Just a few more moments and then the race is truly on. Strength beyond strength. Heart and lungs straining against weakness and gravity. I want to tackle that test so badly words can’t describe the emotion.

Yet I know that I am already running. I’ve already entered the great race. I have stumbled and fallen. I have bruises on my shoulders, scrapes on my knees, a limp in my step, and tightness in chest. Other runners have needed to stop and help me back up. Some of had cried out words encouragement, other whispered warnings of the lion that wanders in the woods. My legs feel weak and tremble at the thought of needing to start a new.

I Phillipians 3: 10-15 I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. All of us who are mature should take such a view of things. And if on some point you think differently, that too God will make clear to you.

Oh my God, what a wonder You are! You have given strength when I haven’t deserved it and used me even in my rebellion. I stand ready to accept Your will though I know that it may hurt. I will accept the outcome of Thursday as guidance as to whether I need more study or am ready to begin to serve as an NP. I am afraid to fail because I am weary. Its been sooo long. Even so You have been faithful to Your promises. When I come to You there is peace in spite of pain. So often I have neglected the fullness of worship that You deserve. I believe help my unbelief. Though Your name is unknown but You offer both your Son and Spirit to me and I praise you. I praise Your grace, holiness, might, and justice. I long for the day when You are worshiped in fullness.

Jason

In the Land of Jason

Four Fraternal Farming Fellows

Update 15 May

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Eye of the storm

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The "B" word *shudder*

I believe help my unbelief

The "B" word shudder