Absent For 64 Days

It's been awhile since I've written. 64 days to be exact. And it's strange because so much has happened during those 64 days that one would think many a new post would have been delivered, but I find the more things that happen the less likely I am write.

As many of you may already know I have accepted a new job. I will be taking the position as Executive Director of a pregnancy center called REACH.

I'm super excited about the opportunity to help implement infrastructure, as well as develop a center that will not only help many women, but be instrumental in saving the lives of children. I'm thankful for the chance to take my passion for the prolife movement and utilize it in an influential manner to affect the Northern New York region.

Is there a lot of responibility? A ton.

Is there much faith trusted in me by the board? Massive amounts.

Is there great expectation for the work I'll do? There is.

Yet the daunting task ahead of me does not dissuade me, but rather, it excites and energizes me – driving me to push myself to new realms of understanding and creativity.

The weeks and months ahead prove to be busy, demanding, and full of excitement and vigor. I will do my best to post as often as I can, but not a promise I will make.

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With the acceptance of a new job this means my time at church is going to come to an end. I have worked here since February 2012 – two years and eight months. During much of my time here, whether visibly displayed or internally, I was discontent with where I was at, wishing to leave, to move, to not be working at church. It has only been the last three months or so that I have really enjoyed being here and finally in my heart, been content.

And of course it's right at the moment of contentment, finally being ok and comfortable, that the Lord opens up a new door and moves me.

There is a sadness at the thought that I will be leaving my work at CFC. I care greatly for the local church and its success. I have loved doing all I can to make it a more efficient place and setting up processes that would allow for greater growth and expansion.

To think I'll be leaving this place, the chair, the desk, the girl I've worked next to for 2.8 years...

Big changes.


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If you think I have been an angel to work with throughout the last 2.8 years.... well... you'd be wrong. I wish I could say I came to CFC with energy, excitement, joy, a desire to build and stir up the people around me.

I began my job in a season where I was not doing well spiritually. And for whatever reason they still hired me. And it took several months, maybe even a year before I began to be a team builder.

Then even over the next year and half I was discontent. I wanted to leave.... always. I was here, but my heart was somewhere else, anywhere else.

Yet the leadership, the pastors, they continued to invest in me, to love me, to have patience and speak words of kindness. I personally would have fired me. But for some reason they didn't. And for this I owe a great debt of gratitude to them.

But it wouldn't be fitting to write about my time and soon departure from CFC without acknowledging the patience, grace, forgiveness, mercy, kindness, compassion, and love of the girl who sat three feet away from me for the last 2.8 years. She put up with more than most people ever have to deal with at a job. I think she probably saw her dad more from meetings she had to schedule because of me than she did just normally.

Anyways, she might disagree about all the compassion and caring, and maybe she would think it wasn't always executed perfectly, but I know how both spiritually and emotionally distraught I have been at times, and she was there through it all.

So if she acts a little crazy, or a lot crazy, and does things that causes you to raise an eyebrow, or posts a bajillion selfies – just smile and realize that it was probably me that caused this type of behavior.


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So all this to say, I'm here in the North Country for this next season. Not sure how long it will be, but this I know, I don't want a day to go by where my heart longs to be somewhere else. This is where the Lord has me and I want to be here 100%.

Wakeboarding Part III

Last time on Thoughts From A Recovering Cynic:

At this point my arm was throbbing and relief was all I wanted. It was frozen in an awkward position and I just wanted it to be relaxed.

"As fast as possible" I said.

Little did I know the pain I felt at that moment was but a taste of what was to come. 

----

I arrived, swim trunks still wet and shirtless to the emergency room. To my surprise (and thankfulness) no one else was present and therefore they ushered me right into the ER without even having to wait.

First stop was to see the nurse at the office. He took my blood pressure, asked me questions, and got me checked in. As I sat askew, clearly listing to the left, he asked if it was my left shoulder I had dislocated. I said "Well if it isn't then I have bigger issues than a dislocated shoulder. Little Quasimodo going on here."

Finally the congenial interrogation ended and I was helped to the hospital room where I was greeted by 2 nurses and 2 doctors. One of the doctors asked me to lay face-down on the bed with my left arm and shoulder hanging off. I couldn't. I mean, I didn't know how to lay down when my arm was frozen in front of me. The slightest movements sent excruciating pain throughout my shoulder and back.

With the help of the doctors and a good dosage of pain, I was able to lay down.

Then the doctors began discussing the next course of action with the nurses. In my mind I was going to receive a shot, morphine, something strong, so that I would feel nothing. It only made sense to numb the pain. After all I wasn't in some triage unit in the middle of the jungle 80 years ago. We have modern medicine, modern techniques.

However this was not the case.

Soon both doctors and nurses came to my bed with one nurse grabbing my right arm, another holding my feet, and one doctor grabbing my dangling left hand and the other placing both hands on my left shoulder. I had an uncomfortable feeling with what was about to happen. And without warning the doctor holding my left hand began pulling down and the other doctor pushed on my shoulder.

Now I'm no warrior when it comes to experience with pain. I have neither fought in war, been stabbed, shot, burned, nor given birth. But the pain I felt as they began to pull and push on my shoulder was overwhelming.

Prior to that moment I thought I handled pain well. Clearly I'm weaker than I think because tears formed and streamed down my face while I attempted to silently bear the pain. However I found myself hyperventilating and unable to slow down my breathing.

The doctors kept saying "You need to calm your breathing. Stop tensing your right arm. Stop breathing so fast! Think that you're back on the beach! Don't tense up!"

Yeah. Because this is just like being back on the beach! What type of beaches do you doctors go to anyways??

They didn't stop. They kept going, pushing, pulling, trying to get my shoulder to pop back in.

Nothing.

I'm not sure how many attempts were made, but finally they stopped.

The doctors and the nurses let go and I lay there, paralyzed in pain and breathing uncontrollably fast.

The doctors decided upon discourse that because of my regular workout routine over the previous four months there was "too much muscle" around my shoulder to allow it to be pushed back in.

Normally I would have been flattered by such a comment. But in that moment I was hating myself for having ever gone to the gym.

The doctors decided 10mg of morphine would be needed before attempting to put my should back in. They said "after you get some morphine you won't feel a thing."

After receiving the morphine the doctors returned. This time they had me sit up. One doctor wrapped a sheet around my chest and the other took a sheet and wrapped in around my left wrist. Then they began pulling in opposite directions.

Now if they thought morphine was going to numb the pain they were tragically wrong. Not only did the morphine not numb the pain, but it felt as if I had not been given any morphine at all. I could feel with every synchronized pull, pain shoot throughout my entire left side.

At some point I had hoped to feel a "pop" and then a relief from pain. But this never happened. After pulling several times, the doctors ceased their medieval medical practices and felt my shoulder. "It feels like it's in more than it was before. Not sure it's in all the way though." said one doctor.

Both an X-ray and CAT scan were required before determining my shoulder had indeed gone back in.

I left 2 hours after arriving, exhausted and sore. After grabbing a strong pain killer I promptly headed back to the graduation party to finish out the day's festivities.

Wakeboarding Part II

Last time on Thoughts From A Recovering Cynic:

It happened so quickly I barely had time to think. Next thing I knew I had slammed into the water head first. My body completed a full 360 rotation with the board coming out of the water. After my head had surfaced it took only a second to get my bearings and realize what had happened...  

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Instinctively I raised my right hand – it's the sign we use with water sports to signal that you're ok. But the reason I had lifted my right arm was because I wasn't able to move my left. If fact, I had lost feeling in that arm altogether and there was a warm pain moving down the left side of my shoulder and back.

There wasn't any point in panicking. I was clearly not bleeding and no bones were protruding. And how bad can one really get hurt from water?

My left foot had come lose from the wakeboard while somersaulting across the water and so I used my right arm to unstrap my right foot. I sat there, suspended in water by my life-jacket, thankful for such an invention.

The boat returned to pick me up and my friend who had been spotting asked "You ok?". I shook my head and said "No". I started to swim towards the boat, but realized that the left side of my body (from the waist up) felt paralyzed. I wasn't able to feel or control it. Swimming with half your body paralyzed is shockingly hard to do so my friend tossed me the rope and I grabbed onto it while he pulled me in.

Getting into the boat proved to be much more challenging than I expected. I figured with one arm, and my dominate arm at that, I should be able to pull myself into the boat.

Nope.

Both my friends had to help in order to secure me into the boat where they gingerly removed my life-jacket. One of my friends remarked "Ohh. Yeah. You dislocated your shoulder."

For a split second there was a rush of relief. I had feared I had somehow broken it.

They sat me down and we headed to shore.

The festivities on land had continued and laughter and joyous cries of little ones could be heard in the air. As we approached for docking a few friends on a jetski asked if everything was alright. I'm not sure if I responded or someone else, but if words didn't convey it, perhaps the drop of my left shoulder did – things weren't ok.

We got on land and went looking for the one person who could help us the most – a nurse. She took one look at my shoulder and said "No. I can't fix that. He's going to need to go to the ER."

ER? Seriously? Can't I just move my arm back into place somehow and it be all ok?

I attempted to just move my arm. A sudden jolt of pain ran down my arm, through my shoulder, and down my back.

Nope. Not moving it into place myself.

My friend Dan quickly volunteered to drive me to the ER and as my friends accompanied me to his car I passed a few attendees who were curious as to what happened. After explaining, one attendee said "Should you call your dad? He's disloacted his shoulder many times before hasn't he?"

It was true. My dad had dislocated his shoulder a pleathura of times.

I said "Yeah. I can call him. Just not with my left arm."

I knew if I could still make jokes I was going to be ok.

As I approached my friend's car, my dad happened to be just arriving and came to find out why I was hunched over and surrounded by people. I explained to him what had happened and he said he would meet me at the ER.

I was slowly helped into Dan's car and we headed to the hospital.

Dan, who had dislocated his shoulder but a year ago asked "Do you want me to drive carefully to avoid bumps or faster to get there sooner?"

At this point my arm was throbbing and relief was all I wanted. It was frozen in an awkward position and I just wanted it to be relaxed.

"As fast as possible" I said.

Little did I know the pain I felt at that moment was but a taste of what was to come.

....to be continued

Wakeboarding Part I

Last Saturday I found myself attending the celebration of Justin Daniels' graduation from high school. The festivities were held on the water and with the weather being such a beautiful accompaniment to the day, water activities were a must.

I sat enjoying the refreshing breeze, watching as several enjoyed the water on jet-skis, and surrounded by kids darting about, happily jeering as they ran in and out of the water's edge. Besides being completely picturesque, it really was the perfect day to be out on the water — wakeboarding.

Two of my friends offered to take me out on the boat — one driving, the other spotting — as I attempted to warm up this year's season of wakeboarding.

[NOTE: For those of you who don't know what wakeboarding is, it's like snowboarding on water.]

I was prepared to catch many an edge and have what I expected to be some pretty fantastic face-plants. I told my spotter he should video my first run of the season because he was no doubt going to catch some hilariously painful face-plants.

See with wakeboarding, it's almost inevitable that you will catch an edge at some point. Kind of like Russian Roulette really. It's just a matter of time. And being the first run of the season, it was guaranteed.

I jumped in the water in an attempt to quickly acclimate to the freezing temperatures. And although cold, it was a complimentary contrast to the heat of the day's sun.

So there I was. Sitting in the cold water. Holding tightly onto the rope. The rope had just pulled taught and my friends in the boat were looking at me, awaiting my signal to take off. I was close to shore and it was the first run of the season for me. In fact, it was the first run for anyone behind the boat this year. So in a way, I was christening both the boat (since it's engine rebuild) and the season. I also knew people would be watching from shore to see if I would make it out of the water on my first attempt.

I hadn't wakeboarded behind a boat in 3 years. I couldn't remember how the pull worked. Being towed behind a jet-ski is vastly different from that of a boat. Not only can a jet-ski pull you out of the water quicker, but the wake of a jet-ski is quite small — which means you are less likely to catch an edge resulting in a faceplant.

There was no point in sitting in the water any longer. I gave the signal. I heard the low rumble of the boat as the motors began to roar and felt the resistance of the cold water as I slowly began to rise.

I was fortunate enough to lift out on the first try. I'm not going to lie. It felt good.

It took merely seconds to realize that the wake of the boat was far greater than that of the jet-ski. I knew that if I was going to go "over" the wake, I would need to jump it. Not a big deal. That's really the point of wakeboarding after all.

One thing you must know is that when I jump the wake, I hold onto the rope with only one hand. This allows my other hand to be free for stability. I use the opposite hand of the direction I'm jumping. So if I'm jumping the wake to the left, I hold it with my right hand. If I'm jumping to the right, my left.

I started off simple. Small jumps. Nothing fancy.

I landed them. I felt good.

So I did the next logical thing. I made the jumps a little bigger.

I was 60 or so seconds into my run when as I jumped the wake to the right, I landed, but my weight was too far forward. Instead of catching a toe or heel edge, I had caught the front tip — perhaps the worst place to catch an edge.

It happened so quickly I barely had time to think. Next thing I knew I had slammed into the water head first. My body completed a full 360 rotation with the board coming out of the water. After my head had surfaced it took only a second to get my bearings and realize what had happened...

...to be continued.

The Little Girl I Never Knew

Today began like any other day in the office. My Classical music station on Pandora played in the background as I sat and sifted through emails, enjoying the quiet slow start to my day. 

Around mid morning I received a phone call from my dad. After my initial salutation it was chillingly clear that something was wrong. Before I even knew what it was my heart had quickened because I knew this phone call involved death. I didn't know who though. My mind was racing, going through names, faces, trying to think of who or how someone I knew could have died.

It took only a few seconds for him to relay the news. My cousin and her husband had lost their first and only child this morning to what appeared to be SIDS.

I had never met my cousin's little girl. Her name was Audrie and she was born on April 6 of this year. My cousin had married in the fall of 2012 and both her and her husband were excited young parents who loved this little girl so very much.

Over Thanksgiving I had the opportunity to spend it with them and my extended family, and my cousin, she was probably the happiest momma ever to be. Such a young and eager expecting momma - practically having to practice self-control in anticipation of meeting her little girl.

My cousin had only two months to mother and love Audrie. And mother and love she did.

I honestly don't have a box for all of this. Although close with my cousin and extended family, it still seems like just a horrible rumor - that this tragedy could not have actually befallen my young cousin and her husband. Married not even 2 years, to lose such a treasure so young, to begin your married walk together with such loss, I don't understand. I don't even know if I can sympathize. It's just too... too tragic.

This doesn't happen to people I know. I've heard about SIDS. It happens to... you know... other people. People that are a statistic. People I know, family, they don't lose their 2 month old little girls.

But the reality is, death is no respecter of persons. 

Yet even amidst the tears that my cousin, her husband, and my entire extended family share - there is a hope in Jesus Christ. My cousin and her husband fiercely love the Lord. Her family does too. And through such great loss, there is an assurance that Christ remains in control even when everything else feels like it is completely out of control.

My family is grieving. My cousin and her husband have a hard road to walk ahead of them. Our whole family has a hard road to walk ahead of us as we stand side by side with my cousin, her husband, and her family over this next season. But I have a confidence that somehow, and honestly I don't know how, but somehow, God is going to redeem this.

Death is an enemy. A tragic, horrific enemy. But in Christ there is life - eternal life.

What Words Could Not Tell

Since I can remember, I have always turned to the piano and composition as a way to deal with my thoughts and feelings. Whether joy or sadness, frustration or anger, somehow the piano was always the outlet I turned to to express what words could not. And often pieces would arise from my time sitting at the piano as I "played" away my thoughts.

The last several months have found me sitting for hours at the piano. And from this time, many pieces have begun to form a story that words do not tell. Perhaps in the months ahead I will share all the works that I have written down, but for tonight, I want to share one that I wrote last week as I continued to process the admonition from the prophet to let forgivness flow through me.

I don't have many words to describe the piece other than a piece to help my heart to let go so that forgiveness can come.

90 Days Have Past

April 20, Easter, marked the end of my 90 day commitment to the gym and bible reading that began back in January.

These past 90 days have been good for me - both physically and emotionally. When I first began going to the gym I was a struggling 145 pounds. I am now holding steady at 165 and hope to get to 170 by June.

I am still attending the gym and just yesterday renewed my membership for another year. I am excited to see what type of physical transformation and discipline I will accomplish over the next year as I submit myself to 4 days a week at the gym. 

My time in the Word has been good. Although if I were to be completely candid with you, I have been much more faithful with the gym than I have been with reading the bible. It's embarrassing to admit. I wish I could tell you I have faithfully read my bible every day for the past 90 days. That would be nothing short of a blatant lie though. I have to confess, I have probably missed... 30 days. That's pretty bad actually. Especially for only setting a "90 day" commitment.

Being completely candid with you though, there have been many a day where I have been very discouraged with... well... everything. And one thing I desperately need to work on is not "giving up" completely when I am discouraged.

See the thing about me that perhaps no one knows is that I often get discouraged about my life. I look at my finances, my career, my future, my relationships, my failures, my failed expectations, my losses, and I just give up.  "What does it even matter?" I say. "Nothing is ever going to change." So I just stop trying.

It's been a horrible habit I have always had. Instead of pressing on, instead of getting a hold of Christ and His vision for me, I just stop. I don't consider myself one to be easily overwhelmed. Yet when I take inventory of my life, without fail, I am always left discouraged and feeling claustrophobic.

Discouragement is not new to me nor is it new to humanity. I wouldn't say discouragement is wrong per se, but how one deals with discouragement may be. I would say my response - giving up - is a wrong way to deal with discouragement.

But what do you do when perceivably everything in your life is discouraging to you?

Stopping your time in the Word is definitely not the answer. Neither is sitting for hours listening to your favorite slow Classical works. And driving till your tank is empty is just a waste of money. And vainly attempting to plan out ways to "fix" all those things that discourage you is futile at best. Not that I have done any of these of course.

And not because I have done it perfectly, but because I recently am trying, I find that worshiping, prayer, turning to God in any way is probably the best response to discouragement. Sometimes for an hour I will sit listening to worship music as I intentionally work to focus my mind on Christ and not on the long list of things that are a constant discouragement to my soul.

I pray. Most of the time it's simple and repetitive. "Lord, You know where my heart is at. I don't know what to say. I need You."

I need to afresh get back into the Word. It's hard, especially when you awake every morning to discouragement. But really? Is money, a new car, a big house, relationships, a career, is that really going to remove discouragement and make me content?

No.

But it would help alleviate some of the discouragement.

Regardless though, I want to learn to be content in Christ and in Christ alone. As Paul said in Philippians 4:12:

"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want."