I want to take this journal entry to debrief about the breast augmentation surgery I saw. As a student, it was a good experience. The surgeon was nice and explained what he was doing and the difference between his sub-muscular implantation site versus sub-glandular which has more risks involved including higher rate of infection.
It is important for nurses to be non-judgmental, and to never let their own feelings interfere with their level of care, so of course I made no personal comments to the hospital staff or the patient. But, now I have space in this journal to respond not as “student nurse” (robot) but as a real person. My feelings about breast implants are some things I had never really thought about before the surgery, but as I was watching the surgery I started to feel really sad for the patient. I wondered who was pressuring her to get these. I wondered who she was trying to impress. I wondered if anyone had called her ugly or made her feel like she was anything less than a product of God’s workmanship intentionally created with love. I wondered if it was me. It’s a pretty easy surgery, there’s not much blood or cutting, the surgeon himself said it wasn’t “real surgery” (he also said that anything a obstetric surgeon does—including c-sections—isn’t real surgery either, but that’s another journal entry…). Anyway, all that to say that if the surgery is so simple, why did it seem so violent to me? Just seeing the surgeon separating her pectoral muscles and inserting a balloon and inflating it to an ideal size (450 extra mls if you’re interested), then inserting this ball of fluid. I don’t know, there was nothing sexy about it, you know? It was fake and expensive, it took a lot of drugs, and it took intubation.
What a metaphor for the vainity of life though. How often do we entrust ourselves fully in other people to make us who we are? Sedate me, paralyze me, give me an artificial airway, program my oxygen, make me beautiful, give me the drugs to deal with the pain of your procedure. It is not a disease that brings us to the hospital. Or is it?
But how different am I? I wear make up, I put products in my hair. I’m not saying I can’t understand where this woman was coming from, or that I hold her decision against her. I just really hated the surgery. I hated what they did to her. Even though the surgery went well, and she’ll probably be happy with the results, I thought it was a terrible surgery, and I would not recommend it to anyone. Anyway, that’s just my thoughts about it as a person.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
I wanted to note my thoughts
Amazing how much my blogging habits have increased since I've been fasting* facebook for lent.
Anyway, I just had a cool conversation and I wanted to note my thoughts. Lately I've found myself in this struggle in ministry: I want to give, but how much do I give? Life is full of tensions, I am convinced of it. If anything is certain, it's the idea that you will always been uncertain about some things. For me, I am uncertain of this idea of giving. Is it trusting to ask how much do I give? OR is it irresponsible not to?
"Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and all these things will be given to you as well." Matthew 6:33
"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!'" Matthew 25:21
I must be faithful in my works, but I must also be faithful in the God whose works are above my own. This is the God who holds all things together and is bringing all things together.
It is in this tension that we find the Freedom of Christ. Freedom of Christ is that when I am operating with Christ's love, there is no wrong answer. I may choose to pay off my debt so that I will be able to give more freely or I may give from the little I have (borrowed) trusting that God will provide.
The heart, the attitude, is one of love. Either work is one of love. If love is there with a genuine desire to be obedient and faithful, there is not a wrong decision. Either work requires a heart of trust. It is in this freedom of choice that I find joy.
*Pastor John Wright said in his Ash Wednesday service that he doesn't know what to do when Lent becomes trendy. When all we do is ask "what are you giving up?" do we really experience what it means to fast and to share this discipline with the Father who sees what is done in secret? I think that a Lenten fast is different from an ordinary fast. A Lenten fast is one that is shared with the Church catholic. In a fast which we all participate in together we are able to do more than ask "what are you giving up?" but we are able to keep each other accountable and to learn from each other. Lent is a time when the church shares the same journey in the midst of our own journeys. This journey is the suffering of Christ. In Lent we acknowledge the incompleteness in ourselves, and the completeness of the community of Christ brought together by the Holy Spirit.
Anyway, I just had a cool conversation and I wanted to note my thoughts. Lately I've found myself in this struggle in ministry: I want to give, but how much do I give? Life is full of tensions, I am convinced of it. If anything is certain, it's the idea that you will always been uncertain about some things. For me, I am uncertain of this idea of giving. Is it trusting to ask how much do I give? OR is it irresponsible not to?
"Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and all these things will be given to you as well." Matthew 6:33
"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!'" Matthew 25:21
I must be faithful in my works, but I must also be faithful in the God whose works are above my own. This is the God who holds all things together and is bringing all things together.
It is in this tension that we find the Freedom of Christ. Freedom of Christ is that when I am operating with Christ's love, there is no wrong answer. I may choose to pay off my debt so that I will be able to give more freely or I may give from the little I have (borrowed) trusting that God will provide.
The heart, the attitude, is one of love. Either work is one of love. If love is there with a genuine desire to be obedient and faithful, there is not a wrong decision. Either work requires a heart of trust. It is in this freedom of choice that I find joy.
*Pastor John Wright said in his Ash Wednesday service that he doesn't know what to do when Lent becomes trendy. When all we do is ask "what are you giving up?" do we really experience what it means to fast and to share this discipline with the Father who sees what is done in secret? I think that a Lenten fast is different from an ordinary fast. A Lenten fast is one that is shared with the Church catholic. In a fast which we all participate in together we are able to do more than ask "what are you giving up?" but we are able to keep each other accountable and to learn from each other. Lent is a time when the church shares the same journey in the midst of our own journeys. This journey is the suffering of Christ. In Lent we acknowledge the incompleteness in ourselves, and the completeness of the community of Christ brought together by the Holy Spirit.
Monday, March 16, 2009
An American Girl's Letter to the World
Well hello World,
Nice to meet you. Though I don't know you very well, you seem like someone who I'd like to know better. I'm rather frustrated with some I know of you so far, but I realize that there's a lot more to you that I haven't seen yet. I think you're mysterious and enchanting. I've become quite infatuated with you actually. I think you must be full of beauty.
I think there's people and places where things are more organic. And by organic I don't mean the kind that has the sticker and is washed by automatic showers every hour. That's the way it is here in America. We expect synthetic, we expected modified, we expect artificial so the more natural, the more real a product or resource is the more marketed it is. But world I think you are organic in a different way. Your realness is not advertised or labeled, it's dirty and painful. But I like to imagine that there is joy in you too, that there is hope and love as raw as your suffering.
World, I also know that there is more to you than what I would see if I were to visit you today. I know you have stories. You have a history. You've been blessed and cursed, and seen victories, tragedies, and triumphs. Teach me these. Tell me about yourself: who you've been and how you got here. The American dream is to forget the past, but I know the world remembers and values what has happened.
World, you might not want to know me. You may think that we have nothing in common. I've chosen department store over handmade, I shop at grocery stores not markets, I exercise on machines when I could walk outside, I'm part of an Internet community that replaces the face to face, I drive my car over paved earth, I straighten my hair, I take pain-killers with carbonated water, I use light bulbs and coffee to defy the sun and the night's opportunity for rest. And though these habits and lifestyles are much apart of me, I confess that am not created to eat Big Macs and shop at Wal-Mart anymore than you are.
World, I know God your Father and Mother. Your Creator is mine as well, and we are made of the same dust. The truth is I am in you and you are in me and God is in us. Though I more often worship under moving powerpoints and electric guitars than shaded trees and singing birds, we are made to praise the same God. This is the God that will bring us together and reconcile our differences and forgive our sins.
World I pray you have grace with me. I am made to love you. I am your neighbor. I'll see you when I see you.
With love,
Maddie
Nice to meet you. Though I don't know you very well, you seem like someone who I'd like to know better. I'm rather frustrated with some I know of you so far, but I realize that there's a lot more to you that I haven't seen yet. I think you're mysterious and enchanting. I've become quite infatuated with you actually. I think you must be full of beauty.
I think there's people and places where things are more organic. And by organic I don't mean the kind that has the sticker and is washed by automatic showers every hour. That's the way it is here in America. We expect synthetic, we expected modified, we expect artificial so the more natural, the more real a product or resource is the more marketed it is. But world I think you are organic in a different way. Your realness is not advertised or labeled, it's dirty and painful. But I like to imagine that there is joy in you too, that there is hope and love as raw as your suffering.
World, I also know that there is more to you than what I would see if I were to visit you today. I know you have stories. You have a history. You've been blessed and cursed, and seen victories, tragedies, and triumphs. Teach me these. Tell me about yourself: who you've been and how you got here. The American dream is to forget the past, but I know the world remembers and values what has happened.
World, you might not want to know me. You may think that we have nothing in common. I've chosen department store over handmade, I shop at grocery stores not markets, I exercise on machines when I could walk outside, I'm part of an Internet community that replaces the face to face, I drive my car over paved earth, I straighten my hair, I take pain-killers with carbonated water, I use light bulbs and coffee to defy the sun and the night's opportunity for rest. And though these habits and lifestyles are much apart of me, I confess that am not created to eat Big Macs and shop at Wal-Mart anymore than you are.
World, I know God your Father and Mother. Your Creator is mine as well, and we are made of the same dust. The truth is I am in you and you are in me and God is in us. Though I more often worship under moving powerpoints and electric guitars than shaded trees and singing birds, we are made to praise the same God. This is the God that will bring us together and reconcile our differences and forgive our sins.
World I pray you have grace with me. I am made to love you. I am your neighbor. I'll see you when I see you.
With love,
Maddie
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
A Question for Lent
The central story that inspires the Christian season of Lent is Jesus's 40 days of fasting in the wilderness. Jesus, after his baptism is lead to the desert to be tempted. This theme of a 40-day trial is not unique to Jesus's in the gospels; the Hebrews were in the desert 40 years after their "baptism" through the Red Sea, Noah, his family, and the San Diego Zoo are in the ark for a 40 day flood later referred to as a "baptism."
So this 40 day/year event seems to be significant in the stories of the faithful, or at least in testing the faith of the people of God. And in all cases it is God who leads his people to these deserts. Why is it then that Jesus prays that we would not be lead by God to temptation, but would be delivered from evil? It's almost as if Jesus asks God not to let what happened to him happen to anyone else.
I don't know the answer. But I think it means that Lent is not something to be taken lightly. That Jesus being led into the desert to be tempted was a challenge for Jesus; something he doesn't want others to experience. Israel did not stay faithful in her 40 years in the desert. Jesus stays faithful, he passes the test. And Jesus is the fulfillment of Israel. He upholds their end of the covenants. Perhaps the time of testing is over. Yet we remember this testing during Lent so that we will be humbled by Jesus's ability to do what we could not do for ourselves, and praise God for his love for us.
So this 40 day/year event seems to be significant in the stories of the faithful, or at least in testing the faith of the people of God. And in all cases it is God who leads his people to these deserts. Why is it then that Jesus prays that we would not be lead by God to temptation, but would be delivered from evil? It's almost as if Jesus asks God not to let what happened to him happen to anyone else.
I don't know the answer. But I think it means that Lent is not something to be taken lightly. That Jesus being led into the desert to be tempted was a challenge for Jesus; something he doesn't want others to experience. Israel did not stay faithful in her 40 years in the desert. Jesus stays faithful, he passes the test. And Jesus is the fulfillment of Israel. He upholds their end of the covenants. Perhaps the time of testing is over. Yet we remember this testing during Lent so that we will be humbled by Jesus's ability to do what we could not do for ourselves, and praise God for his love for us.
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