bekahcubed Thankful for this year’s high school seniors who are staying in Lincoln after they graduate. I don’t know what I’d do if they left.
John and Steve around 6 years old.
Congratulations to Steve (this week), John (two weeks from today), and Joanna (next month). I’m so glad you’re going to stick around–we won’t have to break up the gang quite yet.
Visit Davene at Life on Sylvan Drive for more Simple Sunday posts.
Anyone who’s walked with a loved one through Alzheimer’s knows that it’s a challenging path to trod. It’s tough and frustrating for the sufferer–and tough and frustrating for those who love them.
My experience walking with my Grandma through Alzheimer’s has convinced me of one thing: I’m going to do everything within my power to keep my children and grandchildren from having to experience that kind of anguish. I’m going to do everything possible to prevent the onset of that disease, a disease of relationships as much as it is a disease of the mind.
Which is why I’ve been collecting research (and pseudo-research) on Alzheimer’s prevention.
That was mostly science. Based on epidemiological studies, people who have such factors are either more or less at risk for developing Alzheimer’s. The pseudo-science comes in when you ask if and how you can impact your risk of developing Alzheimer’s by changing your behavior.
But I’m willing to jump on the risk-avoidance bandwagon–or the proactive prevention bandwagon, if you’d rather.
Which is why I’ve pulled my recorder off the floor and started playing.
I can hear your “Huh?” loud and clear.
Well, it just so happens that “better cognitive function” is a preventative factor. And one of the proposed means of increasing cognitive function is playing an instrument. It also just so happens that “better lung capacity” is a preventative factor. And one of the means of increasing lung capacity (along with aerobic activity) is playing a wind instrument.
It just so happens that I have a wind instrument–a little plastic recorder I received as part of a white elephant gift exchange at my life group. That recorder has been sitting on my bedroom floor since the day I pulled it out and tried–very unsuccessfully–to teach myself to play.
But, bolstered by the thought of saving my grandchildren from the agony that is Alzheimer’s, I grasped hold of the recorder, googled “how to play the recorder”, and began my education.
Amazingly enough, despite my initial failure, I was able to successfully play “Mary had a little lamb” last night–and to still play it again this morning. Turns out you don’t just blow one endless breath into the recorder–and you don’t hold the recorder at a right angle to your face either.
Ah, thank goodness for the internet! What would I do without handy self-teach websites like this one? I’d probably already be senile–and terrorizing the entire world!
My dad used to tease my mom that she had only two speeds–slow and stopped. Of course, the only time that comment made its way out was when we were all waiting in the car for mom to finish grocery shopping. In reality, my mom is a speedy burrito.
I have two speeds as well–overdrive and hyperdrive.
It doesn’t matter what I’m doing, I’m doing it quickly. I rush to this and to that, from this and that. I pack my days plumb full–and then add a to do list a mile long on top. And then there’s my brain. Even when I get into bed, or watch a movie, or have some other “down” time, my brain is still moving a mile a minute. I worry about this or fret about that, I second guess one thing, and try to untangle another thing.
My mind was reeling last night when I read Psalm 46–and it was going crazy again this morning when I re-read Psalm 46. And then God spoke.
I am God! That’s not going to change, no matter what circumstances you find yourself in. In the toughest day of your life, I am God. In the most spectacular day of your life, I am God. I am God when you don’t see any hope for what you desire–and I am God when your imagination runs away with the possibilities. I am God. Be still and know.
“Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” Psalm 46:10
Still: adj 1. Free of sound. 2. Low in sound; hushed or subdued. 3. Not moving or in motion. 4. Free from disturbance, agitation, or commotion. 5. Free from noticeable current: a still pond; still waters
What a thought. What an idea! To be free. Free from noise, from disturbance, from current. To have a mind that is quiet, hushed, subdued. A mind that is not always in motion. A mind free from agitation and commotion. Still. I want a still mind.
What a dream. What a concept! To be free. Free from current, from agitation, from motion. To have a body that is subdued, calm, undisturbed. A body that isn’t constantly fidgiting for some next thing to do. A body that doesn’t slosh about with every current of the to-do list. Still. I want a still body.
Psalm 46:10 suggests that stillness is a choice: “Be still.” It is a command with an understood “You” as the subject. “[You] be still.”
But how can one choose stillness? I’ve certainly tried choosing stillness many times before–and failed every time. I try to clear my mind, but the thoughts just come back. I clear my schedule, but I end up fidgeting to refill it–uncomfortable with the lack of movement that threatens deadness.
Psalm 46:10 offers the answer to this question as well. “Know that I am God.” The implicit message, at least in my mind, is “…and you are not [God].” If I know that God is God and that I am not God, then I can let my mind be still–trusting God to “worry” out the details. If I know that God is God and that I am not God, then I can rest my body–trusting God to “work” out the details.
Still. Know. Rest. Trust. Words I want to characterize my life.
They don’t characterize me yet–but they will. I trust that they will. For now, I’m just learning–learning to KNOW God and to be STILL.
Ask your average churchgoer what their favorite way to evangelize is, and you’re likely to get a variation on a couple of themes. Undoubtedly the most common method is the “St. Francis of Assisi”. You’ve heard it: “Preach the gospel at all times and, when necessary, use words.” Then there’s the “King James”: the word of God speaks best–and speaks best when quoted verbatim. Then, of course, there’s the “Savvy Shopper”: weigh the pros and cons, you can’t beat the price of this one.
One answer you’re not likely to hear is “Cognitive Dissonance.” But, I believe that cognitive dissonance is probably one of the most effective, and most underused tools of evangelism.
Most likely, you are asking (along with my little sister): “What’s that?”
According to Wikipedia, Cognitive dissonance is “an uncomfortable feeling caused by holding two contradictory ideas simultaneously.” In other words, cognitive dissonance is an awareness that the things you believe or do don’t quite match up.
Take, for example, a conversation I had with my advisor this afternoon. I handed her my MOC (memorandum of courses for the uninitiated) and, after looking it over briefly, she asked me “So why aren’t you writing a thesis?” I gave my standard answer–not wanting to specialize, blah, blah, blah. She didn’t really try to convince me, she just kept the conversation going. Then I said something about how both Anna and I had taken Microbiology instead of Food Safety. “Now why’d you do that again?” Dr. Jones asked. “I wanted to keep my options open,” I told her. “I took Biochem 431 instead of 321 for the same reason.”
That’s when she said the words that have been rolling around in my head ever since: “That doesn’t sound like someone who doesn’t want to write a thesis.” I brushed it off quickly, too quickly, with: “Maybe I used up my overachieving in undergrad.” But it doesn’t brush off quite that easily.
Dr. Jones could have tried to convince me to write a thesis. She could have given me the pros and cons of the thesis option and tried to sway me that way. She could have told me I had no option–if I wanted to be her student, I would write a thesis. But she didn’t try to sell the thesis. She didn’t lay down the truth for me to take it or leave it. She just introduced a little cognitive dissonance.
And the thoughts run through my head. “She’s right–I’ve never been someone to take the easy route out.” “Yeah, I probably could do this–I made it through micro and biochem just fine.” “Options open. Options open. I wanted to keep my options open–but now I’m cutting off my option of a doctorate. Just like that.”
She plays a few more fancy evangelistic tricks on me too. “Just out of curiosity,” she asks, “what would you do your thesis on if you were to do a thesis?” The answer jumps out of my lips without warning, “Probably on the meal planning or grocery shopping habits of mothers of young children.” Where’d that come from? And the thoughts continue running through my head. “That was a pretty quick answer. Amazing from someone who’s never even let a thesis be an option.” “You’re sure you don’t want to write a thesis, don’t want to ‘specialize’?”
By now, my mind is going crazy in confusion. Maybe I wasn’t so sure that I didn’t want to write a thesis in the first place. Maybe I’ve been just deceiving myself to think that doing the non-thesis option was in my best interest. After all, I’m not the kind of person who takes the easy way out. I’m not the kind of person who closes off my options. And I can pull a topic off the top of my head that I’d love to explore in thesis-depth.
Do you see what I’m saying? It’s not just about FACTS, it’s not just about CONVINCING. It’s about causing someone to second guess their own beliefs–to realize that what they’re thinking or the way they’re acting is really not consistent with their beliefs.
Surely you can see the applications to evangelism.
I once heard someone speak on an evangelistic strategy they attributed to Francis Schaeffer. According to my memory of this presentation, Schaeffer believed that every worldview (except the correct one), has internal inconsistency–and that the only reason why people persist in holding their particular worldview (that is not correct) is because they are UNAWARE of the inconsistency of their stated worldview. For example, take the individual who claims to believe that there is no God. He does not believe that man is created in the image of God. He believes that humans are just another animal. He has no qualms about eating meat–but cannibalism is repulsive to him. “That’s just wrong,” he says.
Yet, if indeed, humans are not made in the image of God–if they are just another animal–why should eating another animal be repulsive?
Our theoretical atheist takes another tack. “But humans are the most highly developed animal–we have reached intellectual heights not obtained by other animals. This makes us special.
Which makes us wonder if perhaps cannibalism would be okay, as long as we only ate the profoundly mentally retarded. Of course, our theoretical atheist still finds this to be repulsive and “wrong”.
Anyway, enough of my tangent. According to the speaker, Francis Schaeffer suggests that we use this cognitive dissonance to our advantage in evangelism. Push people to take their beliefs to their logical conclusion. This will create the cognitive dissonance that forces them to come to grips with what ideas can be carried out to their logical conclusion and still be consistent with both external and internal reality. Of course, only truth remains consistent with external and internal reality when carried out to its logical conclusion. Everything else falls apart somewhere along the line.
Introducing cognitive dissonance. It’s a novel idea. One I’m pretty sold on, considering its effectiveness this afternoon.
I pride myself on being a good citizen–and in voting in every election. But today, for the second time in a row, I almost missed an election.
My brother sent me a text message reminding me to vote in the primaries in April. It was a good thing he did–because although I was up on the ballot issues, I had forgotten that the day was THAT day.
Today, I was walking out of work when I spotted someone else’s “I Voted Today” sticker. Thank goodness for that–elsewise I’d have never remembered today was election day. I’ve been on top of this election too–everything except the date, that is. I’d never fixed the election schedule in my mind, or scheduled it in my planner–and so, I almost missed it.
That’s the hard part of being a conscientious citizen–remembering to vote. You can be a registered voter, you can follow the issues, you can be informed about the candidates. But when push comes to shove, you have to remember to vote. And you have to remember to vote even when the nation isn’t deciding on its president.
Face it, it’s easy to vote for a president. You’ve seen the names for a good year, at least. You’ve heard the date at least a bazillion times. Everyone is talking about how November 2 or 4 or whatever has the potential to change the destiny of the nation. And when the day comes, everyone is proudly wearing their “I Voted Today” sticker. And if you happened to not come into contact with anyone, the TV and the Internet are awash with the latest exit polls.
The harder elections are the spring elections in the off years–the elections in which you vote for your city council members, school board, and airport authority. The elections in which someone tries to sneak a bond issue past an unsuspecting public. Those are the elections that are hardest to make–and the ones it’s most critical that you attend.
Face it, one vote out of millions doesn’t make quite as much difference as one out of thousands or hundreds. And face it, most “little” elections like the one today are attended by only a few hundred voters. That means YOUR vote means A LOT–as long as you actually get out to the polling place to vote.
So here’s a word of advice. Next time you hear of an election, put it on your calendar straight-away. ‘Cause it doesn’t matter how much you CARE, or how much you DEBATE, or how much you FOLLOW the news–if you DON’T VOTE, your opinion DOESN’T COUNT!
Ordinary: adj. 1. Commonly encountered; usual. 2a. Of no exceptional ability, degree, or quality; average. 2b. Of inferior quality; second rate.
It’s a word that often characterizes my life. Common, usual, without exceptionalism. Ordinary.
If my life had directions, a la shampoo bottles, the directions would read: “Wake up. Go to work. Work. Come home. Putz about. Go to sleep. Repeat.”
It’s not a bad life, when all is said and done. I enjoy my work, I love to putz. Sleep is good. As much as I long for the extraordinary, the unusual, the exceptional, the prime–I find myself quite content with the ordinary, the usual, the average.
I completed Nancy Moser’s Just Jane, a novel about Jane Austen, over the weekend. It was an enjoyable book–comfortably Austenish without trying too hard to mimic Austen’s voice. I could identify with Jane’s moods of peace and peevishness as she rode out the unexpected life of a spinster. Moser’s Jane was swept along by so many waves–decisions were made for her that were far less than her expectations or desires. And she let herself wallow in discontent for a while. But at some point, she has to find her home–she has to learn to be content to be “Just Jane.”
I feel that I am coming to that point–or at least that this ebb of the tide brings me to that place. I am content to just be me. I am content that my life be as usual. I am content to be unexceptional. To be ordinary.
Except that I know that ordinary I shall never truly be. For inside that “ordinary” capsule of day to day routine, I am one of the “peculiar people”.
“But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of Him who hath called you out of darkness into His marvellous light.” I Peter 2:9
Peculiar: adj. 1. Unusual or eccentric; odd. 2. Distinct from all others. 3. Belonging distinctively or primarily to one person, group, or kind; special or unique.
Yep. That would be me. Ordinary, but peculiar.
I don’t know what a “typical” dietetics internship looks like, but I’m willing to bet that this isn’t it.
I arrived at work on the first day of my fourth week of clinical rotations to discover that my preceptor’s mother had died–which meant my preceptor would be gone for a week. Which meant the medical-oncology floor would be missing a dietitian.
I have to say the experience has knocked me off balance a bit–but I think I’m finally finding my feet. And I’m sure I’ll be a stronger dietitian because of it. Allow me to elaborate:
Site visitors from ADA came to inspect the internship. The interns ate breakfast with them and answered questions.
I arrived at work an hour and a half later than normal. I discovered that Mary’s mother had died. I realized that two other dietitians were already off. I realized that left me and two dietitians to handle the whole hospital. I freaked out. (Okay, not exactly–only in my mind.)
I’m not sure what I did on Monday, except that I saw a lot of patients and looked over a lot of charts. And stayed an hour and a half later than normal.
I arrived at work ten minutes earlier than usual. I knew I needed to be at the top of my game. I gathered up the new referrals for my floor. Dear heavens, there were about a hundred. And all my old patients were still around. I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off. But I did manage to see all the patients.
I realized there was no way that I could continue seeing every single patient every single day. There are just too many of them. I noticed the system the other dietitians were using to determine when they needed to see a patient again. It’s brilliant. Crazy I hadn’t figured that out already. And kind of funny that no one showed me. Oh well!
I had a collection of patients that I wasn’t sure what to do with at the end of the day. One of the other dietitians walked me through the process. I felt like I was learning in hyperdrive. Just watching her flick back and forth, hearing her questions went loads towards helping me develop the all-important clinical judgment.
What about their BM’s? I’d never even thought to check on those before. Considering IV fluids to account for sharp drops in blood values. Balancing one diagnosis with another. It was fascinating. I worked an hour and a half longer than usual.
By the time I got home, I’d determined that I needed a new assessment worksheet. I needed a worksheet that would enable me to arrange my information in a way that will allow me to RAPIDLY reassess a patient–instead of wasting so much time trying to figure out where I’d written that particular bit of information. I drafted a new worksheet while watching “That Thing You Do” with my sisters.
I arrived at work to find a whole new slew of patients. But I already had at least 8 patients that I needed to follow up with and chart on. That means I wouldn’t have time to handle all 7 or 8 new patients. So I picked out three and got started.
I only used my personal assessment sheets on the new patients–I didn’t want to waste time copying information that’s already there. But I’m noticing that it takes half as much time to do a chart review with my assessment. Yay for efficiency!
The only thing I can’t speed up is the other clinicians–and the patients and their families. I still wait outside of doors for the doctor to finish his consult. Or, even worse, for the entire family (of a dozen or so) to leave the room so I can speak to the patient in relative peace. I still spent plenty of time criss-crossing the floor waiting for charts and patients to become available.
But I got nine patients seen and charted–and I didn’t even need to ask for help (except for one patient, for whom I couldn’t discover a nutrition problem warranting charting). And I left at the time I normally do (did). I had to defer one new admit and one follow up visit due to the patients not being available. But all in all, I felt good about how things went. Especially because there are only three follow-ups due tomorrow.
On the way home, I realized that I’m going to be gone all Friday at a conference. Which means I need to follow up with everybody who’s “due” on Friday tomorrow. Except that on Fridays I have to follow up with everybody who’s “due” over the weekend. Meaning that tomorrow, I have: 1 new admit left over from today, 1 follow up left over from today, 3 Thursday follow ups, 6 Saturday follow ups, and 7 Sunday follow ups That’s a grand total of 18 patients–all of whom I have to document. And that’s not including new admits.
Yikes!
So if you have a few prayers to spare, you can drop a line for me and my patients. Pray that I’ll have clarity of mind and efficiency–but that I’ll provide top line care. Pray that I’ll know who to cover myself and who I need to hand off to another dietitian. And above all, pray that my patients show dramatic improvement and can be discharged before I have to see them tomorrow! (Not all of them–I’d settle for half maybe ;-P)
Mm-hm. This is what you could call a steep learning curve. I’m just praying that tomorrow doesn’t knock me off the balance I’ve so recently started to attain.
Thankful for friends who pray and a God who heals.
“If you diligently heed the voice of the Lord your God and do what is right in His sight, give ear to His commandments and keep all His statutes, I will put none of the diseases on you which I have brought on the Egyptians. For I am the Lord who heals you.” (Exodus 15:26)
In Christ, I have heeded the voice of God and done what is right in His sight. While in my flesh, I have not kept the commandments of God–in Christ, I have fulfilled all the commandments and statutes of God. And in Christ, I am healed.
Thankful for those willing to stand with me in believing that God can heal and is healing me.
Find more Simple Sunday posts at Life on Sylvan Drive.