Christmasing

Christmas is... tomorrow! Mom and Andrea came here to my little townhouse in sleepy Bloomington. I have no Christmas decorations to speak of, except some real pine branches I stuck in a pretty vase. Mom brought a little tree we decorated and put out some festive place mats on the table. My roommate's been gone for over a week, so it was getting really quiet here. My family has brought such joy and cheer with them! I love sitting around at night telling stories, laughing until we cry, and reflecting on God's grace. He is so good!

However, there's a little nagging voice struggling to be heard in my head that wants me to be disappointed. I want to be home home. I want to be tucked away cozily in our little house on the Kansas prairie...To see all our neighbors, old friends, and my dad...To sit by the fireplace or sprawl out on the living room floor and admire all the old ornaments on the tree...To go outside and gaze at the crisp, brilliant winter sky that seems unique only to Kansas.

But I have so much and so many people to be thankful for! It's Christmases like these that often make the best memories. I think of the past two Christmases in Kansas, when we invited international friends over to stay with us. They loved staying with an American family and celebrating Christmas for the first time.

Then I also think of the two Christmases in the middle of China. You wouldn't even know it's Christmas where we lived. Everyone still worked, there wasn't a single Christmas decoration or song anywhere. We were thousands of miles away from our families. Yet, we were blessed beyond belief. We as a team had each other, and had the privilege of teaching all our students in communist China about our dear Savior's birth. For gifts we'd exchange silly little items we bought at the little shops in the alleys near campus--random keychains shaped like pieces of bacon, glittery pony tail holders, or bizarre pictures of ourselves taken at hole-in-the-wall photo shops. We would also visit the deaf kindergarten down the road or the orphanage on the other side of town to play with the precious kids. Celebrating Christmas there wasn't conventional by Western standards.

One of those Christmases we walked around in the pouring rain, stepping over soggy piles of garbage and stray dogs in the street to sing carols to our Chinese neighbors and friends. No one had any idea what on earth we were singing or why we were singing, but they all listened respectfully and delightedly. The most joy-filled moment was when we found our elderly "trash man" friend who lived on the street picking up trash. We sang "O Holy Night" just for him in the middle of an alley with its overflowing rivers of rain and trash. The look on his face, and his toothless grin, was probably one of the greatest Christmas highlights possible.

So really, it doesn't matter that my family is visiting me in my drafty apartment, and that I don't have genuine Christmas decorations. When you are surrounded by people you love, that's all that matters. And I'm trying to remember that by being here in Indiana over the holidays, I've been able to spend time with people who are also far away from their homes or maybe don't know about the meaning of Christmas. Already there are three international students who are planning on coming to Christmas Eve service with us...

Have the most blessed and merriest of Christmases, no matter where you may be, dear readers!

Some recent Christmas memories:

A delightful Kansas Christmas with the international students who stayed with us (plus random Topeka friends).

Singing to the trash man in Nanchang.

Decorating cookies with orphans who had never seen such a kind of treat before.

Playing with the kids at the deaf kindergarten.

Celebrating Christmas in an apartment in Nanchang with fellow Chinese believers.

Hand of grace

The other day I had to work on writing a detailed summary of what has happened to me physically since September. As I recounted the accident, the possibility of losing my arm, nearly dying because of an allergic reaction that wasn't treated in time, horrible side effects of medications, and weeks of physical therapy, I was surprised at how I didn't automatically have the thought, "I wish this never happened!" I also didn't think, "I'm glad all this happened!," but I've moved to acceptance, and even some gratitude for God's hand of grace in my life, which has been especially evident during this particular course of events.

It feels like I'm rebuilding my life not only physically, but also relationally and spiritually. It's hard to trust--trust God, trust guys, and people in general, it seems.

For the most part I still wish all those things hadn't happened over the past few months. The after effects seem almost as overwhelming as when those things were happening. Yet, through it all, the presence of God has been noticeable and unforgettable. And I'm definitely a different person than just a few short (yet really long!) months ago.

We have been created to change and grow, and that purpose seems to have been amplified of late. Here are some things I've learned or had reinforced, in no particular order:

-'Consider it pure joy, whenever you face trials of many kinds' (James 1:2).
-God is truly, truly present in our lives and working actively, not passively or just remotely
-Every interaction we have with someone has the potential to bless someone in little or big ways
-There's no place for fear and a timid spirit!
-Even in the midst of seemingly constant struggle, He is always, always there, waiting for you to run to Him
-Miracles really do happen
-Just taking life one step at a time is sometimes all you can do, and you don't have to feel guilty for not doing more or being more
-Having an amazing church and some of the most caring friends and family in the world will help you get through most anything
-Satisfaction is only found when focused on Christ and others
-I can better understand and have more patience for those who are slower, have chronic pain, or have messy lives (don't we all?)
-There's a lot of little, stupid things in life that just don't matter
-There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus
-We are free to make mistakes and to be authentic!
-I'm still fun and funny, even when I'm in a hospital bed or presenting to a group of community leaders about tax software!

And lately I've also been doing activities that make my heart happy... Hanging out with teens who have experienced homelessness and are on the road to self-sufficiency. Loving internationals. Volunteering to visit home-bound elderly folks. Hosting people at my home. Making crafty gifts for people. Creating clever radio shows that air in Bloomington. Going to small group each week and sharing life with others. Catching up with old friends and making room for new ones. Making connections with people and between people. Encouraging others consistently.

And something else that will make my heart happy is my upcoming visit this weekend to northern Indiana. I'll be visiting my dear friend, Kelsey. She was in China my second year there, and we had so many awesome adventures together. I've so thrilled to be reunited with her!

How have you seen God's grace evident in your life lately? How has your heart been happy?

November blessings

Operation Thankfulness has been well under way for a couple of weeks now. Slowly, slowly, I think my perspective has been changing, and it's like God's given me new eyes.

There have still been some difficult things going on:
-Physical therapy is twice a week. Part of the therapy is having my kneecaps and thighs scrapped with something akin to a windshield scraper to get rid of all the scar tissue that has built up inside my legs since the accident. This leaves broken blood vessels all over my legs and bruises my knees even more.
-I still can't run or bike or dance ballet.
-The bills continue to accumulate by the thousands of dollars.

BUT... there have been many more amazingly encouraging things going on:
-I feel much, much more like my self--even like an improved version of my self. When you're on the brink of death a couple of times, you really learn what is valuable in life. And I have learned to live much more freely and generously and lovingly.
-I've had some of the best, most insightful and uplifting conversations lately with friends and family.
-I've heard countless stories of God's incredible faithfulness in times of adversity.
-The power of prayer has been displayed so brilliantly.

Probably the greatest highlight was having the opportunity to travel to southern California to see Jodi's wedding. Jodi was my teammate in China for 2 years--the second year we were a team of our own and became very dear friends. From her I learned how to cook, how to be hospitable, how to love and live largely, how to trust God for everything, and how to play awesome card games. :)

I flew out to Long Beach last week and stayed with her family. I've stayed with them a couple of times before, and love them more each time I see them. They are a wonderful example of faith and living out God's Word. My time out there was both restorative and highly enjoyable!

I loved being around millions of Asian-Americans, many of whom I've met before. They have such a close-knit community, and for some reason I really click with them. I think I must be Asian-American, although I look pretty white on the outside. One funny story--I was sitting at a banquet table with 10 other cool Asians. They were debating about the proper pronunciation of a Chinese word and looked at me for the right answer. Everyone laughed about the irony of the only white girl knowing the proper Chinese word.

It was also pretty warm in comparison to Indiana, where it snowed here last week. I enjoyed listening to and sharing wonderful stories, laughing until I cried, helping out with intense wedding preparations (there were 350 guests!), and eating great food. At the wedding reception, I was out there right in the middle of the dance floor, sometimes right in the middle of the circle dancing quite freely. My knees paid dearly for it, but I felt so joyful and like the old Laura.

I was also reunited with several of my old China teammates--some of whom I hadn't seen for 3 years. It's amazing to see how they've grown and changed, yet it was like we hadn't been apart for even a day. As the youngest, I was still Baby Laura, but also realized I have grown a lot in the past couple of years. We laughed, nearly cried, and remembered crazy China stories and God's amazing faithfulness. I felt so at home and so blessed to be with them again, that I don't think I could have been any happier.

My last plane back from California was the 23rd plane I've been on since March, I calculated. Whew. I think it's time to settle down a bit for the next few months. There are still plenty of adventures to be had, though, even in the middle of Indiana!

I want to leave you with an amazing C.S. Lewis quote that really spoke to me, and kind of encompasses some of the past few months to me:

"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

And here are some pictures from California:

Banqueting. We went to Mr. Poon's favorite Chinese restaurant. I hadn't had such authentic food like that since China.

Baby Jodi with the cross-stitch I made as her wedding present. It says "joy" in mangled Chinese.

Hanging out a couple of nights before the wedding!

With the beautiful bride, Mrs. Baby Jodi! She and Samson are incredibly precious together. God is already working mightily through them!

Mischievous.

Operation Thankfulness

Currently I am sitting at my worn, scarred dining table that had a previous life in the geology department. Our apartment is filled with books, various half-finished craft projects scattered around, and a nice little pile of dirty dishes in the sink. My roommate, Christine, a world-class violist, is playing one of her pieces of Bach. It's absolutely gorgeous. And in the midst of this scene, I feel the tiniest bit of thankfulness welling up in me.

I am blessed. And I'm blessed to be a blessing.

This small trickle of thanksgiving has been a long time coming. I've heard and read stories about believers rejoicing even in the most challenging, adverse conditions and times. And I've questioned why I'm not currently like those believers.

A few days ago I somehow managed to develop a nice rash on my face. Through all the trials and tribulations of late, I was at least thankful that my face looked somewhat normal and I could look at the world with some sense of dignity (or probably vanity, too). Last night I about unraveled. Okay, I could handle bum knees, bruised ribs and lungs, a bizarre infection inside the tissue of my arm, life-threatening allergic reactions...

Then... a still voice told me to "give thanks." A little later I was talking on the phone to my dear, wise sister who also suggested the same thing. Hmmm... maybe I should pay attention. After my conversation with Andrea, I looked rather guiltily at the piece of notebook paper taped to the wall with my "gratitude list" I hadn't updated for over a month. Since when has my heart become so cold and distant from God's? Since when has thankfulness seeped out of my soul? Since when have the vibrant, variegated colors of life dulled to gray?

I don't want to live that way anymore! I want to be overflowing with thanks and bursting at the seams with praise--not falsely or forcefully, but genuinely. I know I won't wake up tomorrow feeling that way right away, but I guess habits always start with small steps.

So today I took some of those baby steps. I stopped to marvel at the early evening peach-colored sky, gave a quick prayer of thanks for the funny, caring people in my church small group, thanked the Father for giving me extra grace to do well at work, and praised Him for helping me eat, laugh, and live fully again.

And I decided that this month I have designated as Operation Thankfulness. As the first official day of the operation, I leave some thankfulness quotes to ponder from Ann Voskamp, an author who has become a sort of gratitude expert:

"What you think you can't handle--might actually be God handing you a gift."

"When you bow and surrender to the sovereignty of God then you are in the posture to receive all as a gift."

"Eucharisteo (giving thanks) always precedes the miracle."

"God asks me to give thanks in everything--because this is the way you live through everything."

"Giving thanks is life giving."

Amen.

Upward and Onward

My mind rewinds and plays a reel of "what ifs." What if I had stayed in China to pursue language school? What if I had never come to Indiana? What if I had moved out of here in May when I had the chance? What if I had never gone on a bike ride that Sunday several weekends ago? What if I had recovered faster and been more immune to that infection?

It's enough to make me go crazy. And I know that they're all accusations straight from the enemy. I shouldn't dwell on "what ifs." I shouldn't and I can't. I can't analyze or ask why all these crazy things have happened and why my life is in shambles. Like did my sin cause this? Is this meant to bring God glory? I just have to move forward and look upward.

So my mind chooses not to analyze or dwell on "what ifs." But then it easily moves on to anxious thoughts. I live below the poverty level and was living okay before my medical bills started to spiral out of control. Tens of thousands in ER bills. Thousands more in follow-up appointments, physical therapy, and x-rays. Which ones will insurance cover? Which ones won't be covered? My knees are still black and blue from my accident 7 weeks ago. My heart and lungs are still messed up from either the accident or hospitalization or severe allergic reaction that didn't get treated right away and my doctor doesn't know what's up. Nobody really does. And I kind of don't care anymore. As long as I keep breathing another day, then I'm okay. One doctor I talked to decided my body was just extremely traumatized and shocked, and that it might take months to totally recover.

I don't know what I would have done without friends and family. I can't count all of the incredible friends who visited the hospital, called me at home, asked about my well-being... Mom spent several days with me and then Andrea came and took charge of the recovery effort. For most of the ten days Andrea was here, she recited Psalm 23 to me. Faithfully, she made me lunches, dinners, and held my hand at night if I couldn't sleep because my heart was racing or I was fearful that I wouldn't wake up in the morning.

Since I've literally been on the brink of eternity several times in several weeks, I feel rather numb. I don't really think I feel sorry for myself, but just wounded. I don't plan too far ahead. I don't think about too much. I wake up, don't usually bother to put on makeup or do my hair anymore, force some oatmeal down my throat, make a sandwich, drive to work, try to concentrate at my desk all day, try not to focus on the pain in my chest or my weak limbs, come home, go for a walk, make a little dinner, sew or read, and then go to bed to sometimes sleep.

To be honest, one of the things I can't seem to do very well or often is pray or read my Bible. If I do pray, usually they're more like little gasps of prayers--such as, "Jesus, help me make it through this meeting... Jesus, help me not panic in this crowd of people... Jesus, help me to swallow this rice and chicken..." And if I do pick up my Bible, I have gravitated toward Psalm 27 for the past couple of weeks.

I don't really feel depressed, but nor do I feel very hopeful or joyful. Once and awhile I sort of glimpse a glimmer of light. Last week I had to get yet another x-ray of my chest. I was standing there in the robe with my hands above my head in the little x-ray room and just felt like crying. There, right in front of me was a little poster with Psalm 27:5: "For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock." That's when I really wanted to cry. I remembered I wasn't alone and I remembered that I am indeed safe in his dwelling, even if I feel horrible most of the time and don't understand why everything is happening this way.

I'm sure (or at least desperately hope) that I'm learning during this difficult season of struggle, and I'm sure that God will use some of this for good some day. Right now I just want to feel normal again. My Christmas wishlist is to have a body that doesn't feel like it's rejecting me. I want to laugh heartily. I want to praise God with heartfelt thanks. I want to love Chinese students. I want to feel whole. I want to serve others again. I want people to look at me with smiles and not sadness.

Thanks as always for your prayer and encouragement! Here are some pictures from the past week:

Looking out at Lake Monroe with Andrea.

Sitting on the pier. Felt like my soul healing a tiny bit.

Went on a little hike with Andrea.

The sky in my backyard.

An amazing fall wreath Andrea handcrafted out of burlap.

Gorgeous Andrea on the gorgeous campus.

Me.

A baby blanket for a friend I sewed all weekend.

Life renewed

Here's another hospital story, although this one is probably less humorous and filled with fewer cute guys than my last one...

Last Friday morning I noticed a little red bump on my left forearm. Throughout the day at work it turned into a big nasty blister and alarming splotch of red that continue to grow. By that night it was burning and itching. I was hanging out with Cindy, and we decided to go to the ER on the busiest night of the year. It was homecoming weekend and the ER was filled with undergrads who had made bad choices or been the victims of bad choices. I got home at about 1:30 a.m. after they gave me a shot of antibiotics and a prescription. They said I had most likely been bit by a spider.

Later Saturday it was only getting worse. At about 10:30 p.m., my arm was swelling and going numb, while the red splotch ascended up my arm. I was also getting chills and losing control of my muscles. So back I went to the ER, where they finally saw me at 2:30 a.m. Thankfully Christine was with me, and she sat with me all night. The nurses and doctors were quite concerned about this infection, especially because it was progressing despite antibiotics. They had seen arms like mine rot to black. Oh, I was so scared and sad! If the infection spread into my bloodstream or to the bone...

They decided to admit me to the hospital and finally found me a room in the pediatrics ward at 5:30 a.m. Sunday. Poor, dear, patient Christine was with me the entire time. By that point I felt even more awful. My arm was covered in marker and pen as various nurses grimly tracked the spread of infection. They hooked me up to an IV, which they kept well-supplied with a variety of the strongest, caustic antibiotics. The doctor talked about the possibility of cutting out the infected tissue if I didn't start improving soon. I felt like I could barely pray or think straight.

The rest of Sunday was still a rather frightening day. I had barely slept, because nurses kept poking me with needles, drawing blood, and changing bags of IV fluids. As we played the waiting game, all I could do was ask my family and friends to pray. Pray they did--I'm pretty sure I was covered in prayer by hundreds of people. Several friends came to stay with me until Mom arrived. She drove all day Sunday from Pennsylvania to reach me. She started to cry when she saw me--all weak and hooked up to machines. I was so thankful she came to help me.

Over the next couple of days I had many other wonderful visitors, and it was so encouraging to know I had an army of believers praying on my behalf, especially when I felt so discouraged and downtrodden. I know God was looking out for me and was with me even through these really dark hours. During this time I still managed to smile at nurses and treat them kindly. One nurse said she knew God wanted us to meet, and I had a Christian doctor.

Monday morning no one was really sure if the infection was being beaten back by antibiotics. The kind nurses dutifully would come in to look at my arm and draw another line. Nobody knew what caused the infection, which they now called "cellulitis." The doctors speculated I was bit by a spider, and it was aggravated by bacteria I probably had in my skin from the bike accident four weeks earlier. All the nurses and doctors commented on how it was rather unbelievable all these crazy things have happened to me recently--getting hit by a car and then having a mystery, deadly bacteria ripping through my body. It was almost funny if it weren't so real.

Yet, by that afternoon, I had turned the corner, and it looked like the intense antibiotics were working--probably just by killing my entire immune system. For the first time since Saturday, I felt hopeful. And I was finally released Tuesday afternoon from the hospital with a strong antibiotic to take. They still didn't know what I had or why. I was just so thankful to still have my life and limbs!

Fast forward to Wednesday night: I had gone back to work that day, although I was extremely drained and weak. While trying to fall asleep, my heart began racing, my legs were burning, and my eyes seemed like they were trying to pop out of my head. My tongue seemed to turn into a giant cotton ball, and I could barely stand. I had never felt so thirsty in my life. I managed to stumble downstairs to get Mom, and was beginning to shake uncontrollably.

It was about 1 a.m. now, and Mom dumped me in the car and raced across town to the ER as I started getting a lot worse. She drove amazingly fast and pulled up to the ER door, where she ran inside calling for help. Some nurses ran out with a wheelchair and pulled me from the car. They took me straight back to a room as I had full-on rigors (like convulsions). I couldn't really breathe by this time or talk, and my heart was racing at 120 beats/minute (usually mine is about 60 beats/minute). They immediately put an IV in me, hooked me up to a machine to track my vital signs, and tried to ask me questions to understand what was going on. They didn't know if what was happening was due to my earlier bike accident, the infection, or my antibiotics.

Thankfully it was a very slow night in the ER. It was just like being in a TV show as the doctor and nurses tried to piece together the mystery quickly as I rapidly declined. It was like a race against time as my body began to shut down. My legs went entirely numb and my arms were on fire. I was still shaking uncontrollably, and I couldn't breathe as my tongue got larger and larger. They hooked me up to oxygen and watched as red splotches broke out all over my chest and neck, then my heart rate would spike dramatically.

Oh, I can't even explain the pain and the feeling of my body literally spiraling out of control. The worst part was when my legs and arms when entirely numb. This is when the doctor and nurses got even more concerned. Mom said by this point, there was the doctor and three nurses crowded around me, as three more nurses hovered just beyond them as the doctor barked orders. I was entirely paralyzed. One nurse scrapped the bottom of my feet and prodded at my hands. No reaction whatsoever. They finally conjectured that perhaps I was having a severe allergic reaction to antibiotics. This was confirmed when they tried to put some antibiotics into the IV, which they promptly replaced with strong anti-histamines.

Then several of them carried my limp body to a stretcher and put me through a CT scan to check on my heart, lungs, and head. I felt like I was fading really fast and fought to stay conscious. All the concerned voices and faces seemed so far away. I tried to tell Mom I loved her. I forced myself to keep breathing. The CT scan didn't reveal anything, and the anti-histamines in my IV kicked in just as I felt like I was going to slip away.

Another miracle (my life seems full of them these days). I didn't immediately feel better, but the doctor finally relaxed a bit as I began to regain feeling and speech. My heart only spiked every couple of minutes instead of continually. The doctor consulted with an infectious disease doctor in the hospital, but they could only conclude that I was suddenly allergic to penicillins and Avalox. I had all the severe reactions that are possible with Avalox: central nervous system effects, serious allergic reactions, skin rash, changes in sensation and nerve damage, and serious heart rhythm changes. Fun stuff!

I finally got to go home at 6:30 a.m. with a different antibiotic. By noon, however, my heart wouldn't stop racing, and my tongue was swelling again. So we got to head back over to the ER for the fourth time in less than a week. This time they knew what was wrong with me right away, so I felt better a lot faster, although not before my arms cramped up into strange contortions. They gave me 3 other medicines to counter the effects of the antibiotics. My heart still races some, and I still feel weak and extremely wobbly, but I feel a million times better. Sleeping 12 hours last night also helped.

Wow... what has been going on? Being on the verge of death and then being revived again is a little exhausting, to say the least. I literally have felt attacked by the enemy. Yet, at the same time I've never felt the presence and love of God so acutely. I continue to feel utterly broken, but somehow I feel whole knowing I'm wrapped in God's arms and His peace.

Thank you, Father, for life!! And thank you for your prayers! I promise someday I will have a blog post about something entirely light-hearted.

My arm Friday. The infection was above and below the skin. It would get a lot worse over the next couple of days.

Some of my dear friends visiting me in the hospital and reading from the Word.

The 26 year-old patient in the pediatrics ward.

The pen marks tattoo are parts of where some of the infection spread. This was when it was getting a lot better.

Sitting in the broken

How can someone feel so sad, but so joyful at the same time? I've experienced painful, rather difficult things before--divorced parents, surgery, H1N1, winters in China, witnessed the deaths of 4 pedestrians throughout my life, the loss of loved ones I didn't get to say goodbye to... I grew up in a culture where you pull yourself up by the bootstraps. There's always someone worse off than I am, and to feel pain and hurt (or to admit it) is almost a sign of weakness. So throughout life I've walked around with saying "I'm fine." But I'm not. I need healing.

I feel like I have lost many things--my plans, relationships, illusions of safety... It's like I'm going through a refining fire. I've learned more in the past few months than in a long time. And I've learned that all I have left is Jesus. I'm not afraid of death, but sometimes think daily living is more challenging. There were times in China where I nearly plummeted off cliffs on a motorcycle, barely missed getting mowed down by taxis, fell desperately ill, and somehow avoided being crushed by a massive window falling from the 5th story. And almost a month ago now, I gazed up from the pavement of an intersection not being able to move, while shivering uncontrollably. I've never felt heaven so close, and was honestly a little excited at the possibility of seeing Jesus.

Yet... I continue to live. What do you do with these experiences? Some people might say they make you stronger. I disagree. I think they make you realize how weak you are really, and the enormity of God's strength. You come to the end of yourself. You can't hide anymore. You aren't in control. Just telling people "I'm fine" doesn't cut it anymore.

Over the past couple of months I've been more transparent and vulnerable than I ever have. Friends (and even some strangers) look at me through different eyes, it seems. Sometimes I fear I've been placed on a pedestal in the past--Laura, she has it all together. I can't count the number of times people have admiringly told me, "I've never met anyone like you." She's smart, funny, confident, cute, and never cries. If you're stuck in a remote town in Siberia or on a crowded train in D.C., Laura's the girl to be with. But that facade has come crashing down. I feel bruised inside and outside, it's difficult to laugh, and I feel anything but cute.

But the crazy thing is that I'm okay! Probably more than okay. I haven't felt such an overwhelming sense of peace in ages, maybe ever. Oddly, I wouldn't trade my current circumstances for anything. Well, most anything... Somehow I have a deep joy in all of this. At small group we read Philippians: "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." vs 4:4-7.

I have that peace. I know what I'm going through may not compare to other people's difficulties, but it's my pain and it still matters to God. And in the midst of the challenges, I continue to gaze on the cross, which puts everything and everyone into perspective. And I remember, "the thing about healing is sometimes it has to get bad before it gets better. It can almost feel like a death, this letting go and sitting in the broken." ~Emily Freeman

So now I can look people in the eye again. I have nothing to hide. I am Laura. I'm going to physical therapy for my knees. I appeared on a half hour radio broadcast for work and was later laughingly described as being "sassy." (Don't think that word's ever been used to describe me before!) I am hanging out with Chinese students again and loving them well. I am pouring into others. I am letting people see me even if I have tears in my eyes. I am brave. I am listening better to others. I feel more vividly that I seem to have one foot here on earth and one foot in eternity. I can laugh. I can cry. I can speak my stilted Chinese in Chinese language class loudly and proudly. I can make mistakes. I can mess up. I don't have to be perfect. I don't have to be "fine."

So here I am at my desk at home surrounded with reminders of God's goodness- dozens of pictures of beloved friends and family from all over the world. A wrinkly piece of notebook paper taped above my desk with a gratitude list, thanking God for loyal friends, gorgeous golden trees outside my window, church family... While reflecting on His goodness, I also agree that "I need a healer, someone to stand on my behalf against my past, against the pain and disappointments of broken relationships, against any fear of trusting in the future, against the sorrow and anger of death. Hiding doesn't work. Running doesn't work. And pretending to be strong only works for a time. We don't need fixing. We need healing. We need someone to take the arrows the enemy has aimed at the deep places of our souls. Someone to stand up when we're falling down. Someone to heal." ~Emily Freeman