Freedom in Christ

Social media is the forefront of our culture and it is how we communicate to the world. We sit at home and hand-pick snippets of our lives to share with not just our friends but complete strangers that we have 'connected' with on the web. It's astounding to me the stories and pictures people find appropriate to share, and there are so many crazy things people have been sharing that have been weighing me down. Today's topic: the false hope of prosperity in the Christian world.

There seems to be an exploding trend on social media for people to share every bit of their wealth with the world to apparently show how blessed you too can be if you just work hard like they do. If I would piece all of the pictures, stories, and videos on my Facebook and Instagram from Christian people on social media, then I would think God will bless me with a fit body, a large house, a bank account full of money, lavish vacations, and perfectly dressed and behaved little pod children. I'm constantly inundated with messages about the freedom that these social media people have found in a business, in a product, and in their money. Financial freedom, freedom of time, and business success are equated to living a life of freedom and blessings. I've seen Philippians 4:13 misquoted and tacked under these pictures, so as to say that you can achieve any physical thing that you want if you believe (I'll come back to this).

I've seen pictures of people building mansion homes with messages of God blessing the work of your hands if you would just work hard like them. I've watched play by play videos of people on vacation, because they too want you to live a blessed and abundant life like they do. I've read the paragraphs about their business ventures and their humble sharing of their incomes, because they want to encourage you that if you believe positive thoughts and work hard then yes, you can be just like them! Do you feel encouraged yet? 

The message that wealth is the holy grail of the Christian lifestyle is a lie. The message being displayed is that there is financial abundance available for everyone, and that there is a secret fountain we just have to tap into to make it happen. While I believe that many of these people have good intentions, I just cannot sit back and say nothing anymore. I don't even care if I stand alone on this topic, because I strongly believe that the Christian lifestyle published on social media is diluting the message of Christ and the abundance that He really provides. It goes beyond so much more than money in your pockets. The gospel of prosperity and freedom is a bed of empty lies that will leave us disappointed and unfulfilled. 

Almost 10 years ago I started college not knowing what I was going to do with my life. I've always been a type-A work-around-the-clock type of person, but I didn't know how to harness that into what God needed. Through many events and people, I was led to pursue a career in medicine. It's quite comical now, because I had no idea what I was about to embark on. I did what I always did though, and I studied all night most nights of the week to maintain good grades for application into medical school. I did the same thing throughout medical school, studying 80-100 hours a week. Enter residency and by paper we work 80 hours a week, but ask any spouse or family member of a resident and you would know that is actually more like >100 hours a week of patient care, studying and paper work. The best part of this journey is that I paid almost half a million dollars to become a doctor, because I knew that this is where God led me. It has been the hardest journey of my life, and it doesn't get much easier after training is done. Somehow I thought that life would stop during this time and be waiting when I completed training, but instead I have encountered not matching into residency, transferring residencies, multiple moves, living apart from my husband for a year, leaving what we thought at that time was our forever church, a cancer diagnosis and death of my dad, my grandmother passing away, and multiple financial hardships. So am I doing something wrong?

No friends, there is nothing wrong with me or anyone else that is pursuing the calling God placed on your life even though it's really hard and might always be hard. Maybe you are even just working a job, because it puts food on the table for your family, and life is so hard and disappointing right now. God does not grant us an easy go, but He in fact promises the opposite. My husband and I have multiple friends who are pastoring churches in hard areas- secluded, little pay, church politics etc. But is God not glorified in their obedience to sacrifice so that others may here the Gospel of Jesus Christ? Maybe you are a teacher, a janitor, a factory worker, a secretary, etc... and you work hard every day to provide for your family and show other's Gods love. Your work is often unseen and under appreciated, and you wonder if life was meant to offer you something more. God has different callings for all of us, and maybe, yes, some are to be wealthy. But I urge you to please do not think that your life is meaningless if it looks different, plain, not glamorous, and not full of wealth. It doesn't mean that you are settling because you aren't prosperous in the world's eye. Our contentment is truly found in the strength of the Lord, not our own works.

Philippians 4:10-13 says, "I rejoiced in the Lord greatly that now at length you have revived your concern for me. You were indeed concerned for me, but you had no opportunity. Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me."

This verse struck me deep last week at church. I have heard it quoted hundreds of times, but I heard it differently and felt the scripture in a new way. 2017 was a hard year, and at many times I was depressed, alone, and crying to God for any shred of strength He could offer. It was hard to keep faith, and many of my prayers were simply asking God to show up, because I had no words. Friends, THIS is what Paul is saying in Phillipians. Paul was persecuted, beaten, imprisoned, and mocked, yet he was content. Paul was this low, and he knew that with God he could persevere through these trials. Philippians 4:13 is not about God blessing our works, but in our lowest of lows knowing that we can make it though because we have Christ! I love what John Piper has to say on this subject:

https://vimeo.com/68629367

So you see, Jesus is what brings true freedom and abundance. May we live humbly, work hard for Christ not for man, and share our wealth in Christ daily.

Grief: The Ongoing Season

I thought that summer was going to be the hard season after the death of my father due to his love for the garden, the outdoors, and baseball. Summer is now coming to a close, but I'm finding that my grief has not been as short. My dad was healthy-sick for so long, living 2 years well despite metastatic cancer. I had no clue that last summer would be the last healthy time with my dad. How do you go back and relive every moment when he was the 'normal' him?

There is the age old question of whether death is better sudden or drawn out where you have time to say good-bye. My thoughts: they both suck. I have seen plenty of death in my short time as a pediatrician, and death is death. The chronically ill child that dies does not hurt any less than the unexpected death of a healthy child. It hurts immensely as a physician to watch your patient die even if you only cared for the child for a few minutes, but I had been lucky to be the one standing from the outside looking in compared to the families going through it. One of my main goals was for my dad's death to not be dragged out to where he was suffering: if only illness and death operated so fairly.

He was healthy until all of the sudden he wasn't. I try to replay the past 10 months or so in my head, and it's hard to wrap my head around that my strong, invincible-to-me father is gone. How did cancer slowly yet so quickly steal him from us? Anyone who has witnessed cancer knows it is a thief. It literally stole the past 6 months from us (longer to him and my mom who dealt with it on a daily basis). It is hard to remember my healthy dad, because cancer tortured him until he was almost unidentifiable physically and mentally. I feel cheated that my last memories of my father weren't with his best version. God covered us through the hard times and created some beautiful memories with him during his last few months with us, but it's really hard to look past the bad memories and remember the good.

It's autumn and I picture my dad in his sweaters driving his Toyota Corolla all over Missouri and Iowa attending Football games. I imagine him taking his country drives with a Coke in hand and Starbursts in his cup holder. He's driving to the nearest orchard to buy apples to share with me for my next visit home, or maybe he's home whipping up a batch of his famous 5-Alarm chili or vegetable stew. He's in the garden harvesting his beloved sweet potatoes, or maybe he's sitting in the living room watching football with my mom. Somedays it is unfathomable that this version of my dad is no longer with us, because in my deep recesses I think I lived with the idea he would always be alive. Who doesn't live with these superhuman ideas about their parents?

I was in Whole Foods the other day, and they had their cranberries and stuffing material out already. I teared up in the dang grocery store aisles thinking of Thanksgiving without my dad's cornbread dressing. Grief: It can hit out of nowhere. My first experience with losing someone close to me was my 2nd week of medical school when one of my high school best friends tragically died in a car wreck. I can remember for months afterwards her death felt like we were in a really bad fight, and we weren't talking but that everyone else got to see her and keep making memories with her. My dad's death feels like he is gone on a drive and that we just moved on with life without him, and that he is really sad that we won't talk to him. Grief: It distorts reality.

My mom told me to listen to this song the other day, and she is right: It perfectly describes how we are feeling. I am hopeful in that God promises more than the confusion and hurt that death leaves behind. It's just a matter of meditating and praying on these promises until I am living out again what I know in my heart.


1 Thessalonians 5:17-18,"After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore, encourage one another with these words.'

Grief and Medicine

My dad had been sick with cancer for 4 years before his passing 3 weeks ago. It was a tumultuous time for our family with many peaks and valleys as anyone who has experienced cancer knows. My life personally has been a firestorm in conjunction with his illness. There is no need to recount every small woe I experienced, but the entire toll of the process has finally collapsed on me.

I knew times were changing about 6 months ago. Living six hours away allowed for some naieveity about the daily happenings of my father, but in January I went home for vacation and could feel the change of tide. He had more loss of appetite, more weight loss, and loss of independence. The man who used to travel to sporting events, drink coffee with his pals, and who had enormous energy for an 83 year old man started to prefer to sleep-in and stay home during the day. He underwent a trial of palliative radiation, even though doctors kept saying the metastatic lesions were fairly stable. There were no improvements.

I made a spontaneous trip home in February for my birthday and to watch my brother coach wrestling, and I was shocked. My life-filled father was ridden with pain. His oncologist utterly failed him as he basically told my dad he was a drug seeker and that he needed to get off the narcotics. My dad would sit and cry in pain, and I had never seen my dad cry before. I was furious, and took a week off work to help straighten out the failures of his local oncologist. As a physician I try not to publicly judge what another physician is thinking, but this was only the beginning of being completely disgusted with the care my father received. I would be written up and fired 10 ways until Sunday if I treated my pediatrics patients and their parents like my father was treated. Physicians are to read between the lines and interpret what our patients are unable to put in medical terms, and that is quite the skill I need as a pediatrician. What am I missing that my patient cannot verbalize? Hey doc, maybe you missed that a hardworking, tough man in his 80s with metastatic cancer is not ready to use the word 'pain' and that the cancer is winning? I digress.

The week at home left me knowing that things would never be the same. I went back to work the night shifts, and my husband was gone for a period of time for his classes. I would cry myself to sleep, wake up and put on makeup to hide the weariness, go to work and deal with stressful night shifts, and then cry while I walked out to my car in the mornings. I remember trying to sleep during the day, and waking up straight from sleeping hysterical that my dad was dying and I would never see him in the garden again. No one knew that every moment I was not at work that I was consumed by sorrow. Doctors are good at hiding.

The garden has been a reoccurring theme for me the past few months. My family loves the outdoors, and our parent's garden is the family gem. I cannot remember a summer where my dad did not spend every spare minute meticulously tilling and sowing seed, and then harvesting his crops. He was particularly proud of his strawberries and sweet potatoes. He was famous for his pints of juicy, sweetness he shared around town, and for his gargantuan potatoes that sometimes required a saw to cut they were so big (or so the tale goes). My favorite memories of him are toiling in his garden for his friends and family.

Unfortunately, the life of a resident doctor does not allow much time for family life. We put on happy faces, and encounter our patients pretending we do not have a care in the world. We do not take time off until it is dire. We have our own medical crises, parenteral illness, sickness of our kids and spouses, and we put a facade pretending we are brave and tough. We give-up a lot to ensure our patient families do not have to go through their hard times alone. Doctors do this like it is a good trait to shove our tragedies aside to do our jobs. I guess it is until time catches up with us, and we can no longer ignore the pain we have been enduring. It often feels like weakness to say we need time or that we need help. Needless to say, I plowed through the past few months and did not share with many of my friends or colleagues what I was experiencing outside of work.

The past 2.5 months were awful. I was trying to get through NICU and another set of night shifts, and then I knew I would be on vacation. My heart wanted to be home, and I knew it would be good if I could be, but that would have meant taking time off, paying people back for working for me, and extending my time in residency. How to balance work, marriage, and imminent death of a loved one? I remember standing in a patient's room listening the concerns of the parents and thinking, "I DON'T CARE." They were the nicest parents, but I had no ounce of empathy left in me. I never had that happen before.

I went home when I could, and then got that fateful call that it was time to come be at home for awhile. I deal with cancer and death frequently at work, but personally experiencing it was quite different. He suffered terribly. I felt guilty that I had not been there to navigate the confusing and harsh world that medicine can be. We set-up Hospice, and for 2 weeks watched him suffer and fade. Cancer is not friendly.

We had our happy moments. I spent many hours picking strawberries, and loved seeing my dad still manage a big smile when he saw the bowl full and smelled the fragrance of fresh berries. My mom would load my dad up in the car to take him for a drive around the garden. It was the epicenter of our happiness the final weeks. He lived to the end of strawberry season: how fitting.

I was luckily able to arrange back-to-back vacations allowing for time with my family. It's still hard to go back to work, and to move on like the last 6 months did not happen. The garden that brought me much happiness is now a bitter reminder that my dad isn't out working in it in his jeans, boots, and ball cap.

Grief is a lot easier when I am not the one going through it, but I have already learned that the only person that can make room for my grief is myself. Dealing with death is a process, and the mourners are left to navigate the process alone, or so it feels. CS Lewis said, "There is an invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says," and that is exactly how I feel.

I know that God is greater than my grief, and that the loneliness is a lie from Satan. I am allowing myself time. Doctors, we are only humans. We aren't immune from our own pain and suffering, and know that you are not weak to need healing and help. It is the lesson I am learning each day as I wake .

Ode to Pediatric Residency

Walking into work,
before the daybreak;
The cold air on my face,
leaving in the night.

14 hour days,
No time to pee;
Did I drink water,
or only coffee?

Pleasing parents,
Soothing upset babies;
They like me now,
Will this last?

Upset parents,
screaming children;
Now they hate me,
Where's the attending?

Write this order,
No you did it wrong;
That order too,
Hurry, now.

Another admission,
Talk, examine, repeat;
Snot, cough, fever;
Where's the Tylenol?

Call this consult,
Call that consult;
You forgot this,
You forgot that.

No time for lunch,
Eat chips;
Eat nothing,
Got hummus?

He lost his IV,
She's not pooping;
He's got diarrhea,
So there's this rash...

Doctor can you,
Nurse can you;
Answer that page,
Check that lab.

What was I doing?
Update that PMD;
Complete the discharge,
Can you call my scripts in instead?

Fever, culture, antibiotics,
Pneumonia, no bronchiolitis;
Wheezing, rales, rhonchi,
Who knows, let's try Albuterol!

She's still not pooping...
Doctor, fix that order;
New admission,
Let's try Miralax!

Bathroom break,
Leave pager at desk;
Sit on toilet,
5 minute sanity break.

Interning,
Senioring;
What was I thinking,
Can I go back?

Bad blood gas,
Lactic acidoses;
Baby crashes,
Bag, PPV, chest compressions.

Good for now,
Go home;
Worry about baby,
Will he live through the night?

Baby makes it,
So happy;
The little miracles,
make it all worth it.

Tragedy, accidents, traumas,
Hurting, dying children;
Heartbroken families,
Stay strong.

Make it through the shift,
Don't show your fear;
Keep the tears in,
Why, God?

Hug the families,
Where are the tissues;
Separate work and feelings,
Forget that, you're only human.

Is my baby better?
Yes, you assure them;
False hope,
Baby crashes.

Palliative care,
Tough decision;
Be a better doctor,
Support the family.

Little, precious babies;
Brain masses, bone tumors;
Bald little heads;
Fighters, such tough fighters.

Ring that bell,
Beat that cancer;
Victory happens;
It's worth it again.

She was doing so well,
Reoccurence, secondary malignancy;
Aggressive, non-resectable,
Hospice care.

Can't afford a funeral,
Gather money;
Love that family,
until the very end.

How to learn it all?
Will I ever be good?
It's so hard,
Is it time for vacation?

Study, pass those boards;
Time for inservice exams;
Dang it,
I knew that answer.

I'm tired,
I need sleep;
What's exercise?
When did I last see my husband?

Dirty house,
Dirty clothes;
Ooops wore those pants yesterday too;
Need a haircut.

Life passing by,
The days are long;
The years are short,
It's done in a flash.

Some days suck,
Don't dwell;
The good outweighs the bad,
At least I think so.

Love work,
Love fellow residents;
Surviving each day,
Supporting one another.

Pediatrics.
It's worth it.

A Day in the Life of Imperfect

I have been on an easier schedule this month with Fridays off, which is absurd and never happens during residency. We have been taking full advantage, and have hitting up some stuff on our To-Do list. Last Friday was hiking at a local state park, and this week was downtown adventures. It started like this:

"You should pick out what we do on Friday since I picked last week," my text read to my husband.

He chose breakfast downtown. I suggested donuts. He suggested Do-Rite donuts. I reviewed the menus, and suggested he take a look at the menu because I didn't think he would like it.

"Hey, babe, look at Stan's Donuts in Wicker Park," I said.
"Fine, I thought I was choosing." He said.

This morning we hitched the train to Wicker Park and ate at Stan's. It was a cute shop, and we both enjoyed it.

"What now?" I asked.
"The Field Museum?" he said
"I don't have all day. I need to do some work." I replied.
"Fine, we won't go. I wanted to go all day," the husband says reluctantly.

We walked around the neighborhood, and realized shops didn't open for another 2 hours. We got back on the train and headed downtown.

"What's for lunch?" I asked.
"I wanted Geno's East" the husband said excitedly.
"Seriously? I did not come all the way downtown to eat pizza. We get take-out pizza all the time." I snapped.
"Well, that's what I want and I thought I was choosing." the husband now quite annoyed replied.
"Choose something else," said the annoyed wife who was sick of pizza and hotdogs.
"Fine, I want hamburgers," the husband suggested.
"I told you I'm sick of that stuff," I screamed clearly disgusted by his choices.
"Are you kidding me?! You said no pizza or hotdogs. I suggested hamburgers. I'm not choosing. I'm done," he screamed, now a smidgen angry.
"I said no hotdogs. Hamburgers are like basically the same thing," I rationalized.

He rolled his eyes. We agreed to get back on the train and head to the center of downtown. We get off and started walking. I wanted tea, we argued over the closest one and settled on my directions to Argo Tea. We actually agreed on a flavor to buy, blueberry white tea. We hit up some shops, and he bought me a cute fall dress on sale at the The Loft (My favorite store. They actually make petite clothes that fit my weird small yet large frame). I was happy. I had a pretty dress. We walked some more aimlessly. Oh hey, let's watch that weird street performer. More shops.

"I'm hungry, " I complained.
"My knee is killing me," he said.
"My feet hurt," I replied.
"Not as bad as my knee," said the husband.
"What are we going to eat?" I asked.
"BBQ. No, this cuban sandwich place. No BBQ," he replied uncertainly.
"Well, let's walk back then," I replied.

We walked, and then we walked some more. We got back to the Loop.

"Where is the Cuban place?" I asked.
"Oh, just down the street," he said.

We walk like 4-5 blocks.

"Where is it? You said just down the street" I snapped.
"Just 1 more block," the husband replied.

We walked 3 more blocks.

"My feet are dying. They are done. Give me a piggy-back-ride," I complained.
"No, one more block," he replied
"You said that 3 blocks ago," I snapped.

We walked 4 more blocks and got there.

"This is it?" I asked as I peered into a cafe-style sandwich shop full of college-aged kids sipping coffees and wearing their thick rimmed glasses.
"This isn't what it looked like in the pictures," the husband said puzzled.
"You hate places like that," I pointed out.

We turned around and left. He found directions to the burger place he wanted to go to. Epic Burger. We walked some more.

I spotted Epic Burger nestled by a 711 and a Panda Express. It wasn't looking hopeful. The husband was excited. I tried to hide my disappointment, but dead feet and hungry 5-hours ago status had taken over.

"Don't be grumpy! Why are you grumpy?" the husband hissed.
"I'm not grumpy," I mumbled.

We walked in, and it was full on like Five Guys $5 burger joint status.

'My gosh, does this man not know who I am?! I am not eating this,' I thought.

"What is wrong with you? Look, they have never frozen meat. You will like this," he tried to reassure me.
"Are you kidding? I don't want a $5 burger. I did not come downtown on a train for a $5 Five Guys style burger and bag of fries!" I whined.
"Fine, forget it, I'm not eating here. You said no to sushi because it was too expensive. You want to save money, so we come here. I don't understand you!" snapped the husband as he stormed out.

I followed. We wondered around. I smiled. He rolled his eyes and forgave me. We walked around and found a few choices of restaurants. It was either American or German.

"You choose between the two," I told him like I was actually giving him a choice. I was not hiding too well I was pulling for the German restaurant.
"I don't want to," he snapped.
"Pick," I said.

We started walking, and he turned towards Berghoff German restaurant. We walked in.

"Well, I came here because you OBVIOUSLY wanted to come here over the other place. You didn't hide it very well," he raised his eyebrows at me.

I smiled again.

We had a delicious meal. The husband even enjoyed his. We ate dessert. We got the bill.

"Well, we could have eaten sushi," smiled the husband as he flashed the bill.
"Ooops," I crinkled my nose and smiled at him.
"You're annoying, " said the husband.

We walked to find our train. We got on the train. The husband looked at me and said:

"Well, so much for me choosing what we do today. At least I got to choose my cheesy popcorn."

Purposeful Pursuit

My mind recently has been like one of those projectors displaying a movie reel on a pull down screen in elementary school: I have been watching the my old memories and have been in awe of where I am. I have needed the reminding that I have been refined in my 29 years. I am easily frustrated with my abilities in all areas of my life, and I quickly forget where I once was.  Work is a constant learning experience, and considering I spend 80 hours a week there it would be easy for me to be be weighed down and unhappy. Medicine is not only a practice of learning clinical knowledge that is ever change and synthesizing what I know and applying it to my patients, but it is an art of communicating, leading a team, and relating to patients. When pursuing medicine, many people warned me I would have no life balance, my family would resent me, and that I won't make enough money so I should pursue a different career. What people don't understand is that when God calls one to go, then all common sense goes out the window and one goes!

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters," Colossians 3:23. 

Though, pursuing Jesus' call is not for the faint of heart. Medicine has been quite a challenge for me. I'm fairly certain I have undiagnosed ADHD, so when others can read something once or twice, I have to work twice as hard to learn information. I am indecisive and it's hard for me to focus, so being required to take 4-8 hour tests throughout the past 6 years has at times felt impossible. I recently took my third set of boards, and it has left me feeling incompetent and too stupid to treat patients for the rest of my life (actually a common feeling for all residents). I've yet to fail a boards, but it's easy to be discouraged for the next 6 weeks until scores come back. I am also a horrible public speaker, and failed multiple speeches in my academic career secondary to confidence issues and issues being in front of groups of people. I recently gave an hour long presentation, and I put so much work into organizing it and practicing it. I still got feedback that I was dull and read too much from slides. I was so discouraged, but then I remembered I used to fail speeches and completely clam up in crowds, but I stood up and did it and did an average job. Average for me is actually great, so hey, job well done! I am extremely hard on myself, and with patient care I expect perfection from myself. It's so much pressure to have someone's life in my hands and to do the very best for their care, but no one is perfect especially her 2nd year of residency. It doesn't stop us type-A doctors from getting discouraged. Living out this Jesus-calling has been trying, and I have been meditating on why I pursued medicine, why I pursue Jesus, and why my journey is important. Here is a glance into what God is teaching me. 

1. Living my call to Jesus isn't easy. I may want it to be, but it's not. 

"Then Jesus told his disciples, " If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." Matthew 16:24

My job often feels like a burden. I spent 4 years in college sacrificing college fun, for studying and maintaining grade, and then another 4 years studying 24/ 7 in medical. school. I graduated, and started residency in major debt and making pennies compared to what I paid for school. In residency, we are constantly stressed. Learning the computer systems, managing multiple complex patients, getting along with nurses, reading in our...cough....cough...spare time, making parents happy, making attendings happy, and then going home to sleep at night. I have been yelled at by nurses in front of the parents, yelled at by parents, cussed out by parents, disrespected by staff, and yet my job as a physician is to take it in stride and be professional. Let me tell you, being yelled at multiple times by nursing or attendings in front of other people is so humiliating and makes my blood boil. I wanted to yell and scream, but instead I pursed my lips tight and walked away. If I am really doing my job to bring Jesus glory, reacting negatively, even if it feels justified, defeats my entire purpose. Honestly, that really sucks at times. I don't think that means I have to get walked all over, but it means I need to have discernment when I am standing my ground for a purpose or with a vengeful attitude. My dad passed his hot-headedness to me, so you can imagine the 'tude I can develop (cringe-worthy). 

I think this applies to ANY job. I have noticed a trend in people needing to justify why their job is so hard and they don't get the credit or pay they deserve, etc, etc. In a Christian context, I am not justified to have  a nasty attitude when people don't appreciate my work 24/7. It would be easy to give up and be jaded, so I am in constant need of deep breaths and ruminating on my ultimate goal in life: pursuing Jesus at all costs. 

I tell you what, not matching to a residency and fighting to find a new program was extremely challenging. It's easy for me to become humiliated by my story, but I have tried to remain an open book to share my journey with other people. If I can inspire one person to not give up and to know it's not always a straight path to the end goal, then my struggle was worth it all. 

2. Living a life after Jesus isn't about blessings. I am not guaranteed the American blessed and bountiful life just because I am following Jesus. 

Our culture in inundated with beautiful houses, perfectly decorated, with good-looking people inside wearing the trendiest clothes. We have refrigerators full of grass fed chickens and $6 quarts of local whole milk. We are expected to have matching workout clothes and sneakers, and never sweat when we do our morning yoga (because we do that every morning, right?). Our families look like J Crew models, and we only post the most adorable family photos. Best of all we all go to bed looking like the people in a JCPenny's Christmas catalog with matching pajamas, and perfect hair. We manage to do this while working 40 hours a week, the kids maintain their perfect grades and play 3 sports a week, and PS, we also manage to work at our local food pantry because we are just that good. 

'Pray over these things in His name, amen, and then they will come true.' I mean, come one, give me a break. No, no, no. 

It's been a tough year...errrr...two... for our family. We have struggled to sell house, struggled to find work, moved from where we thought God wanted us to a foreign land (Illinois...hehehe), moved twice across the country... struggled to pay for house flooding and repairs to again try to sell a house... had to pay for new tires and repairs on two cars...have a family dog in need of surgery or face being put down from pain...I mean the list could go on the costs that keep building up for our family. I don't know how many times I have heard it will all be fine, because I'm a doctor and I will make a lot of money. 

The truth is the life of a resident who doesn't come from a wealthy family to pay for the schooling is a huge sacrifice and burden. I can't even begin to think of how much we owe on school loans. Our plan was to pay extra while I was in residency, but we have been hit so hard financially that it's been impossible. I have been working extra shifts (because you know, 80 hours a week isn't enough), so that we could survive the past few months. I'm a typical women and worry about my hair and my clothes, and have felt so guilty over finances that I wouldn't even let myself buy some new shoes even though my current every day black flats are 3 years old and kinda stinky. I am sick of living in a barely furnished house because furniture and decorations are so expensive. I've been kind-of-done with the vagabond lifestyle. It's hard working more hours than probably any other profession, but yet making a fraction of the salary. I get a tad bitter about it. Man, how many other women always feel they are sacrificing and it's never enough? I'm betting many of you.

I have been pretty upset about it recently, but was reminded that this is the life I prayed for: to live radically different for the Lord pursuing a greater purpose than my own. Mind you, that doesn't mean I don't have selfish, bitter, ugly, self-pity days fully of envy of so many other women and families. I have been jealous of others, and my heart has some nastiness going on up in there.  Here I am turning 30 years old this year, yet I am still not settled, I still feel like I am living like a college student, and I am childless. It's no where the life I imagined the life I'd be living at 29. I'm all like, "Hello Jesus, I've been working like a maniac for years now never taking a break, I did this because you told me to, and what gives! Where are MY blessings?" I sound like Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka, "Don't care how, I want it now!" Somebody slap me. 

3. Following Jesus can be lonely. 

I can be surrounded by people every day, but in the end I am alone on my journey with pursuing my call. No one else can bear my cross or my daily burdens. I put on a tough exterior, but I am a sensitive soul inside. I used to be all  about self-maintaining a billion relationships, because I thought that was what nice people do. Multiple surface level relationships are impossible to maintain and it makes for an unhealthy mindset. It has been a new journey to be married, and learn to depend on my husband as my primary support. It took a few years to get to that point, but I am thankful to have one person who is going through the same challenges and to walk through life hand in hand. I am still learning to depend on Jesus and to run to Him in good times and bad, so I am thankful He never gives up on me. 

Even through all of this, it is exciting to start seeing the light at the end of the tunnel as they say. I am almost halfway through residency, and I am learning a skill set that will always be useful. People will always be sick and hurt and need of a good physician. Deep breaths. I can do this!

Yes I Can

The outside appearance is often misleading. I may appear confident, but I have struggled with who I am and what I am capable of for as long as I can remember. Throughout grade school, people were scared of me because I am opinionated and strong willed, but that was a great cover for what I felt inside. I liked to work hard and please others, so I studied and managed to make good grades. I somewhat worked hard at track and softball, and I was above average in both. The outside achievements hid the darkness I felt inside.

When I look back at what I achieved, the memories are marred by the times I doubted my capabilities. The races I mentally defeated myself before I ran, and the times I held back because I thought there was no way I could win or that I didn't have the ability to keep up with my components. The memories of mentally sabotaging myself pitching on the softball mound or being up to bat and not believing I could make contact. They call people like me "head cases," and I definitely excelled at being one.

School and sports were not the only areas I felt defeated, but I also disliked who I was inside and out. I HATED what I looked like, and I was the typical female who thought she was fat and ugly. When I got to college, I met some awesome ladies, and I never knew why they wanted to be MY friend. I'd replay my faults and failures in grade school and high school, and cry myself to sleep many nights wondering why anyone would want to be my friend. My strong personality masked the pain I really felt. I overcompensated by throwing myself into school and friendships, and working hard to be perfect. I didn't accept failure. If I made B's, said a wrong answer in class, or got weird looks from someone at a social event I would go home and cry and beat myself over for days at 'failure.' I was literally psychotic in college. Get a wrong answer, and I'd be in the professors office the next day. Disagree with the grading, and I'd be first lined up to argue. I studied 24/7 and had no grace for myself.


How did I ever work through the mental mess I was? God's grace and mercy are number one in my books. I remember the first life altering event that started to change my perspective of what's important: when my high school best friend died tragically in a car accident the first week of medical school. Can you imagine the neurotic Hannah facing her medical school test, and being forced to step away from school for 4 days and not being able to be emotionally stable enough to open up a book?! It's unfortunate that the death of a friend was what took me to slow down, and face reality that school is not the most important thing in life. Acing a test does not determine who I am. It was the first time I studied what I could, took breaks, and took breaths. It would be okay no matter what I got on that test as long as I passed. It was quite a change for a perfectionist.

I continued to try to keep the frame of mind in medical school that no matter how a test went or a rotation went that it's okay, because I would make it through. I still had to remind myself frequently that life would go on if I got a C or didn't finish 1st in my class. It was mentally taxing for a loon like myself to start a new rotation each month with new doctors to impress and new stuff to learn, and to not let it get to me if I got yelled at in the OR or if a nurse was mean to me for doing something wrong. I made it through medical school, and guess what, I survived! I also gave myself a pass with my friendships. Instead of overcompensating, visiting everyone, sending cards, and calling frequently, I reminded myself true friends would still be there and that I didn't have to be a perfect person to deserve their friendship.

I still have negative thoughts about my appearance, especially after gaining 30 pounds since college. Seriously, I look at a cookie and don't work out and boom, I gain 10 pounds. It's embarrassing, but I am more confident that I am still healthy and beautiful. I do what I can, and by golly, I can lose this weight. I have to take those deep breaths, look in the mirror and remind myself it is a new day and I can make changes little by little to reach my goals. I no longer have to mentally psyche myself out like I did in track, but I can start with where I am and go, go, go. I have embraced my quirkiness, and I am at a place I like who I am. I've accepted I'm not a size 2 anymore, and that's okay. I've accepted I am not the best at large social gatherings and I'm kind of awkward, but guess what, put me one and one and no one will love a person more than me. I may care too much and take things personally, but I now see that as a strength, because as one of my medical school attendings told me once, "People just want to be taken care of well," and dang-it I'll care for you like you're my family. I might have weird taste in clothing, love bright things and old hats, and all things old, but I actually love that about myself. I'm still opinionated, but I see that as a strength that I think for myself and stand for what I believe. I may be obsessed with pies and farmer's markets, but apparently that is cool now. I may be obsessed with my dogs, but hey I like rescuing things, and some day I am going to rescue children and fill my house-up with them and then you won't think I am so weird. I have old fashioned values, and outdated opinions, but my parents taught me there is more than the world tells us life is about, and I am grateful they taught me the simple pleasures in life.

This post was inspired by feeling defeated the past week working in the ED. I am not keeping up the with patient volume, coming up with the correct diagnosis like I should, or excelling like I want. I have turned back into that timid self-defeating mouse from high school. I woke up this morning, and said, "Self, this is shift 4 of 12. You aren't even half done yet, so keep going, learning, asking questions every day, taking chances, and by shift 12 you will be THAT much better." I almost forgot my own advice today when I let some cross words from a colleague get to me, and I felt so stupid. When people talk to me in that tone, you know the one, like you're stupid why are you bothering me? Yeah, that one gets me deep down every time. It's that tone that immediately makes me want to cry and say mean things to myself. My immediately thought, "I already think I'm stupid, so thanks you're not telling me anything new, folks!" I chose to combat those negative thoughts, and remind myself each moment is new, next time I'll get that right! I can persevere, and I will be better a doctor and person for giving it my best each day. God is cheering me on, and yes I can!