We dance...

When you are praying for a Bible church who preaches the Bible and uses the Bible to make it relevant and you pray to God for a pastor who studies the hermeneutics of scripture and you show up to a new church after listening to several sermons of the lead pastor preaching the Bible, still having hesitation and reservations and then you get to hear the associate pastor preach and he actually says "while studying the hermeneutics" during his sermon, all you can say is "I hear you, God. I hear you".  ...and so was my experience this past Sunday.
For sometime, we have been considering a new church.  For sometime we have been hungry for more...more relationships, deeper teaching, a spiritual growing.  We went to the midtown campus while living in Tulsa and found it to be smaller but still not the family type environment we felt at our first church that Lance and I grew exponentially in and the church where we found some of our best friendships.  We got to know one person while we were there.  Then we moved back to the main campus because it just seemed to make sense.  It was in the same town we lived in.  It was the home church of our community group and it was an easy drive for Gabe and I.  But still, we felt not at home.  It was even more of a lost feeling.  The pastor tucked away, in and out for preaching.  Seating difficult to find as well as the parking. We felt like just another face.  (Now don't get me wrong.  I believe Big churches are great but it wasn't working for me.) I missed the community feel that I fell in love with during my days at Fusion. I missed the quirkiness but spirit filled singing of Dwayne where at times he stumbled through some words but it never mattered because he was singing to God and not us. Or the beautiful voice of my best friend, Stephanie, who stood beside me on my wedding day singing a song of praise. I missed baking the cookies for Sunday morning, making the tea, being a good host. I missed the intimate setting where my pastor knew every single person's name and we went to lunch together, celebrated birthdays together, had community together. I missed my husband wanting to linger after church to hang out with his friends and talk about manly things with men he had found common interests with.  My soul was crying, breaking, longing for the things of yesteryear that I know can never be he again but surely there had to be some common ground.
And so brings me to Sunday.  When I walked into The Gathering, I instantly felt at home. Meeting in the Thoreau Demonstration Academy with pop up signs, it had the feel of a developing church plant. Friendly faces greeted those coming through the door. I could definitely help with set up on Sundays. Orange juice, coffee, and mini muffins were also a welcome sign of a church who wants to be inviting.  I could totally see myself making cookies for this church.  The children's church was down the hall in a classroom with a baby gate blocking the door to Gabe's class.  We couldn't enter the "sanctuary" (auditorium) until 1020 due to the need for set up and practice so people congregated in the front giving hellos, hugs and how have you beens."  The lead pastor rushed by us but stopped to say hello and good morning. Upon entering the sanctuary, it was quaint. Big enough to allow for newcomer space but not so large that you felt like a face lost in the sea.  The music shortly began. At first, I'm drawn to the uniqueness and peculiarity of the worship leader's voice. It's different but it's good. Then I scan the stage. A full band. A violin...well, that is a blessing that hadn't been on a search list but definitely makes me excited.   The music is good. It's familiar. Even the song that isn't speaks to my soul. Without truly scanning the room, I can tell people are raising their hands in worship, I can hear the clapping on the glorious triumphant proclamation that Jesus has conquered the grave, that Jesus covers my sin. I can see the people dancing. The Spirit of God is in this room. Then on the last song, down in front, I see a man with both hands raised, dancing, almost jumping then he does it. He jumps, he lets out a celebratory yell and I feel the Spirit leap in me.  The Spirit of God has met us here in this room where during the week, assemblies are held, plays are had. He is here. Then this guy in front moves down to the front and begins speaking. At first, I'm a little disappointed as I knew he was not the lead pastor. But then I'm reassured as I had heard the lead pastor speak before and this would show me what I would hear when he was gone.   We take time to greet one another and again I feel the connection to Fusion. People know we are new. There's no guessing.  Names are exchanged. We are welcomed.  I actually feel welcomed.  Then the preaching begins. Still talking about David as has been the series I had been following at home. He reads out of second Samuel with some corny church humor of where that's located  and then continues the story of David and Bethsheba. It's all Bible.  It's all scripture. Over to Psalms to read of David's thoughts during these times, back to second Samuel.  Back to Psalms. See how it correlates. One brief personal story of his own struggle with the weight of sin and back to second Samuel. And then the glorious bringing back to Jesus. The band comes back, we take communion. Couples holding the cups, speaking out to every single person individually, "Christ body broken for you. Christ blood shed for you."  And then on a little platform as I look to my right, it's just like Fusion, people kneeling, praying, thanking God.  So badly I wanted to join and kneel but I could already feel the tears swelling and I just couldn't let that be my first experience. I should have just went. Instead, I went back to my seat. Prayed and thanked Jesus for all that He has done and almost screamed along with the music. This is where I feel I belong. I heard Him loud and clear. Lance is so excited to come with me and hopefully in 2 weeks, he will be able to take off and join Gabe and I for a full Sunday of togetherness.  OH!! And they are also having a men's retreat which involves, camping, woods, 4-wheelers and shooting guns. I think Lance will fit in;).
"I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you."--Psalm 32:8





And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.-- Isaiah 30:21

Thank you, Lord, for listening, for guiding, for making me pay attention to that trailer parked out by the road in that empty parking lot that made me look up that church. I pray you lead me, keep me and that you shine your face upon me. I love you, Lord. It is my desire to be where you want me. Continue to show me. 

I pray you are listening to the Lord and going where He leads. I pray that if you are struggling with this same dilemma as I have that He too will be gracious and show you the way. 


Take the lead and I will follow
Finally ready now
To close my eyes and just believe
That You won't lead me
Where You don't go .....let me pray this daily, Lord. 

let me stay here a little longer....

I was blessed to have nine days off in a row.  9 beautiful days.  No vacation taken.  No vacation planned.  Just 9 days in a row.  I did ask for the next three days off but the previous 6 days were just a lovely addition.  And it’s amazing how you don’t realize how much you may actually need something more than you know.  The past several days have been this subconscious preparation for the endurance of these three days.  A time to find comfort in God, seek His shelter and lean on Him.  This past week He has continued to point me toward Bethel Music as I have just continued to listen over and over.   Sunday after church, the words played again and again.  Crying out to God and missing my son.  Thinking about that beautiful time that I will see him again, wrapped in the glory of Christ.  Then these words played out; they echoed a chorus my soul was already playing...

      “And I will lock eyes

    With the One who's ransomed me

The One who gave me joy for mourning

And I will lock eyes

With the One who's chosen me

The One who set my feet to dancing.”

I will be overcome by that glory and power of Christ.  The one who gives me joy.  The one who continues to set my feet to dancing.  Every year, several times a year, I become so focused on Gideon.  I mean tunnel vision on Gideon.  And God so kindly in one way or another turns my focus back to him.  It will be a glorious time when I get to see that blue eyed boy again but the real beauty of it all comes from the beauty that is Christ.  He makes it possible. 

So as we get great news that we have this growing girl who is being intricately made within me, or when it’s 11PM  in the middle of a rainstorm the night before the anniversary of the biggest fight of our life, we will be filled with the same joy.  The joy that only comes from God.  

Better words than I could write:

“You steady me

Slow and sweet, we sway

Take the lead and I will follow

Finally ready now

To close my eyes and just believe

That You won't lead me

Where You don't go

When my faith gets tired

And my hope seems lost

You spin me round and round

And remind me of that song

The one You wrote for me

And we dance.”

Lord, your love has broken every chain.  You free me.  You heal me.  You guide me.  Though my flesh deters, my flesh caves, you spin me back around.   I am continuously pointed back to you.  And I can’t thank you enough.  Like those words I cried out, those words I screamed out; I can’t thank you enough.  And though I ask you, what it is you would have me to do.  You simply reply with not a list of do’s and don’t’s.  You don’t condemn me for focusing on Gideon and planting my feet in the muck of sorrow.  But you simply love on me and call me to love you so that I can feel that joy that overcomes all of my mourning.  You are glorious, Lord.   You are glorious.  

Shall I play for you...

It’s one in the morning on Christmas Day and I am sitting down to write.  I need to be up in roughly 4 hours so we can have our Hamm family Christmas together since Lance has to leave around 630.  I should be going to bed since I am no longer cleaning the house and preparing for tomorrow but instead I’m writing.  I’m not a fast writer either.  God often puts something on my heart to write and as I sit down He gives me more and then there is scripture searching and sometimes by the end, what has been written is not at all what I initially thought I was supposed to write about.  So, it’s a process and one that will keep me up later than I should but it’s all for the glory of God and He will sustain me, right?  Right.  

I have been anticipating the reaction to Gabe seeing his paw patroller since I first purchased it.  If you have seen any of our past Christmas morning videos then you know he is pretty animated and thankful.  His expression is so full of joy and it makes everything all worth while.  I still probably beam more than he simply because I love that he is so excited.  And now he is three. This is the first year where he has really asked for something so specific.  He has asked for a tree in the past and a train but never so specific.  The magic of Christmas shall be in full force come 5AM in the Hamm’s house. 

So as I finished cleaning up and setting up the gifts and was thinking about that joy, I began thinking of Gideon.  Every year I wish Jesus a happy birthday, tell him to kiss my boy for me and pray that my friends and family will be accepting to the pursuit of Jesus.  Because every year, I am overcome with JOY.  Joy that only comes from God.  Although  Gabe will make me happy and Gabe’s response will bring me joy, true joy comes from God.  The joy that allows me to live in the present, the joy that surpasses my loss and allows me to praise the one who made me, comes only from God.  Every year I am overcome with a deeper love for Jesus.  

So as I turned to Gideon and pictured what he would be doing here and what I would potentially be buying a blue eyed, chubby five year old, I turned back to what will he be doing in Heaven.  Everyday, I picture he looks at his gift, Jesus, and he just radiates with that joy that I see from Gabe on Christmas morning only exponentially more so.  And in return Jesus looks at him and beams with his heavenly love and joy.  It’s a beautiful picture.  I don’t picture presents and wrapping paper.  I picture Jesus and my son.  That’s enough.  That’s all any of us need.  Jesus is the reason for our season and although I love giving gifts and we love to play into Santa, I will not forget what our gifts represent and where our joy truly comes from.  

It was of course Christmas season when Gideon was born and he had colic, like the worst kind of colic.  And he also hated the carseat.  So, everyday after picking him up in Muskogee from the sitter's and driving home to BA, I would try to play music and sing to him to help console him.  Sometimes it would work and sometimes it wouldn't (typical colic).  There were two songs that tended to calm him more than any other thing and one of those was "Little Drummer Boy" by Jars of Clay.  To this day, no matter where I am, no matter which version, I instantly go back to those days riding in the back of that car.  Then I really listen to the lyrics and the Holy Spirit is stirred within me and I just get it.  When the world has become too much and I've lost my way, I again, just get it.  He wants me.  He wants the unedited/raw version of just me.  Little ol me.  Whatever my gifts are, whatever I bring to "play" is fine as long as I give him me.  His face beams for me and because of that love, yes, because he loved me first, I can and do beam for HIM.  

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this [shall be] a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. --Luke 2:8-14

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.--Isaiah 9:6

I pray this Christmas your heart will be open.  I pray you are filled with JOY and you accept the only gift that really matters, Jesus Christ.  

17 days old in this photo.  Play your drum for Jesus, little one.  Play your drum. 

He has done great things...

“ But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish...” --Isaiah 9:1

No gloom.  I repeat, no gloom.  NO.  GLOOM.  There it is in black and white.  No gloom.  I went to bed last night with a heavy heart.  My newsfeed was already filling with pictures and memories of Gideon.  The anticipation of his arrival and his debut flooded my timehop.  He is 5.  “A whole hand” as I tell every child I encounter when they tell me their age of 5.  A whole hand.  Unfair was all I could muster.  Unfair.  Unfair, that he could not be here with us.  Unfair, that he was taken too soon.  Unfair, that Gabe would never play with his brother this side of Heaven.  Unfair, that we bear this hurt.  I cried myself to sleep.  I woke searching to hear from God.  I woke searching for the comfort I can only find in Him.  I told Gabe of today’s activities and the cupcakes we will eat and the birthday song we will sing. Gideon’s big blue eyes pierced my memory, flooded my thoughts.  

Then as we sat down and I dug into my devotional, searching to hear from God, He was again faithful.  First I read of Mary.  She can trust in God and focus on all that He has done or she can give into anxiety.  The weight she must have felt.  How easy to have lived in that fear and despair and question.  But Mary remembered the past.  She recalls the good things God has done and she focuses on the promises that are to be fulfilled in the birth of her son.  Focus on the promise.  Not on the rhetoric.  Focus on what is to come, not in the present circumstance.  She chooses to sing a song of praise to God...

“for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name.”--   Luke 1:49

As we came home, I continued to search.  Advent calendar reading it is.  I open in and these are the first words for today...

 The chapter heading: For to Us a Child is Born.  The first verse:

“ But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish...” --Isaiah 9:1

Ah, I’m hearing you God.  There is your voice.  There are your words. Here I am in anguish.  there I was in anguish and it’s okay to be in aguish but there will be no gloom.  No gloom.  Your son has come....

“For unto us a child is born, to us a child is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Might God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” --Isaiah 9:6

When I hear the story of Christmas, this is my favorite part.  o triumphant.  So glorious.  Filled with good news.  He is born.  He has come.  He is Holy.  

He is the same.  Yesterday.  Today.  Tomorrow.  His promises are true and they do not change.  He is mighty.  He has done great things.  he has done great things for me.  He will continue to do great things.  He will continue to do great things for me.  For us.  For my family.  For your family.  And HOLY is HIS name.  AND there my focus is turned to HIM.  Not until now while writing this did it truly go back to Him as I have cried off and on all morning and I’m sure more will fall throughout the day, but not until now did that focus go from our grief and back to His holiness.  I have never missed anyone more than I miss Gideon.  But I have never felt more in awe of and more loved by anyone more than God.  The birth of Jesus gives me goosebumps.  He came.  He is alive.  He came for me.  He came for you.  He came for Gideon.  He holds Gideon today in his arms and He sings songs with him and he smiles down and tell me there is no gloom and I am reminded that He has done great things for me.  Great things.  

I pray this Christmas that you will hear the story of the birth of Jesus and your heart will be touched and you will be filled with an adoration of our Heavenly father and you will turn to Him.  Rejoice, because He has come.  No matter what Satan tries to take away, no matter what Satan intends for destruction, He has come.  He makes all things new.  

Thank you Lord for not just cleaning me up.  Thank you for making me new.  Thank you for loving me, even when I hang out in anguish.  Thank you for knowing my heart.  Thank you for giving me your words, your promises so I can be reminded of that hope in you.  Thank you for dancing and singing with my son today.

Why blue eyed babies make my heart skip a beat...

Fear and awe...

'Do you not fear Me?' declares the LORD 'Do you not tremble in My presence? For I have placed the sand as a boundary for the sea, An eternal decree, so it cannot cross over it. Though the waves toss, yet they cannot prevail; Though they roar, yet they cannot cross over it. --Jeremiah 5:22

We are on our way to visit our friends...sun and ocean. I am a lover of the warmth and can't wait to dip my toes in that salty sweetness and feel the waves pull and tug. But I have to confess, the ocean scares the crud out of me. When I sit on the beach and look out at the vast unknown before me, this panic stirs within. I love cruises but to be honest, being out in the middle of all of that surrounding blue brings a bit of fear. We entrust this hunk of metal that weighs tons with 10x10 rooms stacked upon one another to keep us afloat. But at the same time as I have this fear stirring within me, I have this desire to see more, to GO more. 

As we head out to Aruba for our getaway, I know I will sit on the beach and feel that pit in my stomach.  It's this feeling of utter overwhelm.  The immense water whose border is beyond what I can see. The sharks and the crashing waves that could take my life. The creepy, hidden things that no one has even discovered. The world that lives below the surface. Yes, I like having the borders of the pool, of the lake and the ocean gives me only one border, the beach I stand on (and even sometimes no border as you cruise across on the multi ton ocean liner). 

So yes, it puts this slight panic inside. I know I am little in comparison and I have no power when it comes down to it. When I come to the ocean, I approach it with reverence. This is the same way I approach God.  

The ocean is not out to get me but I know what it's capable of (at least a small portion). And God isn't out to get me but again I know what He is capable of and I approach Him with a fear and awe.  And today, as I stand on that beach and look out, I won't be able to not think of God and His power.   He could have sent us to Hell but He created a way for us to be with Him. He could have started over but again, He loved us enough to wait on us. So when I think of God, I don't think, "you could take me out right now".  But instead, I think "you are so powerful and perfect and you LOVE me. You SAVED me".   So I will embrace you and let your love wash over me like the waves wash over me and I will bask in your love as I will bask in the sun. I will stand on that shore and choose to feel the glee that overcomes the panic as I will stand in your presence and choose to feel that love that overcomes my sin. 

"I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground."

The waves and wind still know...

So let go my soul and trust in Him; the waves and wind still know His name.

I have never been one to be competitive in life except for when it came to school.  But still, I was quietly competitive.  I remember in grade school, we had “math blasts” where we were given a sheet of equations and the first to finish with the most correct won.  Oh, I wanted to win so badly.  I was speedy.  I don’t even remember what the prize was.  the prize wasn’t what I wanted so it didn’t matter.  I wanted to be the best.  But there was one girl who consistently beat me.  Every. Single. Time.  Her name was Michelle Montgomery.  Funny thing about Michelle is she actually precepted me during my nurse externship in the NICU when I thought I still wanted to  be a neonatal nurse practitioner and she is now a neonatal nurse practitioner.  Anywho, back to math blasts.  I wanted to beat her bad!  Math blast after math blast, she would finish just before I wrote my final answer until finally one day I beat her.  It was a glorious victory and I bounced with joy, on the inside of course because I’m an introvert.  Maybe its the fault of math blasts that I am a speedy test taker...?  

This theme of having to be the best continued throughout school age.  I never cared if I made the basket, hit the ball or ran the fastest but it was always important to make an A.  It was pleasing to my parents for me to do well in school.  I graduated in the top of my class.   This continued through my college days, when I was a teller, a tech, a nurse, through grad school.  i wanted to be the best at what I was doing.  I wanted to be the best at using my brain.  Does that sound weird?  Well, you know what I mean.  And I loved school.  i was good at it.  But not only good at the study stuff and test stuff but with the application piece as well.  The good student, the good employee, that was who I was.  So now go back to me beginning at the PEC.  The primary care stuff was easy peasy.  But when it came to the acute care, I was a little fish in a big pond.  My peer is so unbelievably brilliant and then again these doctors.  That pride piece in me was becoming deflated.  So, why not go back and learn and gather all of the information in one huge block of mandatory time.  I could do it.  i would do well. Well, the problem with that is that even when you graduate med school, you don’t have all of the information.  Even when you finish residency, you don’t have all of the information.  You are definitely prepared but you still have things to learn and you never stop learning.  But the even bigger problem with that plan is it isn’t what God wants for me.  

Dr. Brandi Hamm is not the plan that God has for me.  Almost as soon as I posted my blog last week declaring to the world my struggle, my temptation, God began showing me where I am to be.  When I went to pick Gabe up from school, he was sick.  When he was being walked over by his teacher, he looked pale.  He was moving slow.  No smiles.  He looked tired. No ‘hi mom”.  As she loaded him in the car, she told me that he just began feeling ill and asked to be held because his leg hurt.  She thought he felt a little warm.  As we drove away, i reached my hand back to feel his head and he was hot.       i looked back at him.  he was very pale.  I looked at his legs, gave a few squeezes.  i saw a few bruises.  Then mom who lost her three month old kicked in.  Cancer?  Septic joint?  Then rational mom came around, “I’ll just look at you when we get home.”  I carried him in.  His little body radiating heat.  103 fever, of course you look puny.  Ears clear, throat clear.  Lungs sound good.  Soft belly.  No abnormal bruising.  No joint swelling, redness or tenderness.  Still bearing weight.  So I gave him some motrin and put him down for a nap.  

10 minute car ride and couldn't keep his eyes open.

During the midst of his nap, I received some feedback to my med school blog.  I was given contact info to a female physician who had a three month old when she started med school and had another girl during her third year of school.  I scanned her blog.  She had helpful mommy/school tips.  She had been on vacations.  She seemed to be making family time and school time really work.  She called me shortly before Gabe woke from his nap.  That was a God orchestrated conversation.  She scared me.  She scared me to no end.  I hung up the phone with my jaw dropped.  She told me how she would see her 3 month old on Monday night and then not again until Thursday night.  She told me how her husband does all of the car pooling and any school activity.  Her husband also had to quit his job for 6 months so they could just keep things together and flowing.  She had also contemplated quitting but had it not been for the debt she had already racked up and just the determination of just doing the thing that she had always wanted to do she probably would have.  If made to do it again, she would not go back to school.  And she said it was really common theme with others in her program because she felt like she was the only one questioning but she was really surprised how many others were unhappy.  So yes, I got off the phone with her and immediately went to tell Lance, who by this time was holding Gabe, that I would not be attending school.  But then we talked it out as I snuggled Gabe.  Maybe her priorities are different than mine. I know some people who manage to keep active within the church and within their family.  So I was back on the fence when I went to bed.  Then 0645 rolls around.  Lance has left for work.  I worked 12-12 and Gabe is crying out.  He usually wakes around 830-9 but here he was crying and ready to get up.  He still has a slight fever but he seems comfortable but he is done with sleeping.  Again, I hear you God.  This is what it will be like.  I just want to go back to bed.  I want my child to be well.  I want him to go back to sleep.  Nope.  Not going to happen.  And this is what med school would look like.  trying to get in a few extra hours of sleep while the newborn needs to be fed and changed and needs attention.  Or trying to study during those quiet morning hours when Gabe decides he is done and wants out of bed.  Then there are other things, like the fall festival, book fair and mom and muffin events at school that I would miss out on.  Then I had good conversation with some friends where i could just talk it out.  You realize how stupid something sounds when you say it out loud for others to hear you...  It doesn’t make sense.  God has blessed me with a great education.  he has blessed me with a flexible job.  And more importantly, He has told me time and time again I am made to be mom.  And in 5 years, I will have debt paid and even more flexibility.  I am also encouraged when I hear other women physicians tell me that their goal is not work as much either but to stay home with their children.  

We had community group last night and let me tell you, this semester has been awesome.   Our lesson teaching leader got held up at work so another leader stepped in and taught.  he spoke about jesus being tempted and just before leaving I was able to share how I continued to be tempted with this desire to go and further my education, all while racking up ore debt and missing out on all of those “firsts”.  God set it again in my heart that it’s not the path for me. 

“O Lord God of hosts,

    who is mighty as you are, O Lord,

    with your faithfulness all around you? 

You rule the raging of the sea;

    when its waves rise, you still them.”  Psalm 89:8-9

Oh God, you are faithful.  As in the days of Gideon, the days of Noah, you continue to be faithful.  As I continue to turn to you, forget your promise, your commands, you are faithful to bring me back and show me your ways.  As I wrestle with the same lie, the same sin of pride that tempted Eve in the garden, that tempted Jesus in the wilderness, I thank you for the everlasting truth that you are faithful.  You have the power to calm the storm, to calm the waves, come and calm my soul, Lord. 

I have heard that children are resilient, that school is only for a season and although I know all mean well.  This is what goes through my mind.  I don’t say it because then things get awkward... but yes, kids are resilient except when they die.  And then it’s not the resiliency of the child that I am worried about.  It is instead mine.  There is no doubt in my mind that Gideon felt loved everyday of his life.  But I missed out on so much.  Me.  Not him.  It’s my resiliency.  let me make it clear, that I do not live in fear but God showed me His plan for us after we lost Gideon and through our life we will continue to hold tup what we think we want and see how it holds true to that promise and plan.  If through the death of our son i was able to hear from God and not have any change in my life then it is all for not.  It is not all for not. 

I want more of this.  More pumpkin town.  More smiles.  More giggles.  More snuggles.  

What's your temptation?

…and we thought we knew...

“An intelligent heart acquires knowledge,

    and the ear of the wise seeks knowledge.” --Proverbs 18:15

Shortly after I graduated high school I moved away to Florida.  I had received a few scholarships to local schools but life was taking me elsewhere.  I didn’t go to college right away and instead took a job at The Bank of America.  Florida living is expensive.  I was quickly promoted to Teller Manager and transferred to another location.  I was 18 years old and managing women almost three times my age who had been doing this job for almost as long as I had been walking this earth.  I remember it being fun and aggravating and a lot of hours.  I remember flying back to see my family and while on the plane I was reading a book.  I had tons of books packed and it was a time when I could barely put them down.  I remember talking to the Tulsa Ballerina sitting next to me as I started to explain how odd it was for me to be reading any book that wasn’t a textbook.  Throughout school I rarely read anything that wasn’t a requirement.  But since graduating I had this hunger for knowledge that couldn’t be quenched.  I knew that working in a bank was not what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.  I had stood up at our Senior Tea and declared that I was going to be a Neonatal Nurse Practitioner and I needed to get started on that.  I still do not know who told me about nurse practitioners but that’s what I was going to be.  I knew it was time for me to get started.  My journey twisted and turned but I finally made it as an NP, only the pediatric kind. 

And now here I am, 6 years post graduation.  Whoa, 6 years out from graduating graduate school.  And again I have that unquenchable desire.  Lance and I have been throwing around the idea of me going back to school.   Let’s stop there.  There will be two types of people who read this and I can see they will probably be at polar opposites.  One group will say “that’s ridiculous” and the other would say “go get it.”   Or maybe those are the polar opposites that continue to play out in my head.  But here it is: I want to go to med school.  That’s right, med school.  I have been going back and forth for the past two years since starting my job in the ER and working in direct relationship with a few of the brightest minds out there.  I want that.  It excites me.  I want to possess that knowledge.  I don’t care about the pay or the title, (although to pay for school, I would need to make more money in the end) but I really just want the knowledge. 

But then on the flip side, I want to be mom.  I want to be wife.  med school would cause me to miss out on so much more than i already do.  I would not have the flexibility and freedom for t-ball, swim, the pumpkin patch, nap time snuggles and all of the other things that I enjoy taking him to or engaging with him in.  And let’s not get started on having another baby.    If I continue on an NP then we will have all of our debt paid off in 5 years.  If i go back to school then it will end up costing us almost a million dollars in the cost of school, interest and missed wages from having to quit my job for so many years.  I don’t mind the schoolwork, the long hours, the endless lectures.  I love school life.  I love late night cram sessions,  I love learning.  Then I thought, well i could just learn the content.  There is limitless university lectures online and a plethora of books and study material at my fingertips.  Lord, I even have pediatric board test prep books.  But I’m the type of person who needs to sit in a lecture and take notes.  Ample notes.  I require the structure of lecture and then as we all know we need that application piece.  If I learn something but then do not have the opportunity to apply it then it gets lost in the sea of random facts that may or may not be found when needed.  

I received an Np magazine yesterday in the mail.  On the cover a title read “NP to MD: Is it Worth it?”  and I was overjoyed.  More info.  More information to help me decide what is best.   But as i read through the article it told of a woman who was an empty nester who racked up 390,000 dollars in education loans to go to a traditional school and then of another woman who had her school paid for by a patient of hers in clinic and who went to a non-traditional school.  She went to Oceania University and did online classes for her first two years as she continued to work full time.  ...which neither of those stories really helped me.  i would have to pay my own tuition and we still have children at home.   The last woman in the article did say something that I am sure will make some of my NP friends a bit upset but I agree completely:

“I can understand why NPs in Missouri still must work collaboratively: There is still so much to learn.  I was an NP for years, and i was very good at what I did.  yet I have learned oceans and chasms and Grand Canyons full of things I did not know before.”  

I want that.

 So then I kick myself and wonder why I never even thought about going to med school before now.  People would ask if I was going to become a doctor throughout my nursing education.  I always belted out this resounding “no”.  I never imagined myself being a physician.  But now, here I am.  Here I am wanting to soak it all in.  Here I am tinkering with the idea.  I have requested my transcripts. I have studied for the MCAT.  Here I am waiting for God to show me, to tell me, to guide me.  I wait on the Lord.  And while I wait, I continue to enjoy freedom.  Gabe woke up twice last night in a fearful crying state.  Nightmares.  I went to comfort him and hold him.  I sang as many “Bless the Lord’s” and Silent Nights” as he wanted.  If I go to school, will I even have the energy to sing to him once?  I made his lunch this morning as he played around before school.  There was no rush, no prepackaged prepared food going in his pail and I enjoy that.  I drop him off almost everyday and on days that I do not work, I pick him up.  We play a lot.  We share a lot.  These are things that I would miss for many years.  

So here I am, waiting.  Waiting for God to show me a way or to put out the flame and show me something else.  

Waiting.  Living.  But waiting.  

“From of old no one has heard

    or perceived by the ear,

no eye has seen a God besides you,

    who acts for those who wait for him.” --Isaiah 64:4 

Gideon!