David’s exam – the rundown

Thank you to everyone who thought of and/or prayed for David as he took his USMLE Step 2CS yesterday. I meant to write to those of you who offered to pray, just to remind you, but our plans changed at the last minute, and we didn’t have Internet at all on Tuesday or Wednesday until we got home at night. We sure appreciate all your support!

David says that there’s no way he can possibly tell how well he did on the exam. Some cases went smoothly, and he felt great about them. Other cases didn’t go quite so smoothly, and these made him anxious.

But the good news is that it’s over! We have to wait until the end of June for his results, but since there is nothing at all we can do about it between now and then, there’s no point in worrying, right?

Thanks again!

Party’s End

He’d had a rough night.

Actually, to be more accurate, he’d had two rough nights and an even rougher day between them. As he lay on his bunk, his head was pounding. There was still music coming from somewhere. You’d have thought they’d all be hung over. But no, it seemed just as one partygoer passed out, five more rose to take his place. All he wanted was a quiet room, alone, to sit and think. But in this place, there was no such thing as “alone” and never a peaceful sort of quiet. He’d never before realized how many peaceless kinds of quiet there were. Now he knew.

The party had started on Friday afternoon, and oh! Such a party the world had never seen. Indeed, he thought, it may have been the biggest celebration of all time. Then again, maybe not. He wasn’t one to know much about celebrations. He was more of a do-er than an enjoy-er.

First there had been the announcement of the victory. The king had stood up on the table in the largest banquet hall in the palace, and he had lifted his cup to the greatest victory of all time. Oh, there had been major victories before, and many minor ones as well. Millions of people over the years had been slain, all for the glory of the king. Soldiers on both sides had lived, fought, and died. But this, this was different. This was the ultimate victory. If the king was right, this victory would mean the end of the war. There  may be more skirmishes and small uprisings, perhaps, but the end was determined. And the king had won.

He groaned and wished his head would stop pounding. There had been a huge feast, dancing, drinking, and revelry. He couldn’t even count the number of women who had approached him with overflowing cups of wine and other intoxicating drinks. Grasses had been passed around for smoking. It seemed as though the entire kingdom were relishing the delights of victory.

He himself had not enjoyed a moment. Ever since he had woken in his bunk on Friday afternoon, he had been miserable, utterly miserable. Throughout the announcement and the celebration, he had been wracked by all sorts of uncomfortable emotions: guilt, shame, despair, regret, self-pity, and—yes—even penitence. He had tried to slip away from the bright lights and noise, but everywhere he went, it followed him. He got high-fives in the corridor, handshakes in the dormitory, and congratulatory grins in the dining hall. Even in the lavatory, other men would wink and give him a thumbs-up as he relieved himself. It was totally out of hand. Every remark and gesture made him sick to his stomach.

Oh, his head! What he would have given for a healer with some herbs to make his pain go away. Yet even as the thought came to him, he dismissed it. He knew that the pain was not mainly from his head. No, the pain was from the depths of his being. For he had done the unthinkable, the unforgivable, the worst deed in history.

Then suddenly, the noise stopped. It didn’t fade away into the distance or lose volume gradually; it just stopped all at once. He rolled over and sat up on the edge of his bunk. Every muscle in his body was sore, but he stood in spite of the aches and pains. Why had the music stopped? Why were there no longer shouts of victory and happiness?

He slipped on his shoes and made his way out of the dormitory and down the long, twisting corridor, to the great banqueting hall. It was full of people, still, but they all lay prostrate on the warm stone floor. Every single man, woman, and child had his eyes tightly shut and his face pressed as firmly to the floor as the forces of nature would allow. For a moment, he was puzzled. And then he saw the dazzling white light exiting the room behind the king. Curious, he followed as quickly sa he could, tripping over the stiff forms on the ground. Oh, they were not dead. No, they only seethed with shock and dismay. What had happened? He dared not speak to any of these, for he knew he was a foreigner. He had known that since he had found himself in this place only two days previously.

He crossed the hall haltingly and tip-toed down the hallway, following the king and the light. He turned the corner just in time to see the king shutting the door into the private royal advising chamber. Feeling no shame at all, he crept up to the door and put his ear to the crack between it and the wall. He was surprised at how well he could hear. Everything else was so still.

“Why are you here?” the king spat. “You don’t belong here. This is my realm to do with what I please.”

“You know why I’m here,” came the reply. The voice was deep, gentle, yet authoritative. He knew that voice. And suddenly his knees felt weak. He collapsed onto the floor in grief and shame.

“You can’t have him,” answered the king in a growl. “He’s mine. He betrayed you, and those who betray you all belong to me.”

“And yet I would redeem him if he confessed and sought forgiveness and repented.” The other voice was firm. “It is my right to take him back. I have paid his ransom. You know the rules. He is free.”

“We’ll see about that,” hissed the king.

“Indeed,” replied the other voice. Then, more loudly, the voice called out, “Judas!”

He staggered to his feet, leaning heavily on the door.

“Judas!” the voice came again. He set his shoulders, turned the door handle, and entered the king’s chamber. All in an instant, he was overcome by all things good—warmth, light, peace, joy, and love. He fell to his knees again, weeping tears he knew not of shame or joy. Perhaps there were some of each. His chest heaved with sobs.

“Judas,” came the voice in light. He looked up into the brilliant face of his lord, the man whom he had loved and the man he had handed over to suffering and death. The man he had betrayed.

“My Lord?” he whispered. The Lord reached out his hand and touched Judas’ shoulder.

“Have you anything to say to me, Judas?” he asked.

The betrayer hung his head. “Lord, forgive me for I have sinned. It was I who led the chief priests to find you. It was I who sentenced you to suffering and death. It was I who caused you to be crucified.”

“Yes, it was,” the Lord responded.

Judas gulped back a sob. “I am responsible, and I am sorry. I cannot imagine how you could ever forgive me, Lord, but I want to change my ways. I want to serve you again as I once did.”

The Lord lifted Judas’ chin to look him full in the face.

“Death has no dominion over me. I have risen, and so shall you. I have paid the price for your sin by my death, and in my resurrection, I choose to free you to eternal life in glory with me.” He smiled. “Judas, oh, Judas! Once upon a time, you were a man close to my heart who devoted his life to serving me. It is my will that you should do so again.”

From across the room, the king let out a sharp cry.

“This isn’t fair! We had an agreement!”

The Lord turned to the king with burning eyes and said, “And as I have conquered death, so have I conquered you. Be gone!”

The Lord took Judas’ hand and gave it a squeeze. “I have redeemed you by my grace. Enter into my rest.”

And so Judas left the dominion of Satan, amid the weeping and gnashing of teeth as the others discovered that in fact, they had lost the greatest battle of all time and eternity.

He is Risen! Alleluia!

************************************

I don’t claim that this is at all theologically sound. I’m not trying to cause unrest, and I certainly am not interested in being burned at the stake as a heretic. This is just a literary interpretation of some of my own private thoughts of what may have happened to Judas Iscariot after his death. Please take it with a grain of salt.

Need prayer

As David’s Step 2CS licensing exam looms ever nearer, I’m beginning to compile a list of people who have committed to praying for him (at least once) during a one-hour period of his eight-hour exam. If you can commit to joining us in prayer, please leave a comment or contact me by email, telling me during what hour you would be willing to pray for David. The exam is Wednesday, April 15th, from 8AM to 4PM (U.S. Pacific time). I will add your name to my list and contact you on the 14th (assuming I have your contact information!) to remind you to pray. I would like to have a public list (on Facebook and on the blog), so if you would rather not have your name listed for whatever reason, please tell me, and I will put your initials only.

I would like to recruit at least five people to pray during each hour of the exam. This is a lofty goal, perhaps, but God can do anything! Thank you!!

Coalinga – Week 2

On Sunday, we were glad to be back at my aunt and uncle’s Presbyterian church, which I have attended as a visitor since I was born, practically. The church supports my parents as missionaries in so many amazing ways, and the people are incredibly kind. David and I even got to attend Sunday school while Timothy was watched in the  nursery – what a  blessing! My aunt and uncle had a barbecue in the afternoon, which we enjoyed immensely. (It actually rained, but we were inside and cozy must of that time.)

Monday, we decided it was time for us to move in. Our landlord had put sheet rock up in the doorway leading to the rest of the house, so at least we would have our privacy. We got all our things over and started settling in. We don’t have all the furniture we need, but we were making do. I was also starting to grade assignments like crazy. I’m an online teaching assistant, and the class’s first written assignment – a 2-3 page essay – was due Monday night. I tried to get as many done early as had been turned in so I wouldn’t be swamped on Tuesday and Wednesday. Fortunately, this worked. But our little house was cold, and I mean frigid. I called up my uncle to see if we could borrow some blankets, and I sent David over to pick them up. All evening, we’d had the oven on at 200F to help warm the place up. We piled at least six or seven blankets on the bed, and when I crawled in, I felt like an Arctic explorer. I’d hardly ever been so cold, and I sure wished our landlord hadn’t removed the wall heater. (Don’t worry; I didn’t leave the oven on at night!)

Tuesday started well if cold. My aunt Mary lent us a space heater, so I changed Timothy’s diaper and dressed him in front of that. I got a lot of work done, went grocery shopping, got a bit more unpacked. A friend from church stopped by with some lifesavers from Costco (paper plates, paper towels, and toilet paper – yay!). We ran some errands, including going to the police station to get David fingerprinted for his CNA training course. When I finally got my act together that afternoon to start making dinner, I discovered that the stove wouldn’t light. I didn’t smell gas, either, so I figured there must be a problem with it, but I had no idea what. Frustrated, I told David we’d have to eat out because I wasn’t prepared to do microwave dinners that night. We had a short meal at McDonalds so that Timothy could play in the kids’ area, and we came right back. Our landlord then came over to start working on closing the hobbit door. I started to fill the sink for dishes and realized there was no hot water. I told him so, and about the stove, and – shocked – he said they must have turned off the gas. He’d been waiting for our April rent to come in before he paid his bill. He assured me it would be on the next day.

It wasn’t. In fact, eight days later, there is still no gas coming into our house. We told my aunt and uncle the next day, and we started looking for a new place to live. This was just the last straw… or so I thought.

Fortunately, that night a kind lady from church gave us an electric blanket to keep us warm. This has been immensely helpful!!

Wednesday, our landlord told us that we needed to change our mailing address from the one he had told us the week before. That’s where he gets his mail, so we needed to add “1/2” to our address. Oh, and by the way, he said, we couldn’t receive mail at the house. Because of certain new rules at the post office, we needed a new mailbox set at the curb. Our landlord said he would put one up soon, once he got the funds.

Okay, so this was after I’d already notified almost everyone about our address change. There was no way I was going to write back and tell them to add “1/2” to the address. I was already ticked off about having to go to the post office to collect our mail. It’s a short walk, but I hated the thought of having to go to the counter several times a week and physically ask a real person for our mail, looking sheepish every time. So when I went to the post office and told him about the whole thing, I said, “You know, we’re not staying at this house. We’ll only be there through April at the latest. What do you suggest?” He gave us ideas, and after careful consideration, yesterday we began renting a PO Box. I think it’ll be much more convenient for everyone.

On Thursday, David went for a routine physical at the doctor’s office – the only doctor’s office in town that performs these specific physicals. We ground our teeth at the cost, but it’s over. Phew.

And that was the majority of our week. I put out a request for microwave recipes and appreciate all your responses and support! I also got to borrow my aunt’s rice cooker and crock pot, plus a few microwave cookbooks, so we’re in good shape for now. I tried my hand at Swedish Meatballs last night, which weren’t very tasty but satisfying, and tonight it’s sloppy joes. Tomorrow I’m going to try Jambalaya in the crock pot. Yeah!

It’s a new and exciting challenge, living without gas. The funniest part is that it’s so similar to our lives in Nigeria. We did all our laundry and baths at my parents’ house because we didn’t have water. Well, now we have water but no heat, so we still do laundry and baths somewhere else! Oh dear. As my aunt said, it’s like I brought Nigeria here with me.

So we’ll be moving as soon as we find a place that’s available. There are two possibilities we’re looking into. Both are houses and more than 1 bedroom, so we’ll have more expenses and more bills to pay. But we’ll also have  more space, and I think we’ll be better off than we are here, in the long run. In the meantime, write to us at our PO Box!! (Ask me for it.)

“Water for Life”

In  my Freshman Experience class at college (a required and stupid class for new freshmen), I met a girl named Sarah Day. She was a “Smithy” (girl who lived in Smith Hall), and I was a Fischerite (those who lived in the “opposing” freshman dorm, Fischer), so we didn’t see much of each other at all during our freshman year outside of that 9-week class. She was outgoing and brilliant, and I was shy and had a hard time getting through my first semester of college. I didn’t keep up with Sarah a whole lot during our school days, but she went on to student government greatness and was a political and international mastermind (to me, a lowly English Major). She, too, was a TCK (Third-culture Kid) who had grown up overseas.

Now, Sarah has a vision that I want to share so that it can perhaps be your vision, too. Sarah dreams of working for NGOs and other organizations as a photographer, specifically working with projects that help provide clean water to underprivileged people. If only I had such high aspirations! This is really on Sarah’s heart, and I as an adult TCK in the developing world have seen how desperately clean water is needed in some places. Many countries can afford to provide clean water on their own through the public health system, but some cannot, due to politics and bad infrastructure. Sarah wants to help publicize the need and make that clean water available by her photography. Would you like to help?

She has entered a contest that will give a few people the chance to make their visions a reality. By voting for her project, we can help send Sarah to Africa, Asia, Latin America, and all around the world to minister to people in her talented way. If you feel able or called, please visit the website here (the sooner, the better, for there is a time limit) and vote for Sarah’s project, “Water for Life.” We appreciate your support!