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People keep asking me what I’ve done through the week, and my response is always an embarrassed, “nothing much,” but, honestly, I’m in the rest phase of my sabbatical, and I’m sleeping in as often as possible, going to bed early, and not feeling guilty about catching up on my reading list.

I’m still doing other things too – like tons of squats as assigned by my physio. My butt is sore all the time now which is largely celebrated because that means I can feel anything at all in muscles that spent time disconnected from my brain for a couple months post injury. I didn’t have any extraordinary advances through this week, but I was faithful in getting out of the house to walk each day and have been doing the electro-stimulation every night since I got here. I’ve also had some great interactions with new people who kindly want to get to know me. There are a lot of little things that add up to “full” days as I spend time resting and reflecting on what’s gone down in my life the last five years.

While I can’t give an exciting update on the physical side, I can say that the reflection time has given me a lot of opportunity to celebrate what God has used me to do. I very much want my life to be a testimony of God’s good works done through me. A couple of my former students even offered me some kind words about the impact I had as their teacher, and I treasure their words. To be completely honest, I’m often insecure about the impact I’m having because it’s “part time” hours compared to many of my energetic coworkers, so the reminders I have actually been used effectively in ministry is incredibly meaningful.

If you’re inclined to pray along with me this week, I’m still asking God to work new growth in my endurance and to reduce my soreness. I’m also looking to see God open my eyes more to the ways I’ve been effective in ministry so that I can capitalize on my strengths both here in my service at RCC and when I return to BFA.

This week was full of new adventures and new people yet again. I’m so blown away by how incredible my life is sometimes, and occasionally other people are shocked by it too.

Wednesday afternoon was a total delight for me as I was planning out with Matt how I can use my resources from teaching Christian Essentials at BFA to benefit the students in his youth group. Our planning session was supplemented with an impromptu history of the church given by one of the former pastors who is still involved with the church. I listened eagerly as he also explained lessons learned from decades in ministry how the church can support and grow people through all stages of life. I love the lessons of longevity as I’m still on the front end of a career focused on starting youth out on a lifelong path of pursuing Jesus. 

Thursday was just as exciting for me as I spent time one on one with a woman from RCC who drove me out to see the beautiful beach on the east coast of the island. I was so blessed to share time with her and was encouraged by her reaching out to me. Saturday night also had a beautiful bonding moment in the body of Christ as a Chinese couple who attend a different church in the city invited me over to their house for dinner. I was connected to these new friends through a family currently living in Kandern who have done ministry in China for years and spent a portion of time at Multnomah. The Lee family made sure to pass on my contact information to their friends, and I was so warmly treated by them based only on our connection in Jesus. I love the body of Christ.

Now onto what you’re all most interested in – me impressing other people rather than the people who impress me. (I mean, why else does anyone read this blog?) Friday afternoon I had a new independent adventure on the bus to the local physiotherapy practice. I’d done a google search to make sure I found a place that understood the nuances of a neurological problem, and after chatting with Mike on the phone Tuesday, we’d scheduled an initial assessment. Unfortunately the practice has two steps up into the building, but that only gave me a chance to impress him right away as he hoisted my wheelchair up after I managed the steps alone using the railing.

We spent the next hour talking about what I’ve accomplished over the past five years and testing out the limits of what my ankles were up to that day. Frequently throughout the appointment I’d offer a response to his inquiry completely opposite of what he expected. “So you said you can move your big toe?” “No, it’s actually just the second toe sometimes.” “That’s so weird – if it’s only one toe, it should be the big toe because the rest are the same muscle group – you should be able to move them all.” Hey, I’m taking that as good news that it’s only a matter of time before the other three toes on my right foot catch up – and you know I’m not going to stop hoping for the rest after that. 

Mike was excited about the prospects of me defying more predictions, and I’m excited to try out new things and impress everyone with all my improvements when I get back to Germany. I’ve got eight months to see incredible new recovery, and this week has been a great opportunity to reflect on the nearly five years of incredible work I’ve already done. God isn’t finished with my body yet, and I’d love for you to join with me in prayer this week that the routine I implement with Mike’s help is something that surges me forward yet again in this journey of recovery. He told me I’m going to be his crazy patient because I break all the rules, and I’m so excited for the testimony I have that breaks all of the world’s rules because I’m operating by God’s.

When I made the decision to move to Germany, I sold nearly all of my 250+ books in my personal library. This past week, I discovered one of them made its way all the way to Texas. A local pastor with a habit of buying copies of Fee and Stuart’s text to give to students interested in reading the Bible purchased a copy on Amazon and noticed my name in the front of the text. He messaged me on Wednesday to ask if it was mine, curious about the insightful marginalia. (Full disclosure, my friend Margaux was the one who wrote smart comments before I inherited the text from her library downsizing.) The guy even offered to mail it back to me for free – before I told him I lived overseas.

We ended up having a lovely discussion about books and theologians and encouraging young people to get excited about knowing God through books and theologians. I shamelessly recommended all my MU favorites – Lubeck’s Read the Bible for a Change, everything The Bible Project ever produces, and even Harper’s Space at the Table. Guys, the body of Christ is so cool. I got a list of recommendations from him that I’m going to add as resources to my controversy project when I get back to BFA next year.

One of the most incredible things to me about the body of Christ is that I’ve got this brother in Texas who was encouraging me randomly while I also am meeting new people in this new country who are my brothers and sisters in Christ. This morning was so fun for me as I sat next to my new friend originally from England who lives in New Zealand who I can call a sister in Christ. After church, I went to a newcomers lunch at the pastor’s house and met a family from Malaysia and a woman from Switzerland who were brought to RCC by the same Jesus that brought me here.

My story still confuses a lot of people who don’t know Jesus – because why on earth would an American girl move to Germany and then spend a year in New Zealand where she’s never met anyone? I’m getting more opportunities to share my story with others here, and I’m learning more about living out that walk with Christ literally and figuratively. 

I shared last week my hope to increase my walking distance, and I’ve made progress in that. I did adjust my goal because I realized instead of the rewardless bus stop and back, I could actually aim for the nearby grocery store with a cafe. I’m at about 3/4 of the distance there and back now, and I hope that by the end of next week I’ll be able to say I managed to make it to the cafe for a treat before heading back. My second goal is for the mental rest as I spend a lot more time reading. Honestly, these past few weeks have been so great to sleep and read more in addition to these walking goals. I read another Terry Pratchett novel and have two more lined up for this week plus two memoirs and an incredible book on discipling people. 

In a lot of ways, it’s been a weird week, but I read two whole books which is just delightful to me. My goal is four this coming week. 

One of the books was titled Isolation: A Place of Transformation in the Life of a Leader. Great title, right? Well, it was super helpful in preparing for my sabbatical time because since I don’t have a regular full time ministry role, I’ve had a weird sensation of not doing enough. I get to spend all this wonderful time being with Jesus though. The book was an encouragement to embrace that.

Most people know my sabbatical assignment includes improving my holistic health, so this week had some good walks in the sunshine trying to figure out how far I can venture on my own before I need to turn around and still be able to make it home on my own. At this point, I’ve got like “around the corner, half way down the block and back” sorted out. I still don’t know the limits, but I know I’m going to spend this bonus summer improving.

I like the alone time I get with God going on these walks and thinking about what my body is capable of that I was told I’d never be able to do. It’s a really beautiful opportunity to celebrate God’s goodness.

I also like it when people reach out and remind me I’m not forgotten despite being in an “isolated” place away from my support team and my ministry location. I’ve met some really wonderful people here who’ve heard just a snippet of my story and have been so kind and encouraging of the time I’m taking on sabbatical. This past week, I managed several independent trips various places, and I remembered that it is okay to still ask for help. For example, I navigated to and from places on the bus several times, but I need the bus drivers to give me a little push onto the bus when the ramp is too steep to get up on my own. 

While I was reading the book Isolation, one of my former students sent me a really sweet message to encourage me that I was an encouragement in her walk with God. She went on to tell me that I’m not alone and that she’s praying for me. Naturally, I laughed out loud and sent her a picture of the book I’d put down to read her message. God has a lot in store for me holistically during this season, and I’m excited to grow in it. I’d really love your prayers that I stay focused on my given tasks, and particularly that I’d hit my first bus stop walking goal this week. My hope is that I can eventually increase my endurance enough that I know I can do all the walking required to and from the bus stops on a round trip to the church from my house. 

Side note, I’m planning to read some Terry Pratchett this week, so please feel free to send some encouragements while I’m reading titles like Monstrous Regiment and Going Postal. I’d love to laugh at the same kinds of connections between books and messages again that I had yesterday.

This past week I read John Mark Comer’s book Garden City as a launch into my sabbatical. (Then I started A. J. Swoboda’s Subversive Sabbatical because Portland theologians writing on sabbath rest is the greatest thing.) Just a couple chapters in, I was being toured around Christchurch and learned that the nickname of this city is the Garden City. For completely different reasons than the New Jerusalem, but what a great discovery.

As a native of the Rose City, I’ve taken this sabbatical in a foreign country that I’ve now discovered has a lot of cultural similarities to the Pacific Northwest. They all speak English which is a bonus to adjusting to other new things, but they also all have an appreciation for sorting trash. Guys, I’m going to fit in great here. 

But before you all think there’s not going to be any struggles, let me tell you about my first independent adventure from the church office to my new home. I had navigated the route home with one of the pastors on Tuesday afternoon, and I felt confident in my skills as I headed out to the bus stop alone on Wednesday afternoon. I had a helpful bus driver help me on and off the bus, and I navigated the streets in the neighborhood to my steep driveway. Having done it with my sticks once before, I heaved myself up the steep start, but my calculations were off with the addition of my laptop to the bag on the back of my chair. Unfortunately, I tipped over backwards, and while I didn’t see my life flash before me, I did watch my legs go over my head and heard a tiny crack-like sound when the back of my skull hit the cement. For a millisecond I wondered if I’d broken my neck, but I managed to sit up with no problem.

I was – understandably – a little shaken up, but I was getting myself sorted and preparing to pull myself into the chair when a neighbor saw me in the street and helped me back into the chair and up the driveway to the door with all my stuff. I managed to get myself safely into the house and texted Kara to make sure it was okay that I felt okay. Honestly, I felt okay. I mean, sure, a little bruised, and I’m still a little sore, but apart from the goose egg that showed up in minutes, there were no immediate problems – no blurry vision, no headache, nothing. 

I’m a champion. 

Okay, so realistically, God has made my body to be incredibly resilient, and I’m continuing to grow in how I can be independent with these limitations. I’ve managed the driveway with no problem as long as I don’t have my sticks or anything heavy on the back of my chair, so I’ll be learning to navigate the city with less weighing me down – literally. If you’ve been following my story for long or have met me for more than an hour, you’re probably aware it takes a lot to slow me down. I mean, I broke my back and returned to work the next school year. 

I am so fortunate that I have the opportunity to be challenged to grow physically while I spend time in this Garden City because I’m ready for the next growth spurt. I’m honestly not discouraged by the topple into the street – it’s an obstacle to overcome, not a permanent roadblock to my thriving.

The day I left Germany, I shared a post from the RCC Facebook on my wall that had a picture of the city and Jeremiah 29:7 as the caption: “Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.” On Tuesday, I got to meet the woman who runs the RCC Facebook page, and it was such a treat to put a face to the person behind that bit of encouragement. Christchurch is where God has planted me for this season; this is in some ways an exile from Kandern, but I’m praying to be used in this city to contribute to his thriving because I know God wants me to thrive in this Garden City. 

This week’s specific requests are first that I’ll continue to settle in and learn to navigate the city with increasing confidence. Additionally, I’ve been asked to share my testimony in a Bible class at a local school as well as to do a short recorded version for the church. Please pray that I’ll be a responsible witness to the beautiful work God has done in my life. While anyone might be talking to God on my behalf, I’d also like to ask that you praise our awesome Healer for the preparation he’s done to make a beautiful community for me to be a part of while I’m here. I’ve already met so many amazing people, and I’m so excited to learn more about them and grow in community as the body of Christ while we are all together here in this Garden City.

I feel like in nearly five years, I’ve likely referenced this Hillsong song I used for today’s post title before, but it’s got more relevant lyrics than the single Reliant K line running through my head as I watched the non-proverbial sunrise come up over the Pacific end Friday morning. I did include a picture of my several thousand foot high view of the sunrise, and you might think I’m losing my mind, but I’m about to delve into the specifics (and switch song references). 

When I was a worship leader in high school, I remember loving to sing “To the Ends of the Earth” because of the powerful verse that begins the song: “Love unfailing / overtaking my heart / You take me in / finding peace again / fear is lost in all you are.” When I sang out the chorus, I never though my world would be bigger than the greater Portland metro area, but as I flew from Germany to New Zealand this week, I was struck by how the Lord has called me to the ends of the earth – literally.

This past Tuesday I said some hard goodbyes to students and a few see-you-laters in some cases which were still difficult. I only had a handful of students who I thought would be tough to leave, but it turned out seeing dozens more this past couple of weeks made it all the harder to leave them on Wednesday. Brandi let me sit on her balcony and process a lot of my emotions the night before I left, and I got in the car with my friend Chrissy to make the drive to Zürich excited despite the sadness of leaving so many precious children. Chris and his dad drove Chrissy and I to the airport and sent us off with happy wishes for our long journey.

I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better traveling companion as Chrissy is a champion at overseas travel and is calm and confident in airports in a way I can barely dream of. All my anxieties and insecurities were completely taken care of with Chrissy’s help. We made both our connections with no problems, and after a couple questions about my plans in New Zealand, my passport got a new stamp, and we collected all our luggage (which I forgot to mention had made it to Germany just three days after I did).

One of the RCC pastors, Mark, was waiting for us when we got through the border control, and he drove us to my new home in a quiet neighborhood near the university. We landed in the morning, so Chrissy and I tried our best to stay awake through the day and managed to adventure down the street to the grocery store to buy a few essentials and some coffee to keep us going. I even had enough energy to try walking down the street with no braces. We also had the blessing of meeting my housemate’s dad who lives down the street and offered to drive me to the mall to buy a new SIM card for my phone. I’m all set up with a new phone number and a working mobile plan for the next year. It was an exciting and productive first day. I woke up Saturday to say goodbye to Chrissy as she was off to see her sister who lives on the north island. After a relaxing morning, I met another RCC member, Jasmine, who kindly took me out for a short list of things I’d found I hadn’t packed and would need in order to settle in.

This morning I went to RCC for the first time, and it was such a blessing to worship with this new gathering and discover it was like coming home because of the beauty of the body of Christ. I met a few more of the staff members I’ll be spending a lot of time with, and I even was introduced to a couple of the students that I’ll work with. I’m so excited for this sabbatical opportunity, and I’m grateful for all the prayers for my travel to get here. As I’m adjusting and settling in, I’ll still post quick updates, but they’ll likely be much shorter than this though I hope you’ll all still pray for me that I’d learn to take care of my body well in this new space as I get used to the new place tucked away in an opposite end of the earth from where I’m used to.

For those who might have missed the plan, I took the long route from America to New Zealand for a specific medical appointment. Sure I was happy to draw the lines around the trip to include the opening ceremonies last week, but the priority stop was to get this appointment with specialists at the facility that has done all my other major medical work. Yesterday I had a urologist stick a big long needle in my bladder which I thought would be routine since it was my third go at the procedure. However, when the kind nurses were trying to hook up the IV to put me to sleep, my first vein exploded, and it took another three tries before they could get me properly hooked up. That was where things began to change. I also met the second in charge urologist who was new to me – all my previous work has been done with the head of the department. She seemed nice, and she had a kind med school student who was observing as well. I slept through the rest of the actual procedure, and was my expected groggy self when I wheeled out, but when I cathed before bed, I found mostly blood rather than urine. 

Welcome to my life.

I vaguely remember that being a possible side effect listed the first time I had the procedure, but I’ve never had a single complication doing this. The first round, it took effect within three hours, and the second time I slept like a dream within minutes and felt groggy but glorious after. Today has been general discomfort in the affected area and needing to pee about every two hours which is the exact opposite effect that the botox treatment is supposed to have. 

It’s barely 24 hours out, and they say to be cautious those first 24 hours, so I’m not worried about it at all, and I honestly don’t have time for this physical discomfort to hijack any of my fleeting moments with my friends and students who I have to leave behind next week when I fly to New Zealand. I was sharing with my friend Brandi that I wasn’t going to waste my life being bothered by these kinds of inconveniences because there is so much more important stuff going on. I have my priorities straight. Sure it is annoying to have the physical complications, but I also got to have an impromptu hour long chat with a coworker who is a seasoned teacher with loads of encouragement for me to grow as an educator. Yeah I’d rather not have the distraction of mild pain the whole day long, but I also got to have lunch with a precious child who I won’t get to teach this year but asked to have some time with me before I left.

In the grand scheme of things, the burning sensation and the blood are minor. The kingdom conversations are eternal. 

I’d still prefer not to deal with this for long, so I’ll happily encourage prayers that my body sorts itself out sooner rather than later. I’d especially like those prayers as I begin my long, long journey across continents and oceans in just six days. It’d be great if my body weren’t in the more than normal levels of pain.

I spent a final week in America soaking up all my favorite coffee shops – the photos above represent just four of the seven mandatory locations. Part of my cultural heritage as a PNW hipster is that I love good coffee, and I love spending time with people in coffee shops. It was my norm living in Portland, but I adjusted quickly when I moved to a tiny German town with no Longbottom, Insomnia, Bipartisan, Case Study, Black Rock, Ava’s, or Dutch Bros. 

I’m really grateful for the time I spent with people in each of those coffee shops or various other places because I’ve been deeply shaped by some wonderful people who still call the Pacific Northwest home. Yet those people all sent me out as a missionary, so I headed across an ocean last Sunday to make my way back to Kandern for two weeks. 

Unfortunately, this trip was solo, and after my friends helped me get to the airport and check in, I was on my own with my mobility aids and medications until Carol picked me up in Frankfurt Monday afternoon. I managed alright, and this round my wheelchair was undamaged and my $400 replacement cushion never left my sight so I wouldn’t have a repeat trauma of my arrival in Minneapolis. However, I can’t account for everything, and both my checked bags were left behind in Minneapolis this direction. I got a text message yesterday that they should arrive today – hopefully at the correct address in Kandern rather than the Frankfurt or Portland addresses they had to have on record…

Arriving back in Germany was a breath of fresh air as I was back in my host country that I’ve called home for five years. This past visit to America was refreshing in so many ways to understand the language everywhere I went, but it was overwhelming in others to not know how to navigate that country as easily in a wheelchair.

Back in Germany for these two weeks, I’m staying with friends who’ve graciously allowed me to crash on their couch and repack all my goods to take the necessary stuff to New Zealand. Yesterday, I had the joy of seeing my previous students process into the auditorium with their flags which was a wonderful treat. I confused a lot of staff and students though who briefly thought I might be here for the whole year. I’ve got two weeks in my little Kandern before heading off to my new adventure to Middle Earth and beyond, but I hope that I’ll be able to use this pause in Germany to help my body recover a little and get some good walks in. 

The internet is a wonderful thing in so many ways. I’m so grateful for this platform to keep people updated on my recovery and my ministry, and I’m really fortunate to have the technology that allows me to see my family members’ faces regularly when I live overseas. There are still limitations, however, and the past two months of visits have been precious opportunities of “IRL” interactions off the internet. When I can hug my nephews in real life, it’s a whole lot different than the flippant FaceTime goodbyes of a four year old. Sitting down on someone’s couch to explain with all the nuance how proud I am of my student who’s pursuing a degree in journalism with a detailed vision for how he wants to use his voice to use his privilege to advocate for others is so much more fulfilling that writing this sentence. 

I’m wrapping up my stateside visit, and I’ve got a week left to enjoy these “in real life” interactions before I go back to online updates. In just one more week, I’ll be telling everyone how much I miss McMenamins cajun tots and Terminator milkshakes, but I want to transition well between America and Germany (and then on to New Zealand). I’ll be cherishing these special moments in real life, so I’ll ask your forgiveness for the short update online. 

Over the past few weeks, I’ve remembered that I actually have connections to a few relatively famous people, but it’s made me rethink my assignment of fame. For example, I had the most amazing Sparky teachers ever – Keith and Gloria – and although Keith’s dad is world famous, I’m way more excited about the dude who told me about Jesus every Thursday night. 

The treasure of this week was looking from afar at people on a big screen that I’ve met personally or the crowd with the backstage passes at a major stadium event who I know while I was hanging out in the crowd with the coolest person of my childhood. No joke, last night I got to rock out to Lecrae sitting next to THE Karin Stephens who was for sure the person I wanted most to be when I was growing up. 

I started this week in Colorado wrapping up my time with my biological family members and a few other close friends. I was especially blessed to spend a couple hours with Deedra, a woman who knew my dad and grandparents when she was growing up who has been a personal encouragement in my walk with Jesus since I was in college. Then I spent an evening with my precious nephews getting a couple last snuggles before leaving. Friday morning I packed up my belongings and drove up to see Jordyne and Rachel. After some quality time together, Rachel dropped Jordy and I off at the airport to fly to PDX. We took our mandatory carpet photo before being welcomed home by half of my precious Stephens family. 

Saturday morning, Jordy and I spent the day with the other member of our best friend crew, and we hit up Powells, Saturday Market, and McMenamins. After hugging Sarah and Jordyne goodbye, I just hung out with six of my favorite people on the planet. Sunday morning, they loaded me into their car, and I got to see a couple of the old friends who still attend my childhood church. After an emotional viewing of Moana, I got back in the car with the family to attend an outreach concert at the Hillsboro Stadium.

That was where I was reflecting on how I’m so grateful for all the famous people in my life – anyone who’s known me for long knows the Stephens family is a big part of my life. Their kids are among a select few featured in photos in my house. Spending the day at the Oregon Zoo with them today was a total blast, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. The people I spent time with this week are the people who are famous to me – the ones I want to be with. I got to be with people like Deedra and Karin who’ve been consistent examples of following Christ wholeheartedly, and people like my precious nephews and (almost grown) children I used to babysit who I hope that I model Jesus for.

This was another full week for me which included some wonderful moments like mother-daughter bonding time downtown Colorado Springs at a place called Tattoo Demon, meeting some of my dad’s coworkers, and my sister finding time in her super organized, busy life for coffee with me in my super disorganized, busy life. My life is anything but monotonous, and among the many cups of coffee and conversations through the past week, I’ve been challenged and encouraged. I’ve also had my usual insomnia flare up, and the chronic fatigue is wearing on me again after five weeks of shifting cities and beds.

I had one last weekend in Denver, and while I was with Joan Saturday night, she took me to be a tourist downtown. I live a crazy life, and I sometimes the breaks I get take some hard work to get to though the payoff is worth it. Joan suggested a pedicab ride downtown Saturday night, and while it might be a breeze for most people to hop into a pedicab, hopping isn’t really one of my strengths. The super nice driver helped me up, and I enjoyed myself so much hanging out with Joan and seeing a side of Denver that was all new to me. She celebrated with me the fact that I had to be brave to try something new and found a great reward in it. It’s a theme in my life, and I’m going into this coming sabbatical in a brand new place looking to see amazing new things that the Lord will do.

Sunday morning I had the joy of sharing with my church family about my ministry and preparation for my sabbatical. I was able to see some of the people who I first met six years ago as well as meet lots of new people who’ve joined the Embassy since I’ve been in Germany. I also had my pastor directly tell me that I need to be sure to rest well during my time in New Zealand. I won’t arrive there for another five weeks, so I need to be responsible with my mind, soul, and body during the next few weeks of transition. My prayer is that I’ll get some good sleep to give me the stamina to make it to the period of good rest. 

In case you didn’t catch it the first five hundred times I’ve mentioned it, I love my job. I’m only leaving Germany because I have to, but I’m going to be intentional with how I use the year away to rest well and prepare for more years of what I love. In order to maximize the pause from teaching, I planned out my summer to allow me to attend a Sabbatical Orientation Workshop (SOW) at the Navigators during this past week. One of the recommendations the workshop website had was to bring along my sabbatical advisor. Fortunately, my amazing friend Shannon was able to come along with me to this workshop to learn with me about how I can best rest during my break from BFA. 

In so many ways, though, I’ll never have a break from BFA. This past week was not only filled with new learning about sabbatical rest with Shannon, but I also got to spend time with two of my former BFA students who graduated a year ago. I’ve kept in touch with these two vastly different kids through their vastly different first years of college, and I loved every moment of listening to where they are at now and catching up in person. Strangely enough, reading the Bible came up at one point in a conversation with my former students. The new curriculum I teach emphasizes the “So What?” question that comes after reading a passage. These guys missed out on that phrase in my class, but part of our conversation hit on the motivation people have to read the Bible. 

I’m still convinced the purpose of reading the Bible is to foster loving relationships with God and other people (credit Ray Lubeck). I’m hopeful that my students see that developed in me as I continue to read the Bible. I hope that they might learn something about how to read the Bible from me. I won’t be a Bible teacher at BFA this coming year, but so what? I still have loads of opportunities to love God and love others better. 

After the SOW and time with Shannon and my students, I drove up to Denver with my parents to spend time with some more family and friends. I was so blessed to connect with one of my Embassy friends, Joan, who housed me for the night and then I was able to spend a chunk of my Sunday morning participating in the Sacred Space service my church does every fifth Sunday of the month. This particular sacred space service project was various assignments blessing the teachers at the school where the church meets, so I was able to write short encouragements for teachers returning to work next week. I shared with Joan that one of the things I loved most about the Embassy when I first connected with them years ago was their intentional avoidance of “hit and run ministry.”

I’ve tried to live my life in consideration of the Gospel that lasts, and this week was an encouragement of that on several levels. The sabbatical preparation is to prevent full ministry burn out so that I can return to love and teach well; two alumni chose to spend time with me because, according to them, I’m someone they feel safe being honest with; and my church operates in a way that naturally builds service projects into worship services. This is a holistic Gospel that permeates my life, and I hope that it can inspire others to engage with this Good News in a life changing way. So what about you? 

Ten years ago there was a writers’ strike in Hollywood, and some talented people got bored and created the masterpiece released on YouTube known as “Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog.” It’s fabulous and worth the forty-five minutes in fifteen minute increments (or all at once). I belted out the soundtrack with my best friend for a couple hundred miles of Idaho highway this week, and there’s some great wisdom hidden in the snarky lyrics. The antagonist, Captain Hammer, sings to a captive audience that maybe “you wonder what your part is ’cause you’re homeless and depressed, but home is where your heart is, so you’re real home’s in your chest.”

I have a legal residence in Oregon for voting and tax purposes, but by all other measures, I’m homeless for the next year. I spent the last week as a guest at my friend Desiree’s home, and she really is one of my best friends, and her whole family welcomed me as an extra member for the time I spent with them living in their home. Her kids even invited me along to the grocery store. They laughed with me, fed me, and included me in the mundane bits of their daily life. It was beautiful. I also was invited (or invited myself) to a few other homes or coffee dates to connect with close friends who sent me out on this adventure five years ago. I was so encouraged to have those moments with my friends – most of whom are like family to me – updating me on their lives and letting me tell stories about my precious students.

Friday morning was an especially fun when the update on life came from one of my former youth group students. Tori picked me up bright and early from Kyle and Desiree’s house so we could book it across the Oregon desert and make it to Boise, Idaho by early afternoon. We talked for like six hours solid. I loved every minute. Then I hopped in the car with another one of my best friends, Jordyne, and crossed most of the rest of her home state catching up, laughing hard, and singing along to some of the greatest musicals on the planet. 

After a good night’s sleep, my parents picked me up at Jordyne’s house, and we crossed into two more states before pulling into a hotel in downtown Denver for the night. I woke up this morning excited to listen to one of my favorite living theologians preach, and let me tell you, Brandon Washington does not disappoint. I wheeled into the school where The Embassy Church meets for the first time in three years, and the greeter was the woman who’s been sending me care packages since my last visit; I was home.

I’ve never lived in the city where this church meets, but it has been my home church since I was sent out five years ago. These people love me like family, and when I see them, I’m home. The three pastors who know me saw me at different points in the service, and all three reacted with big smiles and warm hugs. Another woman came up to me to let me know she’d been praying for me through my service and recovery. I’m loved in this place, and I’m encouraged to grow. If home is where the heart is, my home is scattered across the globe with these people who have my heart. 

If you thought my last post was a lot of craziness in my first two days Stateside, buckle up.

After I posted on the Fourth, I woke up bright and early on the fifth to projectile vomit on the King’s guest room floor. I’m a fabulous houseguest. My body was overloaded with all the rich American treats, so I’ve been super careful not to indulge in too much each day since then. It wasn’t how I wanted to start my day, but my amazing friend Jen got out of bed and cleaned up around me so I could go back to sleep for a few more hours and prepare for the rest of Anja’s nonstop American west coast tour. 

Sadly, we missed out on the PDX exploration morning, but we made it onto the Amtrak in the afternoon for an overnight trip to Sacramento. We had a nice sleeper car on the way down and woke up to get off and be greeted by my granny and her husband Jim for a full day of California adventure. After caffeinating at Starbucks, we kicked around a bit before the Sutter Fort opened. When we made it in, Anja and I took a picture in front of the tree planted in the Fort that was brought over from Kandern in 1939. Next I took a nap before my granny’s friends came over for an open house where I was able to share with them in person some of my ministry. I was so encouraged by all of the people who came through to meet me and share how much they were touched by my story. Many of them even generously donated to my ministry, and I’m incredibly grateful I had the opportunity to talk with all of them. Since one of my former coworkers lives not too far away from my granny, I also got to have a bit of time catching up with Jayma and was able to deliver her yearbook from Kandern.

The most special part to me of my 18 hours in Sacramento was that my granny made sure my Tiffiny was invited to the open house. Tiffiny is hands down one of the most influential people in my formative years. She and her husband live outside of Sacramento with their precious little kids, and they drove in to see me. Hugging Tiff after so many years was so wonderful. When I think of my ministry in my head, I still describe it as “being Tiffiny” to all my kids. I used to tell people Tiff raised me with the help of my parents; she was always there to love on me through my elementary and middle school years and kept in touch through my high school time whenever I needed her. 

Our time in Sacramento was super short, and to make sure Anja got enough exposure to the west coast, we got back on a train just past midnight. It showed up an hour late, which wasn’t a good start to the journey, and we kept hitting more and more delays. I’d planned the whole trip around Anja getting to see Saturday Market, but thanks to Amtrak’s nightmarish trip north, we arrived five hours late and missed the whole Portland experience I’d planned. Fortunately Renae and Macie were waiting for us at the train station and took us to Burgerville so Anja could try the amazing Walla Walla Sweet onion rings.

Sunday morning we went to Colossae Church with Dave and Jen where I got to see a handful of my old Westport peeps. Not too long after the service, we hopped in the car with my friend Heather who’d taken a couple days off of work to road trip north with us. We made it to Tacoma by the evening (after an important outlet mall experience for Anja) and had dinner with my Aunt Janice. After fabulous food and fellowship, we stopped by my old roommate Cat’s new place to get her mom’s house key and let ourselves in for the night – shout out to Addie for being an amazing hostess who never saw her houseguests. We went out to breakfast with Cat and her family before hitting the road again and driving to Seattle for lunch. Heather expertly navigated the crazy Seattle streets, and we showed Anja the troll, the Space Needle, and the first Starbucks on our drive by tour before we parked for lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe. Once we’d enjoyed the view from their rooftop patio, we headed up to Bellingham for the night. I’d asked my friend Bekah to help us find beds for the night, and we ended up with this wonderful couple hosting us whose granddaughter went to Multnomah for some of the same time I did. After sharing stories with Dean and Bonita, we all slept great before hopping in the car with Bekah on Tuesday morning to meet up with one of my coworker’s parents for a Tim Horton’s breakfast just over the border. After getting Anja’s extra passport stamps, we dropped Bekah back in Bellingham and knocked on my sister’s in-law’s door so I could get a quick hug before we hit 1-5 south. Heather dropped Anja and I at a Starbucks in Sylvan so she could get to her shift in Clackamas on time, and one of my old youth group kiddos picked us up to deliver us back to Jen and Dave’s house. 

Wednesday we slept in a little bit before Givorgy picked Anja and I up to go to Multnomah Falls and Powells – two key Portland stops. Unfortunately, on the bumpy paths at the Falls, my wheelchair that had been damaged by the airline reached a breaking point – as in the brake broke off. Skilled ninja that I am, I managed the rest of the day with one brake, but I called around a bunch of places to get it fixed on Thursday morning. That ended up being much more complicated that anticipated. Anja and I just hung out while I was calling places until we needed to get her to the airport. Heather graciously drove out to Hillsboro to take us, and she dropped me on a MAX to make it to her work shift. Miraculously, it ended up being the exact train Desiree was getting on to commute home from work. She just helped me off the train, jogged home to get the car, and drove me to gather my belongings from Jen’s to transport to her house where I’m staying this week. 

Are you exhausted yet? I think Anja was by the time she got on the plane. I still had to get my reliable Professor X fixed for the remainder of my summer in America though. Fun fact, American wheelchair repair places are the worst. Except one. Shout out to the amazing people at DME Hub in Clackamas who understood the danger of not having a brake and were willing to make a fix for me to safely use Professor X the rest of my trip. I was able to get my friend George to drive me out there Friday morning. Friday evening, Kara picked me up from Desiree’s and we met up with a BFA family at the Lone Fir Cemetery for a uniquely Portland rendition of Romeo and Juliet. We ended the night with Rimsky’s – another super Portland experience that I’d never actually had. I slept over at Kara’s and went out to Pine Street Biscuits for the good hipster morning meal with Kara and Eric. Then we made it to Saturday Market where I was overjoyed to find the artist who makes my favorite bags. The big tote I’d been using for groceries that fit perfectly across the back of my wheelchair just ripped the week before I left Germany, and I was delighted to buy an expertly made replacement. I also found the next artist bridge rendition to add to my collection – I’m pretty sure I now possess a print of the only pretty picture of the Marquam Bridge. 

With loads of time left in the day, Kara and I headed to the west side for the most critical of my missed foods – a Terminator Milkshake from the McMenamin’s Grand Lodge. They don’t have them at every location, so we had to drive all the way out to Forest Grove to get it. By crazy random happenstance, my childhood friend Jessica (of the Jesus Hotel awesomeness from two years ago) was visiting the area and met up with us for dinner. After we finished eating, Kara drove me up to her parents house so I could catch up with my extra parents. She let me shout, “Mommy, I’m home!” when she opened the door. 

I slept great when I finally got back to Kyle and Desiree’s, and I was super excited to get up for church in the morning. They go to the same church as my favorite professor from Multnomah, and I was so blessed by the chance to worship together with their congregation. I’ve also had loads of fun with their kids in the snippets I’ve seen them. Sunday evening I got to catch up with my friend Chantelle with dinner and a movie. Last visit to America, we went and saw Ant Man, so we decided it’d be a nice compliment to see Ant Man and the Wasp last night. I had another great night’s sleep after, and gave myself the grace to take it easy today before the rest of the week of coffee, lunch, and dinner dates with people I haven’t seen yet.

My life always seems full of extremes – extreme exhaustion being rather consistent on the list. But I’m extremely blessed by the people I have in my life who help me out through the extreme ridiculousness and love me unconditionally. While I don’t want a life in the wheelchair forever, going to get the repairs was a gift from George and a great chance to catch up with him on the drive. Were it not for blogging about my accident, most of my granny’s friends wouldn’t care to meet me, and I’d likely not have encountered opportunity to receive their generosity – some with words of affirmation, some with financial gifts, some with fancy steakhouse dinners. I can’t have a lot of the awesomeness in my life without the deep wound of my paralysis. Yesterday’s message was about how we learn through wounds. I’ve learned so much of my precious Savior through the difficult experience of paralysis, and this experiential learning couldn’t have happened through any other means. I’m gifted with this story that helps me know Jesus better. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, given the opportunity, I wouldn’t give up this wound because of the learning I’ve gone through. I want it all; the scars on my back and hip are precious to me because they tell the story of the start of my healing. 

My passport is from America, and that will always be part of my identity. Saturday felt strange this week as Korean and Swiss alumni helped me pack up the last of my belongings before I headed out Sunday morning for the long, long journey to my birth country. I said goodbye for now to my little apartment around 9am Sunday and got into the car with an excited German going on her first trip to America.

I’ve kept a small surprise for some of the people who will see me at the start of my trip, and the foot photo above is Anja participating in the traditional PDX carpet right of passage. My fabulous physio who’s helped me with so much of my recovery took ten days of vacation to see America with a real American. Naturally her first full day here included Dutch Bros and Tillamook Cheese Factory – I’ve got priorities. I also was really excited for her to be here on the 4th of July. We went to the Hillsboro parade this morning, and we’ll introduce her to more traditional American foods – s’mores and apple pie – later today with decent fireworks. 

I’m so excited for the time I’ll get to spend with people here in America, and there’s already been tons of great reunions and delicious food (see Dutch Bros pictured above). My friend Melody picked us up from the airport and drove us to Red Robin after dropping our bags at Jen’s house. I found there were already a few people waiting to greet me and was happy for the chance to be welcomed here so warmly.

I kept Anja going nonstop yesterday as my friend Michelle drove us out to the beach for the day so Anja could experience the Pacific Ocean, Camp 18 cinnamon rolls, and Tillamook squeaky cheese. Side note, the upstairs factory tour is just as exciting as I remember it being as a kid; honestly, I’m so delighted by the simplest things. I’m delighted by the chance to show Anja America, I’m delighted by the sleeve of Oreos Jen left sitting next to me while I write this, and I’m delighted by the people who’ve given so much to me to make my past five years of ministry possible.

I’m humbled by so much of it too: by a dozen people showing up at Red Robin last minute to hug me and encourage me in the progress I’ve made in my recovery, by Michelle taking her day off to spend it with me and Anja, by Jen never judging me for the broken person that I am but encouraging me to be more like Jesus just by sharing life with me. (That woman seriously is amazing.)

The next two weeks with Anja here are sure to be a blur, but I’m hopeful I’ll be able to show off my new skills and maybe even see some summer improvements. 

After I posted last week’s list, Caylie and I were lamenting all the great musicals I left off – like Dear Evan Hansen, Les Mis, Phantom of the Opera, and, most importantly, the musical episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Caylie was staying with me for a few days and helping me pack up a lot of stuff before leaving at the end of this week. We’d also planned to spend a good chunk of time while she was here with Buffy running in the background. She’d never seen it all the way through, and I felt strongly about fixing this. We made it through two and a half seasons, and she had the joy of listening to me sing along with “Once More with Feeling” – one of the greatest episodes of television ever made. Since I missed including it in last week’s playlist, I decided a whole post on a song from that episode was in order. 

The opening song is “Going through the Motions” where Buffy wanders the graveyard lamenting, “Nothing here is real / nothing here is right” while hoping no one notices her hiding her melancholy. I’m pretty good at hiding my emotions from people, but I’ve worked really hard this week to be honest that I’m on the verge of overwhelmed with two international moves in three months. The major stuff is sorted, but there are still loads of details, and I want to make sure I leave well. I’ve only got six days left before switching continents for a while. The world is going on without me, and I’m the one who’s off, I know that, but I’m trying to take care of things responsibly.

Buffy’s first verse talks about how she used to be so brave but is now wavering, and I’ve been thinking back to how much simpler it was to move to Germany able bodied with two suitcases, and now I’m not sure how to pack my life into the appropriate weighted suitcases with all the necessary medications. I’m ready to shout that it’s not fair, but life’s not fair. It’s also frustrating to have go through some of these important steps in moving that end up taking time away from my walking practice. 

I agree with Buffy’s last plea that she doesn’t want to be going through the motions, but I diverge in the confidence that I’m really not that bad off. Before drowning in the crazy stuff, I can list a dozen beautiful gifts of my unique situation. I’ve got this amazing life that allows me to spend an afternoon with my friends driving me to Lörrach to get my wheelchair brake replaced before traveling only to discover that the helpful repairman doesn’t have the exact right part, so he replaced it with a substitute for free. I also get to visit with my German neighbors who after feeding me my final good German meal yesterday drove me around the nearby villages just to enjoy the countryside one last time. I get to have my home be the landing place for alumni before summer ministry – and spend hours having intellectual conversations about Buffy the Vampire Slayer (which is one of my favorite things). 

Honestly, there’s been so much laughter and joy over the past two weeks of students and alumni streaming in and out of my window and saying goodbye and packing up that it’s still the life I would choose despite the stresses that come along with it. That said, I have a week where I need to do a lot of important final details, and I would crave your prayers that I would finish well not just going through the motions.

Here we go for round four (playlist 2015, playlist 2016, playlist 2017) of my Myspace style summer tradition. Here’s a link to this year’s playlist.

1. “Stressed Out” by twenty one pilotsGraduation was yesterday, and one of the responses to shared truths I came up with (explained in my James post last week) was to not stress about packing, but to let students come over during finals. Well, a steady stream of young people came through my window Thursday morning through Saturday evening, and I’m so delighted they chose my house as a hang out place. It does, however, leave me with a lot of packing and three days less to get it done in. I have no regrets, but I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little stressed out about two international moves in the next three months.

2. “Santa Fe” from RENTOkay, so I considered making this year the year of the musicals and having all the songs be from Broadway shows, but I resisted the impulse (it’s only half songs musicals). I’m not shy about my love for the musical RENT and how it inspires me to love more unconditionally. I figured I’d already used “Will I?” but discovered it actually is that I’ve used that song for multiple individual posts over the last four years. I still wanted something else, and Santa Fe stuck out when I was watching the movie last week because it’s the idealization of where everyone isn’t. I’m forced to leave Germany, but I don’t want to idealize the next place that I’m going. It’s not a place to run away from any problems; life is life, and problems will follow you anywhere.

3. “Beauty Through the Eyes of a Predator” by Demon HunterEvery annual list has a Demon Hunter song, and this is one of my absolute favorite songs by my absolute favorite band. Honestly, I can’t express how this perfectly fits this year, but I’ve dealt with a lot of emotional growth similar to the year this song came out and I was dealing with a lot of emotional growth. It’s also just a freaking incredible song.

4. “I See Stars” from Mean GirlsThe Mean Girls Broadway musical came out this year. Have you heard it yet? It’s fabulous. There wasn’t really a great song to fit my year from it, but I’ve been listening to the soundtrack so much the past month I felt like I needed to include one. This one is the finale, and I’m finishing five beautiful years in Germany celebrating my amazing stars. That’s the stretch I’m going to stick with for this post.

5. “This Is Gospel” by Panic at the DiscoAlright, so the beat of my heart also has the fear of falling apart, but really, the line that made me think this was worth including (beyond the catchy Panic emo tune) was “Don’t try to sleep through the end of the world / Bury me alive / ’cause I won’t give up without a fight / If you love me let me go.” It’s a loaded bunch of lyrics – I’m on my way out, but I’m making sure it’s not a running away (see next song). 

6. “Run” by KutlessGoing old school two in a row here – this is a great breakout album that I’ll forever love. I’m headed to New Zealand for that actual sabbatical rest, and I’m so excited to rest in the presence of a Savior who just wants to be with me.

7. “Resurrection Day” by Rend CollectiveGuys, have I mentioned how much I love this album? Yes, yes I have. It’s fabulous. And this song is an anthem for this year because I’m not the one raising me up. It’s all because Jesus. That’s the title of my future memoir: Because Jesus. You see, I know full well there’s not a stinking thing I can do on my own strength – I’m still disabled. But my Resurrected Savior has brought me to new life in him.

8. “My Shot” from HamiltonI told you I was using a lot of musicals this year. So, resurrected human that I am, I’m not throwing away my shot. 

9. “Defying Gravity” from WickedLast musical, I swear. So, resurrected, not throwing away my shot, watch me defying gravity. This year, “I’m through accepting limits / ’cause someone says they’re so / Some things I cannot change / but ’til I try, I’ll never know.” 

10. Home by Phillip PhillipsSappy expat song time. This was on my playlist when I moved overseas five years ago. I had no idea I was leaving a home for so long. I also had no idea how Germany would grow to have such a strong sense of home for me. I have no idea what’s in store in New Zealand. “If you get lost, you can always be found.”

Bonus Track: “Alright” by SuperchickYup. Every year has a Demon Hunter song and a Superchick song – those are mandatory. This year it’s the bonus track because it’s the song that encapsulates the entirety of my year and my month and my moment. Each verse is a different moment of my transition, and I’m sometimes all at once. So, “I’ll hope for you, you hope for me / and together we can say, “It’ll be okay.”

I’ve got the word “doulos” tattooed on my foot – it’s not seen by many people these days because of my paralysis required footwear, but I chose to put that word permanently on my body after my high school Bible teacher made us each write a commentary on the book. We had to study the use of several Greek words, and I discovered James chose this term, along with several other disciples, to describe his relationship with Christ. He begins his epistle, “James, a doulos of Christ.” It means slave. It means a bond slave who knew life with their master was better than on their own. 

I’m going to get a little personal this week, so if you’re not interested in how this Master has made my life better and what that has to do with the musical Rent, you can skip ahead to the last paragraph. 

I had an independent study senior this semester who for his final had to choose a book of the Bible to give me assignments in studying. He asked one of his best friends, and she suggested James. He didn’t know I’d spent a whole semester on that book when I was in high school; he didn’t know that’s where my tattoo came from. He also doesn’t know my obsession with the musical Rent, but we’ll get to that in a minute. 

So my student made me break James into sections, come up with shared truths for each, and then craft a specific response for each one that I could apply in the next ten days and then one that would apply when I arrive in New Zealand. The shared truth I came up with for James 1: 9-12 is, “The world is temporary, but we can put our hope in eternal rewards.” I teach my students there’s a difference between teaching and urging statements, and this one is a teaching that adjusts my attitude more than my actions. As I thought of how I would respond in the next ten days, I reflected on my frustration and sadness over not reaching the physical goals I sent at my previous Jahreskontrolle. My necessary response to this shared truth for the present time is therefore to adjust my attitude about my physical goals. I have a future hope of walking and dancing again; I’m not giving up on that during my earthly lifetime.

However, where I’m at right now is mostly using a wheelchair. I’m excitedly still taking steps – without braces more and more – and I’m seeing progress beyond what I was ever told to expect.

Each summer I write a blog post with my life playlist, and I was watching Rent today thinking about which songs I haven’t yet used in the past four years. Turns out, I only actually used “Seasons of Love” last year. I’ve just written entire posts about “Will I” and other songs. I’m not intentionally provocative (usually), so I won’t end up including “Another Day” in the playlist, but I will talk about it a bit here because of my idea that the world is temporary, but I have an eternal hope.

The song “Another Day” is the introduction of the musical motif “There is not future / There is no past / I live this moment / as my last.” The theme plays out through the musical as characters embrace loving each other fully and unconditionally in the midst of their struggles and mess. I’m in the midst of mess, and I’m so grateful for the friends who have encouraged me to bring it all to Jesus and not need to clean myself up first. Another one of my James shared truths was “True wisdom is displayed in acts of peace not selfishness,” and I’ve been really convicted about how I’m living that one out this week. It’s stretching and painful and uncomfortable, but it’s making me more like Jesus in the end, and that’s what I want more than anything. I know it’s worth it.

Sometimes the paralysis stuff is stretching and painful and uncomfortable – more in the literal sense than the spiritual growth described above – but I know it’s worth it. Even in this physical recovery, I’m learning to be more like Jesus. I don’t have any stories of physical victory to share because I’m in the midst of finals and packing and planning my global travels and I’m barely maintaining my walking. I could share a story of physical messiness thanks to nerve damage, but I’ll just let you know that I’m a pro at learning the warning signs and the clean up gets easier every time. It still sucks to wake up in my own filth, but I also have the joy of alumni turning up on my doorstep to tell me I was a positive influence in my life. I’ll make an executive decision to consider my trials a joy (based on Mr. Weber’s senior Bible lectures on the appropriate Greek translation of James 1:2) because somehow I have this amazing life where I’ve served in Germany five years and now have the opportunity to visit my passport culture before taking a sabbatical in a new culture beginning in September despite the pesky nerve damage that lingers. I’d really appreciate any of your prayers for all the details regarding my physical care in the next three weeks as I wrap up school and five years of life in Germany before this grand totalization adventure. I’ll keep you posted each week on the coming excitement, but I crave the prayers for peace in the chaos.

After fourteen months, I made it back to my annual check up at REHAB Basel. Those of you readers who found my blog back in the day will remember Danai and Alex featured heavily in my antics as an inpatient, so I was hopeful I’d get to at least say hello during my full day at the hospital. 

My morning started, as I now know to expect, with draining my body of four vials of blood before running some other fun tests. I still have over 100% lung capacity on both those tests, and my blood pressure and vitals all looked good. I then got my schedule for the rest of the day: physio at 11:30, lunch break, ergo at 14:00, and the debrief with the doctor at 15:30. 

I rocked up to the physiohalle five minutes early and watched Annette working with another patient. I’d be okay if she did my tests, but I’d rather have Andy again, and I was actually praying hard Alex would walk out of the office to work with me. I can’t imagine the grin on my face when Alex did come walking down the physiohalle; it might have been akin to her grin when I started out in German and told her we could try the whole appointment with my rudimentary skills in her mother tongue. She was excited about my progresses, and we talked about how I’d been doing more and more without my braces. My FlyEase Nikes were also exciting – she took one off to show a couple other physios who all agreed they would be way better for quad- and paraplegics to use regularly. 

When we got to the toe lifting portion, I was still not able to perceptibly move my ankle, but Alex could tell the correct muscle was firing. She ducked out of the room to find another physio who came in with what is best described as something like a therapeutic grade TENS machine. They hooked me up to the electrodes and explained how it would first feel like tingling before uncomfortable muscle pulling. Alex added she’d recently tried it and was almost in tears, but my diminished feeling means that I only felt mild discomfort as I watched in amazement as the machine stimulated my muscles and imitated the natural toe lift of a normal heel strike step. 

Alex encouraged me to talk to Anja about trying out walking with this kind of device and told me a different type was also available to use at home to train the muscles to lift up and down – though apparently it comes at a hefty $300 price tag to those without European insurance… I’m looking into my options. 

After that encouraging session, I headed to the bistro to eat something before visiting my old station. Fabio recognized me when I wheeled up, and he was excited to hear my improvements in my recovery and my German. I asked if Danai was around, and he told me she would turn up in a couple minutes, so I made myself a cup of coffee at that amazing, fancy machine to wait for her. It wasn’t long before my favorite English speaking Greek nurse turned up, and we spent the rest of my break before the ergo appointment catching up. I even showed off a few steps holding her hands and walking without braces. She and the other couple nurses who knew me during my stay were all really excited with the improvements, and I was so delighted to get to share with them. 

Before I started my ergo appointment, I saw Annette in the hallway, and she stopped me to say hello in German – having heard from Alex during lunch that I now speak perfect German. I laughed admitting it was a significant increase since we’d last talked though I am still far from perfect. Christiane came out of her office and told me she heard my voice – in German no less – and was excited to try our appointment in her second language rather than her third.

It’s kinda hard to communicate the familial bond I feel with these caretakers who did so much for me those five months after my accident. They were all so genuinely proud of me and eager to hear about how I was doing at work and about my travel plans to America and New Zealand. My world seemed so small when I was in their care, and now there are so many dozens of other people who’ve become integral parts of my ongoing adventures that extend across the globe.

I was particularly struck by that today as I spent time with three important people who didn’t join my journey until post-REHAB. Anja and I went shopping together for a critical pre-Germany-departure purchase, and I’m so grateful for the friendship I have with this amazing physio who’s literally walked beside me since leaving REHAB and has pushed me to try new things and encouraged me when my recovery seems slow. I also got a ride from Cindy to the BFA senior girls’ tea, and she is another friend who’s meant a lot to me in the past two years by giving so much of her time to walk with me and talk through so much of life with me while we improve my gait. Also, the only reason I was at the tea was as the invited guest of a precious student who is another one of the amazing people in my life. I trust Julia more than the vast majority of the student body which was clearly demonstrated last Wednesday when I made her hold my hands and walk with me during her study hall. I have a lot of precious students, but this particular one means a lot to me because in the past two years that I’ve had the privilege of getting to know her, her constant energy about loving Jesus and other people has been an inspiration to me. (One of my favorite parts of teaching teenagers is finding the gems who are mutually inspirational – we can encourage each other in the pursuit of Jesus.)

This senior tea today was meant to be a celebration of some incredible young women, and I was honored to be a part of the party. It paired nicely with my Jahreskontrolle which was a celebration of my accomplishments over the past year (14 months). I didn’t make all the goals I set for myself, but I surpassed a few others. I revised some goals and set a few new ones, and I’m going to charge ahead with the people God’s gifted to me – some for a short time like my physio Saskia in the uni-hospital, others for a few months like my physio Alex in the rehab-hospital, and others still for life like my current physio Anja.

Confession of an introvert: I really don’t love posting all the details of my life on the internet, but at the same time, I’ve not really got anything to hide. I just like my alone time. 

I was really hoping to manage a walk with Cindy this morning and then just chill for the rest of the day, but I woke up sneezing and had some alarmingly forceful sneezes with the morning pollen count that made me nervous I might fall if struck with that kind of attack while walking. I texted Cindy my condition, and she reported the same frustration with the microscopic death star attack. 

So instead of walking in the morning, I did some mundane things – picked up expensive prescriptions, purchased minimal food with my meager leftover cash, and read a couple chapters of a biography on Erasmus. Once the sun and the yellow dust settled, I did manage a walk along the river, and I enjoyed the time to myself. In my few outings, I managed to see nearly a dozen friendly faces, and I remembered how much I enjoyed being a background character in someone else’s life when I was in college. 

Actually, I hated it, but I’m nostalgic for the time when I could go by unnoticed.

A couple times earlier this week, Cindy walked with me on campus during my prep periods. I sat down to applause from students in the windows and had dozens of kids congratulate me on my impressive steps without my braces or sticks and just holding one of Cindy’s hands. I really love the encouragement; it means a lot to have students cheer me on. At the same time, it’s exhausting to be in the spotlight with every step, and I have to be honest about the tension between receiving the applause and knowing it means people are watching me. On one hand, the work I have to do in my recovery is exhausting regardless, and I want the recognition that people are celebrating alongside me; on the other hand, I wish I could just fade into the background and focus on my students. 

I am always excited to share my progress here, so I hope you’ll hear and rejoice with me about the impressive walks I’ve had this week despite the simultaneous desire I have to hide in my quiet cave and just enjoy some student made cheesecake. 

I was sitting on my bench by the river during my normal rest point in my walk yesterday, and I saw a rat. What kind of rivers was Spafford talking about in his famous hymn? Okay, but actually, if you know the story of this guy who wrote “It Is Well with My Soul,” you know his peace was one that surpasses understanding because his life sucked by human standards, and the second line emphasizes that. 

Fun fact, my life also sucks by human standards. I’m standing by my prior iterations that I wouldn’t trade this life for any other. 

Often when I’m walking, due to the physical demands on my disabled body, I can’t spend a lot of energy on the usual buzzing of thoughts in my head. As an Enneagram 5, I’m notoriously caught up in my head, and it’s an intentional shift to my body when I go on my walks. I usually use one of two centering statements to keep my mind at rest, and the one I focused on today was, “I step into peace.” Today as I sat on my bench thinking about that peace that I step into, I was struck by the precious gift of all the physical recovery I’ve seen in the past four years. I started out today’s walk with some of the best balance brace free that I’ve ever felt post paralysis; I ended with more weight on my arms to keep my finicky ankles from betraying me. Sometimes because the end of the walk is less than the start, I forget the ending point is still better than the first steps I took in the parallel bars back in REHAB. I also am quick to dismiss the distance I can cover regularly is far beyond the distance of the physiohalle which I celebrated with Alex just before my inpatient discharge.

I hope you’ll celebrate my current status with me while I forge ahead knowing that the faithfulness in the tiny daily improvements leads to these moments of seeing the grand distance I’ve covered in the years of this journey. With peace like a river, amidst the stormy sea billows, it is still well with my soul. 

Sometimes life is just more busy that others. Sometimes you spend your Sunday night proofing the Phases 2018 yearbook and forget to write your blog. 

Sometimes you get tacos on Tuesdays. (Let’s be real, it’s all the Tuesdays.) Sometimes you come home from tacos to find your New Zealand visa has been approved. (That’s just me this past week.) 

In the madness of the week, I didn’t walk as much, and a few things didn’t go as planned, but I a few other things were stinking awesome (i.e. visa approval). 

Right now is a phase of craziness in my life as I try to sort through the finishing well, updating everyone here, still teaching my classes, and planning my summer stops and stays across the USA. I’d really love your prayers for living life well here and not missing any of the details in my physical care and soul care. 

Last Tuesday was a day off of school, and Cindy and I took a beautiful walk in the sunshine. I left my wheelchair, braces, and even one of my sticks behind to venture on my established loop with just a single stick and Cindy’s arm for support. It was a bit rough as my left ankle was giving me some resistance, but we took a break on a bench by the river, and I made it back to my house after enjoying time hanging out with Cindy. We walked again at school on Wednesday, and my left ankle was still causing problems. After brainstorming the possible causes, we went through a few treatment options to get my feet back on track.

Thursday night I had a really great opportunity to reframe those tough walks when one of my seniors invited me to listen to her talk to the middle school students at Chrysalis. She had this amazing line where she encouraged the young students that while self help is great and all, God can take you so much further. I work really hard to improve my walking, but it’s only with the help from friends like Cindy that I can go beyond my own effort. I can credit so much of my physical improvement to the God given friends who have stepped in to walk with me, drive me places, and just regularly encourage me. 

I’ve done a lot more walking this week with nicer weather, but I also had the opportunity because of friends helping out with various things (my friend Mary Lou even spent an hour helping me sort through cupboards and drawers in preparation for leaving in July). There’s a team effort in me living life, but that same friend who gave me the judgement free help recycling items that had been cluttering my dresser for years also previously encouraged me that we all need help to live life. I’ve got a few more physical needs than most, but that self help urge is in all of us, and God graciously uses other people to help us live life more fully.

Seasonal allergies have been horrendous here this year. I was sneezing and sniffing all last week, and Monday I had a cold to top off the allergies and leg spasms of the day. Tuesday, my plan was to lay low, but I made the best possible mistake and stopped by the yearbook room on my way off campus. My plan was to let Chris know I wasn’t going to make it to Taco Tuesday, but my plan was hijacked in the best possible way. Two juniors were probably working hard until I came in, and they spent the next hour making me laugh uncontrollably. Chrissy convinced me if I was well enough to sit and laugh that long, she wasn’t worried about me spreading germs at her house, so I agreed to come with those two students to share a meal at the Bryan’s house. I swear I didn’t stop laughing for a solid three and a half hours. 

Might my body have recovered from that cold quicker if I’d gone home? Maybe. But let me tell you, it was worth it for my soul. This week had small moments of celebration for my physical improvements, but more holistically, I’m making progress in tangible plans for the summer and coming year. I can’t tell you how good it felt to have the space to laugh and the hilarious students to keep me going. 

Full disclosure, I also had some difficult student stuff to deal with this week, but I had my wise and gracious friend Shannon text me excellent advice that provided a loving response to a student’s disrespectful behavior towards me. I also had the aforementioned cold keeping my energy down, but I’m feeling much better by tonight. I can acknowledge the paradox of the draining student interactions while celebrating the moments where students came over for cookie dough or laughter. I love my job that lets me work with a sometimes willfully ignorant independent study student who simultaneously gets excited to find out how Timothy was developed as a young leader while being firmly convinced the apostle Paul must have been totally into cosplay because he was so concerned about leaving a cloak in Troas.

This paradox leaves me delighted at my amazing job while often frustrated my body still can’t keep up with what I want it to do. Hopefully this week I’ll find more opportunities both to laugh and to walk. 

There’s a delightful saying from the podcast “Welcome to Nightvale” that you can buy on a t-shirt on their website: Pain is just pain entering the body. You can also buy one that says “manic pixie dream tarantula,” but that’s got nothing to do with my week. 

Tuesday and Wednesday this week, I had early morning meetings and my legs – Virgil in particular – were not super happy about it. Virgil and Beatrice were both trapped in braces for two long full days, and I was disappointed that I’d be tired out by physio Wednesday afternoon. Fortunately Anja was willing to work with me as I was. She spent a few minutes stretching and adjusting my muscles before we took off out of the praxis to walk a couple hundred meters down the street. Anja carried a stool in one hand and let me hold on to her other as we strolled in the sunshine. I did have the braces and a stick in addition to Anja’s hand due to the aforementioned unhappy legs.

I was delighted with the quality and distance Anja and I achieved, but I’m still striving for more. I’ve taken a few other walks without the braces, and Anja and I are going to try even more this coming Wednesday. I’m not going to let a little fussiness from my legs – or from various pain throughout my lower half this past week. 

Saturday afternoon I was hanging out proofing yearbook pages, and I doubled over for a short break to try to stretch out some pain. My friend Chris tried to send me home when I explained what I was doing. “I’m not going to let pain stop me from living my best life,” I retorted – or some equivalent sass. I stuck it out for a bit longer, but my body parts ganged up on me by Saturday evening. I’d promised to attend the student led worship night, and I made it through nearly the whole thing though I had to duck out early because of my body’s need to reposition outside my wheelchair. 

This afternoon a couple current juniors stopped by, and I was explaining the condition of my legs – you know, the basics of how I named them and talk to them to try to understand their strange messages that have to be communicated through leg spasms rather than directly through my now damaged neurological network. While we were talking, they started spasming, and I tried to listen to what they had to say. I’m pretty sure part of the message was just that they were tired after a short walk around the fire station.

I’m writing this out ready to pop some ibuprofen and head to bed. You see, pain is just pain entering the body. It’ll take a whole lot more than pain to stop me from enjoying my life. For example, I’m looking forward to another delightful Monday with my students tomorrow. We’re going to discuss some of the critical elements of what goes into making a church; it involves a clip from Bob’s Burgers. I’ve got a pretty great job. 

Now, to be clear, I don’t want the pain. I’m not inviting any extra. I’m just not going to let it stop me. Looking ahead to this next week, I’d love prayers for the pain to go away. More importantly, I want to see God glorified in this week’s walking adventures. 

Today’s Scripture readings in church both talked about how Jesus charged his followers to be witnesses. The chaplain was explaining how we can not only talk about what we’ve seen but be actual evidence of something. I’m bearing witness with my life when I go for a walk every day. 

In fact, today, on my walk by the river, two of my current students passed by me while I was huffing and puffing without braces. They smiled and waved, and I kept on my way until my mid-way bench. That was the first time either of them have seen me on my feet, and as I mused about this morning’s sermon, I connected my physical movements as a witness of God as healer. I’m really excited that I get to declare God’s goodness with my body. This week gave me multiple opportunities to do so, and I hope everyone who saw me will think about the God who healed the girl who wasn’t supposed to walk again. 

Starting back at school this week was quite busy with lots of late work to grade and lesson prep work to finish the semester strong. I’m also still gathering documents for my New Zealand visa application, and I have hardly had any down time in the past seven days. I did, however, have the privilege of witnessing a dorm birthday blessing for one of my senior students this evening which only added to my joy that while I’m being a witness, I’m living alongside some pretty incredible people who I can witness glorifying God as well. Each BFA dorm has their own unique take on birthday blessings, and tonight I watched Storch girls gather around a sister, all laying hands on her to pray over her, thanking God for the amazing witness she is. They didn’t use the term “witness,” but that’s for sure what this fabulous kid is. In the two years I’ve known her, I’ve learned more from this student about how to love people and passionately chase Jesus than I can begin to describe. 

I’m looking forward to the week ahead with conversations with students who want to know more about this Jesus we bear witness to and the sunshine that will allow me more walks to bear witness in my body the healing work of Jesus.

I reported last week that I made some great successes and walked a couple days in a row without my braces. I’m happy to update that I continued the successful solo large loops around the nearby buildings without my braces. I didn’t get out there today because I was prepping for the final quarter of the year – the home stretch of my fifth year at BFA before my totalization. I’m ready to go for these last couple months in my classroom, but there are still a lot of other details to sort out in my life.

Fortunately, I can happily report that one of those details is sorted – I have a place to go after my trip to America and quick stop in Germany to get some medical procedures done. I’m in the visa application process to spend my totalization time as a sabbatical in Christchurch, New Zealand. 

The walking progress and New Zealand placement are huge steps forward for me despite me not having a fancy story to tell for either this week. I’d love your prayers for more of the details of my physical recovery and moving out of Kandern’s community for the year. There are still a lot of steps left to get to New Zealand successfully. You’re welcome to send me encouraging Tolkien references and keep praising God for my successes so far.

When I was student teaching, I got to read the book Wonder aloud with a class of rambunctious seventh graders. That is a powerful text, and I was so excited to hear it was made into a movie. Since I was away the weekend it played at the Kandern theater, I jumped at the chance to watch it at the Bryans this week during our normal Taco Tuesday dinner. For those unfamiliar with the plot, it revolves around a young boy who has complicated medical conditions that leave him physically deformed. He has a beautiful soul that everyone recognizes by the end, but it’s a narrative thick with body image and social struggles. 

My own narrative could be told through body image and social struggles. I was reflecting a lot on my body this week and the relationship I have with it came up multiple times as I listened to various podcasts. As I was having coffee with my friend Mary Lou on Thursday, I confessed that I’ve struggled with asking people to be involved in my life partly because of not wanting to be a burden and partly because of my own social anxiety issues. We had a great time laughing about the ridiculous notion that I’m a burden just because I have a physical disability; it was super good for my soul to remember that we’re all needy in our own way and the body of Christ exists to help others. 

With that encouragement, I texted Cindy and scheduled a walk for Friday. When she arrived, I was prepared to take the sticks out and test how far I could make it with her bringing the wheelchair.

“You don’t really need that,” she suggested.

With a little prodding, I ventured out of my house holding just Cindy’s hand with her supporting my left arm and walked the hundred meters or so to the benches across the Hieber parking lot. No braces either. We sat down and chatted with some other friends who happened to be walking by which gave me a chance to recover my strength for the walk back. I managed the long way around the fire house and was elated with my exhausted body that I’d managed the whole distance with no sticks at all and only Cindy’s support on one side. 

Buoyed by the success of Friday, I set out with my sticks and no braces on Saturday and managed to make it to the bench just past the school before resting and walking back. I was pretty amazed with myself. My body was doing more than I expected. Don’t get me wrong – it was really, really tough, but I was doing it. 

Sunday I’d planned an extra challenge by asking for a ride to the sunrise vigil service the Anglican church was having at the munster in Basel. Nigel and Helen were driving in and agreed to cart me along with my wheelchair if my leg spasms were manageable at five in the morning. Aside from my right foot trying to shake itself out of my brace a dozen times at different points in the service, it went swimmingly. My feet even felt settled enough after a doze in the morning that I headed out for another victory lap to the bench beyond Hieber and back.

I took it pretty easy through the rest of the afternoon with reading and relaxing and a nice chat with an alumni. In all honesty, I’m still in wonder at what my body accomplished this weekend. I’ve got another week off of school, and I hope I’ll be able to continue to amaze myself and share new feats with you next week.

Growing up, I’d regularly hear my parents start a story with, “George Wood, the guy who married us…” I mean, this was probably once a month. And I’m not exaggerating that every time he was introduced into a story my parents had to add that critical detail. This guy was a big deal in their faith walk, and it was important that my sister and I know he was the one who united them in marriage. Well, when my dad recently told me, “George Wood, the guy who married your mom and I, is going to be in Kandern,” I jumped at the chance to connect with him.

Though it took more work than anyone anticipated because I’m impossible to get in touch with (my answering machine deliberately says someone else’s name to discourage people from calling me), I was able to meet up with George and his traveling companion while they visited a couple missionaries here in Kandern. The five of us sat down for tea Friday afternoon and had an amazing conversation that covered a range of topics. One comment really stuck with me when we were theorizing about how people share the Gospel. George brought up St. Francis’s great quote, “Preach the Gospel at all times, and if necessary, use words.” He said he hoped his life was preaching the Gospel, and I was so excited to confirm that it was – because my parents have been saying so for over thirty years. 

I was still ruminating about that Friday and Saturday when I got to catch up in person and over Skype with two friends from America. My friends were living out the Gospel as they encouraged me in my ministry and listened to my stories of hilarious students as well as some of my struggles and stresses of planning for my year away from Germany. I went for a walk yesterday with Morgan, one of my closest friends here who will be leaving this next week, and she celebrated the distance I walked brace free while lamenting with me the struggles I was facing I can only hope I reciprocated for each of my friends in the encouragement they offered me as part of the body of Christ.

The short walk with Morgan was the highlight of the physical progress, but the conversation with Shannon covered a lot of how the physical is tied into the emotional, mental, and spiritual, so I’m really celebrating a lot of growth in all that development after a solid conversation with Shannon. I am still optimistic about my body catching up with the rest of my health, but I also recognized that I need to be intentional about not letting my emotional, mental, or spiritual health atrophy while my body limps behind. The handful of intentional conversations this weekend were a significant part of that.

Looking ahead for the short term, I’m planning to move more this week while I don’t have school. I’d love your prayers for warmer weather to reduce my leg spasms. I’m also still patiently waiting to hear confirmation for my placement next year, and I’d really love prayers for that news as well. Thanks for joining in with me on that part of the Gospel where we encourage each other through prayer – I can’t tell you how much it means to know there are so many people continuing to pray for me each week!

There’s a story recounted in two of the Gospels about the Pharisees asking Jesus for a miracle. He replies with a measure of sass according to the Message translation: “All you want is something to titillate your curiosity, satisfy your lust for miracles.”

I’ve seen miracles. I am a miracle. I anticipate the miraculous. 

I was reflecting on this paradox as I listened to a fabulous podcast on miracles put out by an Antiochian Orthodox ministry. The four Jesus followers of diverse Christian backgrounds were reflecting on miracles that are still happening all over the world. There was one powerful story of a girl in a wheelchair who was told by someone, “God’s gonna raise you up from the chair!” and her response was, “No. I’m in the chair, and it’s not great, but God is using me here to reach people that I didn’t really get to reach before, so thank you, I appreciate that, but I don’t think that’s what God has for me right now.”

That’s not my story. I’m in a wheelchair, but I welcome prayer to glorify God in my condition. I’m still hopeful for the physical changes that reflect a whole body. I still need prayers for God to move and work in my body. It’s a paradox because I’m not praying for the signs and wonders – I’m praying for God to be glorified in my physical body. 

One of the pastors later reflects on how miracles may actually be a glimpse of what is more normal than the decay we see daily in a fallen world. Miracles are normal; they happen all the time. However, another one of these wise men reflected, “If we’re looking for a miracle, we’re looking for the wrong thing, but if we’re looking for Christ… the world is revealed as it really is.”

I’m not in this journey, this public platform, for the glitz and show. I’m in it for knowing more of this Christ who regenerates what is broken in this world. 

Bringing back the paradox, I’d love to leap and dance and celebrate the physical wonder of my body working again. I’m going to keep praying for God to be glorified. My open handed specific requests are for restored function and answers about where I’m going to be this fall. I’m still waiting for the confirmation from an amazing position, and I’d love you to beg God with me for the official word and next phase in planning as well as physical leaps forward in restoration of function.

I love Zach Anner. He’s a hilarious comedian who uses his disability in a positive way without making himself a trope. He made this workout video several years ago and Shmoyoho songified it to this awesome jam. Full disclosure, I listen to it to get pumped up when I’m feeling low. 

In the original video, he has lots of motivational phrases, but I really love the one they capitalize on in the song – “it’s never to late to get back on track.” Sure, Lindsay Lohan is the comedy punch line to go along with the encouragement, but I’m gonna run with it – someday literally. 

The past few weeks were thrown off track with that nasty blister business. I got pretty down about it, but, as Zach encourages us all, it’s never to late. Tomorrow is a new day – and today wasn’t all that bad. Really, this week was a lot of productive catch up and self care, but I’m looking forward to more improvements which are what I want to report weekly. I’d love the encouragements and prayers to stay focused on the responsibilities I have this week while pushing myself with new physical gains.  

Sometimes teenagers are punks who try to test boundaries and stress out the adults who love them. Sometimes adults are equally obnoxious as they struggle through new personal growth.

Hopefully I’m not that difficult to deal with, but I’ve had some stressors this week that kept me figuratively on my toes as I literally dealt with that blister on my toe. While I was sufficiently put at ease by the slowly shrinking fluid, I freaked out all over again when I woke up Saturday morning to discover crusted skin and no blister at all. Concerned that I’d somehow popped it unknowingly in the night, I spent the majority of the next two days with my feet up still caring for the toe, now adding oil instead of apple cider vinegar to help it heal. 

While I’m disappointed I’ve not been able to walk much the past two weeks because of this toe issue, I’ve got orders from Anja to keep up my core exercises. I’ll hopefully be back into a walking routine with Cindy soon, and ideally that’ll be in addition to the daily ab workout. 

Full disclosure, I skipped my Friday floor routine because I was feeling overwhelmed with life. I’m not the perfectly responsible ideal disabled person. I slack off sometimes. Sometimes my students slack off too – and I forgive them. A student from last semester caught me in the hall this past week to thank me for passing him after he turned in some assignments over two months late. Something had clicked in his brain that this was a lavish grace, and I replied I’m grateful for the grace I’ve received too. I wasn’t supposed to ever walk again after my accident, and I’m so amazed by the grace that lets me hobble a couple of steps now and again. 

Ideally, those steps will improve in both quality and quantity, but I’m grateful for every single one. I can still only wiggle one toe on occasion, but I’m going to keep testing what these toes can do and be humbled as I improve every so slowly.

Sometimes my cultural analogies are lost on students. For example, yesterday I tried to tell a student my seemingly tedious assignment to him was his “wax on, wax off” task that would make sense later. His roommate had never seen The Karate Kid and had no idea what that meant. Once I explained the finer points of martial arts and window cleaning, it sort of stuck. (Full disclosure, I don’t know the finer points of martial arts or window cleaning.)

That said, I was trying to explain to these guys how I was training them to understand Scripture carefully and that the specific tasks of attending to the details was going to pay off someday. I told them I didn’t know when exactly it would pay off, but that it would for sure. 

Kinda like the physiotherapie I’m doing is all going to pay off for me someday as well. I was listening to a sermon the other day where the pastor said that sometimes we ask God for an oak tree and complain when he gives us an acorn. I think I got an acorn a while back. I planted it, but some days I’m still wondering where the full blown tree is. I’ve got a sprout or something, but there are days when I just want the shade of a giant tree. 

Before I lose complete track of the analogy, I was thinking about how I really wanted this blister on my foot to just disappear, but maybe the process of foot care is part of the tree growth for me. I know the process of physio and relearning to walk sure is developing a strong oak in me. I obviously wouldn’t be disappointed if I woke up without a blister and with all other functions restored, but I’m also going to try to see it as the sprouts of my acorn turning into an oak tree if I wake up to another day similar to today.

It’s a weird tension between begging God for a physical miracle and begging God for a psychological transformation when the physical miracle doesn’t happen today. I’m still going to ask you to pray with me for rapid physical recovery, but I’m also going to ask you to pray for psychological stamina as I deal with the patient care for this acorn growing in me. 

 

So I really love cheesecake. It’s delicious. 

One of my students found out and promised to make me a boss cheesecake. This escalated in importance when I found out he’d never made a cheesecake before, and four other students have now made me three separate delicious cheesecakes. The delightful initial student planned to come over today after church with three of his friends to make me this crowning cheesecake.

Instead I came home to an email that these boys were bailing on me. 

**Full disclosure: I started writing this last night then had to go to bed with seizing back pain.

Sometimes my life sucks. 

Sometimes I get cheesecake. For example, last Monday was a school holiday, and two students came over and made me a delicious cheesecake with a graham cracker crust. I was delighted. I also had several students reach out and say supportive things to me. I also had some wonderful affirmation from colleagues. 

I also had complications getting my passport renewal fees correctly lined up. I also had a blister show up on my toe. I also came down with cold symptoms on Friday. I also had these punks promise a cheesecake and bail. So life isn’t all one thing, but I’m still on that positive trajectory.

Some of my dreams have been crushed, but, honestly, the life I have is overall better than I could have dreamed. Sure there are some missing cheesecakes, but there’s also some lovely children who come over for tea when the other kids bail. Also, these kids are still making me a cheesecake – it’s just been postponed.

If you haven’t listened to Rend Collective’s latest album, you’re wasting your life. I’m currently obsessed with several songs, but “Counting Every Blessing” resonated pretty well with me tonight. As I was thinking through what happened this week, I was struck by the amazing gifts I received in the previous several days of students reaching out and affirming my work as an educator – specifically in educating them about the Christian faith. 

One of the birthday wishes from a former student was, “Thanks for being such an inspiration to us dummies.” I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. I skyped with two of his classmates in the past week, and both of them shared with me how things they learned in my class have come up in conversations with friends at college.

I’m absolutely amazed at this gift. The end of each verse of “Counting Every Blessing” declares, “I’ve been blessed beyond all measure,” and that aptly describes my condition. A surface glance at my life would anticipate endless frustration with physical limitations, and don’t get me wrong, I do get frustrated, but as is also said in the song, “surely every season You are good to me.” Jesus has held me tightly through the frustrations and gifted me with immeasurable blessings – the numerous students who learned something from me.

Those blessings are my highlights this week, but I’m also celebrating the laps I managed around the auditorium on Cindy’s arm. I only walked with her a couple days, but I was overjoyed with the quality of my form. Like Augustus Waters, I’m on a roller coaster that only goes up (but our similarities stop there – I’ve got loads of living out my days walking left in me). 

First of all, I want to give a huge thanks to those who prayed through my birthday prayer requests this weekend. I warned you my post this week might be late but epic, and I don’t want to disappoint.

On Wednesday, I was thinking about how wonderful it would be to share my superwoman moment, and then this weekend I maintained my awesomeness at stellar levels. During my physio session, Anja and I were talking about how I was so grateful to have had physio with her in Germany because we trust each other and can try amazing new things. Then we pulled a superman. You know, that thing you do with little kids where the adult lays on the ground and the kid puts the other person’s feet on their own stomach and then is lifted into the air? I almost did that with Anja – she was stretching out my tight ankles and calves, and we got my legs in the air with Anja’s weight pushing down on my feet, watching carefully that my finicky ankles didn’t roll disastrously. 

I was so excited at the strength I saw in my legs as I held so much weight as well as the positive movement towards a normal foot position. The tough floor workout she put me through was exciting for me as I’m going into my fifth year with nerve damage. It was also exciting to think of all I can accomplish as I launch into my next year of adventuring far beyond what I ever imagined. This past weekend, I was able to have an incredible birthday celebration in a new city with old friends.

After I was done teaching on Friday, my friend Carol picked me up to drive to her temporary home just north of Paris for the weekend. We caught up on her past six months of travel around the states and then skyped her daughter before planning out our Saturday adventure. I’ve been looking forward to this for months as my birthday coordinated with not only Carol’s drive from Kandern to Paris, but also my best friend Kara’s European vacation. She and her boyfriend Eric planned their stops to meet up with us, and I finally got to hug my Taquito face to face for the first time in five years. 

Kara and I have been best friends since elementary school and survived middle school and high school together, so my life only makes sense with her in it in some form. I’ve mentioned her on this blog through the years as the friend who responds to my insane medical questions and talks me down from panic attacks about what might be happening inside my body because she is a trained medical professional. I had an absolute blast hanging out with her in the Louve, the Musee d’Orsay on Saturday, and then the Eiffel Tower on my actual birthday. It totally overshadowed the madness of Paris public transport in a wheelchair.

Guys, hear me clearly, don’t try the Paris metro in a wheelchair. It’s not accessible. However, I’m superwoman, and with Carol’s help and the help of some random strangers, I managed three unexpected flights of stairs and a bus detour to get from Carol’s house to the heart of Paris. It was way more work than I anticipated Saturday morning, but Sunday was a little better planned, and after visiting the windy accessible mid level of the Eiffel Tour, we went around the block to hang out at a cafe until Katrina met up with us.

I’m incredibly blessed with amazing friends who will adventure along side me and love me as I come. I’ve already mentioned Kara replies to my crazy person texts, and Carol has been by my side from day one to make sure I’m never left out of anything I want to go to. And some of you might remember that amazing trip to Budapest I had with Katrina last April. It was such an absolute joy to spend my best birthday yet with these fabulous friends – plus shout out to Eric who just met me but was willing to hang out with a rando for the better part of two days of his first visit to France. 

After a couple hours of laughing and enjoying the sun peeking out from behind the clouds, Katrina and I took a taxi to the train station and loaded up into our first class seats to Freiburg. We made it home just in time to get ready for bed though I was awakened by my phone buzzing just before the stroke of midnight as my nephews called to wish me a happy birthday.

It’s been the best one yet thanks to the amazing people encouraging and supporting me to achieve all these superwoman feats – from my physio who asks me to do crazy new things to my friends who explain how antibiotics are working inside me to my friends who make it possible for me to see new places no matter what my mobility level.

My German choir is learning a rendition of the Charlie Chaplin song “Smile,” and I really can’t stop smiling at the cute German accents pronouncing the soft “ch” in “aching” when they forget the sound is different in the English word. I really needed the reminder this week to smile – a coworker caught me coming into the office with something probably closer to a grimace and joked, “You dropped something,” as I wheeled past. “What?” I asked only to laugh when he replied, “Your smile.”

I like to think I usually have a smile on, but I did have several people comment this week on the lack thereof. I seemed to be wearing some tension on my face that I couldn’t hide. I honestly did have a lot to get done this week with the change of semester – finals to grade, a whole quarter to plan, an entire day of PD meetings, the timing of the DC meeting that requires me to leave my house at 7am every other week, a new class schedule that means I spend two to three hours longer at school than last semester. I’m wiped as I wind down tonight, and I’m looking forward to the homemade cheesecake reward an alumni is bringing me tomorrow.

Yes, there were a lot of stresses and “aching” and “heart breaking” moments, but I still want to smile. I want to smile through the crying, sure, but I also see the sunshine in a lot of things that happened this week as well. I get to go to choir and interact with these amazing German women who still love me despite my terrible language skills (and I love them all the more for their precious pronunciation of English lyrics). I also had a senior ask me to do an independent study with him going through the Bible study methods course I took in college because he wants to develop his engagement with Scriptures and learn to love Jesus better and become a better role model to the middle school kids who look up to him. Today, I listened to a different senior describe how she was growing in her faith as part of preparation I helped her do to prepare for a scholarship interview. Two other seniors came over to help clean my house after school and peppered me with theology questions related to what they’d been reading in their personal devotions, and I was reminded yet again of how much I love my job. I was stretched out on my couch after a full day at school and needed to give my legs a break from my chair, and my muscles were still aching from the intense floor workout Anja took me through two days ago, but I loved the chance to hear the interest in understanding how we differentiate between David’s laments and messianic prophecies in the psalms. 

It’s not hard to smile in moments like that. And honestly, it wasn’t hard to smile when at the start of my session Wednesday, Anja told me, “Don’t forget that I like you.” There was a big grin on my face when I replied, “I’m ready.” She helped me onto the floor and worked me through a series of exercises that would have been unimaginable over three years ago when she started working with me. I’m still super weak, but she’s targeting the muscles that need to grow to improve my stability when I’m walking. As I mentioned before, I’m still feeling the muscle aching, but I’m smiling knowing that those muscles are firing and sending pain signals to my brain – something I had no guarantee of post injury. 

I almost forgot one more reason to smile – I have an amazing birthday trip planned for this next weekend! Those of you following my story for over a year know I make an annual event for people to pray with me for five specific requests each year, and you can find the Facebook event linked here. I might be late posting next week, but I promise I’ll be celebrating well with some of my best friends from across my life and visiting a new city. 

This one snuck up on me.

But I’ve also seen it coming for a while.

I’ve been really intentional with this day for the past three years, marking it with good things that are central in my growth as a person and relationships that I value deeply. This year, I was delighted to discover my traumaversary would fall on the bi-weekly meeting of my Anglican family group. Every other Thursday, I gather with three other couples (two other couples are not in Kandern this year), and we share a meal and read the Bible together. People who know me well know reading the Bible out loud is one of my favorite activities, so doing that tonight with six of my close friends was the best way to mark this important date in my life. I share life with these people, and they treat me as a whole person. We talked about the New Zealand opportunity, and I heard about updates in their lives. We read Matthew 9-10 this week, and I loved encountering Jesus as the powerful healer in the stories.

I’ve been healed powerfully, and I anticipate more good things in my life from this Good Healer. I won’t stop asking to walk again and have the normal bodily functions return. Trust me, I’m desperate for that. I woke up in my own filth this morning thanks to nerve damage, but I also showered off and washed my sheets and gave a final exam to my precious students. Something about the apostle Paul’s “I can do all things” sentiment resonates more deeply in light of the list of things I accomplished today.

I also accomplished an amazing feat yesterday, but before I wow you, let me remind you that four years ago today I was told there was a 99% chance I’d never walk again. Okay, let that sink in before you read the next paragraph: 99% chance of never walking again.

Yesterday at physio, I walked barefoot on a treadmill going a steady pace for nearly a minute. I’m estimating the time because it felt like a full hour to me, but I know that’s just not possible. Realistically, it was something like a solid minute spread out over a couple stints between which I had to sit down and have a drink of water. Anja told me after that I did better than she’d even expected, but we were both so excited at how well I managed in spite of my poor balance and wobbly ankles. 

My friend Brandi drove me home after physio, and when she dropped me off, I was reflecting with her some of the emotions I had about today. I said something really profound, and I wish I’d written it down because it’s going to come out hollow here now. I was saying something about how I still don’t really understand myself as disabled, and I’m still processing how to deal with this huge shift in understanding myself while also still improving physically and maturing in my faith. The powerful statement was something like, “This didn’t change who I was, it deepened me into more of who God made me to be.” Again, it came out really naturally and beautifully in the car last night, so you’ll just have to get the gist of it and pretend I’m writing it eloquently even though it’s coming out clunky right now.

I’ll stick by that sentiment and thank God for the powerful maturing work that is still ongoing in my heart and body. 

I just had an amazing two hour conversation with one of my best friends across the ocean. Shannon and I were going over the details of the stress and celebrations this last week, and I was reflecting with her the crazy lives we’ve both lived over the past several years. I’m coming up on the four year traumaversary of breaking my back, and a month before my accident, I wrote a sappy post on my old blog referencing the scary dialogue between Gandalf and Bilbo in the first installment of The Hobbit movies indicating I might stay in Germany significantly longer than my initial two year commitment. 

Bilbo confesses his fear that if he leaves he may never come back, and Gandalf assures him even if he does come back, he would not be the same. I never wanted to leave my Shire-like Hillsboro, Oregon, and now I find myself reluctant to leave the Shire-like Kandern I’ve come to love over the last five years. However, I’ve learned my lesson that the adventure is worth it, and I’m ready to move to the real Shire.

After a crazy stressful week here attending accreditation meetings with nausea and waking up student’s brains, I skyped a youth pastor at a church in New Zealand – the country where The Hobbit was filmed – that has a perfect fit for me during my totalization year. If all the official check boxes get approved, I’ll visit America during July and August, the coldest months in New Zealand, before I make my way down under for ten months to live and serve with this amazing community. It’s not yet set in stone, so please pray with me this week that I’ll hear quickly about elder approval from the church. I’ll be able to share more details once I’ve figured out that this will for sure be happening. 

I’m praying it’s approved on all ends quickly, but I’m also taking a moment to celebrate what a huge relief it was to have this amazing, encouraging skype call. After almost a year of following leads that ended with a “no” or no answer, I’ve not only found a place that will agree to take me, but a place that wants me. This is huge for my soul.

Going into this week with my traumaversary, it’s a gift to know I’ve still got something to give to the world. I’m also going to celebrate all the good that has come into my life over the past four years, so be ready for that sappy post on Thursday. Until then, again, I’ll ask for your prayers that I hear back soon from the church with the official approval that I can come so I can plan my journey to my next Shire.

I told my friend I was going to go to bed in half an hour… and that was like fifteen minutes ago. Sometimes I can blast out an update quickly, so let’s see if that happens. Otherwise, I might be hitting the snooze button for five more minutes a couple extra times in the morning.

Actually, I know I can’t afford to snooze too late because I’ve got some prep to do for the finishing touches on my final after this last week of classes and want to give my kids a study guide tomorrow. When I rewrote my curriculum, I didn’t rewrite the final study guide, so I have to start that from scratch. This winter break has been great, but for the first time in five years, the three weeks went quickly. I’ve always felt like it stretched out forever, but now I’m so surprised that I have to go back to work already. I love my job, so I’m totally excited to see my precious students again, but I’m not looking forward to the alarm in the morning. 

I’ve still got three more weeks of antibiotics that make me sick, so I’ll have to try to get up extra early to eat sooner and let the nausea wear off before I have to teach. Unfortunately, I’ve got three morning meetings this week that I’ll just try to keep my mouth shut during – mostly for fear that I’ll vomit rather than say something stupid (although that’s always a possibility). I don’t get to sleep through those, and I don’t really want to. I mean, I will when the alarm goes off, but, remember, I love my job. (I remind myself that when I want five more minutes of sleep and have to get moving.) 

Once the nausea wears off, the days are delightful and worry free. Okay, that’s hyperbole, but honestly, my days aren’t the worst with nausea. I freaking traveled through Wittenberg, Dresden, and Berlin ready to toss my cookies; three morning meetings won’t get me down.

I was chatting with someone at church this morning, and in a moment of rare honesty, I told him nausea made traveling extra hard, but I wasn’t going to pass up this amazing trip because of six weeks on this stupid antibiotic. I’m not going to let life pass me by because I have neurological damage. Also, I’m a rock star, and on Friday afternoon I walked around the auditorium five times without my braces just holding Cindy’s arms. Three of those laps were one handed. 

I’m kinda amazed that Cindy is friends with me and will so graciously help me. She’s excited to watch my improvements, and I love to see how quickly my body remembers those slow and unsteady steps after a couple weeks with just moving my legs on the exercise bike in my house. I’d much rather find myself looking for five more minutes of walking than sleeping, and I hope that’ll be the report after next week. (Though give me grace if the meetings exhaust me, and maybe say a prayer that I’d sleep well this week with the extra stress of various school stuff.)

(I typed this in 8 minutes. If it’s good, I’m a rock star. If it’s bad, hey, it was only 8 minutes, what can you do in that time?)

I’m posting this update later than normal, and I’ll ask for your forgiveness, a mercy if you like, as I give all the details of my full and adventurous previous ten days. If you’re not interested in the intricacies of my celebrations and travels, I’ll write a “too long; didn’t read” down at the bottom.

I posted last just before Christmas Eve, and I was fortunate to celebrate that prominent holiday with my English neighbors who invited me over for the evening meal and good conversation. Jan walked with me across the street so I could move my legs and leave the wheelchair behind. I’m always grateful for the friends who are patient enough with me to let me take the extra few minutes to have a chance to walk somewhere. Christmas Day similarly celebrated my strengths as I was picked up by my friend Mary Lou and headed over to my American adopted family’s house to hang out filter free for several hours. I’d opened my presents from my family in the morning and immediately put on my Bob’s Burgers t-shirt that my mom sent, knowing these particular friends would appreciate the humor. I slept in the next day and read a lot through the afternoon before Gundi picked me up to take me to her house for the traditional German second Christmas meat fondue with her family. I’m still incredibly humbled that this family has also adopted me and made sure I’m included in this annual tradition. I also feel like it’s my annual leveling up in German as this year I was able to have almost a full conversation in German about American politics. I’m still woefully deficient for living in this country for almost five years, but my German friends are incredibly patient with me.

After my thoroughly international Christmas celebrations, my Canadian friend and I hopped on a train to make our way to Wittenberg for a day and a half. This is my third big train trip, and I still love this form of travel in a wheelchair above flying or driving. I’ve got so much more flexibility in my movements, and the nice people help me on and off the trains with their super handy lifts, sometimes leaving me up high for a ride down the platform to the connecting train. Crystal and I made it to Wittenberg in the late afternoon and snapped a selfie in the still decorated street as we looked for a place to get some food. The next morning we headed to Luther’s house for my ultimate nerd experience as I read all the history of the reformation from the sassy reformer’s very home converted into a museum of his life. Crystal convinced me to get out of my wheelchair and take the single step into part of the exhibit not provided with a ramp to see even more of the cool articles and artifacts. As usual, I was so glad we were able to maneuver me through more of the rooms than were easy to access with the wheelchair. I missed out on a non-accessible 500 anniversary display the city was holding, but the little hurdles like the single wooden step were so easy to overcome with just a little help.

I needed more than a little help navigating around the next city as we discovered loads of widely spaced cobblestone covering the ancient streets of Dresden. I’m fortunate to have friends willing to push me when my body so easily exhausts itself, and Crystal was also sympathetic to the jostling over cobblestones draining my energy despite me being pushed through most of the streets. We met up with some friends of Crystal and they gave us the local highlights and helped me find my way into the back entrance of the relatively recently rebuilt Frauenkirche so I could be lifted up and wheeled in between speakers and concert equipment as they prepared for a New Year’s celebration in the church.

Since this is the long version, I’m going to detour here to talk about the emotions of accessibility in ancient places. Yeah, I totally get that the church was built before wheelchairs were a thing, but just think about how it feels to be pushed around to a back entrance (along the super rough cobblestone because apparently it would ruin the aesthetic to have a smooth paved path to the handicap entrance) which is being used as a loading dock and to be blended in with the materials being carted into the church rather than distinctly recognized as an autonomous human. Now, to be clear, all the guys doing heavy lifting were polite and gracious and fully accommodating. It’s just the principle of being relegated to the service entrance that’s sometimes wearing. In so many places, I’m grateful they’ve accommodated spaces and made adjustments to make it possible for me to enter at all. The castle church in Wittenberg had a broken lift to the regular handicap entrance, so they unlocked a special side door for me to still have access. I just have to acknowledge the gratitude for any access at all in conjunction with the recognition that it’s occasionally a lower quality experience.

I really did enjoy the stop in Dresden, though, and Crystal’s friends were a lot of fun to spend time with. Saturday morning we spent time chatting in Starbucks before Crystal and I caught our next train to the final city of the trip – Berlin. I was pretty wiped energy wise from Friday’s cobblestone sightseeing, and I didn’t have as much energy as I would have liked once we finally made it to our hotel in the southeast corner of Berlin. Since it was already dark, not great weather, and no good food options nearby, Crystal and I opted for a makeshift meal in the hotel before our adventure in the morning. We got up in time to take the subway into the heart of the city and made our way to the Dome for the Sunday morning service. It was another service elevator around the back situation, but I was able to get around the sanctuary and loved listening to the German liturgy and enjoying the Protestant attempt at Catholic decor. (Germans really love their reformers, by the way. I expected it in Wittenberg, but there was also a huge statue of Luther in front of the church in Dresden, and the Berliner Dome has their two famous reformers staring down at parishioners in the front of the ornate church flanked by the two famous Swiss ones on the sides.)

After the service, we had lunch with another one of Crystal’s friends before taking her recommendation to visit the National History Museum after we discovered the DDR had an hour long wait in the rain before entry (plus a perilous looking stone ramp that was wet too). I was absolutely delighted with the choice though, and I happily spent over an hour in the Reformation section alone, but I could easily have gone back to that exhibit every day for a week and found more interesting things about German history. I’d exhausted myself after about four hours, and Crystal generously let me take my time and then pushed me most of the way back through the cold rain. Fortunately, we each found suitable food in stores open in the early evening of New Year’s Eve before we holed up in our hotel to watch the fireworks from our window.

We’d hoped to visit the Jewish Memorial on the way to the train station, but when we came up from the subway stop at the Brandenburg Tor, we discovered the huge celebration from New Year’s was still blocking the road and would have been a huge hassle to navigate around in the wheelchair. Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough time to plan a new route and make it to the train station in time, so we just took our time bumping me along the rough cobblestone to see the Parliament building and navigate to the train station. Our route crossed right over where the Berlin Wall stood just a couple decades ago, and I remembered to get a final picture in Berlin before we left. It was a short trip, but I was delighted with everything I was able to do. I do recognize the significant limitations I had navigating over cobblestone sections and sapping my energy quickly, not to mention the long term antibiotic I’m on usually starts my day with two hours of nausea whether or not I’ve eaten enough. Some days are better than others, but the last six were rough as I swayed on trains and subways and jostled over cobblestones to visit the antiquities. I’d love a life where I didn’t have those kinds of complications, but I still had a magnificent trip with amazing opportunities. I could write a whole essay on being a paralyzed person learning to walk again first seeing a church with weathered 18th century sandstone that survived the WWII bombing slotted in where possible in the reconstruction during my lifetime. That church was devastated, but someone saw potential for rebirth and renewal. I was told I’d never walk again, but I’m not letting that stop me from living an amazing life each day.

Again, there’s still this balance between the struggles and successes I’m finding post paralysis. The train ride back to Kandern was an excellent example. On the first leg from Berlin to Erfurt, an old man was sitting in my reserved disabled seat. When Crystal asked him to move to another disabled seat, he adamantly refused. When I came into the cabin, he even refused to move his bag out of my way to let me stretch my feet out on Crystal’s reserved seat. In each leg, we’re both reserved a seat, and I use mine to sit in while stretching my legs out onto my wheelchair to help with the stiffness and potential blood clots. I’d been counting on this train trip to be the relaxing portion of the day where I could stretch my legs after the uncomfortable nausea and cobblestone physical reality of my morning (remember how I have to balance the adventurous experiences with physical struggles). Instead, however, for this leg, I was parked the spot for my wheelchair, unable to move myself at all.

For a few centuries now, some monastics have been practicing a meditative prayer with only twelve powerful words. As I struggled with the angry German man refusing to move from my disabled seat while to him I was clearly fine in my wheelchair, I recited the prayer silently. My lips moved with the words, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Twenty minutes into the hour and a half train ride, my legs still ached and longed to stretch out, lifted up on my chair like I’d planned. However, my heart softened a little bit towards this cranky old man. Jesus has been merciful to me, and I hope I never come across as difficult and unyielding as this poor man. What awful things have embittered him towards other disabilities? He insisted he was also disabled, and I don’t doubt him, but his response to me put me at risk he couldn’t guess about. I can’t see everyone else’s problems, so I hope this experience can remind me to be empathetic to the unseen needs of others. My needs are equal, and I never want to trump another genuine need. I’ll be honest, this was a hard conclusion to reach, and the attitude is more a “fake it til you are it” situation. I know in my head that’s the right response, but my heart is slow in coming around.

I was near tears at the stiffness and discomfort an hour in, but the cabin shuffled around for me as two other passengers could see the concern I was poorly masking, and I was able to move to a different disabled spot, and Crystal graciously massaged my legs for several minutes to help with the stiffness and blood circulation. Fortunately, the next two legs were flawless, and our reserved seats were undisputed, and we were picked up right when our train arrived in Freiburg to be driven all the way back to Kandern. (Those familiar with German trains might wonder why we stopped so far from home, but that’s another hurdle with the wheelchair – I can only get off the train at stations with that fancy lift and an employee to operate it.)

I’ve been shown incredible mercy by a loving God who softens my heart towards others. I’ve still got a long way to go to be better loving, but this past week was a beautiful opportunity to celebrate the friendships that I’ve graciously been given and to enjoy the beauty and history in my host country. I also found unexpected ways to let the Lord sand down some hardness in my heart and hopefully learn to love others better.

tl;drI have amazing community in Kandern with whom I celebrated Christmas, and I’m fortunate enough to be able to still adventure despite paralysis and ongoing complications that require nauseating medications. I’m even learning to be a better human and to look for ways to be less of a jerk face.

So I accidentally wiped my whole hard drive yesterday when an update on my computer went wrong. Don’t worry, the only document I didn’t have backed up anywhere was the draft scraps of what I planned to shape into a memoir. It’s par for the course in my life, really. I’m notoriously bad with technology, but I have a super gracious coworker who took my computer for the day and managed to reset it to allow me to still use this expensive gift that’s barely four years old. In all honesty, I’m praising God that I’m typing this week’s update on my laptop instead of my phone because it was quite an exciting week.

Tuesday, as I mentioned last week, was my planned Botox appointment, and I got in some work in the morning, racing Chris to see who could get more stuff accomplished. I was ready to go when Brandi pulled up at a quarter to one, and we talked about how the Lord is refining me to love difficult people and to be a better representative of Jesus. I wheeled down the familiar hallway to the urology department at REHAB, and waited outside as the nurse told me she had to go find her coworker before we could start my procedure. In the couple minutes I was waiting, I was delighted to see Danai, my favorite nurse from my stay in REHAB, walk down the hallway. We chatted briefly before she had to go on her way doing actual work, and I was ready to start my Botox treatment.

Round three felt like a breeze, and I chatted in my limited German to the nurses hooking up an IV in my arm and all the fun probes down below. “The medicine isn’t in yet,” one commented as I closed my eyes and settled in. “Yeah, it’s all the same to me though,” I lazily replied. “Okay then, you can go to sleep,” she told me. I took a few nice deep breaths and listened to the snap, crackle, and pop of buttons, medical wrappings, and machines as they monitored my blood pressure and prepared all the other needles and whatnots that went on. A couple minutes later, I felt the medication kick in as my eyes felt heavier, and I took in slower, deep breaths to let the medication work it’s magic and let me sleep. Next thing I remember, the two nurses were helping me from the table attached to stirrups onto a now adjacent hospital bed. I closed my eyes again and opened them to see the clock at 3pm.

I blinked and fifteen minutes had passed, and a nurse was telling me something about two new medications I needed to take. Turns out that nasty infection I wrote about that first prompted me to ask for this Botox again because it ignited all my pre-Botox symptoms had left some lasting damage despite my Angocin and garlic treatment. The nurse said the doctor had found lots of redness and inflammation in my bladder and wanted me to take these two medications to treat it. One I could begin right away for just two weeks and the other I would need to wait to start until my antibiotic was finished and would have to take until the start of February. I don’t remember her telling me anything else, but a quick google search Thursday informed me I was on an NSAID for the inflammation and a long term antibiotic to clean out my poor abused bladder. But, hey, at least it’s wrinkle free now. I napped for another half hour before the nurse helped me out of the bed and into my wheelchair where I made my way into the entry and found Brandi waiting for me. I asked her if she’d be up for checking out who was on duty in my old station. We just missed Danai at the shift change, and I was super bummed to find out the patient I’d hoped to surprise with a visit wasn’t in her room either. Brandi and I made a scene with the fancy coffee machine that hates people and chatted for a bit with makeshift mochas before she brought me back to her house for the night.

I absolutely love her family who I have forced to adopt me, and I had a blast hanging out with them for the next twenty-four hours while they made sure I didn’t drop dead after going under anesthesia. We watched the first installment of Lord of the Rings and dreamed about me going to New Zealand next year. 

Oh, yeah, that’s an important public announcement. I’ve vaguely alluded to searching for a placement for my totalization in Australia or New Zealand, and I recently sent out my Christmas letters letting people close to me know that’s where I’m actively looking for a sabbatical placement. I’ve got a single strong lead in New Zealand, and I’m hoping to know more about that the first week of January. I have a couple hopeful options left in Australia as well, but the NZ option has a lot of appeal for reasons I’m scared to name. In some ways, it’s too perfect, and I’m scared to hope too much that it happens because of how heartbroken I might be if it doesn’t work out. 

But just as I’m going to put all my hope in a full physical recovery and ask you to pray for that, I’m going to ask you to pray with me that this New Zealand option would work out for me as well.

I’ve got a lot of hope even as I’m limping into the start of 2018, and next year has so much potential as a clean slate for a whole bunch of beautiful things to be written just like that eventual draft of my memoir that I’ll begin again (and maybe back up online this time).

I finally made it to Christmas break. It was a bit touch and go at the end, but I took it one day at a time. Actually, to be completely honest, I was taking it about ten minutes at a time. I wrote a post a long time ago ripping of my friend Q’s idea about how some days all she can do is take a breath and get through the next ten minutes. 

I post a lot of vivid details about my life on the internet, but I’m not going to air out any grievances related to the stressors of the past week on a public forum. I listened to a super convicting sermon online today that included an anecdote of a man filling out a crossword and asked the people around him, “What is a four letter word for a strong emotional reaction toward a difficult person?” One person first responds, “Hate,” but another pipes in, “No! Love.” 

I’m trying to respond in love this week to the difficulties around me. I had a really difficult meeting at the end of the day on Friday and just a couple hours later I found myself sitting the Lutheran church looking at the large sculpture of Jesus hanging on the cross. I remember growing up being repulsed by the high church tradition of displaying Jesus on the cross. “He’s not there! He rose from the dead!” I’d indignantly shout to anyone around me. I didn’t like to look at that gross, feeble body dying for my sins. This week as I sat in the church during my choir rehearsal, I couldn’t look away. Jesus did that willingly for me, and I was reminded of a conversation with my friend Michele about the pain she’s been going through over the past several weeks.

We’re both rationally hoping to avoid pain, but in the midst, we’re looking for the ways we can learn more about Jesus. I’m honestly still processing through all of my last couple months, but I’m treasuring the lessons that make me a better teacher, a better friend, and a more mature Christ follower. 

I feel a weird need to apologize for yet another week with no physical progress, but for some health updates, I did start a regimen of antibiotics on Friday in preparation for another round of Botox on Tuesday. I’m looking forward to it – I’m like a pro now headed into my third time with this treatment. I’m not looking forward to the medical paperwork that’s already started with it, but I can just message my friend Kari to commiserate about our insurance that we are actually grateful for because a lot of stuff is covered despite all the hassle of claims and payments. 

I have a whole lot of stuff I’m hoping to accomplish over this break, but I can’t think too far ahead or I lose sight of what’s in front of me. I’m going to stick with the ten minute increments to accomplish what I need to get done. Now that a couple ten minute slots have been spent on this, I’m headed to bed to rest up for a day of one task at a time. Please pray that my body will get some much needed sleep – I’ve spent nearly four hours laying awake in bed the past two nights waiting for my leg spasms to settle before getting just three to four hours of sleep. 

Like all healthy people, I like happy things. I look for them to celebrate, and I create positivity when I can. I have a lot of negative crap in my life, so part of the way I keep myself from drowning in pessimism is to intentionally highlight the happy.

Sometimes that makes people think I don’t experience sadness or negativity when in reality it’s just that I’m not always the best at portraying them well side by side publicly on the internet. Honestly, a lot of crappy stuff happened this week, and I’m disappointed that I wasn’t able to focus on my body well in light of the negative distractions. However, there were a lot of positive things that have a significantly longer reach of importance that I’ll choose to celebrate.

I still don’t know where I’m going next year, but I have found a huge resource that will help me moving forward. I woke up this morning to blustery snow that’s difficult for me to navigate alone, but I have a wonderful community in Kandern that will help me stay safe and get the places I need to go. I watched the volunteer firefighters zoom into the parking spots outside my window as I started to write this, and I’m so thankful there are so many people willing to use their abilities to help others in need.

This week was a wash when it comes to the physical progress, but I’m choosing to keep my eyes ahead on the good things in store next week. At the very least, I’ll be on Christmas break and can put a significant dent in my ever growing reading list.

I’m not a fan of homework – what weirdo is? I do assign it, however, and I expect my students to do it. Generally in my class, I assign classwork that becomes homework when the students don’t finish before the bell rings. I’ve had to field a particular question a lot this year as I’ve passed out papers or instructed students to do something at the end of class.

“Is this formative?” They ask expectantly, knowing if the answer is yes, their grade in the class will not be impacted by the score on this assignment. What they fail to recognize is that there is a direct connection to them understanding the content of my class. I don’t assign busywork. 

The fancy-pants graduate school terms I learned for assessments indicated that formative was in process and summative was a culmination of learning. We’ve adopted those terms at BFA with various levels of success. Whenever the question comes up in class, I tell my students the direct answer, and we also have a mini conversation about the value of the particular formative assignment. 

“When I’m asking you to write a Screwtape Letter, it’s a chance for you to evaluate the concepts of spiritual warfare that we’ve discussed yesterday and today through media representations and scriptural realities and then connect them to your daily life as you identify how spiritual warfare happens at BFA. No, this doesn’t impact your GPA, but it has implications in your real life. It’s forming you as a person.”

Actually, that wasn’t a direct quote from class, but, man, I’m saving that articulate statement for next semester. In reality, all but the last sentence is an accurate paraphrase, and that’s the sentence I want to capitalize on. The last sentence is probably the most important when it comes to assignments in my class: it’s forming you as a person. I did have my students write Screwtape letters in class on Tuesday, and then I left them in the capable hands of a couple seniors from study hall on Wednesday and Thursday while I went to a summit on biblical education upstairs in my building. There was no grade attached to those class discussions, but I heard from the substitute in the room and a couple follow up conversations that there was great content brought up that could impact their faith formation.

I was also quite excited by the conversations upstairs. I listened to valuable thoughts and questions brought up by various representatives from Christian international schools across the globe who came together to talk about what some of the most critical elements in biblical education are. I’m fairly confident that I’ll be able to look back years from now and say some of the conversations that came out of this event were formative in my life and career. I love being an educator because it means being a lifelong learner. 

I’m also formed by the assignments and lessons with Anja in physio, and this week she tied makeshift parallel bars around me for a second week in a row and patiently taught me how to simultaneously work out my triceps, core, and ankles with a single exercise. Unfortunately, I haven’t found another makeshift parallel bar situation to work this out on my own, but she was also excited about my improved form from last week to this week’s session. The little things Anja encourages me to do on my own time and the daily “formative” assignments are forming me into the person who’s capable of the summative achievements like walking barefoot with only a little weight on Anja’s hands for balance and support.

Yeah, that happened too, and it was awesome. 

The complexity of my life brings the lifelong learning together in my ongoing physio and my career as a passionate biblical educator. I’m excited about that union that allows for me to be deeply formed by Jesus in every facet of my life. There’s still a lot for me to learn, and I hope you’ll join with me in praying that my body learns new nerve pathways as I keep forming muscle memory as well as that my head and my heart will learn more about how to better love and represent Jesus to my students.

While it was only a half week of work for most in America, I had school every day, and two big meals to celebrate my international community. I’ll be honest, this week went by in a blur because of the business of school colliding with the inherent American need to feast at the end of November. I worked hard to stay on top of all my responsibilities and still have a social life. 

I managed to schedule in an adventure off campus in the middle of my long Tuesday as my friend Christal and I got drive through coffee in Lörrach between my early morning meeting and first class. We cut it a little close driving back because of traffic from an accident being cleared off the road, but I shouted into the window at a student as Christal unloaded my wheelchair from the car. “Peter! Get everyone in a circle for a class discussion!” I wheeled around to the accessible door and back down the hallway to find my students chatting softly in neat rows. “Peter! This is not a circle!” I shouted across the room as I made it in at the start of class. All my work in planning seemed for naught, yet the class was in action within seconds, and, by the grace of God, we had a decent discussion on the power and habits of the Holy Spirit.

It’s an apt snapshot of my week: I think I’ve planned out everything beautifully, but one detail is off and I’m scrambling to make it work only to realize I’m not the one making anything happen at all. Everything got done that was supposed to, I think, but I still can’t shake the feeling I’m forgetting something in preparation for next week or month or year… Every day I opened my computer to find more emails (but not the ones I was waiting for), and every day I replied to as many as I had the focus for. I also had a stack of doctrine statements to read and record grades for. Meanwhile my TA was complaining every day as he came in to the same slowly shrinking stack of study guides to mark. You should have seen his face when he realized he’d have to do the same thing next semester – and then when I told him there was a second study guide so it was a total of four rounds. 

So at least I’ve had a good laugh through this week. Actually, quite a few. My students are hilarious, and some of them make an effort to cheer me up when I get frustrated with a lack of engagement on homework assignments or am fighting those annoying leg spasms that come back every winter. The spasms are weaker and more infrequent each winter, but I still get frustrated with the slower pace of recovery. Anja and I worked through the spasms to get me to practice some balance and ankle movement in some makeshift parallel bars, and I’m still hopeful for the skills my body can recover with intense practice. 

I’m thankful for the chance to keep working with a qualified professional who can help me move forward, and I’m thankful for the friends who gave me a safe space to laugh this week when stress made me want to cry. I’m also thankful for my job that let me show up to work on an American holiday so I could talk to students about the nature of salvation. My gratitude also extends to all of you who will keep reading my updates four years post accident when they settle into a routine with a hint of normalcy. I still have the struggles of paralysis, and I’m still fighting past them, so I hope you’ll pray with me to stay on top of some of the lifestyle changes that I think treated the back pain from a couple weeks ago.

During this morning’s prayers of intercession at church, we heard about a ministry our congregation supports that helps young women who are victims of violent acts. As I looked at the smiling faces of women who have been redeemed, I still found myself quick to thank God I was protected from such a horrific past. Then I repented of that strange reasoning as I realized it was likely what people thought when they look at me. 

You see, I don’t want people to look at me and think, “Thank God I didn’t have to live through that tragedy.” Instead I want more comments like a current student who once wrote on an assignment, “Listening to Ms. Hewett talk about her passion for Jesus makes me want to know more about him.” Yeah, I had a lot of back pain last week; that’s an unavoidable part of my physical reality. I also had a couple amazing conversations with students. There was also some work stress. Fortunately my TA sensed my frustration with grading halfhearted assignments and reminded me of those amazing conversations. 

Another bonus this week was a significant decrease in the back pain. There is still not certain diagnosis, though Anja and I have a pretty good guess and have treated it appropriately. I’ve spent most nights falling asleep after half an hour laying on my heating pad to help as well. Since winter has settled into Kandern, walking outside is more of a struggle with the wind and the wet. I’ve spent several days exercising on the stationary bike in my apartment instead of walking which, while second best, is still vital movement for my legs. 

In so many ways, my recovery was boring this week. I’m happy to report that over the pain of last week, and I can still honestly say my life is amazing. Despite the lack of miraculous jumps forward physically and the week of grading stress, a student told me she wants to get baptized in the spring and wants me involved someway. How am I so incredibly fortunate to have a role to play in this precious child’s life? Why am I so ridiculously blessed to get to serve these amazing students who want to grow in their relationship with Jesus?

I’ve always felt asking “why me” when it comes to the reality of my accident isn’t worth my time. Instead, I want to ask “what next” related to my body. I hope you’ll pray with me for a big “what’s next” this coming week. I want to see something amazing despite the winter pain, and I want to be humbled yet again that God uses me in ways I can’t imagine as I serve in this position.

An alumni recently messaged my TA encouraging him to “always be a pain the the butt” to me. I know this because the alum sent me a screenshot of the request, but fortunately the TA was respectful of the pain in my back that showed up last weekend. I had a bit of a rough Sunday, and Monday was some of the most intense pain I’ve had since leaving REHAB. I skipped choir to lay flat and keep heat on my lower back and was feeling much better on Tuesday though it had a recurrence mid Wednesday and remained on my radar up through today. It’s not been bad all yesterday or today, but I pulled my good ol’ corset out of the closet on Monday and have been wearing it intermittently this week to relieve the pain. 

I’m aware of the two most likely causes of my back pain, and I’m treating them intensely and looking at how the symptoms resolve. Since the heat has been such an effective treatment, it’s quite possibly just strain on my back. The other possible cause can possibly resolve with diet changes that I’ve implemented and will continue to keep watch. I’m so grateful for all the prayers, and I hope you’ll continue praying with me as I move forward and hopefully find less pain and less stress all around next week. 

With the pain and the end of the quarter grading and some other well timed stressors, this week was the perfect storm of overwhelming, but I can’t tell you how amazing it was to open my mailbox on Friday and find that a woman from my sending church in Denver had mailed me a pack of Trader Joe’s Instant Coffee All Dressed Up. Anyone who knows me knows my love for coffee, and probably recognizes this isn’t good quality coffee like that stuff I used to have a student give me from the DR. This is, however, my single homesick item. I drank this cheap coffee every day I was student teaching in grad school, and it’s a calming taste of home. This morning I made myself a soothing cup of TJ’s coffee and remembered all the people who are praying for me and preventing me from burnout. I thanked God for the gift of good friends here on the field in Germany like Jan who had me over for scones and tea on Monday, the Bryans who let me read Narnia to their kids after tacos on Tuesday, and Josh and Morgan who let me hold their screaming babies and have some cathartic conversation Thursday.

I love my job so much, and I love that I get to have alumni who come visit and make me delicious shrimp pasta or graciously run my weekend errands (unlike their little brothers who message current students to be a pain in my butt). I celebrate those beautiful things as I do my ministry here, and I’m thankful for the chance to educate my wonderful students.

My back hurts. I don’t say that much – I hope – but there’s often a dull ache that goes along with the hum of my life. Today it’s a little worse than normal. Today it hurts. And yet today was a wonderful day. Yesterday too. 

The pain started yesterday, and I tried to wiggle and stretch and move to make myself comfortable in my wheelchair, but nothing settled my muscles just right. It exacerbated my insomnia which meant I was awake for the two different messages from alumni wanting to talk about theology and philosophy. I can’t express the joy that sang through the pain to be able to respond right away to “What’s Romans 1 all about?” 

I’m not really sure what started this increased discomfort in my lower back (well, other than breaking a couple vertebrae four years ago), but I took a couple ibuprofen to help me sleep which I do as infrequently as possible. I’ve just popped another two which I’d like to stress the rarity of. Again, I don’t know why my body is rebelling today, but I’m going to celebrate the good that came through this week. I got out for a couple good walks, and despite Hunter and Cindy both going away for the volleyball tournament, I got Cindy’s daughter to go for a walk with me this afternoon. 

She’d come over for lunch with a couple friends, and after the dorm students went home, she and I headed down the street towards the school. We passed by her house on the way which I’d recently celebrated reaching with Cindy and blasted past the school soon after. I made it past the recyclinghof which is about 400 meters from my house. It’s not my record, but I did it with no braces, and have I mentioned the pain in my back today? 

“That wasn’t too bad,” I told my student as I had her put the brakes on my wheelchair for me to sit down. I wish I could keep her in my pocket always, because this amazing kid spent most of the journey back to my house letting me know how impressive I am. Sometimes I need to hear that because I still feel like I need to justify my presence. It’s a compounded feeling of being a missionary on display and being disabled. The kind messages that came through this past week helped fight that phantom guilt and meant a lot to me as I keep working to live and serve well.

I hope you’ll continue to look for nice things to say to others through this week. Perhaps you’d also think of me and pray that my pain would dissipate tonight never to return. More importantly, I’d like prayers that I can still glorify God through my pain. I don’t want it to be a distraction. Like Ivan Denisovich uses the cold in Solzhenitsyn’s novel, I want the pain to be a tool to focus my energy and accomplish amazing things. Also it’d be cool if I could walk again too. Today I managed 400 meters brace free through the pain. What might tomorrow bring?

I love my job.

I wheeled through dog poop on my way to get groceries this morning.

These things can coexist, and I’ll still choose to say that my life is wonderful despite the (literally and metaphorically) crappy moments. Yesterday, two students came over for tea, and we were talking about how I remember my high school experience simultaneously fondly and with chagrin. They both reflected 2016 had overall been really rough but for both of them also included the highlight of acceptance to BFA. I love that I got to process through that with them.

I really love my job, but the crappy experience of cleaning dog crap out of my wheelchair is not one of my favorite things. In fact, there’s a lingering stink as I write this because I’ve got other more pressing things (I’m teaching next period, I forgot to write this over the weekend because I was grading quarter projects and planning my next two months of lessons and assessments…). I genuinely wish this blog could be a celebration of new physical achievements each week, and, honestly, there are those through each week, but the past few days have been full of my professional life as I assess the learning of my students through a major project, plan out how I will engage and educate them through the rest of the semester based on this learning, and, impossible to forget, look for possible placements for me during my totalization year. 

Fortunately on that final front, I have a really positive lead, and I’m praying for the possible placement in the southern hemisphere for the direct benefit of not having to deal with any winter leg spasm increases. Please pray with me for that ongoing search to move forward quickly so that I can focus my time and energy on my cold calves that are starting to tighten up as the temperature drops in Germany.

Remember how I love my job? One of the things I love is the chance to have a positive impact on my students. My day may have had a crappy start, but then when I wheeled onto campus today still trying to wash off crap through the little puddles along the way, a student came over to chat with me during her break between periods. She brightened my day, and I can’t minimize the meaning of her brief positive words to counteract the crap. My coworker did the same once I came into the office and he heard about the dog poop. 

Last Thursday, I decided to email nice things to three people I really respect to let them know I appreciate them. I realized there was a lot of negativity in my work environment, and I wanted my supervisors to know how much I value the hard work they do. I encouraged some of my students and even a couple alumni to do the same. One of the alum sent me a screen shot of his nice message to a current student and the response, “Ms. Hewett is making you do this too?” Well, as a friend at church pointed out yesterday, I can’t make them do anything. All I can do is encourage you to contribute some positivity to your world. Find five people you value and tell them why they matter to you. 

I’ll start with a public one. My friend and co-advisory teacher Michele is a rock star. She and I are probably two of the most positive people on the planet, and we slogged through a quarter of super negative attitudes from students, but her encouragement, patience, and levelheadedness helped me to persevere in the face of incessant complaints. Shout out to her for being the sweetest person ever who, when our students asked to give “highs and lows” as “happy and crappy” of the week, drew a poop emoji on the board so there was no evidence of her using that word.

After wheeling through some literal crap this morning and metaphorical crap through this month, I’m not even going to feel ashamed saying I can be one of your five people if you’d like to say something nice to me. Every positive comment really does mean a lot. I read them all, and they encourage me to persevere through the crap as I clean off my wheelchair and keep learning to walk.

About twelve years ago I went to my first Demon Hunter concert (above left). They were my favorite band at the time and remain so to this day. When I discovered they’d be in Germany just a couple hours away, I wanted to find a way to see them, but unfortunately the complications of my life made it impossible to buy tickets in the moment and make my way there independently. Sadly, I wasn’t able to attend the concert tonight to see Demon Hunter perform in my host country, but I wore my Blessed Resistance (their fan club) t-shirt to the staff concert tonight (above right). 

I’m considered a little odd by people at my school because I listen to metal Christian bands, but I embrace that and show up at the staff recital with no shame. I toe that line of controversy.

I also have a toe infection.

I just don’t have the energy after the stress of this week to write a more creative segue than that. 

It’s been a bit of a pain to deal with, but I’m super grateful for the quality of care available to me and the friends who are willing to check in on me to make sure I’m healing okay. And I am on the mend at this point, but it made for a bit of added stress with added leg spasms from my ankle and foot shouting out too late for me to catch the ingrown toenail before a minor infection showed up. 

Hopefully next week I’ll have finished the morning and evening disinfecting routine that ends with kids bandaids (sadly I ran out of Avengers bandaids and had to move on to generic bugs and animals) and can relate more of the walking adventures. Pray with me it’s sooner rather than later that I can walk to the apotheke to pick up the disinfectant – and pray that I won’t need the disinfectant for my toe.  

My life has highs and lows closely aligned, and this week was no different. I had a crazy stress filled week with a lot of business and a lot of blessings packed in. 

The thing I’ve been most excited to write about was my record breaking walk on Wednesday though. Hunter and I headed out from my house with no braces but with Michele’s generous donation of arch supports to my on fleek Nikes. I rocked down the street with those babies and didn’t sit down until the Rathaus. For those of you unfamiliar with Kandern geography, that’s a full 500 meters. Anja was excited to celebrate with me at therapy, and I was excited to try again on Friday. Hunter and I tried a different route, and I still made the half kilometer mark with relative ease.

I’m overjoyed at this mark of progress. As I told Anja Wednesday, I’ll have more next week, but she wisely reminded me to not forget the magnitude of this accomplishment. It is a huge deal for me.

I’m so excited about more walking progress, but I’m also going to be honest with a frustration at the step back in other functions I’d often prefer. A minor bathroom setback is nothing in the face of the walking improvement, but it’s less than I’d like to have. I’m still praying for everything to show up in my recovery – and that means full control of all muscle functions. 

Pray with me this week for more function all over my body and less inhibition from neurological damage. But don’t forget to celebrate with me just as I already know an unnamed coworker will on Monday by shouting the German pronunciation of my name and promising me tacos on Tuesday. 

I’m emotionally tapped out. I knew it was coming, and I should have written this post before the final Westport service, but I didn’t know what to say.

Twelve years ago, I listened to a sermon from two guys who were starting a new church in my neighborhood. I jumped on the team as they launched what became Westport Church, and I just listened to two and a half hours of stories of Westport as it concluded its time as a church body in Hillsboro. Next week the members living in the area will gather with the members of another church called Colossae, and they will become a new body.

I’ll still be here in Germany.

I’m not conflicted in any way, shape, or form about my service here. That doesn’t change the waves of emotions that wash over me as I watch Erin jump around on the stage for the last time where I once jumped around dressed up as Justin Bieber six or seven years ago. Or remembering Shane hand me a check for my plane ticket to Germany just over five years ago when he prayed over me and the church sent me out. 

They sent me out a little different – my hair was shorter. Oh, and I could walk. And everyone regularly attending Westport was familiar with my name. Now the number who’d recognize me is significantly fewer, and the wheelchair seems strange to them. The Westport chapter in my life closed in some ways when I moved to Germany, but I was still sobbing through a lot of the stories and songs. They ended the service with Chris Tomlin’s song “I Lay Me Down,” and I lost it. 

I’m not recognizable to a lot of people who knew me five years ago not so much because of my accident but because of the transformation that the Lord has done in my life in the intervening years. I still think I’d have a better witness for Christ if I could walk again (and I won’t give up trying), but I’ll joyfully sing to God, “letting go of my pride, giving up all my rights, take this life and let it shine.”

I was sick with a cold type mess last week, and my legs put up a fight when Hunter and I went for a walk this past Thursday. I was disappointed in Beatrice and Virgil fighting my progress, but it turns out they were trying to communicate another mess on a microscopic level to me. I found out through a serious of other painful and obnoxious symptoms that I had yet another raging bladder infection. Ever the fan of natural remedies, I chowed down on raw garlic and upped my water intake immediately. 

I’m going to be fully honest here, I’m frustrated with the fact that every few months I have to pay about fifteen bucks and a weekend with burning pain, increased spasms, and frequent light incontinence to recover from what might have been prevented if I had full reimbursement from my insurance to pay for all my prescribed preventative care. I’ll try to be as transparent as possible here, but there’s a pressure to spend my meager salary very intentionally because it’s all supplied by the generosity of others. I do have a way to get my employer to reimburse for certain expenses that are beyond my income and for tax reasons can claim back uncovered medical expenses, but that still all comes out of an account supplied by funds donated to me. I can choose between the tangible results from investing about $300 a month into my physical therapy and cutting the personal cost of about $300 in preventative care to closer to $50 each month. Would I love to pay for both? Absolutely, but that’s not my reality.

Sometimes I have to make tough choices on my medical care in the short term because I’m thinking about staying on the field as a missionary long term. It’s complex. 

Fortunately, I love my job, and I had the absolute joy of several amazing interactions with students this week that confirmed I’m blessed beyond belief with the most incredible career. I had a handful of messages from recent alum that were uplifting in reminding me I’m making a positive impact in my ministry, but one of the most exciting was a grad from a couple years ago emailing me to ask why God had to create people. She’d visited my class a couple weeks ago and started this conversation, and I was so overjoyed that she wasn’t going to settle for simple answers and needed to know more. Another alum messaged me this week asking, “What do you know about Melchizedek?” which totally made my day because talking about the theological implications of a prophet/priest/king who falls into the eternal line of the non-levitical priesthood just warms my nerdy heart. Thursday after school, a current student sat in my house sipping tea and sharing how excited she was about the growth in her relationship with God over the past month. I was so excited to listen to her heart and share with her part of my story as we talked about how we have so much time to grow in our understanding of beautiful things in the Bible.

I am so humbled that students come to me with questions. A new student met with me on Friday and peppered dozens of questions about reading the Bible and understanding theology through our meeting about his quarter project in my class. I really value the opportunity to teach my students well and to continue conversations with them outside my class as they learn to love God and other people better. 

Just a warning, I’m going to get real here for a second, so if you’re less interested in the emotional side of my recovery, you can stop reading at this point in the entry. 

In this beautiful opportunity to teach all my students well, I work hard to show my peers and supervisors that I’m doing my job well too. I care first and foremost about representing Jesus well and teaching truth of the forgiveness, restoration, and joy available through understanding my content well. However, I have this self imposed burden of making sure I don’t look like a slacker on staff because I’m only a part timer. I had a really positive conversation with a coworker in the staff room this week where he generously told me that he’d never for a second thought of me as giving less than other staff members and had never heard any whispers or rumors of other people thinking I was getting unnecessarily excused from things. All this was after I admitted making a show of only missing things absolutely necessary by my disability and how hard it was for me to ask for the accommodation of less time on campus when I wanted to increase my work load and contribute more fully. I don’t know if that will ever get easier for me to ask for less work so that I can continue to do well what I am capable of. I’m still on a trajectory of improvement that allows me to do more and more, but I also want to be realistic with my limitations and not shame myself for reaching max capacity in my ministry and workload.

I want to be sustainable in my service.

Sometimes that means skipping the expensive preventative care, and sometimes that means being honest with the pain of these semi-annual infections, and asking for you to partner with me in paying for more frequent preventative care. Particularly as I look ahead to the various opportunities in how I might spend my totalization as a year of professional and personal development and want to take care of my health and sustainable finances, I’m asking any of you who are able to commit to supporting me monthly to join my team by clicking here. 

Those of you who can’t support me financially, I’m still incredibly thankful for your prayers and encouragement. I hope all of you reading will pray with me for my Savior to take my brokenness aside and make it something beautiful (as some of you may have caught the allusion to a song in the title). 

I was a choir nerd for four years of high school, and I looked forward to the annual spring trip to “Musicale” where all the regional Christian high schools sent their choirs for adjudication and a mass choir performance with the same five songs we’d all learned through the year. I really had no idea what was going on the first year I went, but I followed my classmates up on stage and sang along to whatever song we’d picked for our performance not really caring about the end result. I was in it for the experience. Aside from the near death experience from a cross contamination close call where nuts might have found their way into my food, I loved every bit of the festival with my friends and looked forward to it every year after.

Today my choir friends loaded me and my mobility aids up to adventure at the local rose garden for a choir festival that boasted over 500 singers from 18 various local choirs. I was dubious this place could hold that many people, but Ettenbühl is holding out on the people who just come for tea. If you pay the extra fee to visit, their gardens are massive. It actually reminds me a lot of the International Rose Test Garden in Portland except the view is of rolling German fields instead of Portland with Mount Hood in the background. I find these strange comparison in my life here in Germany with obvious limitations. When I think back to all the fun I had at Musicale or the Rose Garden (either of the famous two in Portland), I was running around on two feet and able to communicate rather effectively in my mother tongue, but the fun I had today was being completely in the hands of my German speaking friends who wheeled me through gravel and grass to various meeting and eating points. At a couple points, I was left alone to trust that someone would come back for me so that I wouldn’t be stranded in a foreign village almost a dozen kilometers away from home.

I’ve learned a lot about trust in the last couple years that I couldn’t have experientially understood without the constant vulnerability I face. I’m still hopeful that I can recover my complete and total independence, but I want to forever remember the lesson of joy in surrender to the care of others. I’m working through pieces of that lesson as I wait to hear back from a couple potential places for my totalization year. I heard a couple more “not here” responses, but there’s a very exciting maybe I’d appreciate prayers about. 

In the meantime, I’m recovering from a small cold that my generous children shared with me last week, and I’m hoping to get into the routine of walking with Hunter and Cindy in the mornings longer and longer distances. I hope to report new records for you next week along with more information about my totalization possibilities.

I’m not lying when I share the sunshine in my life. I really do love the opportunity I have to teach bright, intelligent, inquisitive students. I also celebrate the chances I have to make physical improvements like walking with Hunter this week from my house almost into the center of town without my braces. We took off a couple times to see how far I could make it, and the first time I was excited to have good form all the way to Grüber, and the second time I thought I wouldn’t make it as far but blew past there almost all the way to the hardware store. I relish in the chance to tell you these things.

I also don’t want to hide from you the hurt of being disabled. This Tuesday I heard from the fourth place I sent an inquiry to about my totalization year* with a fourth rejection. It was a friendly “Sorry, we can’t house a wheelchair user” response. I teared up a little, but then I had to go to work. I arrived having momentarily plastered a smile over the pain only to discover that all the copiers and printers in my building weren’t working. The only functioning copier on campus was on the top floor of the main building which has yet to have a functioning elevator. Slightly panicked after various troubleshooting attempts, I changed my entire lesson five minutes before the bell and wheeled into class thinking I could manage a flawless lesson.

Well, thank God for grace, because I fumbled through my lecture not having practiced and revised the prezi for this particular group. I was distracted differently through the second section as well, and I realized mid lesson that it was likely connected to my unprocessed emotions of a series of disability related hiccups that I hadn’t yet made sense of. I went home prepared to buy some chocolate and cry about it, but a sudden downpour made it impossible for me to wheel myself with slick rims to purchase the necessary chocolate to eat my feelings. Fortunately, my neighbor was making a Hieber run and offered to pick up some chocolate for me which made one less thing awful about the day. And, to be clear, this was also one of the days I walked with Hunter, so there were other positives and things to celebrate. It just happened to have an unusually high number of things go wrong that would not have gone wrong if my legs worked properly. 

Again, I hope you hear me clearly that some amazing things happened this week – I got to read Ephesians out loud with Jordyne over skype and talk about the beauty of a Creator who made things orderly and an apostle who thought through the implications of his arguments in an ordered and beautiful way; I got to have pico de gallo with a handful of students on Thursday; and I have dueling TAs who are wonderful and helpful and say nice things to me when I’m stressed. I cherish these things when the hard stuff comes, and it does come in heavy doses. I have to deal with teaching on a campus that isn’t fully accessible; I have to leave the job I love for a year to go somewhere brand new that scares me in so many ways; I can’t go to my top choices for that year away because I’m still in a wheelchair.

This week in physio Anja worked me hard. She did a whole body workout, and while I was doing leg presses, she was doing crunches with her feet in the air. She rolled her ankles around as we took a pause between reps. “That’ll be me next year,” I said confidently. She affirmed it without hesitation citing how much I’ve improved in this last year. I’m not where I want to be physically today, but I’m not giving up. I may not end up at what was my top choice for next year, but I did get an inquiry response that wanted more information rather than rejecting me outright, and I’ve found a new option that may even be better than my previous top choice. God has a way of giving me better than what I dream of, so I’ll keep you posted on the inquiries and applications as I learn more.

*I’m not actually sure I’ve explained totalization on my blog. It’s common knowledge to people in this community and most of my friends. With the visa I have that allows me to teach in Germany, I’m allowed to stay here for five consecutive years then must leave for a period of time before returning for another five years. This time away is called “totalization,” and is only a requirement that I leave Germany. As an American, it has to be 366 days (Australians and Canadians, for example, only have to leave for 60 days which can be done during our summer break). I’ve prayed a lot about how I’d like to spend that year as professional development to return to BFA, and I’m pursuing options that take several physical (medical), professional, and spiritual factors into account. I appreciate all your prayers as I pursue the various options before me.

I just spent the last half hour listening to various songs on YouTube to see if I could come up with one with lyrics to create a theme for this week’s post. I failed. Well, I enjoyed myself, but I couldn’t find the perfect song to encapsulate the belly laughs I had this week. There’s just not space for the context of why the senior baking cookies in my house yesterday told me, “I have pretty white boy hair,” or why one of my sophomores in advisory got a consolation package of soup mix after his brother inadvertently withheld an invitation to Taco Tuesday.

I mentioned a couple weeks ago that Anja is trying to work out my whole body to help my brain focus on the legs while the other muscle groups compensate when necessary. The increased laughter with the return of my students has led to side splitting laughter as they regale me with stories of their various adventures. I laugh deeply – from the core. I’m also trying to pay attention to working out my arms with the hand weights my friend Doug years ago helpfully named “Hans” und “Franz” because they help to pump me up.

It’s weird to type that “years ago” bit – I’ve been at this recovery for a while. I had a student interview me for the school paper to give some context to the students who don’t know the story of my accident. This is the first year there are no students on campus who were in high school before my accident. All of them know me post-paralysis, and it’s a dwindling number of friends like Doug who have any memory of me before the Professor (my wheelchair is named Professor X, for those who don’t know) became my primary means of transit. 

Tonight I had the joy of laughing and catching up with two friends from those pre-paralysis days as Heather and Brittany came to Kandern for a visit. I’m so grateful for the ongoing friendship with these two wonderful women who faithfully came to visit me in REHAB, who led worship with me on my first birthday in the wheelchair, who googled “clean fart jokes” to send me things to make me laugh as I laid in a hospital bed. It was so much fun to catch up with them, and I was especially excited to show them how well I could walk after they had been away for a couple years.

I shared some good laughter with them, and my abs feel nice and tired. If I’m being honest, my back is achy too, but that’s nothing new in the last several years. I’m still not satisfied, so, over three years in, I’m asking you to laugh with me, cry with me, pray with me, and never give up on me. This week I’m really hopeful to keep practicing my walking outside as much as possible, but there’s a lot of rain in the forecast, so I’m praying it will conveniently fall only when I’m teaching. 

“If you were an ice cream, what flavor would you be?”

Our student body president asked the audience this at our opening ceremonies Wednesday. He went on to emphasize the importance of getting to know people as individuals – unique and flavorful – in his fabulous speech. Today during his study hall, he elaborated more with the yearbook teacher and I. “It’s not just your favorite flavor – it’s something more than that that determines what flavor you would be if you were ice cream.” 

Have I mentioned how much I love my job? This student wants people to think deeply about themselves and how they relate to people. I’ve listened to him wonder how to better represent Jesus to his dorm brothers and reevaluate the ways in which he can foster growth in them. I’ve watched him climb through my classroom window with his girlfriend to take time out of their lunch break to rearrange the desks in my classroom after someone moved them to accidentally block wheelchair access around the front area. There’s complexity to this kid beyond what meets the eye, and I’m so delighted that I have the chance to know him. He’s Cookies & Cream.

I have 32 different flavors of student this semester, and I’m excited to learn more about them in the coming weeks. I asked each one to fill out a short survey to give me some cursory information, and one student, in response to what she looked forward to most in my class wrote, “Listening to Ms. Hewett talk about her passion for Jesus makes me want to know more about Him.” It’s a huge compliment, and I’m overjoyed that my passion is an inspiration to her. It’s part of my unique flavor, and I love to see it highlighted.

I’d be Strawberry Honey Balsamic with Black Pepper. It’s one of those Salt & Straw flavors that shouldn’t work, but apparently it does, and the one thing that you’d expect to ruin it just ties it all together. My disability is a weird add on to who I am that is now intricately implicated in a lot of my personality. I was talking to a friend this week about how I’ve chosen to be more open with a lot of details in my life than I’d naturally be inclined pre-accident. Here I am, sharing the depths of my soul on the internet, hoping it points people to Jesus.

I’d like to walk again some day, but that dash of black pepper can never fully go away. It permeates my thinking, and it makes me wonder what circumstances shaped the people around me. After school today, I hung out with a friend who works in the guidance department. She sees students in a different environment than I do, and we each shared about a different student who we personally love but the other struggles to connect with. For me, I learned to understand more about the motivations that led the student she meets with to be so difficult in my class. (We also talked about some of the recent grads whom we mutually love and miss dearly.) You see a piece of me here that I share through writing, but it can’t convey all the details of who I am. I’m hopeful that I can articulate well the progress that I make holistically – physically, emotionally, and all – for those who are praying for me from a distance, but I recognize limitations.

The “honey” part of my flavor hopes you’ll give me the benefit of the doubt when my “balsamic” cynicism comes out in my descriptions, so I’ll leave you with the genuine request that you pray for me to love and teach my students well as I attempt to share life with them honestly in this community.

My legs are still figuring things out as I prepare to start the school year with students this week, but Virgil and Beatrice are getting more used to longer days of work. I’m super fortunate to still have a measure of flexibility in my schedule, and I did my best to take care of my tight calves last week without slacking off. Anja worked me hard at physio Wednesday by helping me with makeshift candlesticks. I had flashbacks to middle school PE where we had to lay down in rows and stick our feet straight in the air. I’m not able to make the motion on my own, but Anja held my legs up as I worked my core to lift my butt in the air. 

I woke up to some muscle stiffness the next day, but it was the satisfying kind after a good workout. Thursday and Friday mornings were full with staff meetings and conference, but we’re all ready for students to start arriving tomorrow and Tuesday. I’m extra prepared because Shannon arrived yesterday evening and is here through Wednesday to encourage me and test my walking ability. Tomorrow and Tuesday are official prep days for teachers to arrange the final details, and I have to print my syllabi and handouts for this week, but I also have to prep my body to stimulating days.

Shannon and I went for a walk earlier today without my braces to see how far I could make it, and we walked almost all the way to the apotheke from my house – just under half a kilometer. It’s a huge accomplishment for me, and I’m grateful for this summer that prepared me for that milestone. I’m also viewing this accomplishment as preparation for running errands in town without the wheelchair someday.

I started work last week with some meetings and all staff conference where I got to hear some awesome testimonies of the new staff members. Four years ago I stood in front of the BFA staff and shared the miracle of my own journey to BFA. Now I’m sharing this journey to walk again as I get ready for students to return in less than two weeks. 

I’d love to say I’m striding along, but with the imposition of school schedule, my calves are complaining with more spasms than usual. It’s not the end of the world, but it is annoying. I don’t have any exciting report this week, but I’ll do my best to work up an exciting adventure or jump in my progress this coming week. I’d tell you my hopes are high, but honestly, I just want my legs to settle down in meetings. It’s embarrassing when they bounce around while I’m trying to pay attention.

Let me first say, I’m amazed people pay any attention to me. I mean, from my perspective, sure, there is loads going on with me, but from a global scale, there is madness demanding attention elsewhere. It’s really hard for me to write this update in light of the heartbreak in the news, and yet, I can’t avoid the longing to keep people praying for me and up to date on my ongoing recovery. 

In my own world, I’m still longing to be a part of the walking world – singing Disney songs with abandon. Though those of you who remember me serenading the nurses in REHAB with The Little Mermaid before I was forced into the pool for the first time might be shocked to discover that last night I was singing along with Beauty and the Beast after coming home from the thermal baths with Hunter and Michele. The shock is not that I would switch Alan Menken musicals (because both are brilliant), but that I actually asked to go into the warm water – willingly and of my own accord – and even enjoyed it. 

It was a nice treat for my body before easing back into meetings and work next week. I really love my job, and I’m so excited that I’m only a couple weeks away from seeing my students again. This summer has been really good for my body as I’ve continued to make improvements, and I’m so excited that I’ll have both Hunter and Cindy around to keep walking with me through the year – plus an extra TA just to walk with me if I want extra steps (Julia, don’t tell Gerrit I’m going to let you walk with me).

Whenever I start to feel badly about drawing attention to myself, I realize that it’s actually important to being part of this world. I have tons of amazing people in this community helping me, sharing life, and just being friends with me. I’m also fortunate to have countless others reading my story online and lifting me up in prayer and encouraging me. I want to be a healthy member of the body of Christ representing Jesus well to those around me, and while my life is filled with plenty of mistakes and room for growth, one way I can be healthy is to share my physical accomplishments here so we can celebrate together the ongoing work of the Great Healer. 

I honestly did very little this week, so feel free to reread last week’s entry and remember the extreme exhaustion I was recovering from. I had minimal social interactions, kept my feet up most of the week, and did my best to return to a semblance of physical routine. I successfully managed to walk around the fire house each day except for Wednesday when I went to therapy and Anja found my body had become one giant stiff mass from lack of movement. 

That whole “use it or lose it” principle is a lot more literal in my case which is why the walks I did manage are such a triumph for me. I’m celebrating what I did rather than lamenting any set backs. Also, the few social interactions I did have were good for my soul. 

As a final plus, a student who was flying through PDX sent me a picture of his feet on the carpet despite having no idea what the PDX carpet means to Portlanders but I told him to do it.

Life is more than big adventures; it’s the little things like shoes on tacky teal carpet. I want to enjoy it all along my long journey of recovery.

“I wish I had the money to pay my way past the lines in security,” I once heard a snarky lady comment as my family trouped through the frequent flyer line at the PDX airport when I was a kid. My thirteen or fourteen year old self wanted to turn around and tell her we didn’t fork out cash for this privilege but rather I’d paid with years of my life spent having my dad fly across the country each week and spend only the weekends with me and that this was hardly fair compensation that on our single week together as a family we got to cut a security line before flying to whatever destination we had where my dad also had business meetings to go to but we called it a vacation.

People don’t often realize certain travel perks received are just as often flimsy compensation for crappy life circumstances as they are the purchased privilege of the upper class. I’d happily trade my inability to walk for the privilege of standing in a two hour line, trust me. Unfortunately, I just don’t have that capacity any more, and this week of travel, while amazing, was completely exhausting – and that includes those compensations of cutting occasional lines.

I’m a perpetually joyful person – and that’s honestly a huge gift. I try to write here about the celebrations of all that I can accomplish despite my paralysis, and I want to highlight all the good that has come in my long recovery process. However, I can’t gloss over or erase the fact that it’s a long and painful process. I am super grateful that because of my disability classification, travel by train is much more affordable since a companion can ride with me completely free. The German railway is also very helpful in providing a lift on and off the train at each stop on my reserved route. Last weekend’s trip to Erfurt was amazing as my parents and I traveled by train and then discovered our hotel was right across the street from the handicapped accessible tram that could take us right into the old town where we got to visit the Augustinian monastery, and I managed to park my wheelchair and take a few steps in my braces around the courtyard holding on to a ledge built hundreds of years ago where many other people have come to pray. Unfortunately, there was still a lot of maneuvering to get me to that place as my parents had to drudge along some moveable ramps provided by the facility to get me up and down the one or two step level changes throughout the building.

Coming back on Monday, I was already exhausted and wary about the flight and four days in Barcelona I had after we repacked our bags. Fortunately, the handicapped assistance crew and Easy Jet team were incredibly helpful and patient as they pushed me to the front of the necessary lines, and I chose to ignore any derisive stares as I wheeled past people who saw me getting to sit on my butt while someone moved me in front of them. I know my story is more complex than most people give me credit for as I wheel past them never to have a place in their life other than a line cutter.

After an hour delay on our flight, I was more than ready to crash at the hotel in Barcelona, and I had a momentary panic when the front desk didn’t seem to know we’d require a handicap room despite the request made online when booking and having called ahead the week before to confirm. Praise God, it worked out, and the accessible bathroom was wonderful. I slept well, but was already in serious spoon debt as we headed out to visit Park Güell in the late morning. I enjoyed the artistic architecture, but I was done for the day after barely a couple hours. In fact, my body made that painfully clear with a massively upset stomach in addition to the muscle aches and overall exhaustion.

I’m glad I didn’t push myself any further because the next day, while amazing, was incredibly draining for me. My mom had planned a trip out to visit the ancient Montserrat monastery which is about 1000 years old. It was a half hour cab ride to a train station where we waited another half hour to ride the train for an hour to make a transfer to another half hour train before arriving in the incredible hide away. I’m so glad I had the opportunity to visit, but it was certainly not easy for me to be jostled about up and down cobblestoned hills after hours of being jostled about on public transportation. Most people think being pushed around in the wheelchair must not be that difficult because all I’m doing is sitting, but that doesn’t adequately account for the discomfort of uneven surfaces that even the best eye can’t catch from up above that I can see coming and have to fight with the person holding my handles to avoid. Nor does it account for the toll constant cobblestone vibrations have on the chronic aching I already endure in my lower back or the spasms it triggers in my legs. Nor does it consider the psychological energy expended to put my life in someone’s hands as they blithely push me on various inclines and surfaces that I know could potentially lead to me being tossed out of my chair by accident. (As most of you know, I’ve only ever been dumped out of my chair once which ultimately led to a hilarious story and the coining of the term “pulling a Mr. Bryan” in reference to the potential of me being launched from my chair, but the unlikelihood of ending up on the pavement doesn’t diminish the mental exhaustion I still endure having anyone take control of moving my body from one place to another.) I don’t regret the decision to see the magnificent buildings and beautiful nature surrounding them at Montserrat, but it took a huge load of energy that I was already borrowing from days in advance.

I slept well Wednesday night and mustered up the strength for the visit to the Sagrada Familia a couple blocks away from our hotel. Everyone I know who had visited before said it was amazing, and it definitely lives up to the magnificence of the pictures. The basilica has been under construction for 135 years and is still about a decade away from the projected finish date. During the century of progress, adaptations were made to make the beautiful church accessible to wheelchairs. Despite seeing only one at all in the two previous days, I saw about a dozen milling about in and around the church. There were smooth floors and ramps where needed, and I really enjoyed the chance to celebrate the creative Creator in the church inspired by designs in nature. I had a few well spent hours there before returning to the hotel to rest up and recover some energy before our early evening flight on Friday. 

Yesterday I woke up with just enough energy to get in a cab with my parents and spend half an hour walking along the Mediterranean beach before returning to the hotel to keep my feet up until we needed to leave for the airport. I snapped the shot above of my parents taking in the view of the sea before we headed back. Living in Europe is such a gift because I’m just a couple hours of travel away from these amazing places. The distance I travelled to Barcelona is akin to my Portland friends hopping on a plane to San Diego, and Erfurt is half that distance. Despite the relative closeness, they were both huge trips for me as I managed new cities in my wheelchair, and I’m so grateful for the “perks” that come along with the wheelchair which really just make travel at all possible for me.

I didn’t have any miraculous moments in any of the holy sites we stopped in, but I’m not giving up on miracles, and this morning I managed to walk without my braces all the way from my house down to the bridge by BFA. I walked down there with Ellie, the recent graduate who was the first student I met when I moved to Kandern. When I stopped at the bridge and told her I needed to sit in my chair for her to push me home, she told me when she comes back to visit at graduation next year, she’s planning another brace free walk with me where we reach the second bridge at least – a full kilometer from my house rather than the 300 meters I made it today. Please keep praying with me for many miracles to report along the way to that goal. It’s likely going to be painful for me, but I won’t give up.

“I go to seek a Great Perhaps” is a much quoted line attributed as possibly the last words of the poet Francois Rabelais and coopted by John Green’s protagonist in his debut novel Looking For Alaska. The idea in the novel is that we best not wait until our dying breath to find the wonders in the world. I live similarly, though I’m anticipating great wonders beyond this world as well.

However, I am fortunate to live an amazing life in Europe where I’m gifted with a job I love and the opportunity to have a quality of life as a disabled woman far beyond what is available in other countries. My parents came to visit and have seen through this week several of the ways in which I’ve adapted to my ability level living independently here but having vastly improved physically since they last saw me two years ago. Some of the little things I do are really huge wonders with my initial diagnosis. On Tuesday, we walked across the street to have dinner with my neighbors. It’s a simple enough task for most of you, but I managed it at a reasonable pace with my sticks and braces that is mind blowing for the condition I was in even just a year ago. 

Yesterday Anja worked on relaxing my testy right ankle before we tried out a few barefoot steps while I held her hands. I was nervous about the leg spasms that the overloaded nerves on the bottom of my foot triggered in response, but I’m so delighted that I can still try new things with my physio and can see tangible improvements no matter how slowly they come. Today I showed off my stair skills as my parents and I were invited over to my old neighbor’s home for lunch. I commented to Hans as he followed me up the stairs that I was already a whole lot faster than when I’d visited last just a few weeks before for Gundi’s birthday. 

There are more good things ahead, and I’m so excited for them. I’m posting a little early because I’m still in search of that Great Perhaps – perhaps I’ll stand up and walk down a hallway in St. Augustine’s Monastery, the spiritual home of Martin Luther, when my parents and I visit this weekend. Or perhaps I’ll take a few steps on my own up a staircase in Gaudi’s cathedral when we visit Barcelona next week. There are loads of possibilities, but I have to have faith to keep moving towards the next step in my recovery. Whatever the perhaps, I crave your prayers and encouragement through a for certain very full week with lots of travel for me. I’ll give a detailed report next week – perhaps with miracles involved.

We joke at BFA that if you do something more than once, it’s a tradition. Since I did a “Life Playlist” in both 2016 and 2015, it’s a summer thing I do now. Here’s a link to the 2017 playlist all together on YouTube if you want to follow along. Plus it makes me nostalgic, so my first song is nostalgic.

1. “We Used to Be Friends” by The Dandy WarholsOkay, this is mostly for Shannon because I love Veronica Mars. There’ve been opportunities this year to reflect on things I’d long forgotten. Good times, and I’m so glad I’m not in high school anymore. 

2. “On My Own” by Tessa VioletI’m close with Shannon and a lot of other people. In fact, I had lovely interactions with people every day this week as a different alum or friend came over for tea or took me out for breakfast or skyped me across the ocean, so this song is not really about a lack of friends. If you listen to the lyrics, it speaks directly to the social anxiety I deal with on a regular basis. And I’m trying to read what you want from me.

3. “Trying Times” by Demon HunterOh my goodness, the Outlive album is amazing. I also really love this official video. I have a hope in the resurrection and life to come. Also, this year has been trying, so the lament of just screaming that out is nice. Which leads me to the next song.

4. “Help” by The BeatlesHonestly, I’ve never been so disappointed with the internet as when I couldn’t find the version of this song from the opening credits of the movie Help! on YouTube. That is one of the most ridiculous and hilarious movies. I watch it when I’m stressed and just laugh and laugh and laugh. And also I need a lot of help which is why the song found a place on my annual playlist. I constantly need help. And, “when I was younger, so much younger than before, I never needed anybody’s help in any way,” but now, “my life has changed in, oh, so many ways, and my independence seems to vanish in the haze.” That’s just a season so —

5. “Seasons of Love” by Jonathan Larson (from the musical Rent)Anyone who knows me knows how much I love this musical, and how convicting I find it as a Christian wanting to live a life exemplifying unconditional love. The musical deals with lots of pain and lots of joy and lots and lots of love. How do you measure a life? (This is another one that wasn’t available in good quality on YouTube.)

6. “Unashamed” by StarfieldThis year has had a lot of learning and growing. I’m a pretty broken person, but because of the peace secured by Jesus, I can stand before God unashamed. This is an old song, but it’s always been beautiful to me. 

7. “Psalm 100” by First Friday House BandThis one isn’t available on YouTube, but I highly recommend you all go download it from iTunes or listen on Spotify. It’s a beautiful version of the words of Scripture, and this particular psalm, if you’ve been reading my blog lately, it’s quite fitting. I also love this particular song version for many reasons, and I’m forever indebted to Jordyne for finding it online after it was stuck in my head for weeks without knowing the composer or having heard it in years.

8. “Desert Soul” by Rend CollectiveI love the line, “I need you, God, but I want to need you more.” That is the cry of my heart. I am nothing without the Lord.

9. “So Dang Dark” by Rhett and LinkIt’s actually not a huge shift for me to move from Rend Collective to Rhett and Link. I love the Lord, and I love to laugh. Rhett and Link are internet-tainers bringing clean comedy to the masses through YouTube, and this is perhaps one of the greatest things they have ever produced. I have laughed so hard and had so many jokes related to this song through the past year that there is no way it can be left off the playlist.

10. “Cross the Line” by Superchick”Everyone dies, but not everyone lives.” Well, obviously, I just embody these lyrics. I’m gonna live.

11. “Lane Boy” by twentyonepilots Not only am I going to live, but apparently I’m living a little on the edge. I’m seriously waiting to read someone’s theological analysis of the allusions to Scripture in the lyrics of twentyonepilots. I recently had a conversation with a friend who is, like me, a bit beyond the general demographic of this band, but even more excited with the music and lyrics of twentyonepilots than I am. Karen and I were talking about how clearly steeped in Christian culture the lyricism is — big surprise since it’s written by a kid who grew up in the same church culture I did even listening to loads of the same music. Now he writes with passion about the deep questions he didn’t see addressed in his church experience and was danced around by his musical predecessors. He’s pushing boundaries and bringing big issues to the forefront, and it’s upseting to some. I upset some people.

12. “Don’t Censor Me” by Audio AdrenalineSome of those musical predecessors did their own edgy lyrics in the 90s. I love the Christian music I grew up listening to, and I’ll contentedly rock out to twentyonepilots and Audio Adrenaline back to back. I’m figuring out when and where to use my voice well, but I won’t be censored. “I’m gonna show you something real.”

Bonus track “UNITY” by The Lovely LadsOkay, I went long this year by adding two tracks, but there’s no way I couldn’t share this awesomeness from my adorable children. I love these kids so much. I love my job, and I love that I get to work with these precious students who are hilarious, creative, witty, and intelligent.

“I’m not saying I’d like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely.” 

In the iconic scene in The Princess Bride, Wesley optimistically tells Buttercup they have learned the secrets to survive the fire swamp by the warning signs of the sparking sound before the fire spurts and the lightening sand is avoidable as well. He next wrestles and roasts an ROUS before they meander out victorious where he again voices his belief they could live there happily for some time. 

This isn’t the focus of the film by any means, but it was on my mind as I was yet again discovering the tricks to living in my own personal fire swamp. What triggers my leg spasms? What sets off my infections and their accompanying side effects? What helps my insomnia that keeps me consistently lethargic? What clogged the drain in my dishwasher? (That last one doesn’t have a paralysis related cause or cure, but it is annoying.)

I discovered a key in body signals related to my recurring infections, and as unpleasant as some answers are, sometimes having any answer is nice. I’ve moved a step forwards in understanding my body post paralysis. I’m still learning, and these discoveries help make my fire swamp a little bit more homey. For example, if I plan to wheel over cobble stones, I am better off with my braces because my calves will cramp and spasm like crazy by the second stone if unrestrained. Another important discovery is when I take steps without the braces, they need to be slow and short for the best weight distribution and most control from my hips and glutes.

I practiced that one at therapy this week. Anja had to work on relaxing my ankles a little because they were extra tense, but we spent the last chunk of our session walking slow and steady down the narrow hallway and back. I managed about half the distance as last week, but I’m confident it was better quality because I was more attentive to the length of my stride. I’d been practicing all week with my laps around the fire station with my sticks, and I saw a huge pay off when Anja took my hands and I just steadied myself before each controlled step. 

Again, I’m not saying I’d like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely. I’ll be sauntering out of here in no time. (Possibly into the Pit of Despair, but remember this movie ultimately has a happy ending, and, honestly, I’m more likely to be cast in Fred Savage’s role than anyone else’s, so there’s that.)

Step one: move to Germany.

Step two: learn German.

I’d recommend the reverse order. I do things my own way sometimes though, and my life has followed that listed order. I was practicing my German on Thursday with Helen and her neighbors as she’d invited me over for Kaffee und Kuchen. I was pretty excited to tell them in my rudimentary German about the walking improvements I’d made this week. I recounted a snippet of my Wednesday physio session that marked another huge leap forward in my progress. I can provide more details in my native tongue though.

Some of you may recall my first step back in February where Anja coaxed me to move one foot in front of the other with no mobility aids or assistance from her. This week I managed step two, step three, and several dozen after that. Before you get ahead of yourselves in excitement, there were balance breaks between each step, but it’s still incredibly exciting.

I showed up for my hour session ready to work hard, and Anja put her hands palm up in front of me. I rested my hands on hers without putting pressure and found my balance before I lifted my left leg and moved the foot forwards. I wobbled a bit but used Anja’s hands to steady myself before the right foot followed along. We made it across the room before Anja pulled a stool up for me to sit and rest on. Anja noticed my left hip isn’t as strong as the right, so she is going to come up with some exercises for me to incorporate into my routine to help bring it up to speed.

After a brief rest, I stood up and made my way back to the starting point across the room with the same pattern of touching Anja’s hands for balance, taking a concentrated step, catching myself briefly before removing weight from Anja and taking another step. I needed another rest after that, but before the session was over, I’d managed the distance across the room and back another time without sitting down. I did need a glass of water, but I’d accomplished what Anja agreed was the best walking I’d ever done since my accident.

Now it’s just a matter of practicing more and more. I need to increase my stamina and muscle strength. I have the ability there that needs to be used and improved.

I just wanna be a sheep; baa, baa, baa, baa.

That was my Sunday school jam, and I stand behind the sentiment.

I’m also occasionally interested in sheep like following along with the crowd to keep from embarrassing myself. Moving to Germany made me stand out in a lot of ways without any language ability, and now, having lost the walking ability, I tend to make a scene wherever I go. I try to just blend in as best as possible, following along the behaviors and expressions of those around me. Last night was a perfect example as I went to the 70th birthday party of my former German neighbor. Gundi is the woman who first invited me to the Kandern choir, and on Monday she was insisting to all our choir friends that I’ve dramatically improved in my mastery of the German language. Naturally, everyone agreed. Considering I started with nothing, they’ve got a point, but I still have a long way to go. This was clearly evidenced at Gundi’s birthday party where I could follow the general gist of most conversations but couldn’t catch the meaning of every word. I was particularly lost when the locals dipped into dialect. Fortunately, Helen was there to help me understand what I was missing.

I’m so grateful for this community support team that helps me to fit in with the rest of the flock when I struggle. My co-worker Jesse found another way to fit me in this last week as well. For the last few years, I’ve been the odd man out come campus beautification days, excused from duty rather than making a fool of myself showing up and being unable to help. Jesse was in charge of cleaning and organizing the art department rooms, and she told me she’d have work I’d be capable of doing. I wasn’t able to mop or move shelves, but I could sort through old art files and accomplish some of the tedious tasks that weren’t manual labor intensive.

The sheep analogy might seem like a strange fit for this reflection, but it was on my mind a lot as I looked at the little toy sheep sitting on my window sill. My friend Becki gave it to me as a reminder that I am a sheep as well as a kind of under-shepherd. Jesus called himself the Good Shepherd and demonstrated himself as worth following, so I’m a sheep that follows him. At the same time, there are people watching me, and a few of them choosing to follow my (hopefully solid) example. It’s a lot of pressure to have people follow you, and I’m reminded of my favorite professor in college who used to joke that while her colleagues cultured disciples, she created dissenters. I’m fond of her model. She knew people were watching her, so she frequently and emphatically told them to stop parroting her and to be independent thinkers instead.

Now before I go to my next example, I need to stress how much I dislike the show Rick and Morty. It’s dumb. However, many of my students love it, and a particular group of them love to quote the line, “Don’t be a sheep.” For context, the grumpy grandpa character is chastising his grandkids for not thinking for themselves which is an idea I can get behind. So while in one sense I can honestly say I just wanna be a sheep, I also can say in a different context that I don’t want to be a sheep. Jesus didn’t want stupid sheep. Fun fact: sheep are actually not dumb. They trust the shepherd, and they recognize his voice.

There’s a paradox at work as I figure out the balance between being a sheep and not being a sheep, but, hey, I’m a walking paraplegic who worships the God/man who died and rose again, so paradoxes aren’t that new to me. Neither are miracles as I head into another summer anticipating miraculous recovery. I’ve made progress in my brace-less walking, and I’m praying for more time without the braces in the coming weeks as my legs get used to this new freedom and test out their limits. Beatrice gets a little nervous, and so my left calf has had a lot of tremors the past week, but I’m hoping as the pattern of weight on the legs becomes more normal, the calf muscles will continue to relax. 

The premise of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is that a small teenage girl has the power and skills to take down big monsters on a regular basis. However, once a year on average there is a Big Bad that she can’t conquer on her own. The season three buildup is a group effort takedown of the evil mayor culminating at her high school graduation ceremony. It’s a great show.

There was no mystical monster showdown at BFA’s graduation ceremony this morning, but there are metaphorical battles all throughout our lives. The writers of Buffy were making the metaphors goofy monsters that could be physically killed, but the audience can still take the metaphorical lessons to heart.

So what does any of this have to do with my readership composed of people primarily interested in my ongoing physical recovery? Well, I have some pretty amazing skills at conquering metaphors. I also have done an incredible amount of work on my own with my walking this week, but it still won’t be enough. I need help to keep making improvements. Sometimes that means rides to therapy. Sometimes that means patience with my slowness. Sometimes that means walking beside me to see how far I can go. All the time I need prayers.

One of my favorite movies is Meet the Robinsons. I love it for a lot of reasons, but one of the characters keeps repeating throughout the escapades of the short film, “Keep moving forward!” At the end of the movie, the credits reveal it is part of a Walt Disney quote, but the coopted context encourages the audience to push through failure to find a later success. The sentiment can be presented in an unfortunately cliched way, but I really do think it’s a valuable lesson to keep moving forward despite various setbacks. 

Reflecting back on the past decade, I clearly took the lesson to heart that the decade old movie taught. The movie coincidentally was released the same year I graduated high school. Exactly ten years ago this past week I walked across a stage to receive my high school diploma. I’ve had quite a few setbacks since then, and like the protagonist of Meet the Robinsons, I’ve learned to keep moving forward in the face of failure.

The most obvious of all the struggles is the ongoing physical recovery. Ten years ago, I walked across a stage with ease and teared up with hope for the future I dreamed of – returning to Faith Bible High School to teach English. Three days ago, I spent an hour chatting with my German physiotherapist as she massaged and stretched my nerve damaged legs before helping me onto an elliptical where I tired myself out in less than five minutes. Four days ago, the exact anniversary of my sappy graduation ceremony, I laughed with several students about the silly things I said and did in high school. I never could have dreamed of those things as I was transitioning from high school to college.

Media often tells us that high school youth is the ideal time to be alive. I’ve found so far that with a little effort and attitude life just keeps getting better. I used to want to go back to teach at FBHS, but I can see now that for me that would be going backwards. I need to keep moving forward. This week’s forward moments were walking around the fire station without my braces and finishing my semester homework grading. Next week I look forward to celebrating my students – the first class of BFA freshman that I taught – finishing well and transitioning to new and exciting things all across the globe. Fortunately, I’ll finally be Facebook friends with a few, so I can follow along through their next decade of change and growth as they keep moving forward too.

My granny has been my biggest cheerleader since I was born (even though I kicked her in my sleep when we shared a bed one night two decades ago). This weekend she came to visit with her husband Jim, and I got to hang out a bit though I can’t quite keep up with the energy levels of these almost octogenarians… I have the body of an octogenarian, and they seem to have the physical prowess of someone twenty years younger.

It’s been two years since my granny had seen me walking, and she was excited to celebrate the improvements in my quality. I still have a ways to go, but I’m not giving up any time soon. On Friday, Anja and I talked about how difficult it is to recognize personal limits with grace rather than criticize personal shortcomings. I sometimes want to call myself lazy because I can’t walk as well as I want to, but I know that’s far from the truth. On Thursday I showed a couple students my amazing skills as I walked to the lamppost and back without braces and had a student let me hold his arm while I walked back with just one stick. Neither of the two kids I walked with knew me before my accident, but they know my prognosis. I made the senior promise never to give up on me because I wasn’t going to give up on him.

Virgil (my left leg) has been giving me a lot of trouble again this week spasming and cramping without reason. I can’t figure out what’s been triggering it, but I’m trying to adjust my positing and keep my leg extended as much as possible. I’m hoping none of you will give up on me either as we join together and pray for Virgil to settle down as he and Beatrice lead me through the next week.  

A combination of things has had me pondering my identity this week. I could wax on about that, but as I just finished reading a retelling of Hamlet with the emo teenager unable to stop talking about his feelings but never really getting anywhere, I’ll refrain from doing the same on the internet. (Side note, has anyone done a rewrite of Hamlet as the ultimate angsty blogger?)

Not that my emotions and identity aren’t a holistic part of me worth sharing on the internet, but the real drama comes in carefully crafted tellings of my wobbling walks. 

Thursday was a holiday, so I didn’t have school, but a few of the remaining staff who arrived in the fall of 2013 gathered together up the hillside in Kandern for an informal picnic. My friend Christal was coordinating it, and she’d confirmed I’d be able to get to the grillplatz before setting that location. “If you’re patient with me, I can do pretty much anything slowly,” is my standard response, and I was pretty sure I’d be fine. The Barkmans drove up the road and continued on the walking path to get me right next to the big wooden benches. With my sticks before me and my braces on, I confidently exited the car and cautiously picked secure placement for my feet and walking aides on the uneven gravelly grass surface. 

I managed to sit somewhat comfortably for a while before my left leg started to complain. Complaints from my leg, as you may recall, come in the form of various spasms. This started as a tight cramping. Nothing new for me. Christal, smart woman that she is, had brought blankets to sit on, so the light padding provided some relief as I adjusted my weight frequently to try to appease Lefty (who I’m considering naming Virgil for vaguely divinely comedic reasons – and my right leg I’d call Beatrice – this is why I have so few friends). Overall, it was a wonderful evening chatting with people who all met me pre-accident but have more experience of me as a person post-accident. 

Anybody living this side of the Atlantic has more experience of me post-accident, but as a former student visiting for tea yesterday brought up, this graduating class is the last group of students who ever knew me pre-accident. My current juniors might have heard about me in middle school, but never had any interaction with me until I was in a wheelchair.

I’m still coming to terms with what a huge part of my identity the Professor (my wheelchair) is, but it’s not permanent in my mind. This is a part of my story that will never go away, but I’ll keep moving forward, keep growing, and keep walking a little more each day. I spent this Saturday mostly reading, as I’ve always loved to do, but I also took an intentional and successful braceless venture with my sticks down the street and back. My ankles were feeling tight as I first stood up this morning, so I had my cup of coffee standing and reading at my dresser before venturing outside. Once Virgil, Beatrice, and I were all awake, my guides carried me to the lamppost and back. By the time we returned to my driveway, both ankles were ready to express some tiredness and perhaps anger. I watched my neighbors ride up on bikes as they were just returning from Hammerstein. I’ll make it there and back myself too, someday. I’m determined. That’s who I am, in my core, the girl who walked again. 

 

[Bonus nerd paragraph: if you thought my Dante jokes were dumb, you should be thankful I didn’t find a way to reference Rhett and Link’s So Dang Dark music video. I actually spent a good amount of time trying to figure out how I could start my blog with the line “Should I go back to law school?” without confusing anyone about the fact I’ve never been to law school and knowing probably only one reader even knows that reference.]

My juniors are starting to tell me they have senioritis, and the seniors coming over for tea are more emboldened to ask for coffee as they talk to me about preparations and plans for their next stages. More than once this week I’ve been asked about my summer plans, and my standard response is, “I’m going to learn how to walk.” 

I am really looking forward to the chance to focus on my health and well being while enjoying the long days of walking, stretching, and reading tons of books while my students scatter the globe. I’m not returning to America this summer, but I’m in between the initial injury helplessness and the total recovery state.

On Friday, Anja asked me if I remembered my condition when I started meeting with her three years ago. “Yes!” I replied emphatically. That version of me could never dream of standing barefoot again, and just after I answered Anja’s question, she helped me to stand barefoot before leading me several steps down the hall. I’ve come so far, so I am still dreaming big of a full physical recovery. 

With the sun out more this past week, I ventured a few more times to walk brace free to the lamppost down the street and return alone. I’m excited to see the muscle strength increase as I make this a regular habit to walk without the braces, and I know I’ll watch my stamina grow as well. This isn’t the end, so I won’t be giving up any time soon.

My students are incredible. I sat listening to a student describe trips to her home country akin to the plot of an action movie over cups of Dominican coffee gifted by another student. These students come with amazing stories, and I consider it a privilege to hear pieces of them. This afternoon, I realized it’s quite an equal joy to share a bit of my own with them.

Earlier today, I was debating whether or not to attempt a grocery trip with my braces and walker or to keep my braces off and take a much shorter walk with just my awesome Nikes. I stood up in the tennis shoes to test out how my ankles were feeling, and I boldly walked out my door with my sticks before my courage dissipated. I knew I mightn’t be safe enough on my own to make the whole lap around the firehouse, so instead, I decided on walking to and from the lamppost by the retirement home (a whopping 150 meters round trip). 

Each step was slow and deliberate as I thought about the work I’d done with Anja yesterday. We spent a good chunk of my therapy hour with me bearing weight on my bare feet. Anja even had me walk on a thin foam mat after several steps on the hardwood floor. As a final challenge, she’d put a thicker cushion in front of me and had me step over it, encouraging me that she was right there if anything happened with my testy ankles. She pushed me to my limit, and I was a little disappointed when she asked me to find my balance and take a step towards her all on my own but I couldn’t. Anja assured me that just because I couldn’t do it at therapy this week didn’t mean I couldn’t do it. So Friday wasn’t my best day. I was feeling good this so far sunny Saturday. I wasn’t winning any speed records, but I was breaking new ground in my brace free weight bearing walking quality. About halfway to my goal, a BFA senior approached from the direction of the soccer field.

“Are you going to the soccer games?” she asked.

“Oh, not remotely that far. I’m hoping to make it to the lamppost and back.”

“Can I walk with you?”

“Sure, but I’m really slow.”

“I’ve got time,” she turned around and matched my pace as I focused on where my feet went. This particular student is planning to pursue a degree in the medical field, and we chatted a little about the feats I’d managed over the past few years. When we turned around at the lamppost, our conversation turned to how much I enjoyed teaching at BFA and someday hoped to teach her little sister. As we approached my door, she asked if I’d ever thought about returning to the states after my accident.

“The thought never entered my mind. I was exactly where I was supposed to be, and I still feel like I am.”

Where I am right now is encouraging conversation among students who want to know why Leviticus is so amazing while I’m taking those physically small but metaphorically huge steps towards full recovery. I’m so thankful for the combined power of prayer and garlic that fought off the bacteria in my body over the last couple weeks, and I look forward to sharing more of my story as another group of kids come for coffee and conversation about the levitical code next week. Please pray with me that alongside those conversations, I can extend my brace free independent walking to loop around the firehouse with ease by next week – and to the soccer field by next year. 

The catheters were waiting for me Tuesday morning, and with the aid of some supplements, loads of raw garlic, harntee, liters of water, and unlimited bathroom breaks, I’m pretty sure I’ve flushed away the majority of the bacteria. I’m still eating lots of garlic and drinking lots of water to discourage any resurgence, but I’m also moving on with my life.

The distraction of that painful infection was a setback in my walking, but I’m back at it weather permitting this week. The rainy weather that used to be my favorite now puts my outdoor walking adventures on hold, so I’m hopeful that the clouds will unleash at night and leave me sunny skies during my waking walking hours. Even if they don’t, I’m still determined to move more and add some hours on my exercise bike to increase my endurance for when the sun finally does break through.

I also had another positive Friday session with Anja this week as she spent some time working out the tension in my extra spastic left leg before walking with me barefoot from one room to another in the praxis. My final feat of the session was barefoot leg presses that have improved from needing Anja to hold my right ankle in place to her barely touching it and letting me manage the last few alone without any ankle spasm or turning inwards. 

My life still is far from perfect, and I’m still working hard to manage alongside these setbacks. I will say, though, that junior girls coming over to laugh with me and bake cookies after school on Wednesday makes this recovery process so much easier. I’ll muster up the strength through this next week with more walking, theological conversations, and cookie baking at my house (Julia, you can come next time).

I woke up yesterday to weird and wonderful news from one of my best friends as she called me the minute she was released from a vow of secrecy to tell me about an upcoming wedding this summer. As I contemplated yet another missed event in the lives of people I love back in Oregon while I battle a raging bladder infection here, I realized I still wouldn’t trade my life to be back stateside. I don’t want to give up the amazing students I have here. 

It’s true, I’d happily give up the awful complications of nerve damage and the monstrous bacterial battle waging on my insides with all its uncomfortable, annoying, and occasionally painful side effects, but I love students finding me at lunch to debate the merits of John Calvin and Jacob Arminius. I’ll choose to focus on the intellectual tenacity of the teenagers seeking to understand the biblical and logical support for theological nuances in my conversations with most people, but I’ll recount here a little of my frustration on the microscopic level of my body.

Wednesday in my third period, students presented the points and evidence for the positions of Calvinism and Arminianism while bacteria in my body began to set up camp unbeknownst to anyone. I had some discomfort and interrupted sleep that night, but I was still able to fully engage in the lunch time follow up from a student who wanted to discuss more about what he believes based on the arguments presented in class. Thursday night was rough for me, and by Friday the spasms were interrupting my class as I told my legs to chill out while I tried to teach my lesson. We were reading excerpts from C. S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters, and I assigned my students to write their own letter to a tempter demon at BFA. What strategies would be most efficient to distract BFA students? Let me tell you, leg spasms are a moderately effective strategy to distract me. Usually I can ignore little ones and blaze ahead, but Friday I was glad to have the students working on their letters most of the period because my legs needed more attention than normal. 

Saturday morning, after a delightful chat with Desiree, I headed to the apotheke to pick up my order before the long weekend. Unfortunately, there was a slight mix up, and my catheters weren’t there. I panicked for a split second, but didn’t waste any energy stressing over what I couldn’t change. I took a deep breath. I had a single box left at home. Thirty catheters. Three days. That’s more than sufficient.

For a normal person without a raging infection. 

Welcome to the circus of my life. The most common treatment for a UTI or bladder infection is to flush it out with water – drink lots, pee lots. Except most common people don’t have a limited number of times they can pee per day. So here I sit tonight, two days in, praying my catheter supply will last until the apotheke opens on Tuesday morning while also so loaded up on garlic I’m pretty sure I’m oozing the smell (which, according to the internet, means I’m accessing it’s antibacterial powers). The spasms are still present at an annoying frequency, and whatever I eat has a shadow of garlic taste. I’ve eaten a whole head of it in two days. Though as my friend Shannon pointed out, I am myself now vampire repellant which is beneficial in the case of soulless blood suckers on the loose. 

All this madness, and I still wouldn’t trade my life for what I had before my accident. I hear I was a pretty decent freshman English teacher, but this whole mess has made me a significantly more effective theology teacher. 

As a theology teacher, I’m also confident in the power of prayer, and I would beg of you to join me in praying that this infection disappear and all the little ailments attributable to it as well. 

Three years ago, I was sprung from REHAB for an evening to participate in our annual emotional Staff Appreciation Dinner (which we are roundly discouraged from referring to as SAD, but it made a great title for this week’s post, don’t you think?). I will always remember the overwhelming emotions I had that first outing away from REHAB four months into my stay there, and I was reflecting on how far I’ve come since then during this evenings events. I am particularly amazed at all that I managed through this week in light of the expectations I had after my first staff dinner. 

Early Easter Monday, my friend Jenny drove Katrina and I to the Basel train station to catch a 7:15 to Mannheim that connected us to a train to Munich where we took a Starbucks break before our final long train to Budapest. We’d reserved the tickets in advance and told them I was in a wheelchair, and I was so relieved to see a person at each platform with the lift to help me in and out of each train. 

I was already so grateful for my friendship with Katrina because I’m convinced she is one of the most amazing people on the planet, but traveling with her only made me love her more. Her German skills were particularly helpful at the train stations, and her patience in carting my sticks and bag around while I was helped on and off or pushing me through long stretches made the trip so much more amazing. 

I’d never had much of a chance to enjoy the close proximity to so many beautiful European cities before my accident, and I’d hesitated to ask people to take me along on an adventure because I worried about being a burden. Katrina had invited me along with her on this trip, and I cannot stress how wonderful this friend is for never once making me feel like a burden as she pushed me through the streets of Budapest with a recovering foot injury of her own.

We were staying in the home of some friends of Katrina’s, and I felt like a champion making it up the six narrow steps to the main level of their home where they had graciously put an air mattress for me because I wasn’t able to manage the even smaller steps up to the rest of the house where the beds were. The first morning, Katrina and I navigated back down the super steep driveway and to the nearest bus station. We were pleasantly surprised to find that every Budapest blue bus (the major lines in the city) were all handicapped accessible. Each driver hopped off and unfolded the ramp to help me on or off at each stop. Only one of the several we encountered so much as grumbled at the task.

I’d heard from some friends that the Cave Church was one of the best attractions in Budapest, so we made our way there first and were not disappointed. In fact, I think it was one of my favorite things we visited, and I was able to get around almost every part of it with no problem in the wheelchair. Katrina graciously pushed me up along the Danube as we enjoyed the city view on the overcast day before meeting up with my friend from Multnomah who just moved to Hungary in January. Jessica is working with Josiah Venture in Gyor which is a couple hours away, but she managed to work out coming to visit that afternoon so we could catch up.

Wednesday we woke up to wet snow which was significantly colder weather than either of us packed for, but we blazed onwards into the city and visited Matthias Church, the Hospital in the Rock, and St. Stephen’s Basilica all which allowed us in for free with the wheelchair. We saw the castle too, but it didn’t seem to be a great place to visit in a wheelchair according to the internet, so we contented ourselves with a view as we left the Fisherman’s Bastion Starbucks after drying out a bit from walking. The Basilica was our last stop of the day as I had to wait outside in the freezing cold rain while Katrina found an attendant who spoke English or German who could help us unlock the elevator on the backside of the building. Unfortunately, I wasn’t up for making it to the Parliament building and the bronze shoes in front of the Danube that commemorate the Jews killed in the Holocaust, so we caught the closest bus back to the house to warm up and dry out. Thursday we slept in and headed to the international Christian school where a friend of Katrina’s showed us around before taking us to get some good Hungarian food. 

Friday was another early morning as we headed to catch a 7:40 train, but I was able to sleep in this morning and relax before the staff dinner tonight. Aside from the six steps at the home we stayed in and the full flight of stairs at the Budapest train station that had two out of service elevators, I didn’t do much walking, so I was a tad worried about my legs today. Praise the Lord, I managed my usual loop around the fire station with my sticks and braces and no problems. I was tired by the end, but I know my stamina will jump back up as I get back into a routine of walking and even increase my daily steps.

I won’t have Cindy to walk with me the next couple weeks, but I’m so thankful for the people in this community who can help make my recovery possible either stepping in with walking beside me or meeting various other needs I have. Katrina is at the top of the list for the emotional and relational support offered in our friendship that allowed for me to experience such a great vacation on my spring break despite my various limitations. Dozens of others around BFA make my recovery so much easier, and I had a couple of great conversations tonight as people spoke words of truth and encouragement to me. Next year, I’ll be recognized for five years of service at BFA, and I can’t wait to see what level of recovery I’ve reached by that point.

The sun came up over Kandern Monday morning just as it does everyday. Springtime means the golden rays light up this town earlier and earlier, but it was the first day of spring break for me, so I stayed in bed a little later. I took it easy in the morning and stretched my calves without the braces before my grand adventure: walking to the Apotheke. It’s almost exactly half a kilometer from my house, and I needed to pick up some prescriptions I’d ordered.

Vitamin D strengthens determination, and I felt rested and ready to make the trek with my walker. I’ve done it before, but with the muscle cramps in the winter cold, I had put that particular exercise on hold for several months. I was huffing pretty hard by the final few steps to the Apotheke door, and I saw some BFAers come out of the bank just as I walked up.

“My goodness, look at you! Did you walk all this way? Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I managed, “I’m going to sit down soon.” 

My verbal skills diminish with my energy after half a kilometer. Actually, my verbal skills pretty much pause entirely when I try to walk well, but let’s pretend it was the distance that made it so difficult to talk. 

I tottered into the Apotheke and sat down on my walker, using the counter to help me turn around. The nice pharmacist gathered my order and brought it to the front. 

“The Epi-pen didn’t come in yet, but we’ll have it tomorrow morning,” she told me as she rang up the other items and loaded them into the basket of my walker. 

I felt the five kilos added to my basket as though they’d been put on my chest. I’d have to walk back tomorrow — could I manage a kilometer two days in a row? I got a brief pause in the middle, but it was still quite a feat for my body. I slowly raised my weight back over my feet and trudged my way out of the store. 

Since it’s spring break, I have a lot more freedom in my schedule to make that long walk happen and have the recovery time on my couch required by the draining of my energy supply. I managed the Tuesday Apotheke run without incident, and I felt ambitious enough after a half hour physio appointment on Wednesday to venture a loop not just around the firehouse but the two other buildings next to it (the retirement home and Hiebers, for Kandern locals). I walked the same route on Thursday, and today I headed down the street to school and back for something different.

Everyday I wake up anticipating new things, and my feet do as well. We still don’t communicate well — my feet and I — but I can sense that they are anticipating something new. You see, the only feeling I have in my feet is the tingling sensation when your foot falls asleep. The prickling with the pressure of each step is reminding me that my feet are still there when my brain forgets — which it often does. 

This week I’m praying that my brain remembers more of my own body as it reflects on the body and blood of Jesus. I teach my students that the resurrection of Jesus demonstrates that the body is something good: we were created as bodied beings, and it’s unnatural the way that my brain forgets the existence of my feet. I want them reconnected, and I’m praying for the nerves to forge ahead in that next step of recovery. 

I started to type out a full report here of my Jahreskontrolle from this Thursday, but it started to get pretty long, so I decided to give you the impressions – or rather impressed responses. Those of you who read about my previous Jahreskontrolle will remember I didn’t get to meet with the PTs and OTs who worked with me the most during my REHAB tenure, and I was subsequently disappointed at how little the people running tests were impressed with my abilities. This time, however, I was able to see Isabelle at lunch and tell her how I’m living independently and working part time successfully. I also had my OT meeting with Christiane and was super encouraged by her excitement at my ability level as well. We also put into my file that my goal is to be finished with the wheelchair one year from now.

I was super excited when the nurse told me Andy would be doing my PT tests. After Alex, he’s the physio who worked with me the most while I was in REHAB. I’d asked Cindy to bring me to this long appointment so she could help me show off my skills to everyone. 

When Cindy and I rocked up to the physiohalle, I saw Andy waiting and proudly told him, “I’m here to impress you.” 

“Okay then, show me,” he said.

Cindy helped me up and I strutted a few meters down the physiohalle just holding her hand. She and I shared some of the details of what I could do now before walking into one of the small rooms to run our official tests. Andy hadn’t seen me do anything in almost three years, so when he asked me to lift my leg or resist pressure, his excitement was based on the jump I’ve had since leaving REHAB in 2014.

Then came the ankle function test – you might have read over the last several months that Margot and Anja are convinced there’s function flickering there. I’ve seen little evidence of this, and I was nervous about the big fat 0s in this category on my REHAB file. Andy sat down on the floor and tapped the top of my foot. “Lift up,” he instructed. I tried. “That was it!” he said flicking the top of my foot to stimulate the muscle, “Do it again!” Physios are trained to see the minute muscle movements, and thanks to Andy’s attention and my three years of practice, most of my 0s moved to 1s on the function scale. 

I would have been happy with all this, but at the end of the physio test, Andy peeked out into the hall and told me, “Alex is out there; let’s surprise her.” I lit up.

“Alex, I need to show you something,” Andy called out before helping me up.

“Just to look?” I heard her say.

“Yeah, just look.”

He took my hand, and we walked into the physiohalle where Alex was working with another patient. I was grinning as we made our way to her, and I got a big smile from her as she told me how great it was that I could walk so much better now.

I was really excited that I had the chance to impress the people who spent so much time with me right after my accident. They were influential in my early recovery, and it meant a lot to me to see their continued joy in my long term recovery. 

I also get to impress people involved in my current recovery state, and sometimes I can even impress myself. At physio on Friday, Anja told me she wanted me to try standing on a trampoline. “Barefoot?” I asked, incredulous. “Yeah, we’ll try it.” I’ll be honest, I didn’t actually think I’d be able to do it. However, with Anja to keep me safe (I trust her with my life), we walked a few steps to where I could hold onto rails secured to the wall and step up onto a mini trampoline. At first, my shoulders held all my anxiety as I anticipated my ankles rolling. When my feet stayed straight, my arms could relax a little, and Anja instructed me to bounce lightly.

I managed a miraculous couple of minutes before she helped me down, and I walked barefoot back across the room where she spent a little time working the tension out of my shoulders. 

All in all, it was an impressive week, and a fantastic start to my spring break. I’ve got two weeks now to surge ahead in this next phase of recovery – less time in the wheelchair and more time moving my long underused legs. 

I gave a pretty sparse update last week and promised to deliver more today. I’m not one to disappoint, and the poetry of today’s sermon being on the dry bones in Ezekiel is just delightful. For those not familiar with the story, Ezekiel was led to the desert and watched as the Lord brought flesh and life back into a valley of dry bones that were dead and lifeless before the Word of the Lord showed up. Crazy cool stuff.

Adam shared a few points in his message about how this was important to us, and one of the insights was that we needed God’s perspective. From Ezekiel’s viewpoint, the bones were worthless, but God saw something different.

From an ordinary human standpoint, my bare bones beneath my waist are pretty close to useless. The tendons and muscles are weak; the nerves are disconnected. However, a select few have a vision of what is yet to come. On Friday, Anja shared with me her vision was for me to walk barefoot. I scoffed a little. “It’s a good thing you trust me,” she told me near the end of our session as she prepared my bare feet to stand up and walk. 

I used the sticks and had Anja close by, but I was able to manage about a dozen steps with nothing on my feet. I was elated, and it was a fantastic cherry on top of my week after several days of practicing walking with Cindy around the firehouse with no sticks and just my braces and holding one of her hands. I’m not ready to combine both feats just yet, but I’m so excited to take new steps with less of my mobility aids.

Spring is thinking about showing up in Kandern. It’s tested out a couple days, and on those days, Cindy and I have walked around the fire station without braces. I’m feeling pretty good about the improvements in the quality of my walking, and I’m hopeful that with the increase in springtime weather, I’ll be able to spend more time on my feet outside. 

Plus, today we started daylight savings, so the sun is up later and the days are starting to get longer. Stay tuned for big progresses.

Honestly, I don’t have much to report for this week in my progress. I gave you a nice look into the details of my dirty laundry last week, and I don’t have anything else to air on the internet.

I hope you’ll be satisfied with this promo for what I think is coming ahead with the change of season and keep praying with me for more healing to be revealed.

Content warning: this blog entry contains description of nasty side effects of nerve damage. Leave now, and come back next week if you get grossed out easily.

 

 

When I was in grad school, I agreed to dye part of my hair bright pink before my friend Vanessa moved to Tanzania for a year. She was notorious for vibrant hair colors and had to choose a natural tone bore the year abroad, so I was taking up the neon charge. In the grand scheme of hair, it was a subtle choice as I didn’t have Amanda bleach my hair before putting in the pink. It faded out in a couple weeks, but I’d supposedly done something crazy and wild. The next semester, I chopped my long locks off in favor of a pixie cut I kept up for a year. This, too, was touted by some as outrageous behavior, but my hair has almost returned to it’s pre-chop length through slow and steady regrowth.

Some people make hair cuts or coloring into a big deal, and while it’s true that not everyone can rock the traffic cone orange hair color, it’s not exactly a life altering decision. It is, however, a decision. 

Yesterday, I decided to let Ellie put purple dye in my hair.

I have control over the awesomeness (or occasional lack thereof) related to my hair, but there are still many things about my body which I lack control of. The purple hair in my photo lots of people could rock; the story behind the obscenely heavy bags under my eyes this morning is where the real bravery in my life comes in.

Nerve damage sucks. I already warned you to stop reading this if you’re easily queasy, and I wasn’t joking. Last night, I managed to fall asleep around eleven but woke up two hours later to discover my brain had been left out of the loop of activity happening amongst my intestines and sphincter. My clock just turned 1:00 as I turned on the light to see and smell the mess in my bed. I groggily looked around to see what I could cover my wheelchair seat with in order to heave my dirty body onto it and start cleaning myself up in the bathroom. It took me a couple minutes to sort out my strategy so that I didn’t spread anything around unnecessarily or leave some kind of disgusting trail, but I managed to sit myself on the toilet and start the baby wiping business. 

Within seconds, I knew this was too much to just wipe off, so after about ten or fifteen minutes of preliminary cleaning, I got myself into the shower. I cried out to God from the depths of my soul as I watched the water runoff, first dirty brown as I rinsed my lower half, then tinged with lavender as I washed my hair for the first time post dye. I washed my whole body as best as I’m able, still trying to stay sleepy but be alert enough not to hurt myself. I dried off with an old towel I didn’t care about staining purple, and I gathered up my dirty clothes and put them in the laundry.

Next, I returned to the scene of the crime, my bed still covered in evidence. I used baby wipes again to gather and reduce the worst of the mess before pulling off my sheets and putting them in the washing machine as well. I started the load before putting clean sheets on and finally putting my head back on my pillow at almost exactly 2am. It took me a little while to drift back to sleep, and I woke up a couple more times still scared of another accident. My mattress protector was in the wash, so I didn’t know what I would do if I ruined my mattress with a second mess in one night.

Praise the Lord, I didn’t soil my sheets again, and I woke up with my alarm and got ready for church this morning as if nothing was the matter. I planned to hide the whole ordeal from the world; no one needs to know this nastiness. I hang my laundry where no one can see – no one needs to know this mess was lingering after a first wash. And yet my intestines had a different idea this morning. I was doubled over in pain minutes before my ride for church was due to arrive. I made the last minute decision to call them, but I felt compelled to clarify, “It’s paralysis stuff, it’s nerve stuff that’s keeping me home.”

I felt really dumb afterwards for needing to justify my sickness. I could have just been sick like a normal person, but nothing is normal with me anymore. Theoretically, I do just have a normal sickness, but based on the nerve damage, my body can’t take care of itself like a normal person.

So why did I decide to share this story on the internet where anyone can read it? Well, because this is my life, and it’s not my fault I can’t receive messages well from my lower half. I get a lot of really kind messages from people who say I’m an inspiration to them because of my positive attitude about not being able to walk, and that’s really nice, but the not walking part of paralysis is the easiest part of my post accident problems. If you’re going to be inspired by me, it should be by the fact that I woke up in a bed of my own mess and took care of the whole deal in an hour without anyone’s help. Be inspired by the fact that I knew my own limits today when I was doubled over in pain this morning and subsequently spent the better half of my Sunday curled up on my couch or in my bed with a heating pad trying to recoup from that power hour in the middle of the night. Be inspired by the fact that despite the pain and the lack of sleep, I managed this selfie where my hair looks awesome and my eyebrows are on fleek. 

Go live your life and make good choices remembering that nerve damage is not for the faint of heart. Also, stay hydrated because I’m suspicious that contributed to exacerbating some of my problems this week. I plan to up my water intake this week and have less gross stories for next week’s blog post.

Years ago, I listened to one of my favorite professors in college relate the story of running into a student at Safeway. Apparently this college student had not ever stopped to think about how teachers don’t live at school and have lives outside the classroom which involve eating and grocery shopping and all sorts of normal people adventures. In her telling, his jaw hung loose as he followed her around the store at her invitation, watching her pick up groceries like an ordinary human being. 

BFA students are a little different because Kandern is so small and they see teachers all over the place. I can still inspire a small shock in students though. A sophomore looked up from her phone and smiled at me as I rounded the corner to the grocery store yesterday, but she did a double take when she realized I was walking with my Rollator. 

“You’re walking!” She told me excitedly. 

She followed me into the store and chatted a bit – more than I’d ever heard her talk in a whole semester of Old Testament last year. As we ambled through the store, I thought of the story my professor told me. This student was not so much shocked that I existed outside of school but delighted at the physical improvements she was unaware of. Most students don’t see me walking around campus. It happens occasionally, but the hallways full of teenagers racing to class are not ideal for me to practice my timid steps. 

I’m most frequently seen in my wheelchair, so people who don’t interact with me much are often shocked to see me practicing walking. I’ve still got a long way to go, but one of my friends who’s spent more time with me – particularly seeing me go up and down stairs – commented this last Thursday as I wobbled on the steps to get into a friend’s house that it was the first time she’d ever seen me need help. When people ask me if I’m capable of something, my usual response is, “I can do it if you’re patient with me.”

Everyone immediately responds, “Take your time!” But I never believe them. I realized that today as I took a solo lap around the firehouse without my braces. I was willing to take that risk on my own time because I was confident in my skills and wasn’t going to have anyone rushing me along or distracting me with polite conversation. People walking next to me subconsciously increases my pace – I’m either trying to keep up with them or trying not to irritate them with my impossibly slow steps. Unfortunately, this leads to poor quality steps instead of slow and steady practically perfect strides. 

I know this because my best walking is at physio with Anja or with Cindy who has no where to be when we are doing laps around the auditorium. If someone slows their pace for a moment to chat with me, I’m panicked into speeding up to not make them late for whatever very important date they are headed to. I make this decision for them, of course, that they are in a hurry, but it’s hard to override. 

I am noticeable when out and about, and people feel obligated to politely interact with me. Sometimes it’s just a wave, but more often they want to offer encouraging words and ask about my progress. It’s really kind, and I do appreciate all the encouragement, but I’ve realized that my noticeability makes me less inclined to practice my walking because I’m so embarrassed about my speed. It’s a pride thing, really, that I don’t want to slow people down as they walk down the street.

When I put my pride away and trust that people will walk my pace, I’m actually capable of pretty incredible feats. For example, on Friday at therapy, Anja and I took off down the street without my braces. I was using both sticks at the start as we walked into the sunshine, but pretty quickly, I handed off the left stick to her and just used her hand for balance on that side. My steps were solid and intentional, slow and beautiful. Most of my weight was over my hips as I pushed off my legs to propel my body weight forwards. We traded sides on the way back, and I discovered, to both of our delight, that I was capable of holding her left hand with my right while also holding my left stick in the air for a few steps. It wasn’t completely without help as her hand took some of my weight and helped me maintain balance, but it was a pretty incredible feat for me. 

As I click “post” on this entry, I’m making public my struggle with being so public. I recognize the oddity of my struggle, and if you’d like to help, don’t hide from me. If you see me walking, I’m still encouraged by kind words, but if you want to walk with me, maybe slow your pace even more than what I’m doing to force me to keep the quality of my gait instead of trying to impress you with speed. For those of you not inclined to see me irl, I enjoy Harry Potter memes and screen caps of snark and genius from Parks and Rec. 

I spent a lot of time on my computer this week trying to sort through insurance claims and licensing paperwork. I’m not going to lie, it’s stressful and overwhelming. It overshadowed much of my week, and I called my mom after I was pushed over an emotional cliff with disappointing news related to my plans for my totalization year in 2018-19. The place I wanted to go emailed me that their facility is not handicapped accessible and will not likely make the changes in time for me to spend that year learning and serving there. 

My life isn’t perfect, and I don’t try to hide that. I do try to be responsible in where I dump my emotions, and the internet isn’t always the safest place. I do want to be honest here, though, that this frustrating paperwork distracted me from focusing on my body. My physical care is the first thing to get the shaft when things get stressful because my students are my priority. I do know, however, that I can’t care for them well if I’m not well cared for myself.

I did still make significant strides this week – literal ones with just Cindy’s hand for balance as I walked around the auditorium in my braces. I also had an hour long session with Anja on Friday where she spent extra time stretching and preparing my legs before putting me on the elliptical with no braces. I exhausted myself after a couple minutes, but I could tell a difference in the quality of the strides this time in comparison the previous work on the elliptical. 

I want to focus on caring for my students and my body, so can you please pray with me that my paperwork stresses will be resolved quickly? I need my insurance to reimburse me the $2,000 they owe me, and I need assorted sources across the Atlantic to send and approve my PDUs for my Oregon educator’s license.

When I dumped all this information on my mom, she uncomfortably asked if I expected her to do something about it.

“NO!” was my quick response.

Honestly, there’s not much my mother can do if I wanted her to. It’s not like she can call TSPC and get them to get their act together since they didn’t reply to my inquiry emails to sort this stuff out a year ago. No, this is just a life circumstance, and it’s temporary. Moms have an important emotional role, however, and I needed her to let me process through these emotions before I composed them in a calm and orderly state on the internet. None of you can directly help with any of my stressful circumstances that compiled to make this week a raging dumpster fire of frustration. (Unless you work for TSPC – can you approve my license renewal right away, please?) However, those of you inclined to pray can petition the Lord for peace and order as I sort this all out. Also it would be nice if I could walk again too.

And despite being a frequent pessimist, I’ll leave those of you who come for happy stories with an anecdote of my children and their mothers:

First, for context, several dorm boys have taken to calling me mother. I can’t seem to make them stop. One of them comes from Israel, and he shouts “Ima” at me whenever he sees me as his own personal joke because this is Hebrew for mother so he’s not overtly encouraging others to call me mother. He happened to be in the school play last week – he was a delightful pirate – and at the end of the show he shouted “Ima” across the auditorium to get my attention. I’m conditioned to respond to this by now, so I turned, only to hear another woman say, “Who else are you calling ‘Ima’?” 

I was mortified to discover his actual mother was visiting from Israel to see him in the play. He found this hilarious and was laughing hysterically as I hid my face in my hands.

“I’m so sorry,” I told his mother, “I promise I don’t encourage this.”

Praise the Lord, she is a good natured woman, and readily acknowledged her ridiculous child was prone to such escapades without encouragement. I was still embarrassed when he stopped by my house with friends after school on Thursday, and I reiterated how fortunate I was that his mother wasn’t offended.

“Oh, she knows the whole story and thinks it’s funny,” he told me, “So does my dad. In fact, my dad encourages it.”

So there you have it, amidst the chaos of bills and bureaucracy, I can still provide some comic relief on the mission field. 

This Friday I had a wonderful conversation with a student about what the Lord has taught me over the past three years.

“I wish you could share that in chapel!” she exclaimed, “So many people need to hear that!” 

We then diverged to talk about what can be translated to the masses versus what can only be said face to face. There are lessons that take an intimate explanation, and not everything can be picked up on across the internet. I can’t capture the essence of that conversation in a pithy blog post, and I shouldn’t. The mother of a dorm student who was visiting this weekend for the play chatted with me during intermission, and she encouraged me that not every detail of my soul has to be displayed openly for me to still testify loudly and glorify the Lord in my story. 

The play was Treasure Island – the story of a bunch of boys seeking treasure and adventure – and it was fantastic. Full disclosure, I never read the whole book (I’m sorry, Mrs. Maki) because I didn’t find the plot that engaging, but I loved watching the sweetest Canadian kid I’ve ever met play the sneaky pirate John Silver. My students are my treasure; I love these kids.

Part of how I’m called to love them is by living well in the current state of my body. Last week I celebrated a single step all on my own, and while I didn’t repeat that particular feat, I’m delighted to share that while making a solo loop around the fire station on Thursday, I managed to keep both sticks in the air for a record four steps while walking with my braces. I’m praising God for this new feat and looking forward to more revelation of my healing. 

 

This week had some incredible highs, and I can’t believe I’m going to tell you the best thing wasn’t taking three steps with Cindy only holding my gait belt and both my hands free. It wasn’t even leaving the wheelchair at home on Thursday when I came in to teach and still having enough energy to do what Cindy said was some of the best walking she’s ever seen me do.

No, the highlight of my week was one small step with Anja’s encouragement at physio on Friday. Note I said encouragement not help. I took the step by myself. Unlike the steps with Cindy, there was no gait belt and no braces. There were no sticks and no hand holding either. This was a single step in my own strength. It was concentrated and deliberate. Then I wobbled a little and grabbed Anja for support before we both sat down and cried.

Nothing else this week comes close to the emotional high of this first step all by myself in over three years. I’m all the more determined to keep pushing myself physically to care for the function the Lord has given me in this body.

I got to share the news with Cindy later that day, and she reiterated her thoughts from the day before that I just need more practice to see big strides in stamina now. I’m all the more convinced the Lord is revealing a new work in my body, and I sing with renewed understanding the words I used to sing with my Port kids, “Every move I make, I make in you. You make me move, Jesus… Every step I take, I take in you.”

I’m so grateful for all the birthday wishes and prayers last week. I thought I’d give specific reports based on what I requested for prayer about. Thank you for taking time to lift me up before the Lord. He was glorified – an answer to my first request. 

As for the second, I had some amazing walking with Cindy this past week. We’ve been walking laps around the auditorium or cafeteria three days a week with not sticks. I buckle on a gait belt and stand up just holding on to Cindy’s arms. She then adjusts to my side and holds one hand steady as I take shaky steps with increasing confidence. Occasionally, I’ll hit a stride telling her stories about her kids in my class (her daughters are hilarious). I’m so excited about this progress with the braces, but there’s also activity in my ankles that Margot and Anja are excited about too. On Friday, I spent a few more minutes on the elliptical with no braces. Anja’s hoping to move into new activities moving and strengthening the ankles in the coming months.

Request three was related to my story, and I was able to have a really great conversation with a former kiddo in America about how I see God with me in my suffering. She’s in a place of getting to ask hard questions about faith, and I’m so grateful that the Lord has prepared me to go through life beside her in this journey. 

I asked for prayers related to my strength and stamina, and I did a lot this past week. I’m so encouraged by the marked difference in how much I can accomplish in a given day. My first fall term back in the classroom, teaching two class periods and a half hour of physio was a full and draining day for me. This Thursday, I had breakfast with a friend, taught two periods, came home for coffee with someone else, had two students crash my house for their study hall, returned to school to walk with Cindy, then came home and made cookies in time to go to family group. Friday I got up a little early to make it to school in time to sub first period for a friend, taught my two classes, went to physio, then headed out to dinner and the symphony with some friends. A year ago, a single one of those days would have been unimaginable let alone two full days back to back like that. Today I slept in a little and took it easy most of the day but even had enough energy to make it to the Rogue One viewing at the Kandern Kino. 

My final request was related to my amazing job and how to best sustain my ministry here. A few close friends and family had extra insight that I was also praying about my summer plans. I really feel called to long term service in educational ministry, and I have a huge support team making my service here possible. My supporters are spread across America, and when I visited two years ago, I packed in countless coffees and conversations, but I pushed my body really hard on that trip. Any subsequent visits to America need to be more carefully planned for my body, and one of the ways I can prepare myself for the best possible return visit is to use this coming summer as an intensive recovery time in Germany. I’ve talked to my physios about staying here this summer and having a week intensive with Anja similar to what I did with Kandice in my visit to Oregon in 2015. They agree it would be a great choice to care for my body.

It’s a difficult choice because it means I won’t get to visit Bella Espresso, Longbottom, Black Rock, Dutch Brothers, Insomnia Coffee, or any other of my favorite coffee shops for yet another year – or Powell’s Books. More significantly though, it means I won’t get the chance to pull my nephews into my lap and read Not A Stick or whatever other latest book they’ve checked out from the library for another year. However, I’m staying here to be intentional in seeking the Lord and practicing my walking in the hopes that in the summer of 2018 I’ll be able to go for a walk holding Wyatt and Parker’s hands instead of four footed canes. 

I was never a huge fan of Emily Dickinson, but we’ve almost all heard the line, “Hope is the thing with feathers / that perches in the soul.” Hope is a happy thing, and Dickinson concludes even in extremity it never asks a thing. I would argue otherwise. Hope can be exhausting. 

Then again, perhaps I’m confusing it with faith – which is being sure of what you hope for. 

Either way, I’ll argue that the feathered thing is essential to survival. Yesterday, I had a delightful birthday, and as I ended the evening watching an emotional episode of Call the Midwife, I heard the nuns share the essential wisdom, “Life is never without hope.” The protagonist shares the same sentiment with a family struggling to understand why the medical community would bother saving a child with spina bifida. 

Why did anyone bother saving me? Is my quality of life any less than yours because I can’t walk around with the same ease? I would argue I enjoy life more than most people because I understand how valuable it is having had so much taken away. 

Due to my accident, I’m all the more intentional about celebrating the freedom to have a full day of work, therapy, grocery shopping, and dinner with a friend. This Friday, I went in to school early to work on new assignments and prepare my lessons for the coming week. I also had the absolute joy of reading the Joseph narrative with two sections of juniors and heard groans at the bell with fifteen kids begging me to let them stay and finish the story instead of going to their next class.

Later in the afternoon, I made it to therapy with Anja, and she put me back on the elliptical. This time she filmed a few seconds of my awesome stepping before I exhausted myself. Once seated to catch my breath, she took my braces off and said we’d try without them once I was rested enough. After two and a half years, I’ll do whatever Anja asks because I trust her. I carefully got back on the elliptical with her help and managed a couple minutes of this incredible new feat. She filmed it as well and let me watch them both to compare. I’m incredible. 

Okay, but seriously, three years ago on my birthday, I remember celebrating three steps, and now the day after walking on an elliptical without braces, I got to have almost two hours in the thermal baths moving around with so many muscles – weak, but at least present. And now I’m even excited about the thermal baths! Multiple people have commented to me about that hilarity that I chose to go to Bad Bellingen with two friends for my birthday. Yes, Carol convinced me to enjoy them. I had so much fun relaxing Saturday morning with coffee and conversation with two precious students followed by an excursion to Bad Bellingen with Carol and Katrina. I then hung out at the Bonhams for an amazing dinner and the best chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted followed by some episodes of Call the Midwife. 

I teared up watching the TV characters deal with the drama of a disabled child. Because of the feathered thing, someone decided to improve the quality of life for those in wheelchairs. I’m a beneficiary of the ongoing studies for the medical advances and facility upgrades, and that feathered thing ruffles me out of bed each morning as I wheel to school and share my certainty of hope with students. 

Tomorrow I’ll collect some worksheets on Joseph, and we’ll keep talking about how Old Testament narratives can change our lives – man, that Joseph story is mad crazy, though. It excites me, and I get to talk to students about how it can motivate us to live differently just as the Ruth narrative can (which we’ll read together in class on Wednesday). 

But a final comment on the exhaustion. Hope is exhausting for me because while it gets me out of bed each morning, I’m still disabled for the present moment. I’ve got a lot of hope in what is yet to come, but I’m desperate for your prayers that I’ll keep getting out of bed and accomplishing more each day. As I continue to live and work to the glory of God, there are things that try to discourage and disrupt my progress. I’m making some intentional changes to my lifestyle to combat them, but I covet prayers in establishing healthy routines that improve my holistic health as I serve my students.

Friday evening I went over to hang out with my next door neighbors and watch some mindless internet-tainment. We also ended up talking about how much we care about our students learning about who Jesus really is. That was an important part of my week because there are stresses involved in living in this community, but the genuine friendships I have with people like Josh and Morgan are super important to me as I serve my students. I also had students who have finished my class come over Wednesday and Thursday to make cookies and talk about theology. I also had some soul refreshing skype sessions that reminded me why I left the PNW to be a missionary.

It was an emotionally full week for me, but I couldn’t let that get in the way of my physical recovery. As I take a holistic approach to my healing, I can’t help but notice the connection to stress in my life with the physical advances (or lack thereof) I make. I wish I could report more developments, but slow and steady is a positive message too. I don’t need to report all the emotions, but perhaps just signaling that it was a full week juxtaposed to my lack of gigantic advancements is enough. I started a new semester, and this term’s schedule gives me three days a week to walk with Cindy during seventh period. After several weeks of exercising on my own, I was nervous about how my balance would be. We were both pleasantly surprised that I managed to walk quite well just holding one of Cindy’s arms if she kept me distracted with conversations about my students. 

I’m really hopeful for this coming term to see a lot of development in my strength and stamina. Looking ahead, I’m praying about how to best use my summer to maintain and advance my abilities. I could really use global prayer support on that decision. I could also really use global prayer support on a few other requests. In fact, each year since my accident, I’ve created a Facebook event for prayer for me on my birthday which is coming up this next Saturday. You can join the public event by clicking here (hopefully) or by searching on Facebook for “Super Birthday Prayer.” I love celebrating my birthday by knowing hundreds of people are praying for me and praising the God who has given me so much healing.

The closeness of my accident date to my birthday wasn’t something I had much time to process the first year, but it’s something I’ve come to enjoy as I can ask the world to celebrate with me all the good the Lord has done in my life so far with no shame in asking for even more good gifts from a good, good Father.

I don’t want today to end. My best friends are here, and they are leaving in the morning.

Three years ago, my January 18 started out bright with new friends and a flicker of adventure but ended rather awfully. I woke up January 19, and the world was still turning for everyone though it would never be the same for me. I wake up every morning still hoping me feet will return to me, but I have to make the most of what I have. A former student messaged me yesterday to tell me how he spent an hour in a wheelchair and it deepened his respect for me because this is my life indefinitely and I manage to stay positive and awesome – his words not mine.

I’m not perfect with the positive and awesome, but when I asked this kid if his experience in light of knowing me encouraged him to not waste his life, he said yes.

Worth it.

It was well timed encouragement to read yesterday after a nearly perfect day adventuring with Rachel, Sarah, and Jordyne. We spent the whole day laughing and adventuring hard, and I spent two days of energy in the car ride from Kandern to the Belgian border and back. Today is the traumaversary date, and my besties are still here through the night though I had details of work to deal with this morning. Mornings are already hard for me as my leg spasms are usually at their worst, but it’ll be even harder than normal to get out of bed in my lonely apartment tomorrow.

For me, every bit is worth it to know that one kid won’t waste his life.

It’s just days away. I count my years by the 18th of January rather than the 1st, and I’m within a week of my third traumaversary. I’ll be adventuring with my three best friends that day after I proctor a final for my precious students, but I plan to post some thoughts that day too.

For now, I’ll leave you with the highs and lows of yesterday. 

Carol, always up for the thermal baths, spent the afternoon with Jordyne and I as we enjoyed the relaxing mineral waters. I’m slowly coming around to this wearing a swimsuit and being wet thing (though it’s still not my favorite activity – I’ve at least stopped singing laments about land from The Little Mermaid when people ask me about getting in the water). It was so much fun to feel almost normal hanging out with a best friend from each continent I’ve lived on.

Once we pruned up a bit, my friends patiently helped me dry off and change and head home. It was starting to rain when we got out of the baths, and the soggy ground outside my house wasn’t a deterrent for me getting in. It was, however, problematic when I tried to transfer from my wheelchair to my toilet in my narrow bathroom doorway as the rain and snowmelt had puddled all over my house when we tracked slush in. Long time readers of my blog might remember the graceful fall I had my first autumn out of REHAB in the same location – my feet both slid in front of me on the tile, and my adjustable hand grip slid down the doorframe with my body weight.

Yesterday was a little more dramatic. My right foot went forwards, and my left foot twisted behind me as the hand grip ripped off the door frame and I dropped in a flash. It made a lot of noise, but no loud breaks or snaps were in the cacophony as I looked around at my skewed leg caught in the doorframe. Jordyne came quickly to my rescue and helped un-catch my foot from the doorframe while I took stock of potential injuries. Nothing seemed broken, but I was still stunned and on the floor. I carefully maneuvered myself back into the wheelchair and laid myself out on the couch to see if anything would swell unnaturally. 

Today, I kept to the wheelchair and didn’t stand or walk much except to get to and from the car for therapy with Anja. I told her about my mishap, and she suggested we do a lymphatic drainage massage to treat the lingering pain in my left leg. I’m still pretty sore, but let’s focus on how I got back into the chair after that fall on the floor. Anja was super proud of me for managing it by myself, and I’m going to take that small victory over life whenever it tries to get me down. 

Most people think the anniversary of my accident ought to be a depressing day, but let me tell you, I’ll be laughing loudly with Sarah – who has the greatest laugh on the planet – and enjoying conversation with some of the most important people in my life after getting one last class with my fourth period (even if it is just their final exam). So if you think of me this coming Wednesday, praise God that I’m still able to get back up after each and every fall. Also, it’d be nice if I could walk again too.

Bring it, traumaversary, do your worst. I’ll laugh in your face. 

I’ve been reading this super interesting biography of Pocahontas written by a Native American woman that tells the story in a Native narrative form as opposed to a European one. This means there are narrative loops as she retells portions adding details and information with each round of the story. She also traces historical patterns as events repeat with variations. One example is John Smith’s attendance at a cultural festival; his appearance makes the event distinctly different than any that has gone before, but he’s still entering into something that has happened before. 

I couldn’t get the narrative circles out of my head as I visited historical sites with Jo and Jordyne yesterday. We took the day to visit Heidelberg, historic to theology nerds like Jordyne for the Heidelberg Catechism and Martin Luther’s disputation delivered 499 years ago this April. Jo was most interested in the world’s largest wine vat, and I was in it for the Starbucks. Okay, just kidding, but even the untrained reader following my blog can catch the coffee motif in my life.

It’s a natural narrative consistency to the pattern in which I relate my story. Coffee is relational to me as I used to meet with youth group students at Insomnia Coffee Co or hang out with friends at Ava’s late into the night. It’s still significant to me – remember my church sent me some in my recent care package, and my student in the Dominican Republic emailed me that he was bringing me more grounds when school starts tomorrow. I can’t wait to see him – and not just for the coffee.

I love my job, and I love my students. I’ve had a wonderful break with Jordy, but I’m so excited to start school again as well. I can’t wait to see each one of my students. They are all in transit today, and we’ll get to jump right into the last week of the apologetics unit. In the lessons ahead, I’ll attempt to communicate truth to my students with the same passion as the Reformers of five centuries ago or even the founders of Heidelberg University who sought to establish a place of learning truth after the Western Schism of 1378 – hey, let’s get super nerdy, with the passion of the saints around for the Great Schism of 1054. Significantly though, I’m more interested in the reconciliation side of sharing truth than the great theologians involved in these events are remembered for.

None of those guys wanted to go down in history as a divider of the faith, but sometimes historians take a piece of our story and run with it. According to this Pocahontas biography, that’s what happened with this young Native American woman four hundred years ago. A century after Martin Luther nailed his theses in Wittenberg, a young woman formerly known as Pocahontas died as Lady Rebecca in high society England. She’s remembered as a diplomat but might have been a spy. Luther had his moments of being less than loving to Jewish people, but his dedication to giving the masses access to the truth overshadows his shortcomings. If I have any sway in how I’m remembered some day, I hope it would have more to do with my passion for my students and my indefatigable spirit in my recovery than any impatience with others or failings as an educator.

Thoughts of what impression I leave on others is weighing significantly on my as I approach the three year anniversary of my accident because more and more people recognize me as the disabled woman first (it’s the primary physical feature after the hipster glasses). I know that’s a huge part of my identity, but I’m still not comfortable being defined by it. I’m still working hard to improve strength and wait eagerly for what new function returns. 

And if anyone is reading this four hundred years from now wanting to write a biography about me, I’d like to go on record that I am probably not a spy, but that would be a super cool story. 

I’m wracked with insecurities. I’m hugely insecure. It’s a real problem sometimes.

I’m not insecure about my nerdiness or my personality because I certainly wouldn’t stand a chance working with teenagers if that were the case, but I really struggle to think peers or other adults would find me worth investing in relationally. I live on the financial generosity of others, and I thrive on the prayers of friends and strangers reading my blog and remembering to pray for me. Through this week, I was reminded of the security I have in Christ despite my personal insecurities. I have always loved the old worship song “So Close” that begins with the words, “I’m so secure / You’re here with me,” and those lyrics still resonate with me when I doubt that I can impress enough people to fund my ministry or share enough miraculous improvements to inspire people to keep reading and praying for me. 

I read this article on how Americans are giving less to charity and had a mini panic attack about the sustainability of living as a missionary doing my dream job here in Germany. Then, as my insecurities started to take over my ability to breathe, peace flooded in with reminders of my security in the Lord. Dozens of people have been more than generous as they give selflessly to share in my ministry. My blog posts might not go viral, but hundreds of people still pray for me. Among those who read my posts, many faithfully check in with me and follow up to details of my ongoing recovery. Along with my Christmas package from my parents this week, I received an incredibly thoughtful package from people at my sending church in Denver to remind me I was not forgotten.

In my insecurity, I struggle with the fact that there’s not great life changing news to share each week, but I know that I’m secure in both my ministry and the ongoing physical recovery dispensed from the Lord. This week didn’t have any big advances, but Jordyne and I went on some short walks and made plans for sustainable changes in my routine that could lead to long term improvements. 

I’ll keep you posted on what changes may come as I continue on this journey, and I’m so grateful for your ongoing prayers and support as we discover together what story the Lord is writing with my life.

John is my favorite Gospel. The Evangelist’s annunciation of the birth of Jesus literarily parallels the opening of Genesis, and I can’t help but get excited about the Word becoming flesh. I love the tellings in Matthew and Luke as well, but there’s something magical about the poetic nature of John 1. I was thinking of that as we sang all the verses of “What Child Is This” at the Christmas Eve service yesterday. 

“Nails, spears shall pierce him through, the cross he bore for me, for you. Hail, hail the Word made flesh, the Babe, the Son of Mary.” 

Advent is the season we celebrate the arrival of the Messiah. Good news, great joy, and all that jazz. Schools and lots of other jobs take breaks to give us time to celebrate this – though most people just take it as a vacation time. Anja and I had a great conversation on Friday about how Christmas Eve services in Germany are designed to be reflective opportunities for people to press pause in their busy lives and think about the gift of Jesus in our world. We also talked about the sad things in the world that make us long for peace. 

I have hope that does not disappoint because the Prince of Peace is coming back, and as Paul says, if this Christ is not returning, we are to be pitied among all people. I realized as Anja and I were talking that we are privileged to have heard this whole story and know the context of hymns like “What Child Is This?” I can get up and heave my weight into my wheelchair knowing that the Word be came flesh to save my soul despite the malfunctions of my body.

This week, I had the extra joy of some touristy outings with visitors as my best friend arrived and my mentor and her family came to spend a day with me on their European vacation. Wednesday afternoon, I rode to the top of Hoch Blauen with the Grovers, and we broke through the clouds and got an incredible view as the sky was clear above. I live in a beautiful country, and there are breathtaking experiences that I’m so humbled to take in. I still have to hobble around with my sticks, but I’m incredibly thankful that I’m able to walk the snippets necessary to see places like this. Thursday, Jordyne and I spent the afternoon at a Christmas market in France with some Canadian friends, and although I enjoyed the day from my wheelchair, I’m still grateful I was able to experience the cultural treat with good company. 

This week didn’t have big jumps in my physical recovery, but it was a treat for my soul as I got to spend a day with Mark, Tina, Taylor, and Chaylene plus Jordyne arrived for a month long stay. We’ve been laughing and walking and sharing life for a couple of days, and it’s an important part of my ongoing recovery.

My Messiah put on flesh and moved in the the neighborhood as Eugene Peterson puts it in his translation of John 1, and this week was a great pause in my busy life to remember that amazing gift of incarnation. Sometimes in my theological nerdiness, I forget the simplicity of that message, and I forget that not everyone knows it or celebrates it this time of year.

My story is inseparable from this incredible working of God’s story in humanity, so I can’t help but write about it on this blog about my recovery. Watch closely, and see the connection to you and to me.

See, when the Word became flesh, the One who created the world, he entered in to be relational. I’ve found people who share with me in the joy of this story, and that relationship continues between the Word and me and my Christian family. Christmas is a marking in the year of the arrival of the Christ who came to draw people close to him. I’ve been drawn near, and I’m humbled to see how he’s used me to draw others to himself as well. Some people are drawn to my story because of my weird wording and affinity for alliteration, but others are just intrigued by the joyful cripple. 

Interestingly, in the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ arrival in Bethlehem, he was born to a carpenter’s family and the angels announced it to some lowly shepherds first. News traveled fast, but it was delivered first to the common folk – the Messiah was for everyone down to the lowest on the social strata. This is a message for all people today, and it’s sometimes mis-packaged to make people think it’s only for the super religious-y crowd. 

So this Jesus dude showed up on the scene in history to invite you and me into relationship, and it doesn’t stop with the manger scene. I love the opportunity the calendar gives us to celebrate the arrival annually, but there is so much more to this story as I daily celebrate community with Jesus and people who want to know more about him. This child depicted in the manger is Christ the King. This baby who Mary held grew up to be my Savior who now holds me tight.

Three years ago this week, I sat in the Lutheran church in town surrounded by native German speakers, unable to understand a word, and overwhelmed with emotion as I realized I wanted to stay in Germany long term. Tonight I sat there surrounded by the same group of non-English speakers again overwhelmed with emotion.

This time, I’ll be honest, I had a lot more emotions than just my desire to stay in Germany long term. I still want that – let me be up front with that. However, three years ago, that choir practice was a month before my accident. I walked in and out of that building with no assistance. Full disclosure, I had a hand written note from Sandra that told the German ladies she couldn’t make it and just to please gently nudge me into the correct place since I couldn’t understand a word they said. This time friends had to help drive me, assemble my wheelchair, and aide me up and down the steep ramp into the building.

I teared up a few times during the choir rehearsal for various reasons. First, I thought of how I was once not disabled. I miss that. Then I thought of how I still want to stay at BFA and teach these amazing students because I love them. Next, I reflected on the amazing progress I’ve made with the help of friends and physios here. This past week, Margot celebrated some more flickers of hope in my ankles, and Anja put me through an intensive ab workout. I’m going to be feeling it for days – and I’m going to be walking, and moving, and strengthening different muscles through those days. That’s a huge gift. 

I’ve been given so many gifts by a good, good Father, and the Lutheran church has a big semi-creepy statue of his Son on the cross in the front of the altar space. I know that Son died for me, but I celebrate that he also rose for me. Both make me a little teary-eyed at times. As I listened to the men’s choir practice their songs in front of the image of Jesus, I got misty eyed at the majority of words that I could understand. I also got pretty close to a sob as memories of a loved one who passed away this week came to mind.

As I thought about people dying and Jesus dying, the words of Julian of Norwich came to mind. As she wept over her vision of the crucified Lord, she heard him say, “All shall be well.” Actually, the full quote is, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well,” which is significant to trinitarian theology nerds like me. The point being, in the midst of hearing hard news and still struggling with nerve damage, I also have great joy in the work that I do, the students who are interested in learning about their faith, and the opportunity to share life and celebrate the Savior in song with people in my community. 

I had really high highs this week with alumni visiting and counting down to Jordyne’s arrival, and they were interrupted with a few low lows inevitable in the sadness of sin and death. As hilarious as my students are, my laughter is always temporary, but the joy of the Lord is an anchor to my soul.

In conclusion, I’d be lying if I said that while sitting in a German church reflecting on theology I didn’t think of Bonhoeffer. I recently listened to the audio book of The Cost of Discipleship, and I cannot stress enough how incredible it is. I could have easily ended this post with the last paragraph, but I wanted to bring up the brilliant theologian for two reasons. First, in this powerful text, Bonhoeffer boldly proclaims the high cost and equally high value of following Jesus. He writes, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” Now, there are so many convicting lines in that book, but this one reminds me of that old school Chris Tomlin song “Oh The Wonderful Cross” where the church cries out, “Oh the wonderful cross bids me come and die and find that I may truly live.” With all these emotions running through me, I know that I am truly living. 

The second reason for bringing up Bonhoeffer is significantly sillier, so if you think I’m a serious person, stop reading now. I’ve been counting down the days until my best friend arrives to visit with comparisons of famous best friends, and I’m only four days away from being reunited with the Eberhard Bethge to my Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

You may not have heard me say it, but I love my job. Welcome to those of you who haven’t heard that before; you are clearly new. 

I had a student ask me to record a video blog with advice for my high school self, and one of the pieces of wisdom I chose to share was to find something you are passionate about and have a place for it in your life. For me, I’m privileged enough to have a career that centers around what I’m passionate about, and I absolutely love it when students show up at my house to make cupcakes or have dinner. This Wednesday two of my precious kiddos came for couscous, and we talked about both silly and serious things. Before they left, they both signed my brand world map with marks in their heart countries. I love the new visual representation I have in my home of how my students gather in Germany and then scatter across the globe.

I also love the gift of spending my life doing what I’m passionate about and interacting with others who do the same. Tuesday I spent my therapy session with Margot testing out new functions and reflecting on how far I’ve come, and Friday Anja helped me with some incredible new feats unimaginable for my ability level of a year ago. As I was overcome with emotion (and physically exhausted from my exertion), Anja commented moments like watching a paraplegic spend a couple minutes on an elliptical and practice kneeling and standing were the reason she loves her job. Both these women have used their passion and expertise for physical therapy to help me improve my ability which has had a tremendous positive impact on my quality of life and general joy. Walking laps in the cafeteria or auditorium with Cindy and giving her an exhausted high five feels incredible to me, but I know she is genuinely just as delighted as I am. 

I was just having a conversation with a coworker today about how beautiful it is that God has uniquely gifted each of us with different passions and abilities to match. For example, I never had any interest in anatomy and physiology, but Alyson got a doctorate in physical therapy and ended up using it to teach A&P here this year as well as walk with me. She let me be a live model of nerve damage as I shared with students about my injury. Many of these kids are interested in careers in the medical field which is totally beyond me. I’ll stick with literature and theology – though apparently that’s not limited Sister Monica Joan* from a fulfilling career as a nun and a midwife. I love that I’m different than you, and I love the way that our paths have crossed however you managed to read today’s entry. I’m so grateful for the prayer warriors across the globe lifting me up and sending me encouragements.

*Full disclosure, I’ve only seen the first episode of Call the Midwife, but my best friend is coming to visit me in eleven days, and she assures me that she is the Sister Evangelina to my Sister Monica Joan. We’re vastly different in many ways – she doesn’t eat dairy and she can drive stick shift – but we’ve both prioritized the things we’re passionate about in life and will dedicate every waking moment to making the world a better place in the name of Jesus.

“Smiling is my favorite.” Actually, no, full disclosure, I think laughing is my favorite.

Every semester my students ask me if they are my favorite. Like every good teacher, I tell them I don’t have favorite students or class periods. I did receive a huge compliment from a student today who admitted that despite her constant competition with a classmate to be my favorite student, I’m the first teacher who she has ever believed when I say I don’t have favorites. She went on to tell me that she recognized that I show my love for students in different ways because they are all different. After a crazy stressful week, that was a big uplift to my spirit.

I really do love each of my students, and I have to show my love differently. Some of them are a joy in class, and it’s easy to laugh with them or make cookies with them. Alternatively, I groan over others who are occasionally disrespectful or belligerent, but I don’t love them any less. By the grace of God, I can testify to the love that pulled me out of my own belligerence, and I want my students to see that in me. I hope that is visible for the student to whom I had to assign a difficult consequence this week just as much as for the two basketball players who asked to use their study hour after school Thursday to talk to me about the work of the Holy Spirit in the world today.

I can’t choose a favorite student from among these precious children any more than I can choose a favorite moment from this crazy stressful week seasoned with dozens of joyous experiences. An unfortunate incident last Friday led to a lot of disheartening emails and paperwork, and I had a phone call reminder Monday afternoon that I needed to go to REHAB for a urine sample this week which made for some high emotions as I tried to make it through the rest of my weekly responsibilities. Fortunately, I had some incredible walking with Cindy as she held one hand and I practiced walking with my second arm free. Margot and I reviewed some of the improvements I’ve had in the past couple years, and she spent time targeting specific muscles that she wants me to train to improve the quality of my walking. I showed off a little with Anja on Friday, and we’re beginning a new plan to advance my confidence in gross motor skills. After I demonstrated with her what I’d been practicing with Cindy, Anja walked me into the workout room and helped me onto the elliptical machine where I worked out for a few minutes. 

Take a moment to let that sink in – a diagnosed paraplegic got on an elliptical and walked without incident for a few minutes. While I was moving my legs, I could feel different muscles activated that are often compensated for while I have the solid support of my sticks. Anja commented that anyone who saw me would never suspect I had any kind of SCI based on the ability I was demonstrating. But we weren’t done yet! After a short rest and a glass of water, Anja instructed me to practice kneeling and returning to a standing position with just the help of a stool. This is the first step in making sure I’m safe getting on and off the floor in a variety of circumstances yet to come. 

Like I said, it’s difficult to choose which of those physical successes through the week would be my favorite, but I also had the joy of seeing Danai, Sabrina, and Marion at REHAB on Wednesday. Even though it was just for five minutes, I felt like I hit the jackpot with three of my four favorite nurses on duty. Plus I managed ninety percent of the conversation in German as two of them don’t speak any English. Speaking of speaking German, I also had a delightful evening yesterday at the Kandern choir’s Christmas party. Germans are really into their parties, and I’m still so amazed at the kindness extended to me by these women despite my slowness with their language. Gundi reassured me for the dozenth time that all the food was safe for me, and different friends took turns bringing and clearing my plates away and keeping my glass full as we laughed and talked and I tried to pick up a few more German or dialect words. 

Yet another item on my list of blessings that I can’t rank as favorites were the number of emails I received with uplifting words. One of them was from a member of my sending church, and, as a missionary, I can tell you it’s an incredible blessing to have someone reach out and ask how they can pray for you. It’s hugely valuable to hear from people on my support team who are continuing to lift me up to the Lord. I also had a handful of emails from parents that were particularly encouraging. Full disclosure, I actually emailed about a dozen parents with the subject line “Positive News” to tell them how much I loved their kids just to make me feel happier after having to send a few difficult emails. While it had an instant effect of making me happy to share my genuine love of these kids, the responses reminded me that my ministry has a ripple effect in the lives of these parents. One emailed almost immediately a response that they were also praying for me and were grateful for my ministry. A second parent responded with thanks and told me she knew her son held me in high esteem. Multiple parents let me know this small encouragement from me made their day. 

So back to laughing. My laugh is pretty recognizable – I’m pretty sure the 7th period art class was making fun of my laugh when they heard me down the hall in the ceramics room on Thursday. I love to laugh – loud, and long, and clear. Amidst all the craziness of my life – the paralysis, the grading, the NHS service project planning – laughter is important to me, but I want to be cautious with my superlatives. I think I’d be safer to revise my statement to say Jesus is my favorite, and I love when he laughs with me and cries with me.

This week, I’d ask for your ongoing prayers with me for every single one of my precious students as we enter in the final two weeks of school before Christmas break. Students tend to turn their brains off, but we have so much learning to accomplish left in my class. I’m also eager for your prayers that I would continue to see progress in my balance and walking – both literally and metaphorically.

Growing up, I always loved the laid back feel of Thanksgiving day. From my mom’s perspective, I think there was a lot more stress, but for me, the holiday meant just hanging out with extended family and getting to put black olives on my fingers before eating them. The German calendar doesn’t recognize this holiday, but my international small group took special note of the date this Thursday as the two Dutch, two Canadian, and four English friends (though one was missing for the actual event) went out of their way to celebrate American thanksgiving with me as the lone representative of the country. I was especially blessed to enjoy the time with these friends as they are patient with my perpetual slowness and let me feel relaxed when I can’t accomplish much more than walking through the door after a few steep steps.

We made space in our meal to share things we are thankful for and talked about various holiday traditions. It’s sometimes hard to celebrate holiday traditions having moved away from my family, and I can’t help but be a little nostalgic for the days when Mariela, Denise, and I would play with our happy meal toys in the back of our mini van as we headed out with our parents to cut down our Christmas trees. However, it’s still completely worth it to me for the gift I have of teaching my amazing students about theology. 

I’m not a perfect teacher – as any of my 6th period students could tell you after a few frustrating moments this week – but I care about what I do. I am working hard to get better at my delivery of content and expression of compassion for every student. It’s what I’m passionate about. I see small successes like when a junior steps up to lead a class discussion with just brief input from me or when a senior comes over for dinner with two other students and says, “Hey, we should ask Ms. Hewett all our deep theological questions now.” (Sadly, he couldn’t think of any on the spot, and we ended up talking about the unfortunate placement of the chapstick selection in Hieber among other mundane things.) 

My life is richly blessed. I have wonderful memories of holiday traditions growing up, and I’m able to make amazing new memories as I live overseas teaching my amazing students. Sometimes I second guess myself because what I do seems so simple, but my friend Katrina reminded me today that I’m doing what I’m uniquely gifted for. I don’t have to be me plus the skills of anyone else, I just need to be me well. 

This week I was me well by answering students’ questions about the end of the world (our lesson was on eschatology), by going to therapy, by practicing some incredible one crutch walking with Cindy, by learning to make a pumpkin pie, and by inviting students into my home to laugh and ask questions about what degree might be best for them.

That question was particularly important for one of my students who has not only an interest in theology and possibly a desire to become a pastor but also a non-Christian father who would prefer his child choose a significantly more lucrative field of study. One of the most sensitive parts of my own job is the dependence on the kindness of others to make my ministry possible. I’m incredibly thankful for the support of my own parents when I decided to become a missionary as they encouraged me to pursue this calling without hesitation. Well, they at least hid their hesitation from me and have wholeheartedly supported me from the start. There has also been a small, strong team of people supporting and praying for me faithfully since I began my ministry here in Germany. I’m so thankful for every person on that team. Dozens of other people have come alongside me since giving one time or monthly financial gifts, sending notes of encouragement, or praying for me in my ministry and recovery. Thank you, too, for your support. 

Hundreds of people beyond that have read my story and offered prayers or encouragement, and I’m so thankful for your kindness.

I won’t apologize for what I do because I care about sharing theology with my students and I care about my physical recovery. This life I lead is beautiful, and I’m so thankful to live it. If you’d like to help ensure that I can continue living as a missionary in Germany, you can donate by clicking here.

“Hold your left arm out like walking on a tight rope.”

Cindy held my right arm secure as she instructed me and I took timid steps forwards. This week we spent several days again practicing without the sticks taking cautious steps with my braces and her arms for support. We paced up and down the auditorium, and I couldn’t help grinning as I felt my gait adjust as I was holding more weight over my legs and less on my arms. 

“Look over my shoulder; keep your head up.”

As I adjusted accordingly, even more weight left the arms in my cautious steps. I still wobbled quite a bit, but the excitement only increased as I realized I was walking significantly better than my normal hunched gait. Each day, Cindy held on and offered suggestions as I pushed myself to not only walk more but walk better. There’s a balance between quantity and quality. Obviously, I want both, but it’s so important to focus on the quality as I increase speed or distance. 

I still remember in REHAB when Alex told me that if I was 80, she’d be okay with low quality walking because I wouldn’t live much longer, but with the significantly longer life expectancy, walking poorly would lead to a quick return to the wheelchair after some brief years hobbling about. Instead, my goal is a slow and steady improvement that will allow for the longest time out of the chair once I achieve that. That means a lot more focus on good walking and recognizing when I’m too tired to keep walking well.

I also have to balance my physical recovery with the rest of my life. Yes, though it’s largely composed of teenagers and theology, I have a life, and I love it. This week I listened to Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s The Cost of Discipleship on audiobook as I practiced standing and stretching and doing various tasks around my house. I highly recommend it to anyone because Bonhoeffer was a man who understood deeply what it meant to follow Jesus when it wasn’t easy. I’ve got a few articles by Miroslav Wolf lined up to read next in my ongoing pursuit of thoughtful theodicy, and as I balance my understanding of theology with my experience of disability, I find my passion for Jesus increases. 

Jesus is the one that steadies me when all the other stuff in my life makes me wobble. There are a lot of things I manage to do with some measure of dignity – get dressed, go to work, laugh with students, make pico de gallo – all while in a wheelchair, and, yes, those things take careful planning sometimes because of the wheelchair. I’m still learning how to balance life’s activities, but, praise the Lord, I’m improving. 

I want to be known for one thing, and one thing only: my love for Jesus.

My Jesus has blessed me with the opportunity to live overseas and teach third culture kids and interact with a diverse group of people as I teach theology. In this complicated world, I’ve learned and grown and made many mistakes along the way, and some weeks come with more frustrations or celebrations than others. This week in particular had a wide range of emotions.

I experienced some pretty incredible physical successes, I had my character called into question, I had to defend my theological beliefs to strangers who wanted me to doubt my understanding of the Word of God, I felt spiritual oppression, I taught teenage guys to chop tomatoes, I enjoyed rich discussion about intercultural understanding of the Christian experience, I laughed harder than I can remember in recent months as teenage girls discussed flirting strategies – all in the span of seven days.

This is a blog where people come to read particularly about my physical recovery and how that’s directly impacting my emotions, so I’ll try to keep on topic. Also, I swore an oath never to share the details of the flirting strategies and other topics shared in my home by my students. I wrestled a lot with what to share here this weekend though because so much of my experience and emotions are linked to my disability.

I’m vulnerable.

Anyone posting on the internet makes themselves vulnerable, but I’m additionally vulnerable due to my spinal cord injury. I need a lot of help with many basic things – walking, traveling, occasionally opening doors. Here I am posting on the internet about my vulnerability, and I’m praying you will be kind to me. I have to pray people will be kind to me all the time everyday. Now, anyone reading this is likely one of those kind people. I’ve met hundreds, if not thousands, of kind people who have generously offered to open doors and do so much more for me.

There are also unkind people, though. There are people who openly stare with derisive scowls, there are people who mutter under their breath. There was even once in my experience when a woman referred to me as an “it.” You may not see this in your life, but I beg of you to understand, this is my reality. It’s not new despite being generally culturally frowned upon to be offensive. Please keep that in mind as I detour with an analogy.

As a teacher, I’m responsible for modeling good behavior in the classroom. If someone doesn’t get the content, I have the responsibility to help them understand the concept without embarrassing them. I lead the way with respectful behavior. Were I to openly mock a struggling student, it would change the culture of the classroom and set precedent for other students to be hurtful or disrespectful. This is a micro-culture.

As a disabled woman, I see the leader of America set a precedent for my fellow countrymen in how they view minorities – myself included. A lack of consequence for a president elect openly mocking disability sends a precedent that others can look down on me without consequence. Now, just as not every student would follow suit after a rude teacher, I know not every American hates disabled people. However, there are plenty who do. Disability is different. It makes a lot of people uncomfortable, and often times people act rudely or even violently against what creates discomfort for them.

This is a complex issue, so I hope you’ll bear with me as I continue with this rough transition. Many people I love and respect voted for Donald Trump. I still love and respect them. The same goes for those who I know who voted for Hillary Clinton, Evan McMullin, Gary Johnson, other candidates, or even the conscientious objectors who refrained from voting this election. There are a myriad of reasons to vote for any candidate, and I’ve never been a one issue voter. It would be irresponsible and unethical for me to demand all my friends vote based on what best benefits my personal disability.

What I do feel comfortable asking is that in your personal interactions with people who are different – with minorities of all kinds – is that you protect their basic human dignity. Please stand up to hate and intolerance when you see it. Please seek out ways to show inclusion to others who are vulnerable.

Please be like Cindy who on Tuesday held my right hand while I walked with my braces and no sticks. After a few short laps in the front of the auditorium, she celebrated with me in this momentous new achievement. We celebrated again on Wednesday when we tried something similar with just a single stick and her nearby, and she told me this week was the best walking she’s ever seen me do.

Please be like my family group who consistently refuses to let me be left out and this week made sure I had a ride to the location a distance longer than I could wheel. They also patiently held doors opened and moved furniture around for me to have the least amount of stairs to take while also offering hands and shoulders whenever necessary to make me feel safe and included as they dished up food for me and we shared life together.

Please be like my friend Alyson who took time out of her Saturday to walk with me and use her training as a PT to keep me safe while I held her hand instead of using my right stick. Please be like Margot, my German PT, who with me brainstormed new ways to develop my limited function based on this week’s successes. Please be like my coworkers and students who helped me through the inaccessible main building of our school by positioning themselves near me on the stairs and carrying my wheelchair up or down so I could attend the independent living tea parties in the student center.

Please be like my PT Anja who has similar concerns about a culture where people normalize hate and told me I was welcome in Germany as a disabled person. She is my advocate as she normalizes kindness and love. She literally held me up in the moments I couldn’t hold myself in physio yesterday, but her words continue to hold me up in an increasingly scary world.

A brief word to my brothers in sisters in Christ ready to chastise me to fear not in a world where God is the ultimate ruler: your blanket statements about God being on the throne not man mean nothing if you refuse to act on the commands of King Jesus to stand up for the oppressed. I’m a child of God, and I’m aware that God reigns supreme, and I take great joy in the ultimate victory of Jesus. I’ve read the end of the story – spoiler alert – Jesus wins. Jesus never says that his kingship would mean that we don’t experience harm. Knowing God is bigger than hateful people doesn’t make me safer when hate is normalized. My fear of discrimination is valid, and that’s why I’m begging you all to step up and live like Jesus as modeled by my friends described above so that I stay safe and can continue to live a life that reflects the love of Jesus. Please continue to be a voice for the marginalized instead of minimizing their concerns. I’m vulnerable, and I need able bodied people to speak up for me.

There are many tangible ways that you can be an ally, and if you would like to identify yourself in your community, I would encourage you to wear a safety pin on your clothes if you want minorities to recognize you as a safe person.

http://www.vox.com/presidential-election/2016/11/10/13586322/trump-brexit-safety-pin

I’m about to start watching V for Vendetta as I do every November 5th, and the oft quoted refrain “Remember, remember…” generally reminds people of violence and government overthrow and all that fun stuff, but the word “remember” alone doesn’t have those connotations. 

Remember when I challenged that student to turn in an amazing project? He’s totally stepped up as a learner in my class.

Remember when I went to Denmark this summer and experienced emotional healing? I still thank God for that every day.

Remember when I celebrated a student’s baptism last spring? She guest lectured in my class yesterday.

Remember when I stood without my braces or any supports for the first time since my accident earlier this year? I’m still taking steps without the braces.

Remember last year when I got to teach the students I lost after my accident? Several of them still come over for tea.

Remember last summer when I took a handful of steps on my own with no supports? I still have hope of walking like that full time someday.

Remember two years ago when I returned to the classroom after a semester in the hospital? I’m still grateful for every day with my students.

Remember when I broke my back and the world took a collective gasp and feared that my life was over? Praise the Lord, I’m still going strong.

I know of no reason this nerve damaged season should ever be forgot.

I did a lot this week, but there didn’t seem to be much to tie it all together at the weekend. I’ve spent most of today thinking about how I can succinctly write about it wrapped up with a catchy title and perhaps a pun or allusion. I’m at a loss this week. It was super full, but the assorted successes of life aren’t always strung together thematically.

I managed some amazing moments walking with Cindy – we did some exciting indoor stuff where I held her arms and lapped around the cafeteria with no braces. I took the small steps slowly and huffed as I pulled my weight over each leg. Cindy patiently helped keep my balance and watched the placement of my feet as she made the lap backwards. “Let’s try taking six steps without pausing,” she suggested. After a couple successes, I tried eight, then ten consecutive steps – slow but sure. I’m excited to try some more of the same this coming week as I move forwards in my recovery.

I’m thankful for time for physical progress in the inevitable chaos of the quarter ending. My students all managed to turn in their projects – the student who scoffed at his dorm brother mentioned in last week’s post took an extra two days to try to meet the standard set by the supposed slacker – and I managed to grade them all this weekend. I’ve still got to finish up my quarter comments and I have a couple homework assignments ready to grade that will show up on quarter two. I also had time for tea and cookies and passionate theological debate this week which are among my favorite things. I even got to skype and message a couple grads which made me indescribably happy. 

Among my many exploits this week, I pulled the disability card on a kid who told me he figured he could waste the next decade of his life and still be okay because he’d only be 26 when he started taking life seriously. “I was paralyzed two weeks before my 25th birthday.” It’s an effective device sometimes. Hopefully, this kid won’t waste a day of his life. This isn’t the life I set out to live, but it’s immeasurably better than the achievable predictability I planned for myself when I was sixteen. I don’t want to waste a day of what I have. I want to take each day that comes and, like I mentioned last week, achieve more than is expected of me. I’ve come so far, what might tomorrow hold for me? At the very least, I know there will be coffee and theology after school when the girl I mentor comes over. 

I’m hopeful for more mobility too.

I gave my students a work period for their quarter project that’s due next week, and although I assigned this project three weeks ago and had previously given a work day in class, I noticed a blank screen before one of my students on Friday. “Dude, what’s the deal?” I asked this kid who I’ve noticed to be a hard worker despite his reputation for the reverse. He promised to work hard the rest of the period and over the weekend. “You’d better,” I told him, “I’m expecting you to have one of the best projects.” 

He’s completely capable of it.

I told his dorm brother the next class period that I’d said I was expecting this first kid to have the best project. “You weren’t serious, were you? You just said that to try to motivate him, right?” Well, yes, I was just trying to motivate him, but I’m disappointed that his peers and other teachers don’t hold him to a higher standard. I’ll reiterate, he’s completely capable of achieving great things. He comprehends the material and has the ability to create a great demonstration of his understanding through the assigned parameters. The highlight of my day was an email from him this afternoon with the short message, “I just wanted to let you know I’m working on my project right now.” (This is saying a lot because I woke up to 102 snarky text messages from Shannon sent as she watched She’s the Man while I slept, so take that into consideration as I place this email as the highlight of my day.) 

This student is making an effort to rise above the low expectations placed on him so that he can redefine himself as a leader in the school. I refrained from sending a response that said I expected his project to be better than his snarky dorm brother because, honestly, I admire his humility and willingness to make this turn around rather than remain hardened and discouraged by a bad reputation. I want him to know I take him seriously as a learner, and I’ve already promised him pico de gallo next week.

Today as I rested in recovery from the other stresses of my week, I reflected on the low expectations placed on me. I want to achieve more physically, but I’m so easily excused when I can’t walk. Granted, there are times when my disability is an actual limitation, but sometimes I resent the low expectations. I want to be like my student and graciously exceed the expectations my peers and observers place on me. At those times when I can do more, I want to push myself when the world would let me sit down and wheel along the easy route. It takes me a little longer – okay a lot longer – to get places when I walk, but there’s a huge sense of accomplishment when I manage it well.

This week, I looped around the fire house with Cindy each day and saw huge jumps in my stability as I return to the pre-butt injury level. I still can’t do everything, but I’m going to still over achieve based on the expectations, and I’m excited to grade this exegetical and hermeneutical analysis next week. Yes, I have limitations, but as I reflected with Anja on Friday, one of the best things about my ongoing German physiotherapy is the constant expectation of more. Margot and Anja think I can do better and want to help me achieve more. I want others to keep looking at my story and step in to encourage me to achieve more. By the grace of God, I’m not done in this healing process, and I don’t want to be excused for what actually comes down to laziness. 

This isn’t an excuse for you to chew me out if you see me using my wheelchair or mobility aids because they are still definitely necessary, but it is a request for your encouragement to keep moving forward. 

I love my job. I won’t ever do anything to jeopardize my teaching position because it provides me with the unique opportunity to speak truth into the lives of teenagers who are asking deep questions. Sometimes, however, I’m still caught off guard when they take me up on the offer to share life – when they hunt me down in their study hall to share concerns about their relationships or when they show up on my doorstep after school to laugh with me or when they have dinner with me and discuss Doctor Who fan theories.

This is my real life, and I love it. I still have a pain in my butt, though. The physical one has diminished though lingers annoyingly. There is also the metaphorical one of not being able to aptly answer every existential question presented by my students. Life is complex. I’m relearning to walk while advancing my understanding of the character of a complex God who came to earth to have relationship with me. My life is more than just one facet or emotion. Over the course of this week, I laughed so hard that I cried when a student hilariously misused the word “impotent” for “impudent,” I had a heart wrenching conversation with a kid on the border of nihilism, and I managed an exhausting lap around the fire station with Cindy after a week of not walking.

When I sat back in my chair panting after the rigorous workout Thursday, Cindy was quick to tell me, “Don’t be discouraged,” because it is reasonable to see a set back after a week off. My walking this week felt like the walking I was doing six months or even a year ago, but Cindy reassured me it will only take me a couple weeks to regain the balance and stability I had before my minor butt injury.

At least once a day, I think about how wonderful it would be if God instantly restored my body to what it was created to be. It doesn’t change the reality of what I have right now. I also at least once a day think how incredibly blessed I am to have the opportunity to teach at a school with incredible students a curriculum that I absolutely love in an environment where I’m encouraged to care for students on a professional and personal level. Real life means being responsible with the ability level that God has given me for today while faithfully working to maintain and improve my physical health in conjunction with faithfully loving and teaching these students.

I have a pain in my butt – literally. It’s been there for a week now. 

Last Sunday, I went for a walk after a nice refreshing sleep-in overdue from that previous week of restless nights. I felt so great, after a couple hours I went for another walk. During the second walk, my butt felt a little sore. “This is great!” I thought, “I don’t usually feel much in my butt! I’m working my butt off so well, and now I’ve got some sensation of soreness after a good workout!”

Monday when I woke up, the soreness had increased. By Tuesday it was pain. Cindy came by to walk with me in the morning, but I was hardly able to stand on the left foot without pain. After stretching the ankle and calf for a bit, she recommended taking it easy and talking to my therapist about it in the afternoon. Margot spent our appointment time working on a knotted portion of muscle on the left side gluteus maximus as well as working to relax the tension radiating down the leg into my foot.

I left therapy considerably better but with a caution from my physio not to push myself so hard. “Next time you want to increase your walking, do it in increments instead of doubling it,” she cautioned. I’ve spent the rest of the week taking it easy and feeling the pain steadily decrease though not yet disappear. On Friday, Anja spent more time massaging and stretching my left leg to ease the lingering pain in my butt. I’m still not back to my pre-pain level of activity, but I’m hoping to ease into my walking next week and continue to move forward. 

This recovery has been long and hard. I was talking with Carol on Tuesday about how I’ve been working my butt off for over two and a half years, and I still have a long way to go. Not every single day has seen big gains, and there have been a number of set backs. This pain in the butt is a set back. The accompanying nerve damage messes that I had to clean up this week are frustrating as well. I’d like for there to be an easy fix, but there isn’t. Life is complex and messy and involves pains in the butt (both literal and metaphorical in my case). I covet your prayers for the pain to dissipate so that I can return to working my butt off with walking and standing. 

As I was reflecting on my week and wondering what to write, I noticed my physical recovery was overshadowed by some emotional drama. So naturally, I did something almost stupid today in order to have something to write about.

I need to provide a little context, so bear with me as I try to translate some Christianese. My insomnia keeps me up a lot and frequently wakes me up, but there’s a different kind of awakening I experience much more rarely. I’ve had a number of times in my life when I awoke with a heavy sensation on my chest and a name in my head. Christians recognize this as a call to prayer – I can’t really describe it much better to someone who hasn’t experienced it before. I hear it often among the Christian community that someone was burdened to pray for another during the night. It wasn’t until I thought about typing that out that I realized how strange it must sound to someone who has never had the experience. I was restless Monday night with this experience, and Tuesday I heard some heartbreaking news about the student I was praying for. That kept me up most of the next two nights as well.

Insomnia is part of my life, and I still work hard to take care of my body in spite of it. However, losing sleep like this for three nights was pretty rough on my body. I still managed to get my butt out of bed in the mornings to walk with Cindy, but I was tuckered out after a single lap around the fire station. This is still less than what I was managing early in the summer, but at least I can celebrate that my form has considerably improved. For the final stretch on Wednesday and Thursday mornings, Cindy carried my left stick and I just rested my hand on her arm for balance. She says it’s a head game at this point – my body is capable of walking with a single stick, but my brain freaks out without the input in my hand. That’s pretty exciting news; there’s a tangible improvement in my ability. I do still need my brain to catch up, but stepping away from the stick and just having Cindy next to me is a huge move forward in my recovery. I still have a positive trajectory despite what I consider a sluggish pace at times.

This brings me to this morning’s stupidity. I was frustrated with myself for only managing a single lap around the fire station each morning, so I boldly walked out my door with just my sticks and headed to school – no braces. I was toying with the idea of walking to Hammerstein to see if I could make it; I didn’t have a return plan. I made it to the edge of BFA’s property, regained my senses, turned around and trudged home. Now, this is still a victory because I made it a (for me) considerable distance on my own without the braces. The stupidity comes in that without the braces or anyone with me, I was at a much higher risk for a leg spasm that could take me down. I had a couple sobering almost missteps. I was in the midst of some intense prayer before, during, and after the walk, but reflecting on it later this afternoon, I realized the irony of trying to impress the internet as my audience when I just shared with my students last week that I will fail them if they try to put their faith in me. I do the best I can, and some days that’s having a conversation with a kid who doesn’t know if God exists. Somedays that’s praying over my best friend in Utah who woke up from a nightmare and texted me. Somedays that’s walking to school without my braces. But those all don’t happen everyday.

I’d like there to be clear big improvements to report each week in my physical recovery, but that’s not the place I’m at right now. Instead, I can celebrate the daily laps around the fire station with subtly improving form and the opportunity for conversations and prayer with my precious students. I love them so much. I’m going to try to live my life in a way that serves them well more than trying to live a life that’s interesting to read in weekly blog updates. I’ll keep posting here even when it’s less than interesting about my physical recovery, and I hope that you’ll keep praying with me for God to be glorified in every aspect of my life – physical and otherwise.

I spoke in chapel yesterday, and my talk covered a lot about how the body of Christ has come around me in a beautiful way in my ongoing recovery and how grateful I am that God uses broken people to demonstrate his faithfulness. I’m a broken person, and I’m consistently humbled by how God continues to use me in his service. I have had numerous conversations with students this week, and these beautiful kids are just as broken as I am. The way that God has used me in the lives of students has changed over the last couple years, and I had several students make their way up to me after my talk and thank me for sharing my story of God’s faithfulness. One kid in particular who was in my English class before my accident sought me out to tell me how encouraged he is to hear about my faith through this change he’s seen in my life. I was doing work I was passionate about before my accident, and just like Barbara Gordon in the DC Comic universe, I didn’t let paralysis stop me from what I think is important.

I get to share life honestly with them as I teach and occasionally have to sit down during a lesson because the leg spasms kick in. This week, I managed a lap around the firehouse with my sweet Nike shoes Monday through Wednesday mornings, and I was able to stand for the majority of my lessons through the week as well. Those are huge accomplishments for me still. They may seem small to you, but I’m still celebrating that there are days I can go without putting on my braces. It doesn’t happen every day, but I’m still making progress.

I’m also spending more time doing what I love. This week while two students were talking to me, one was elaborating on how every person has their “thing” they are an expert on. He asked his dorm brother, “What’s Miss Hewett’s thing?” After two seconds of thinking seriously, the response was, “theology and teenagers.” This is perhaps the highest compliment I’ve ever received – up there with being called a female Hank Green for sure. Those are the things I was passionate about before my accident and remain dedicated to.

Friday evening was the annual fall party – Comicon was the theme this year. I was asked to come as a costume judge which means I also was expected to be in costume. As a wheelchair user, I have limited options in the comic book world. Last time I tried to go as Professor X, it was less than successful: a coworker who was not into superheroes asked if I was FDR. This year I decided to embrace my inner nerd and go as Barbara Gordon post paralysis. Some context for those of you not up to speed on the Batman universe: in the comic book titled “The Killing Joke,” Barbara Gordon alias Batgirl is fighting crime in Gotham City when she is shot by the Joker. She is left paralyzed and rather than holing up and moping about life, she keeps fighting crime in various ways – heading up the Birds of Prey and being the techie behind the scenes for Batman with the new alias of Oracle. 

I knew I wouldn’t be readily recognized, but my new favorite student is the eighth grader who came up and casually said, “Oh, cool, you’re Oracle!” He then proceeded to excitedly recount the details of Batgirl’s transition to Oracle and find other students to recognize my spot on costume (pictured above with a comic panel to show how clearly I nailed it). Just like Barbara Gordon, I’m going to use my gifts to fight crime in Gotham City – I mean make God famous. 

I care about theology and teenagers, and in order to engage with my passions well, I have a great responsibility to continue my walks with Cindy, my therapy twice a week, my standing and stretching. It’s a lot of work, but it’s so worth it to be a safe place for a students to have an existential breakdown or just vent their commonplace teenage angst. I covet your prayers to maintain my demanding physical routine in order to see new improvements as well as to grow deeper in my love for theology and teenagers. 

Over the last two days, summer has disappeared, and fall has officially taken over in Kandern. I’ve always been partial to the rainy weather growing up, but it still presents unique challenges to me in my ongoing recovery and walking. With the cloudy fall days upon us, I have more time for coffee and reading (though those are activities I always make time for no matter the weather). I also have more time for cookies and students which are less common in the summer. 

Interestingly, when I post here, I get less comments and shares when the content is focused on my ministry more than my physical recovery. I recognize most people are interested in the miracle of me learning to walk after being paralyzed, but I can’t help but celebrate the miracle that I’m still able to teach and engage with students as a broken human being who happens to have a physical disability in addition to my broken humanity. I love that the Lord uses broken people to do things for him, and I’m humbled to be a part of his greater story. One of the ways he uses me is interacting with students alongside/despite/because of my disability. Earlier this week, a senior admitted to me that he initially toned down his rowdiness in my class because he pitied me when he first saw that I was in a wheelchair but that it didn’t take long for him to develop a close rapport with me (and subsequently teach his younger dorm brothers ways to get a rise out of me). The disability is immediately obvious, but it isn’t all encompassing. 

This week was super exciting for me in that there weren’t many disruptions from a normal looking life due to my disability. I made myself a cup of coffee each morning and thanked God for the blessed student who brought me such great coffee from the DR. I enjoyed time with the Lord and a short walk around the firehouse across the street from me before making my way to school where I talked about exegesis and hermeneutics with thirty-nine eager juniors. After school Monday, a student I mentor came over for a cup of coffee. Where I come from, having coffee or tea together is a huge part of sharing life. I’m richly blessed to share life with this amazing student each week because, as I’ve been in the process of learning for many years, whatever it means to be human created in the image of a Trinitarian God, it has to do with relationships. 

I can’t count how many cups of coffee I’ve shared with Karin, Jen, or Tina, but all three of them have encouraged me to pursue my passions for the glory of God. I hope every cup of coffee I share with a student comes with the same message to them. A wide range of students come into my class or have coffee or cookies or quinoa in my house. Just this week, conversations in my home ranged from the scary-nice tone Texans are prone to when irritated to the viability of using Demon Hunter songs in corporate worship to the secrets of the HBR dorm initiation. 

If my physical health deteriorates, it impacts my effectiveness in ministry. My perspective for physical recovery has always been to increase my ability to serve students. That may not be as interesting as a story, but this week, I’m celebrating the level of ability I have that allowed me to teach well for five days and additionally to have conversations with students outside of class that can point them towards truth. Next week I’m hopeful for more of the same as I increase the rigor physically for myself and academically for my students.

One of my theology professors wrote a book with his son in which the son wrote that his father had nurtured in him “a Christian crush on all things Jewish.” Props to Drew Harper for that line of literary brilliance, and I can, in fact, confirm, that his dad also encouraged a similar passion in me when I took his class. This week a coworker introduced me to the Jewish a cappella group The Maccabeats, and I spent a good chunk of time enjoying their musical renditions of Jewish cultural history through covers of pop songs. While they ultimately decided against a full video of Sukkos Style which may or may not have been the right move, they give a taste here of the celebration that comes each year during the Festival of Booths. This holiday is an annual commemoration of the Lord providing for the people of Israel during their time of wandering in the wilderness. 

This has nothing to do with any of my recovery this week, and the Festival of Booths isn’t for another five weeks on the Jewish calendar. I just wanted an excuse to talk about the Maccabeats.

Actually, that’s not why I titled the post that either. This week is Budenfest in Kandern, and just that means festival of booths in English. It has nothing to do with the Jewish calendar; it’s a German event where the local clubs set up booths in the main square and surrounding area of town to sell food and raise funds for their respective events through the year. But aren’t you delighted that you know more about the Jewish calendar and a cappella groups that sing about it? You’re welcome.

When the Lord instituted the Festival of Booths, he explained through Moses that the people were supposed to construct and live in flimsy shelters for the week while they were partying as a specific reminder that God has been the covering, the shelter, the tabernacle (which, incidentally, is another name for the feast with fascinating implications), the protection for the people when they had nothing. It was an annual reminder of where they had come from as a nation who would eventually be living in pretty nice possibly air conditioned homes in that sticky sounding land of milk and honey. 

I wasn’t sleeping in a palm frond shelter this week, but I did take assessment of what I have around me and celebrated how the Lord protected and provided for me in a wilderness of initial physical inability and rejoiced over the blessings I’ve received in my ongoing recovery. When I first had my accident, I was incapable of getting in and out of bed, getting dressed, or going to the bathroom. Now, I’m completely capable of living alone and only need help cleaning the bathroom because of the inaccessible floor plan in my apartment. When I first left REHAB, I was incapable of getting my heels to touch the ground even using my full body weight. Now, I’m able to take a few cautious steps with flat feet and no braces. (To be clear, I still use the braces for most of my walking, and they have about a centimeter of a heel to account for the drastic drop foot I had when first fitted for them.)

I’m so grateful for what I have, and I look forward excitedly to more returning. I’m still asking for continued prayers of stamina as I spend more time working and recovering, but praise the Lord for what he has already done. He continues to display his power through my healing, and I’m so thankful.

I love my job. You might not know that because occasionally I go more than thirty seconds before saying that again. But seriously, I love my job. On Wednesday this week, I got out of bed extra early to participate in the opening ceremonies for BFA. I walked in with my colleagues and watched the senior class process in carrying the flags from the various nations represented at our school this year. All but three of the seniors this year have gone through my class; I’m pretty fond of them. I stuck around through the afternoon as I waited for my eight minute slot with both of my class periods of new juniors. Eight minutes is barely enough time to learn to pronounce each student’s name, so that’s all I tried to do.

I got out of my house early again on Thursday to arrive near the start of the school day and get my TA set to work during first period. I had a lot of time doing prep work in my office before finally teaching my two class periods in the afternoon. Friday looked very similar as I was at school from 9am-3pm. That’s two hours shorter than the average workday, but it’s two hours longer than I’m used to being at school as a part time teacher. I’m still part time this year, but I’ve got to figure out the best way to schedule my time on campus while completing my lesson prep as well as taking care of my body. Also, Friday’s are going to be tight as I teach until 3pm and then have to book it home to leave for physio at 3:15. I’ll settle into my new schedule quickly, I’m sure, but it did leave me exhausted this week after just three days.

It’s so worth it to still have my job, though. I love these kids so much, and I’m so grateful to partner with their parents in their development. On Tuesday night before I saw my students, a couple sought me out to thank me for the positive impact I’d had on their son last year when he was in my class. They asked if they could pray for me. I was brought to tears by these missionaries who were entrusting their child to our school for his senior year and hoping for more of the same care and compassion for him in his pursuit of truth that he received here last year.

I love what I get to do, what I get to make as Taylor Mali puts it in his famous spoken word poem. My job is fantastic and rewarding beyond measure. Though if I were to try, I might choose to measure it in cups of coffee – the coffee a student from the DR brought me, the coffee that a student from Israel insists upon drinking at my house, the coffee that I shared each week with a student who grew up in France and is starting college in California this week.

Maybe I’ll save those measurement musings for next week. For now, I’ll ask you to pray for me as I make a difference. I want to live differently – to live better each day – and I need supernatural stamina from Jesus to make it happen. Please pray with me for good sleep and lots of energy as I return to school next week.

I love lists. They are so much fun to cross things off of; it makes me feel accomplished. However, I don’t ever want the lists to get in the way of living life to the fullest. I have certain responsibilities to accomplish related to my job, and I prioritize those, but I might choose to spend time with friends or students over doing dishes. I still try to have a routine that leaves space for those kinds of disruptions where the different things can be enjoyed without throwing my life into chaos. 

For example, I try to post every weekend; it’s a nice element of routine in my weekly rhythm. I spend time each week thinking about what will go in the weekend update here for all the people praying for me. Sometimes it’s easier than others to find something to share with everyone. I’m consistently paranoid that people will eventually discover there is little more to me than my obsession with Virginia Woolf and my love for my job, so I try to think of new things to say. The truth is, there’s a lot of boring consistency to my daily routine as I work to train my muscles to increase their stamina and abilities.

This week, though, the routine was slightly disrupted with staff conference and a couple meetings in preparation for the new routine that begins when students arrive. I’m eager to welcome them into my classroom again.

Today had one other beautiful disruption. My former neighbors kidnapped me for the day and took me to their house for an amazing lunch before loading up in their car and driving around the Black Forest. The first stop was Hochblauen, the “mountain” nearby, where we enjoyed the view and cooler weather for a bit before driving out to a gasthaus outside of Staufen for dinner. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into when I talked to Gundi on the phone to plan this outing. With my limited German, I first thought she was just stopping by then realized I was being invited for lunch then realized she and her husband were taking me for the whole day. I seriously love these people. I will defend German hospitality until the day I die. This couple doesn’t speak a word of English, but they insisted upon hosting me for nearly the whole day taking me on what adventure I was capable and promising in the future when I could do more we’d try visiting the castle ruins. 

As we drove along the winding roads with breathtaking views of the Black Forest, I kept thinking, I live here! It was such a humbling experience to be reminded that despite my disability, I’m capable of so much more than I deserve, and I’m gifted with the opportunity to live in a gorgeous corner of the world where I can have the most amazing job and interact with some of the greatest people on the planet. I’m praising God for all these gifts this week – the stamina to do more things (even though I still boldly ask for more), the amazing friendships with Germans and other English speakers in this community from all over the world, and my precious students who are in transit already and will gather together to commence the new school year this Wednesday.

Many people are headed back to school this week – my nephew just started kindergarten last week. BFA kids still have another week and a half of summer vacation though the teachers headed back to school this last Thursday. For those of you who may not have heard, I love my job. Seriously. 

Teacher meetings aren’t my favorite, but going to all staff conference means I’m that much closer to seeing my precious students again. I’m looking forward to being back in the classroom, and conversations with people this past week have been about my anticipation of lessons and projects I get to do with my kids. With the return to the classroom, there will be necessary adjustments to my schedule as I’ve developed a summer routine. When I go back to school, I also have to go back to other methods of caring for my back. 

Once upon a time, I broke my back. That happened. It seems to fade from my memory on occasion while being an ever present complication in my life. I’m super thankful that I’m still allowed to work and can do a great number of things that people never expected of me. I still have high standards for myself though, and I still want to improve my ability and stamina. I want to strengthen my muscles and see new function return. Will you pray with me this week that as I go back to school I won’t forget to care for my back? 

I wrote a blog last year about my perfect playlist, ten songs that spoke to emotions I was feeling at the time. I thought it was a good time to write an updated playlist. 

1. Not Done Yet by Superchic[k]I can’t do a playlist without a Superchic[k] song, and this has been my jam for the year. Also, I fell down yesterday. There’s a line in the song that says, “I fell down in the place that I always fall down, and I want to give up and let it be what it’s been.” Well, I’d never fallen down there before, in fact, this was the second time I’ve ever fallen down since my accident, but the next line is my anthem: “Sometimes life gets you, but we go on… we’re not done yet, not going quietly into the night, not me and my friends. We’re not done yet, don’t take it too seriously. It’s just life will win in the end.” The last verse says, “It’s been one of those days but I don’t care now. It was only a day and tomorrow’s ahead. I got this far and I know that I can ride this one out. Though I want to lie down, well I won’t quit yet.” I fell down – right on my butt – and I got back up. 

2. Make Me a Robot by Tessa VioletI may be five years late to the Tessa Violet train, but she’s like my favorite human being right now. Seriously. There are days when I’m exhausted (everyday) and this song speaks to the realness of that emotion. “I don’t want to have to fight anymore; / I’m tired. / I don’t want to have to feel anymore / uninspired.” The feels are real. 

3. Cray Button by Family Force FiveJust because the feels of the last song are so real, doesn’t mean I’m not capable of a range of emotion. I look around me, and I see crazy that evokes lots of emotions. You just got to crank up the FF5 sometimes. (Usually I let loose the YouTube playlist for the Zombie music video which, incidentally, is how I first discovered Tessa Violet in what is unashamedly my favorite video of hers: Wizard Love.) I’m partially feeling this FF5 song these days because of the cray cray in my home country leaking across the ocean through the internet. Sometimes my own life is just full of crazy though. I wonder what happens if I hit the Cray Button? Spoiler alert: I guarantee the whole place starts jumpin’. Fun fact: Tessa Violet features in this music video. Unrelated, this music video was made in the US Cray four years ago.

4. Can’t Hold Us by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis covered by PentatonixI feel like I should be ashamed that I enjoy Macklemore, but I’m not. I really enjoy the Pentatonix remix of this song because I love Mitch Grassi in it. So this is obviously a riding high song – it’s happy and uplifting, and it mentions shark week. This time in my life is happy and uplifting, and I love shark week. 

5. Bigger than Us by Dame D.O.L.L.A. feat. Paul ReyWe live in a crazy world, as mentioned in the Cray Button paragraph. I want to be excited about the world, but I can never forget I live in a fallen and broken place. Damian Lillard is an NBA star, and he’s chosen to use his voice to raise awareness about the tragedy and leverage his influence to make the world a better place. I respect that a great deal. In the final verse, Dame raps, “God created us equal, so let’s embrace it / And in life you run into evil, you gotta face it… We the people gotta love one another / Let it be known with nothing under cover / Let’s take control of the future / Instead of letting it hover / Everybody to the table, make sure your bringing something.” Paul Rey’s part repeats throughout, “We all walk side by side / Even if we’re all on different roads, I know / Because this is something bigger than us.” The Lord is the Author and Perfecter. This song encourages me to be better, to bring something to the table that makes a positive difference. 

6. Rebirthing by SkilletThis song is awesome performed live. It involves lots of pyrotechnics. The first line is “I lie here paralytic.” It’s about the one thing in the universe that brings life to those of us who are dead in our transgressions. It’s pretty fantastic. 

7. Movements by Rend CollectiveOnce we are reborn, we are given direction. I’m really fond of this group of Irish people who make beautiful, happy sounds. This song is just delightful. It opens, “I wanna soar with You / Upon wings like eagles / But I’ll crawl with You too / When the dark and lonely questions come.” Yup. That’s me. That’s the story of my life. Then the chorus breaks out, “I’m running fast and free to You / Cause You are the movement and fight in me / I’m running fast and free to You / Cause You are my home where I wanna be.” Yup. I won’t walk away; I won’t walk away. I’ve tasted and seen – to whom would I go? I know who has the words of eternal life. 

8. It’s Chill by Lancifer feat. MeekakittyThis is another gem thanks to the YouTube mix of FF5’s Zombie. This also features Tessa “Meekakitty” Violet. She’s the bomb. She also has fantastic hair. Ok, but for real, the reason it’s on this playlist is because I’m super chill. The music video is ridiculous, but through all the ridiculousness in my life, it’s all chill. Even with the roller coaster of emotions I’m laying out on this playlist from wanting to be an emotionless robot, to happy, clapping Irish hipsters, to alluding to racial tensions, I’m still grounded. None of the emotions unhinge me because I have this peace that passes understanding. It’s chill.

9. I Will Fail You by Demon HunterDemon Hunter is the other staple band in my life playlists. I love this song. The title says it all. I’m not worth putting your faith in. If I point you to Jesus, that’s awesome, but don’t just look at me. Which leads me to my next song.

10. Take Me to Your Leader by the NewsboysI was going to do Step Up to the Microphone, but this just had such a great segue from the don’t look at me thing, and that Newsboys song was about how you should listen up to me. Now, I love Peter Furler almost as much as I love Ryan Clark. There’s something about bald guys. Or maybe awesome singers who love Jesus… You know, one of those things… But here’s what it comes down to, I want to live a life like this, “They see we’ve got the joy / They see us live it, oi / It’s real, it’s free, it’s fun, / Let’s take ’em to our Leader’s Son.” 

Bonus Track: Sorry I’m not Sorry by Tessa Violet For real, she’s like my current YouTube obsession. 

It’s a diverse list, but we’re all complex people. I’m navigating what makes me me – strange musical tastes, loads of time on YouTube, live texting my friend Shannon when I watch ridiculous TV shows, reading theology books and chick lit back to back, and taking more steps and stretches every day. All staff conference starts next week, and I’ll be back to my teaching routine by the first of September, but I’m praising Jesus for being my rock through all the emotions of this summer and for setting me up for successes to come this fall. Praise Jesus with me for the healing that’s been done and the progresses that continue to unfold. I’m still asking for stamina as I return to work in the coming weeks. 

Three years ago today, I woke up in Germany for the first time. My arrival was made possible by hundreds of people listening to me share about my desire to teach TCKs, praying for me, and donating to me financially. Within that group, I had a grade schooler pray for me that I’d grow closer to Jesus through whatever trials I’d face, a middle schooler ask his parents if he could join my support team with their help, and my Granny who has been my biggest fan since my first breath. It’s a diverse crew, and I love it. 

Since my accident a few months after moving to Germany, hundreds (if not thousands) more people have joined my prayer and support team following my journey on this blog. I’m so humbled and so very grateful. This week gave me new opportunities to celebrate the tangible ways the body of Christ has come around me to support me in my recovery and ongoing ministry here at BFA. Christians use that weird metaphor pretty lightly when we reference teamwork, but it really is a beautiful description of how we support each other and look for ways to help people in need. 

In fact, before Tina had my new Nikes in the mail, a former BFA staffer now on the East Coast messaged me and offered to buy me a pair of shoes. She generously said she’d bring them with her when visiting Kandern this summer and found two other women who have been faithfully praying for me who wanted to contribute as well. So now after over two years with a single pair of shoes, I’m overwhelmed with the variety of three pairs of shoes! One of my therapists suggested that it would be a good idea to have a regular pair of shoes to give my ankles freedom when on safe flat surfaces but that high tops could be helpful as an in-between on more uneven surfaces (read: European cobblestone). Tina sent the amazing Flyease shoes, and Julia brought me the super snazzy high tops pictured above. I’m still mostly in the braces, but I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the ability to phase out of them with these high quality shoes gifted to me.

I’m also really blessed to have so many people willing to keep practicing walking with me. Kristi and I went on another walk with Luci today – I swear, that kid is so adorable. No new records in distance, but it was again high quality walking. I spent some time with Cindy yesterday working on the quality of my gait as she held my left hand and I used it only for balance but not weight. We looped around the firehouse once and up and down the length of my building a couple times not wanting to venture too far from my chair since she couldn’t push it while holding me. 

She let go of my arm for a few steps and I struggled a bit, but Cindy emphasized the importance of the fact that I could do it. It wasn’t great, and it wasn’t far, but the fact I can do it at all means there’s function to improve. I’m praising God for that restored function, and I’d love for you to pray along with me for stamina as I work on strengthening the super weak muscles.

I’m so grateful for the body of Christ continuing to come around me with supports like walking with me, praying for me, and financially donating to my service here. If any of you would like to donate to my ministry, you can follow this link to my personal giving page through TeachBeyond: https://give.teachbeyond.org/support/lauras-journey/

We have a word in Christianese for experiences like I had last weekend – we call them mountaintop experiences. In Christian circles, it’s common to talk about the emotional highs of a mountaintop where you encounter God in a powerful way like Moses or Ezekiel climbing up Sinai and speaking with God. It’s common for leaders at these kinds of events to caution attendees not to forget their experience but also not to chase after emotional highs because we live by faith and the encounters with the Spirit often look different in the “real life” day to day mundane tasks. 

Honestly, in so many ways, I’m still riding this high because I am so radically changed by my healing last week. Those feelings aren’t what my faith is about though. Like James says, faith without works is dead, and I’ve been looking for ways this week to live out my faith. As one of my friends messaged me this week, “faith is actioning what I believe in.” A visible way that I do that is the way in which I take care of my body and testify to God’s goodness in my physical recovery. 

When I got back from Denmark, I still had no tightness in my quads which was fantastic, but I had a lot more tension and discomfort in my ankles than usual. I spent more time with the braces on, and they’ve gotten better, but I’m eager to take the braces off and use my awesome new Nikes more frequently. My amazing mentor and friend Tina works at Nike and arranged to send me two pairs of the Flyease shoes – the special line of shoes made for people with disabilities. I’m elated at how wonderful they are, and I’m anxious to wear them more than my awesome Swiss made green shoes because they are a step away from mobility aids. 

However, I’m still using the mobility aids when I need them because they offer me a lot of freedom and independence at this current state. There’s a misconception many people have that labels something like a wheelchair as limiting. Heavens, no! The wheelchair enables me to go places I otherwise couldn’t access with my current physical ability! The same goes for the braces. Furthermore, my braces allow me to exercise my hips and core beyond what is possible when my finicky ankles and calves need extra attention. For example, yesterday I went for a walk with my friend Kristi and her adorable baby Luci (anyone who has seen pictures of Luci will be appropriately jealous; that is one cute kid). Kristi pushed my wheelchair as I walked with my braces and we made it from my house to Heitzmann before sitting down. For those of you unfamiliar with Kandern, that’s just over 600 meters. But wait, there’s more! After a few minutes sitting down, I stood up and walked most of the distance back home before needing another rest and wheeling the final stretch home. 

So sure I’m not yet physically capable of walking from my house to the top of Hoch Blauen, but whether I’m on the mountaintop or living daily life in the Kandern valley, I want to be faithful in the little things. Letting the muscles I have control over remain weak or atrophy while waiting for fruition of my healing and return of function would be stupid. I want to be responsible with what I have and live well with it. For now that means walking with the braces in the mix and celebrating God’s goodness not matter what’s on my feet. 

The events of this week will someday be compiled as a chapter of a book (yes, those of you who’ve waited to hear it, I’ll someday publish a book), but for now I’ll stick with a little context and some highlights.

For my eighth birthday, my parents bought me tickets to see dcTalk in concert at the Rose Garden Arena. I was elated to scream and sing along to all their songs, but of course their biggest hit was Jesus Freak. I sang along with conviction, “What will people think when they hear that I’m a Jesus freak? What will people do when they find out it’s true? I don’t really care if they label me a Jesus freak; there ain’t no disguising the truth.”

The concert was a significant event in my life, and another significant event in my life at that point was my best friend Jessica moving away. We were inseparable until the third grade. I still vividly remember the last day I saw her before she moved to Minnesota after we finished third grade. I still remember driving away from her house sobbing as I waved out the back window of my mom’s old minivan.

We wrote letters every day at first, then every week, then months, then stopped. In the age of Facebook, we were reconnected, but we still didn’t communicate as often. Jess was actually stationed in Germany when I moved here, but we were never able to see each other face to face before she moved back to America. Last week she messaged me that she and her husband would be visiting Germany and would like to stop in Kandern to see me. Jessica is still in the military, so they were hopping free flights across the Atlantic when there was room. Unfortunately, they got stuck in New Jersey, and the days set aside to see me were eaten up in an airport. On Monday, Jess messaged asking if I’d be willing to come with them on a road trip to Denmark to hang out with some Jesus freaks for the weekend since there wouldn’t be time to spend with me in Kandern. I had just under 24 hours to decide.

My first response was she must not understand the extent of my disability. No one wants to bring me along most places, let alone over night, let alone enough days to need my shower chair and everything. She confirmed there would be room in the rental car to bring everything, and they wanted me to come. I emailed a handful of friends the details and asked if it was wise to leave the comfort of my home for an adventure with a relative stranger (I hadn’t seen Jessica in over 18 years now). The people I asked unanimously replied it would be ridiculous to turn down a trip to Denmark, the time to spend with these friends, and meeting new people who would want to pray for me.

I excitedly packed, made the last minute arrangements, and told Jess I was coming. Jessica and Judah arrived Tuesday afternoon, and we stayed up late reconnecting and sharing joy with seeing each other and slept in Wednesday before hitting the road north.

At this point, I need to put a warning to my friends who don’t have frequent encounters with the miraculous gifts because this trip involved a lot of highly charismatic activity. Everything I participated in was in line with Scripture, and all of our prayers were in the name of Jesus. 

The three of us drove to Pforzheim Wednesday afternoon where we met a nice Polish kid who’s lived here for fourteen years and began healing people miraculously in the name of Jesus near the end of his studies to become a medical doctor. Along with this new friend, we spent over five hours in intense prayer with some exciting minor changes. I felt – for the first time – the sensation of hot and cold on small patches of my calves. We celebrated with communion before a few hours of sleep to prepare us for the long drive to Denmark. Our drive accidentally ended up being a little longer than necessary, but it involved a detour through Heidelberg which was super awesome. I’d never been to that castle ruins, and it was so much fun to listen to Jessica talk about when she was stationed there and how that used to be her town. We pulled into Kolding, Denmark super late and were welcomed into a sweet couple’s home to sleep. Jessica and I were sharing a mattress on the floor while Judah camped out on the deck. As I carefully lowered myself onto the floor, I felt the intense tightness in my thighs that has been ever present over the past two and a half years. “Ugh, Jess, pray for the tightness in my quads,” I complained. “In the name of Jesus, tightness, be gone,” she commanded with her hand on my left thigh. Instantly the pain was gone.

I’ve never experienced something like that before, but there was actually no more tightness in my left thigh. “Quick do the other leg!” The tightness in the right leg reduced significantly, but did not disappear. I can’t explain that other than to say, “Because Jesus.” The tightness has stayed away ever since. I keep checking, trust me.

I woke up Friday in anticipation of more good things as we drove the final two hours to the Jesus Hotel in Aalborg, and I certainly wasn’t at a loss for people wanting to pray over me. Within the first few minutes, a crowd of four people had gathered to pray for me. Nothing happened in our first prayer time, and I went in to the larger room to hear the rest of the message on healing and the power of Jesus. Some awesome stuff happened and some awkward stuff happened the rest of the weekend, but I’m going to share two very powerful moments from Friday and Saturday evenings.

First, as the Friday evening session ended, a kind girl came up and introduced herself. She asked fairly soon if she could pray for me. Several other people quickly joined in. This was not actually the first time this happened during the day, but there was nothing next on the agenda in the evening. I pretty quickly realized this was going to go on for a while, and I was praying along fervently with the group. I could hear many of the prayers for healing of my bones, my nerves, and my muscles. Interestingly, very few of them seemed well directed. They were all in the name of Jesus, but they didn’t aptly address my specific needs. At that point, my new friend from Hong Kong came to pray for my insides. She and I had met at lunch and talked about how my most desperate desire was to have my bathroom abilities back and how people often just looked at the surface and wanted to pray for healing of what they could see even though that wasn’t what was most important. “I would love to pray for your insides,” she had told me.

When she joined the group, she prayed for my intestines, my digestion, and my other unseen functions before gently taking my hands and asking me if I was ready to heal from my emotional pain. Let me tell you, things took off at that point. I thought there was intense prayer before, but I let out some nasty sounds. I had a super long, super loud sob. You know the kind I mean? I had an ugly cry. An Ugly Cry. That thing where your body is trying to expel something deep within you through your vocal folds. Something deep within me came out, and a few people might have heard a single word in my sobs and moans amidst the louder cries. I realized there was a deep emotional pain from my accident that I’d never properly faced. 

I’m all about facing emotions rather than repressing them, but unbeknownst to me, this emotion had repressed itself from the day of my accident. I woke up after surgery filled with peace that passes understanding and over flowing with the joy of the Lord; I assumed that meant I had no pain to deal with. For two and a half years, I have avoided an Ugly Cry about this situation because I didn’t think it needed it. Why would I cry when the Lord had been so good to me? I experienced pain in my accident though, and on Friday night I faced it for the first time ever. It felt amazing. I experienced a physical release with the emotional healing. I literally felt like I could breathe more deeply. My lungs had more room, and I hadn’t even noticed that they weren’t filling before. 

After this experience, I thought that meant I’d be ready for physical healing Saturday, so I kept letting anyone pray for me who wanted to and tested out my ankle motions. Nothing happened. At one point near the end of dinner, a small group of people excitedly rushed up to me and insisted they needed to pray for me immediately. Of course I let them. This got intense pretty quickly though, and they demanded I stand up and walk almost pulling me which triggered my leg spasms. Along with a lot of shouting they led me in a circle around the front of the room shouting that I needed to stop doubting while they tugged and pulled and my muscles spasmed uncontrollably. Normally, I’m very good at getting the spasms under control, but I couldn’t do that in this confusing situation. I began to feel more and more uncomfortable, like these prayers weren’t about my healing. I finally stopped letting myself be dragged as the pain in my ankles was more than I’d had in a long time and someone finally brought me a chair. They kept praying, and I suddenly realized that I couldn’t pray with them because I felt like someone was praying for themselves to be the one to miraculously heal me rather than for Jesus to do the healing. Their prayer wasn’t for the glory of Jesus; it was to try to steal glory from Jesus. I checked out for a bit at that point because I couldn’t participate in that kind of a prayer. I didn’t want to be healed by a person – only Jesus. Just a minute or two later, I looked up and saw my friend from the night before.

I reached out my hands to her because I knew she could redirect the prayers to the power of the Lord. “Laura, will you pray with us?” she asked me calmly. I involuntarily began another Ugly Cry and started praying fervently. A different woman began speaking words of truth over me as I cried out to God. “He loves you. You are his precious child. He is being glorified through this. Your sins are forgiven.” The last two truths had profound impact as this woman didn’t know the words I spoke to my dad before I went into my surgery the day of my accident as I asked for God to be glorified, nor did she know my comparison of Jessica and Judah bringing me to Denmark to the story of the paralyzed man whose friends brought him to Jesus (Jesus tells the man “Son, your sins are forgiven” before he tells him “Rise, take up your mat, and walk.”). 

And then things got really weird. The woman holding my hands had heard a word the night before, and without any other context, she spoke a sentence related to the word as a command for what I needed to do. I screamed in response. I was praying pretty intensely, and when she told me what I needed to do, I recognized that it was true. I had an action I needed to complete before I could finish my emotional healing. Later that night, she sat beside me as I finished before the Lord what needed to take place for the emotional healing. I’m healed now. I can say that with confidence. My heart is renewed. 

I also received words of truth related to my physical healing, and I processed aloud with this woman my impression that I needed to leave the Jesus Hotel in the wheelchair because this healing has to be for God’s glory alone. If I stood up and walked when someone there prayed and commanded me to, there was a chance a single person or two might have tried to claim some glory for themselves. Hundreds of people have prayed for me along the way, and none of them deserve any glory for my healing. It is the power of Jesus Christ which has healed me, and I only want him to get the glory when people see my physical healing. I can celebrate this emotional healing as being Spirit filled and completely outside the glory of people. No single person made it happen. My friend played a part in it, but it’s not about her which is why as much as I celebrate God’s goodness in bringing us both together, I can’t use her name. She knows her name, but she also knows the name of Jesus is what matters. 

I’m writing this from my wheelchair now, but I’m healed in a new way, and I would ask you to celebrate that with me this week. Praise the Lord for his sovereign hand that prompted Jessica to invite me along, blessed the families along the way with the generous spirit to open their doors and house us as we drove, provided sensitivity to many of the people praying over me, brought several specific people together at the Jesus Hotel for me to meet, and healed my heart in the deepest places to make more room for his glorious Name – the name above all names – Jesus. 

What will people think when they hear that I’m a Jesus freak? What will people do when they find out it’s true?

I don’t really care if they label me a Jesus freak; there ain’t no disguising the truth.

One of the beauties of summer break is the luxury of forgetting the days. This is occasionally inconvenient, but for the most part I’m really enjoying the opportunity to wake up each morning, make myself a cup of coffee, and stand stretching my legs with nothing on my mind other than reading and walking as much as possible. With those reduced responsibilities, I’ve been able to increase my time on my feet without my braces, and I’m really excited about this new development.

On Friday I walked a couple dozen meters with Anja lightly holding my left hand while I used my right stick and put the majority of my weight on my legs. I was delighted with this new progress. I used her hand for balance, but barely any weight went to my left arm as my right leg remembered what it was made to do. 

The rest of the week really is a bit of a blur as I spent the majority of my time standing, reading, or walking without my braces. Full disclosure, there was also a fair amount of YouTube too, but that’s the story of my life. As I push myself to new limits physically, I’m finding that I’m more frequently exhausted by the exertion. I’m going to power through the next week anticipating yet more progress.

“My eyes fail from weeping,I am in torment within;my heart is poured out on the groundbecause my people are destroyed,because children and infants faintin the streets of the city.”Lamentations 2:11

My literary hero died this week. He taught me a lot of things as I studied his work in college and continue to read what he has shared with the world. He bore witness to horrible atrocities, and he felt a responsibility to speak up. He once said, “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” 

I want to be an agent of love, an ambassador of True Love in a broken world. I’m not sure how to best do that. Elie Wiesel survived death camps and died with dignity decades later, but Alton Sterling and Philando Castile had their lives cut short in a country fraught with racism. That breaks my heart. As someone who was born with white privilege, there is a lot I lack in experiential understanding, but I grieve with my African American friends. I am so sorry, and I love you. 

There’s no way to tastefully segue from systemic racism in America to my disabled expat experience, so I’m not going to try to connect the two. As this is a place for updates on my ongoing recovery, I’ll still let you know a few of those details from this week.

Monday Helen invited me over for dinner and graciously offered to power wash my dirty wheelchair that had collected dirt on the carriage all winter long. She helped me walk without braces from her car through a wildly uneven and unpaved patch to enjoy the view of Malsburg as we celebrated that I was able to manage the rough terrain. 

Tuesday I worked with Margot yet again on my stiff and stubborn ankles. She spent time loosening and moving them as I thought through the motions and worked to send signals between my brain and my foot. It’s a long and arduous process, but I’m hopeful for magnificent results if I’m patient. 

Wednesday Hunter and Michele took me to the baths again and we spent time relaxing in the warm water as well as testing out what my muscles could do without fighting gravity so hard. Hunter taught me a few exercises to do when I return without him since they insist upon leaving Germany for a year.

Thursday I pushed myself hard learning my limits as I set out from my house with Cindy to see how far I could walk without my braces. I made it to the bauhof again before I had Cindy push me home in my wheelchair. I’m determined to reach Hammerstein in a year (it’s just under two miles). 

Everyday bring something new – highs and lows. Through it all, I’m hopeful that I am a responsible representative of Love. I’m still asking God to work miracles of healing in my body, but that doesn’t mean I can’t also ask him for miracles of healing in my home country. 

“Arise, cry out in the night,as the watches of the night begin;pour out your heart like waterin the presence of the Lord.Lift up your hands to himfor the lives of your children,who faint from hungerat every street corner.”Lamentations 2:19

I never participated in a trust fall as a team building thing – mostly because I don’t trust people, but also because I’ve seen Gretchen Wiener hit the floor in Mean Girls. I can’t help it that I’m popular. 

Funnily enough, there’s a girl in a wheelchair doing the trust fall in that scene, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I’ve had to learn to trust people a lot more since my accident. Also living in Germany. I’ve learned that when one of the women in the Candela choir gets behind me, she’ll take me where I’m supposed to go without me needing to worry about anything. Today, I went to Binzen to sing with my German friends, and it was off to a normal start as Gundi took the handles behind me and wheeled me out a separate door following a man who’d given clear directions to another choir member while pointing to me. We reunited with the rest of the choir for our warm up, and I felt pretty great. I still had very little idea of what was going on – I mean I was at a choir festival, but the details were pretty vague with my limited German skills. 

After our warm up, I was sitting with Helen and Dorcas who are both native English speakers when Barbara came to tell us about when we would be singing. I gathered that I’d be needing to get up on the lowest riser – a whopping ten centimeters up. 

I immediately had flashbacks to Alex and Patrick first teaching me how to go up curbs in my wheelchair. I had to take the safety bar off, and I told Alex it was the best motivation she’d yet found to get me to learn to walk. Helen would be helping me up, but I didn’t have time to train her on how I would be able to do the maneuver on my own. Instead, I took off the safety bar and hoped for the best with my friend behind me. I made it up the step with no problem and while we sang our three songs, I pondered how I’d communicate to my German friends in a clear and effective manner the best way to remove me from the stage in the crowded hall. 

Several of them crowded around me after we took our final bow, and I managed to make clear the safest way would be for me to turn around and go backwards. I put myself in position and heard Elke say, “Ich hab dich” which made me sure I was safe. I popped my casters up and guided my wheels back as Elke held the handles to make sure I didn’t crash. 

I didn’t know that I’d be doing a trust fall this morning, but story of my life, I didn’t know I’d be trusting people who didn’t speak English to wheel me around a foreign country, I didn’t know I’d be trusting so many English speakers to help me navigate life overseas, I didn’t know I’d be trusting the generosity of dozens of people around the world to financially support me as I teach missionary kids in Germany. My whole life is a lesson in dependence – you’ve heard me say that before. Today’s trust fall ten centimeters was a healthy reminder of the trust I’ve placed elsewhere.

I trust I’ll walk again. (I also call that faith.) I set a new record for myself as I blazed from the school to the covered bridge (half a kilometer) in significantly better form and time than a week prior. I’m still practicing more time on my feet without my braces, and I’m really fortunate to have my standing frame at home for the summer thanks to Hunter and Michele. My ankles are still really weak, but Margot and Anja seem to think there is something happening in my feet. I trust them – more than most people. 

I trust I’ll have good things to share again next week.

If every week held the emotional and physical extremes last week did, I’d be pretty fried. Fortunately, I had a largely restful week as I gave my attention to reading and walking. I went for a couple walks with Hunter starting at my house and heading south to see how far I could make it. For those familiar with Kandern, I made it from the feuerwehr to the bauhof down the street on Wednesday. For those unfamiliar with Kandern, that’s half a kilometer or about a third of a mile. I was elated with this distance, and made it nearly as far the next day – just past the recyclinghof. I worked my legs a little bit again with Anja on Friday and gave them a break most of today just stretching and relaxing the sore muscles. 

I’ve gone this whole week without my braces, but realistically, I’m not done with them forever yet. I’ll strap them back on to go to church tomorrow, but I’m setting realistic goals for my progress this summer. I do want to spend more time without the braces and more time overall on my feet and walking. There’s a long road ahead of me, and I’m going to take each step cautiously and intentionally just like the walk I took with Hunter. I’ve got a couple more weeks with Hunter here helping me practice these new steps, but sadly he and Michele will be leaving in July to go back to America for a year of totalization. I am super fortunate still, though, because there are still two other people in the English speaking community here who have a background in physical therapy that have agreed to be my walking buddies while Hunter is gone. 

It’s still early in my summer break, and I’m still full of hope for the progress I’ll make in the coming weeks. I’m also excited for what other books I might read this summer; I have to remember to have some balance. Speaking of balance, I’m still pretty wobbly on my feet, but I did want to share that during my standing and stretching time, I’ve found a decrease in the frequency of my frantic grasping for something solid with my arms as my core increased in its ability to hold me up. Remember, I have a long way to go, but I still remember the days in REHAB when I couldn’t stand up at all if I let go of what I was holding on to. 

This week has been incredible – thank you to all of you who fasted along with me and prayed for my ongoing recovery. I still want it all, and I’m still asking for everything everyday. This week I saw some amazing improvements as I ventured outside my house for the first time without my braces. I walked short distances and managed to keep my heels lower on the ground as they made contact with each slow step. The accompanying emotional highs were great, and I was able to share them with many of my friends and students here. One of my students noticed that I showed up at graduation on Saturday wearing a pair of Toms tucked under my blanket. We celebrated together at family group when I walked up the stairs at the Campbell’s in a pair of Nikes. It’s still not safe for me to take any steps in the Toms, and I have to be careful even the tennis shoes I have because my ankles are still not in my control. (Shout out to any Nike friends who want to hook an Oregon girl up with some high tops – I’m a size 8.5!) I’m praising God for this massive improvement though as I make literal strides away from assistive devices. 

This Friday I showed up to therapy without my braces, and Anja helped me to stand on a balance board as we worked my core and stretched my legs. Always game for a new adventure, she next had me hold her arms and take a couple warm up steps before moving her arms to my waist and asking me to try to take steps without holding her. I’d find my balance, move a leg, grab Anja to keep from falling over, and try again with the next leg. It was exhausting work for both of us, but exhilarating too. It reminded me of those five steps back in July last summer in the massive baby walker without any sticks. I want more of those. 

I’m chasing after those highs, and I’m working hard to make them more normal in my life, but there is still nerve damage I can’t ignore. Amidst this awesomeness this week, I also dealt with a pretty nasty infection which brought some physical and emotional lows. I’ll keep the details to myself, but you can trust me there was a lot of physical discomfort and clean up required.

The mess I woke up to this morning doesn’t invalidate any of my progress or achievements this week, but it reminds me of the paradox in which I live. The kingdom of God is already but not yet – that’s what I taught my students in my Old Testament survey course. I live in a broken body, a soul redeemed and waiting for redemption. I still fully believe I can have a healed body in my life on this earth before glorification, but I don’t want my body to be the end of the story. I want my healing to be a message of God’s power and glory. I’m asking for a lot of things – I’m asking for full muscle control, for nerves to reconnect and remember how to send messages, for free Nikes, but all of that is secondary to the request that God be glorified. I want to be lower so that he can be higher; like John said, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30 ESV). 

Every time I learn a new function, my walking slows down significantly. I need to return my focus and attention to the new detail in my gait, and it slows me down considerably. Today during therapy, Anja and I went for a walk outside without my braces. She told me to slow down as I took the unstable steps on the uneven ground. I was so excited to feel the contact of the ground in my feet. It’s still an incredible sensation for me to feel the flex and stretch in my calve as my ankle moves in each step. I didn’t realize how much I missed it after two years of the stiff ankle locked in my braces. In our hour session today, I made it a short distance outside and practiced some side steps as well. Walking back into the practice, Anja joked, “Do you even need your braces anymore?” 

Well, let’s hope not! I’m so excited about this new progress that I’m going to try more things without my braces. I’m going to see if I can manage more steps without the constraints in order to give my nerves additional stimulation. Anja and Margot have both talked about how the added information to my feet can help rebuild neural pathways. I have great hope for return of function.

The school year has wrapped up for me this week, and I’m excited to spend more time and energy focused on my physical development this summer. I’m really hopeful for what might happen over the coming weeks, and I’d like you to join with me in praising God for new developments as well as asking for more. Those of you in the family of Christ, would you consider fasting with me in the coming week as I ask and anticipate big improvements? I’m not able to fast from food due to my digestive complications caused by nerve damage, but I’ll be giving up Netflix for a week beginning on Sunday (those of you who know me well know this is a big sacrifice since now that school’s out there’s even more time to Netflix binge). Brothers and sisters in Christ, could you consider giving up something Sunday to Saturday in this coming week and spend the time you’d normally use for that activity praying for me? 

I’ll be praying specifically for nerve pathways to make connections from my brain to muscles currently disconnected. My ankles are not alone in this, but they are the primary target these days.

I loved the feeling of walking without my braces so much, I tried again a couple times with Hunter last week. It was just as incredible the second and third time, but I’ll be honest, it was just as exhausting too. I wrapped up my classes for the semester, and I walked several rounds in the auditorium, and this week has taken it’s toll on my energy. I was completely spent on Sunday, and it doesn’t help that I haven’t been sleeping well the last week. There are loads of factors going into my holistic care, and I’m working to pay attention to all of them while finishing all my responsibilities at school this week before graduation. 

I had my first of three finals this afternoon, and I’ll be saying bye for the summer to the rest of my kids tomorrow and Wednesday. I’ll also keep practicing walking though not every day this week. Fortunately, there are actually a couple people in this community trained in physical therapy who are willing to walk with me, but it still takes some coordination between my schedule and theirs to make sure I have a safe partner to practice this new skill. 

I’m really excited about it though, and the fact that the three subsequent times I tried it with Hunter had no real scares actually excites me to the potential of doing that with other people or on my own someday in the near future. As I prepare for summer break, I’m getting ready to think about what new things I can train my body to do better. Walking with no braces is at the top of my list. That’s a huge step forward for me, and I can already see the next steps after that. I got a tiny taste of the future when practicing with Hunter and Cindy last week as Cindy held the gait belt while I walked with no braces and asked me to hand her one of my sticks. I took about a dozen steps no braces and with only a single stick. It was a pretty exciting moment.

A lot of people thought my life was over with the diagnosis of paralysis, but I’m still proving them wrong, and it’s a delight to keep making these physical improvements. I’m anticipating more good things – pray with me that my calves and ankles will remember what it’s like to move naturally in the walking motion as I keep walking every day.

Hunter gave me the title for this week’s entry; more importantly he gave me his shoes. I didn’t walk a mile in them, but I did walk the first thirty feet without my braces in two years. 

Those of you who have followed my story since REHAB may remember the Cinderella moment when I was fitted for my custom braces and shoes and began to improve my mobility with them. My ankles are still out of my control, but my calves have loosened up enough to allow me to take cautious steps (with a therapist nearby) using just my sticks in a regular pair of shoes.

Anja and I tried it out this Friday after testing my feet in a pair of Jump Soles – a block strapped to the front of the foot to help athletes stretch their calves and improve their jumping. Hunter had brought the school’s pair along since he was driving me to therapy. My special shoes have stiff soles that don’t allow for the flexibility needed to maximize the calf stretch in the Jump Soles, so Hunter let me borrow his to test these out. I shifted my weight around as Anja instructed; then she told me to save some power in my legs to try something else. We took the Jump Soles off, and she stood behind me while worked to keep my balance. Once moderately secure, Anja gently moved my arms out and up to force me to readjust my balance. 

When I sat down to take a break, she had me turn to face her and hold her arms for support as we took about fifteen awkward steps across the room. I sat down on a different stool beaming as she got me a glass of water. I stood and did some more balance exercises before she asked if I wanted to try walking with my sticks. I did a slow, cautious lap around the room with Anja right behind me. I’m always nervous about my unpredictable ankles, but they stayed calm as I lifted my leg enough to keep my toes from dragging before placing it just barely ahead of the other foot. I can’t make the normal heel to toe motion with my foot (yet), but there was an incredible feeling that went along with walking without my feet locked into position in braces.

Let me repeat for emphasis: This was the first time in two years I walked without my braces.

I was dazed afterwards – I can still hardly believe it happened. Praise the Lord. I’m amazed that the gifts keep coming, and I can’t wait to continue practicing this new development. I gave Hunter his shoes back since I have another pair I can practice with, but I look forward to getting up to a mile in my shoes without braces. 

Oops, I skipped posting last weekend. Things begin to get crazy around BFA during the month of May. Students turn their brains off, and teachers have to fight with them to turn their brains back on until finals. There’s new content to cover, late work to grade, and various responsibilities to deal with around school. I also have visa paperwork, medical bills, insurance claims, and therapy rides on my radar in addition to still trying to be a good teacher. 

I had to change up my lessons this last week for my second period students who have been struggling to focus since spring break, and my fifth period class had some serious questions they wanted to address on the goodness of God in class discussions. From my perspective, the last two weeks have flown by in a blur, so it’s hard to come up with a clear picture to share of my ongoing recovery amidst this madness and ministry. I can say with confidence it’s been a good two weeks – I’ve seen consistency in capabilities that I didn’t have months ago. My balance is improving imperceptibly over the weeks so that I can now look back to the fall and recognize a difference between then and now. My stamina is slowly increasing as I try to accomplish more physically each day. Also, students are bringing me questions outside of class as they want to go deeper in their learning.

Yesterday, my fifth period class was spent in deep discussion about the goodness of God after a student emailed me specific questions and concerns about how we understand the world as Christians. After school, two roommates came over for tea and between stories of whether or not they were justified in their physical beatings of one another, they talked about how they want to mature into better people. Tuesday I had the added delight of a previous student who is home from college sharing with me some of her experience over the last year and encouraging me with the fact that my class had a positive impact on her. I taught her the semester before my accident, and she has watched much of my recovery process face to face along with many of her peers.

I’m consistently humbled by the way in which students tell me they’ve been positively impacted by my journey. This alum had shared with me last year a college application essay she wrote about how significant my response to trauma was in her faith. Tea with her was a timely reminder of the big picture of my life here in Germany. I’m not seeing many of those daily improvements in my physical health, but I’m still working hard each day to take care of my body, brain, and soul. Sometimes those days blend together into weeks of madness, but I can occasionally see how the big picture shows progress from my faithful daily actions.

Christians do weird stuff. From the outside, I imagine baptism looks like one of those weird things. However, from the inside, it is one of the greatest parts of the Christian family. Baptism is done differently across denominations, but it’s always a celebration. This morning I got to celebrate eight people declaring their faith in Jesus and desire to live for him. 

The sacrament is symbolic of our death to self as we are raised to new life in Christ. The moment itself isn’t supernatural, but it stands as a marker in the life of a Christ follower that identifies them as part of the family of God. I was baptized over a decade ago, and I barely remember my dad asking me with tears of joy in his eyes if I believed Jesus was my Savior and wanted to live my life for him. Based on that declaration, he dunked me in the water and lifted me up – buried with Christ and raised to newness of life in him. What I do remember clearly is the celebration this event was.

Life has highs and lows, but as a Christian, I share all of those with my family – my whole family of God. Listening to a student share pieces of a conversation we had as part of her testimony and decision to follow Jesus was one of the highest highs I’ve ever had. She shared with the church that when she arrived at BFA, she thought it was the worst thing in her life only to discover after a painful year that it was the greatest thing that could ever have happened. 

Our stories are linked now, and I’m eternally grateful. The work that the Lord has prepared for me here is to live life alongside students like her. We’ve both made a decision to follow Jesus and publicly declared it. We’re both messed up people, but we’re looking to be more like Jesus every day. Our lives look drastically different, and we’ll go on to share Jesus in different ways and different places, but I’m so happy for those intersections where we can share tea and talk about insightful rap lyrics (I’m partial to Dame DOLLA but that’s a given). 

This extension of my family through baptism is really important to me. All of you who are in my family are joining with me to celebrate this new sister while you continue to pray for me; that’s a pretty great feeling to share in.

I really love my job. Like seriously, I can hardly express my excitement to go to work each morning. I love my students so much, and I’m so fortunate to be at a school where I can invite students over for pico and chips. Mexican food and students are two of my favorite things on the planet. I had a couple really wonderful interactions this week – more than a couple – that have encouraged me that despite my physical struggles, I’m where I’m supposed to be and doing what I’m supposed to do.

I’ve also had a couple opportunities to identify physical improvements that have been really encouraging. My walking has significantly improved over the last several months, and I’ve been delighted each time a colleague or students comments on the speed or quality of my steps. I’m in a position where it’s difficult to see the gradual improvements, but I know for a fact that the walking I’m capable of now is drastically improved from six months ago.

Each day is a little bit better, and I’m certainly never going to complain about that. Instead, I’ll keep asking for everything, as always, in my recovery. I want to be the best teacher possible, and I’m convinced that less distractions with my physical abilities will improve my teaching. I’ve already noticed that over the last couple months post-Botox injections. I’m a better teacher not having to worry about bladder spasms and the complications that come along with that. I’m grateful for that change, and I’ll keep working to do my job to the best of my ability.

Today that means extra time researching eschatology after tea with a student and some PT exercises. Tomorrow will have a similar combination of addressing physical needs and the needs of my students in order to be the best educator and Jesus follower. This week we’re wrapping up our systematic theology unit talking about the end of the world, and I know that how I live this week can impact what I hear at the end of the world. I’m looking forward to a, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” That’s the best job – servant of the King – and I love being able to do it every day.

Whenever I post about the dirty details related to a medical inconvenience I have, I get loads of comments and recommendations from people around the world with no experience with paralysis who want to offer advice. That’s very nice, but it’s also very frustrating. I have access to lots of medical professionals, and I take all my problems to them. Due to that, I refrain from posting all the details of my bladder infections, leg spasms, diarrhea, stomach cramps, shoulder pains, et cetera publicly on the internet. 

To be honest, I considered posting about some of those dirty details here this week, but it would have come out as an angry diatribe against voyeuristic gawkers who follow my story to make themselves feel better about not being disabled or something. That’s not healthy for anyone. 

I’m trying to get healthy – both in my writing and in my body. There’s different things I can do to achieve each of those goals, and here the most important thing is to present truth to you without anger. The truth is, being paralyzed sucks. There are really frustrating complications due to nerve damage, and it makes my life really difficult while occupying much of my time and energy. I took a lot of time to focus on just the basics of living well last week, and I only barely achieved it. 

Here’s another important truth: I wouldn’t trade my paralysis for anything. Listen closely, I want to get more function, but I don’t want to lose the story God has written with my life so far. The messiest, most frustrating day paralysis wise last week was shared with one of the most amazing God-moments of the week when two students came over for nachos and asked me about how God had been at work in my life before bringing me to Germany and since my accident. Simultaneous to experiencing burning pain on sensitive skin due to nerve damage and bacterial warfare, I listened to a class of kids discuss the significance of Jesus in salvation over the nuances of Calvinism and Arminianism which led them to explore experiences of the Holy Spirit in the world today. 

Final dirty detail: I really look forward to heaven. In his final weeks on earth, my grandpa would wake up and cry that he wasn’t in heaven yet. He’d lived a full and beautiful life, and he just wanted to go home. I don’t wake up with the exact same mindset, but I’m aware of the reality that heaven is a much better place than earth. I know in heaven I won’t have any of these nerve damaged messes. However, I know on earth I get to share Jesus which is the delight of every Calvinist or Arminian (though with nuanced different motives). Like Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham and the others, I look ahead to the heavenly country, to the city whose architect and builder is God (Hebrews 11). Like all those heroes of the faith, I will keep my eyes on the things above where Christ is, and like they did, I will do everything, whether in word or deed, in the name of Jesus (Colossians 3). You see, those people whose eyes are fixed on Jesus are some of the most productive world changers while alive here on earth. Watch out.

In my job, I have the privilege of listening to students process what they believe about the world we live in and the theological concepts that make up the framework of Christianity. This week’s lessons were mostly about the life and work of Jesus Christ. We established the historicity of his life, death, and resurrection and talked about how people have to choose whether or not to believe the facts (Josh McDowell or Lee Strobel style) and then a subsequent decision related to the effect on daily life is necessary. We focused more on this second decision in a class discussion yesterday. So if Jesus saved us from our sins and is coming back, how does that change my life today? 

There was a moment when my first class period of juniors finished the discussion and were working on a reading assignment in small groups when one group asked me a question related to the significance of this topic. “Can you imagine what it would be like if students and staff at this school lived their daily lives as an encounter with the risen Jesus?” I responded. I watched a student’s eyes grow wide, “That would be incredible.” She got it. This Jesus thing is supposed to radically change us. I should look different – more like Jesus – the more I live in light of this resurrected Savior. 

The second class period took a different turn as one of the students had written on an assignment her concern about Jesus being our protector but Christians still got physically hurt all the time. I brought this up after we spent some time talking about Jesus’ relevance today. Knowing all the students well enough, I told them we could use my accident as an example. “I’m paralyzed. Did Jesus protect me?” A couple students piped up quickly pointing out that it could have been worse: “You could have died,” or “You could have been paralyzed from the neck down.” Several students were uncomfortable with that and one articulated that you can always find a way for it to be worse until the person is dead so what good does that line of reasoning do? Another kid brought up the distinction between physical and spiritual protection. I was so excited to listen to one student describe how I was not protected physically, but there was certainly room to see that I had been protected spiritually – namely that I came through this experience with a stronger faith. Across the room another student who has heard me talk about my accident more than most commented that she’s listened to me say that this experience has been one of the greatest catalysts for growth in my faith. 

A different student who was in my class before my accident began a little timidly, “Well, having known you before your accident, I can say that you’re a lot less pretentious now than before, and you’re much more passionate about your faith.”

Praise. The. LORD. 

I laughed when she said that, and grinned as several other students from my freshman English class nodded and murmured affirmations. How beautiful – these kids have seen Jesus transform my life in the last two years. The conversation shifted again as students began to articulate ideas about how we grow closer to Jesus and he protects us spiritually but we don’t have easy lives. Some students articulated frustration with the difficulties we face – both spiritually and physically – but we concluded there was value in pursuing answers while recognizing limits in our understanding.

I left that class period and was went to therapy shortly after. Anja and I had an hour to work together, and I related to her my excitement about my students’ learning. I was still riding the high of such a successful lesson, so I was eager to share with her. When I got to the part about a student telling me I’d become a better person, she asked me if I thought that was true from my perspective.

Definitely.

I love what that kid identified because it’s a practical application of my “humbled not humiliated” mantra way back in REHAB. Paul writes in Philippians 2 that Jesus as a human Jesus humbled himself to the point of death – he wasn’t concerned about his physical needs as much as his spiritual example. Now, to be fair, Jesus took good care of his body too – and that’s something that Anja and I talked about as well. I’m more concerned about my spiritual protection – my soul is the priority – but that doesn’t mean I’m going to ignore my physical care. I take seriously the work I do in physical therapy and the exercises I have at home. I want to be holistically healthy – body and soul – so I’ll keep working hard to encounter the risen Jesus every day while simultaneously putting hard work into my ongoing physical rehabilitation.

I’m really fortunate that I’ve got a PT like Anja who helps with the ongoing physical stuff – each week, we’re building on the work I do with Margot and what I do at home by myself. Yesterday we had another hour session, and I was looking forward to another experience standing stacked and flat footed. After nearly 45 minutes of preparation (and deep conversation), Anja turned me to face the therapy bank and had me stand up. My left ankle wasn’t as excited about the venture as I was, but we spent several minutes shifting my weight over my feet while Anja held me safe. I was protected. Every time Anja or Margot ask me to do something scary, I know they will protect me. Just like the relationship I had with Alex back in REHAB or when I practice walking with Hunter, I know these people will protect me physically, but there’s still a risk and a tiny bit of fear involved. 

When it comes to my soul, I’m secure. There is no fear because I am protected in a different way. I’ve had people ask me about my faith in a God who could miraculously heal me but hasn’t, and nothing has shaken my faith in that God. Every question has brought me closer to this very real Jesus who I get to encounter daily and learn more about for the rest of my life. He is infinite, and I have eternity to learn the mysteries of why I still need braces and catheters today. It doesn’t mean I’ll need them tomorrow, and I’m still asking God to miraculously restore all function to me. I’d like it today, but I’ll take it whenever it comes. It’s a complex issue, and it shouldn’t have an easy answer. My soul is protected, and I’m working hard to be responsible with my body as it continues to recover.

When German friends ask me how I’m doing, I answer “Immer besser,” or “always better.” I’m making slow progress, and sometimes I’m frustrated at the pace, but I have to recognize that I’m still moving forwards. It’s a Schnecke pace – slow as a snail – but I’ve noticed those snails can really book it in the spring after the rain stops. This past week, I feel like I moved super slowly and didn’t reach the distances I had hoped. I did reach some other goals outside of my physical movement though. I taught my students for three days last week, and I was so delighted to see them all back in the classroom. Today, one of them told me I am as cool as Mrs. Fung, the super awesome English teacher they have. 

I don’t have any significant update to provide this week, but I want you all to know I’m still moving forwards. I haven’t seen the first snails of the season yet, but I’ll be ready to race them when they show up. 

There are loads of horrible lessons to be learned from Disney princess movies, but I’m not going to touch that. I’m instead going to talk about the coordination that comes from familiarity with your appendages. When The Little Mermaid begins, Arial is adept at moving through the water by using her tail. She turns and twists with relative ease in the buoyant environment because she’s used to both the water and the fish tail. When she’s given the chance to walk with legs for the first time, she wobbles quite a bit. Her brain isn’t used to sending signals to legs to walk one foot in front of the other; her nerves are new.

My nerves are old and broken. My brain is still sending signals, but the nerves haven’t been getting the right messages – the reverse is true as well. In a normal land environment, there are certain factors that I encounter which my body accounts for – gravity being the biggest deal. In therapy sessions, my therapist will occasionally hook my legs up in straps while I lay down to practice motions without the hindrance of gravity. Another way to cheat gravity is in water. Those who’ve followed my story since REHAB will possibly remember my one previous attempt at walking in water and how it was not so worth the great amount of effort necessary.

Well, two years later, I tried it again. Carol has been saying for months (almost years) that she’s convinced I’d love hanging out in a thermal bath to relax my muscles, and Hunter long ago offered to come with me to keep me safe in the water (you know, in case Carol tried to drown me). I was nervous about being in the water, but the biggest fear I had was the transfer from chair to pool. I remember the transfer with Alex back in REHAB, and it was scary to be wet and moving weight without my braces. I talked through all my fears with Hunter, and he planned out how we could try this out as safely as possible. 

Yesterday, Hunter and Michele showed up at my house to tape up my ankles in preparation for this grand new adventure. Michele’s job was to hold my feet in position as her husband wrapped the tape around to keep the foot secure, and we all joked about how without trying I kept pushing her back as my calf fought the proper angle of my ankle. Carol showed up after we started the second foot, and once my ankles were covered in medical tape and tucked into water socks, we loaded into the Barber’s car with my wheelchair and drove out to Bad Bellingen, a thermal bath about fifteen minutes away. 

This particular bath has water wheelchairs, so Michele grabbed one for me and helped me change and transfer to the other chair. She kindly asked the front desk where we could securely check in my personal chair and was met with strange looks as they instructed her to leave it in the open entry area with the other water chairs. I often forget I live in a country where no one would dream of stealing a disabled person’s wheelchair; it’s really quite a gift. Ready to go, we made our way into the indoor pool where Carol and Hunter were already waiting. Hunter found an employee who could operate the crane to lower me into the pool, and he carefully and slowly helped me transfer from the pool chair to crane seat. Secure and holding on to a pool noodle, I took deep breaths as the employee swung me over the water and slowly lowered me down. Carol and Michele helped me out and pulled me to more shallow water where I tried to stand up. My feet were reticent to flatten out, but we spent about an hour trying different things to relax my muscles, stretch my calves, and flatten my feet. I had a couple exercises from my therapists that I tried out in the water, and my wonderful friends helped me with every new thing.

I was certainly grateful for all the help, and I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t have gone with anyone else. Fear is an overstatement, but these three knew my anxieties about trying out this new thing that had been relatively unsuccessful before. My function is significantly different than the last time I was in a pool, but I also was trying this for the first time out of a hospital facility with certified therapists and nurses who do this regularly. I trust Hunter’s training to keep me safe in my unique situation, and I trust Michele and Carol to also help with whatever else I might need. The three of them together helped me try out some exercises from my therapists where I pretended to be the Little Mermaid – I focused very carefully on moving the very base of my spine with help from my stomach and lower back muscles just like Margot taught me, and I held myself steady with my core instead of my shoulders like Anja encouraged me to do. It’s not my normal environment, so the exercises took a lot of concentration and were far from feeling natural, but it was good practice.

With help, I felt safe, I laughed a lot, and I was even able to relax a little bit. It was still a new thing that required a lot of energy though, so I was completely exhausted by the time we decided to leave the pool. (Full disclosure: I decided it was time to leave; I’m pretty sure Carol could have stayed another two hours.) Changing out of the wet swimsuit was not so bad once I had my trusty braces back on, and my friends waited patiently as I took my time getting myself ready to leave. I was so tired, and we all expected that I’d sleep soundly through the night which was sadly not the case, but it was still an overall good experience. I’m pretty pooped today, but I’m proud of myself for trying out my fish tail moves, and I’m back to wobbling on land for a while. 

I’m not sure if I’ve referenced “spoon theory” here before, but it’s a concept that aptly describes my limitations this week. You can read the whole post here, but the summary is that a woman with a chronic illness explained to her friend that those with chronic illness or disability begin each day with a limited number of spoons which represent energy to accomplish tasks whereas able bodied people have a limitless supply of spoons. I have a limited supply of spoons, and it takes a spoon to open my eyes each morning, to get out of bed, to put on my clothes, to go to the bathroom – some of these tasks take multiple spoons. Nearly none of you have to budget your energy for any of those tasks. I frequently have to make judgement calls about what I’ll do each day knowing that I’ll eventually run out of spoons. I can sometimes borrow spoons into the next day, but then I’m starting the following day even lower on spoons. 

This weekend, there is a great professional development opportunity available to BFA staff as our school is hosting a conference for international Christian educators put on by the Association of Christian Schools International. As a BFA staff member, I was signed up for the full package, and I was so excited to listen to respected educators and engage in insightful workshops. The conference is only three days, and it’s completely full days Saturday afternoon to Tuesday afternoon. And I mean completely full. Sunday and Monday were booked solid for twelve hours of content. I love learning, and this is a conference for learners to be better teachers. This is all content I’m excited about.

Unfortunately, my body and the school’s facility don’t match my enthusiasm. This weekend has presented new challenges to me that are difficult to articulate to all the lovely masses who think they are offering help but don’t understand how life with disabilities works. I’m going to try, but I’d like to preface it by saying if you’ve offered something that I here explain is not helpful, it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize, you don’t need to make a big deal about it, you didn’t know. Please, though, learn from this experience a little more of the whole picture of life with disabilities.

Our main building doesn’t have an elevator. We have two elevator shafts that are currently used as storage space and as recently as my arrival at BFA were used as offices as well. The building is not meant to be accessible to me. The gymnasium on the second floor was the only place that was usable for this conference as a cafeteria area. There are various reasons this decision was made; I was not taken into account in the decision. Should I have been? Well, there should be an elevator. Anyways, this was the circumstance with which I was faced, and my options were to not be fed, to have food brought to me, or to make my way up the stairs. 

Here’s a quick reminder for you of my mobility ability: stairs are rough for me.

I usually do two staircases a week, and I have a lot of time after each go to recover. There was no way that I was going to go up and down a flight of stairs twice a day in the middle of twelve hour days for food when there was no recovery time. I asked instead if my food could be brought down to the main level by a friend who could eat with me. The staff happily agreed, but I also had several offers that if I wanted to get up to the gym, they could make it happen. Here’s what is not taken into account by those offers: my dignity. I have the physical capacity to get myself up the stairs. I do not need to be carried. Carrying me up the stairs robs me of my dignity in a way you just can’t imagine. It’s unnecessarily humiliating for me. Furthermore, I have the ability to move my legs just enough to get myself up stairs, but that doesn’t mean I have the energy. Our gym has a second door that opens to a grassy slope that others offered to push me up. This still robs me of energy even if I’m being pushed, so it’s another no go. 

I had communicated that I’d try to go to the banquet this evening up the stairs with help, but when it came time to make my way upstairs, I was out of spoons. I’ve already borrowed spoons from tomorrow and Wednesday; I was too far in debt to get to the gym. Most people I told readily understood that I’d pushed way past my usual limits. Able bodied people were tired at this point after two and a half full days, and I’d attended nearly every workshop and plenary session. It is completely legitimate for me to be tired, and I’m proud of how much I accomplished today. I’m also proud of myself for not ramming rude people with my wheelchair. 

Another caveat: before I was in a wheelchair, I didn’t think much about people in wheelchairs. It was wrong. I get that other people think like I used to. It’s still wrong.

I used to allow for a lot of bending of my dignity because I was still learning the limits of my disability, but there are things that are just not okay. Here are three from today.

First, our school only has one disabled bathroom (that’s not even the not okay part of the story, though that also is problematic and I found myself almost locked in the building last night because I had to go to another building to use a toilet before dinner – but I digress from today). The single disabled bathroom is located near the front entrance to the building where I teach which has a small lobby area that has had a coffee station this weekend. There’s not a lot of room to stand and chat, so people have squeezed beneath the stairwell and on the other side which leads directly to my bathroom door. In fact, the only thing you see in this small open space is my door which has a handicapped symbol above a sign that reads “DO NOT BLOCK ACCESS TO THIS DOOR.” Even so, because there are so many people squeezing in, I’ve found the door blocked nearly every time I’ve made my way to the restroom. Fortunately, most times it’s just a couple people standing well in front of it, and I just need to ask them to part for me. However, at one point today, when I was finished going to the bathroom, I discovered resistance when I tried to open the door to get out. Someone was standing against my door. 

They moved quickly and were apologetic, but I can’t stress enough the not-okayness of this situation. I was fortunate they weren’t sitting or leaning against it, but they had placed a laptop bag in front of it and were standing close enough that I hit them without getting more than six inches of the door open. A BFA staff member behind them noticed me trying to get out and came to help me with the door in my confusion as I was shoving against this strange resistance. I realized there was a person crammed behind the door when I wheeled past. I’m not sorry I squished them. That could have easily been me just over two years ago, but I too would have deserved a serious smacking with that door if I blocked a wheelchair user in the disabled bathroom. That is not appropriate. 

Second anecdote context: I’m deathly allergic to peanuts. During the fifteen minute break between workshop sessions today, there were snacks available to delegates – at least all the delegates who don’t have life threatening food allergies. Since I couldn’t have the snacks, and I was already really tired, I’d asked my amazing student who’s been around this weekend for worship team to run to the store and buy me chocolate to give me a little boost. I was wheeling down the hall with the chocolate on my lap and expertly navigating the crowds before entering the elevator for my next session. Our elevator requires a key which I’m privileged enough to have. Our elevator is also tiny, so for convenience, I enter backwards and exit forwards. I’d turned the key and whipped my wheelchair around to back into the elevator, but in my haste, the chocolate on my lap fell on the floor. A kind hearted woman knelt to pick it up with her free hand that had just deposited nuts in her mouth.

“Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t! I’ve got it!” I was afraid she’d touch my precious chocolate with her nut dusted hands which could lead to my unfortunate death. Normally I’d let someone pick up a dropped item though I am capable of it. I was concerned here about the food allergy, not the disability. 

“Wow, aren’t you so independent!” the woman was somewhere between impressed or insulted. I didn’t have time to figure it out because the elevator door opened. 

“No, I’m just allergic to peanuts!” I swiped up my chocolate and backed into the elevator which quickly closed behind me.

Now, the problem here is probably harder for most of you to see than in the previous scenario. The woman was being polite, and I was likely the one to come across as more rude resisting her kind act. However, something that it’s important for all of us to learn is that a disabled person might need to learn to do something on their own, and you should respect that if they decline your offer for help. I’ve tried to write about that before referencing the Steve Saint clip. This is the clearest of all the encounters today that I’ve had where people were affronted by this. Lots of people offer to do things for me that I decline – I’m never offended when they offer, but it’s an insult to me when you don’t respect my decision. Sometimes offers for help bring more harm that good (as the peanuts in contact with my beautiful chocolate would), and you need to trust that the disabled person has the autonomy to make that call. Now, this is why the woman’s response would have been problematic if she was insulted by my “rude” refusal of help and sarcastically declared me independent. There’s a chance she was being genuine though; this is equally if not more offensive towards me. I’m a pretty impressive person: I earned a masters degree by 24, moved to Germany to teach TCKs, I have read Crime and Punishment in it’s entirety of my own free will. I also live alone and take care of myself without assistance after a spinal cord injury which is moderately impressive. It’s not at all impressive to pick up a small box of chocolate off the floor. That’s not even the most impressive thing I’d done that hour. It was incredibly demeaning to me as a human being if she was impressed at my independence in picking up a box of chocolate. She didn’t know anything about me except that I was in a wheelchair, and she assumed it was a huge deal that I was bending down to pick up what I’d dropped just like any other person would do based solely on the fact that I was in a wheelchair. 

The final frustration I’ll share took place when I was keeping Carol company at the hospitality table. A woman from another school came up to strike up a conversation about my disability. It’s the most obvious physical feature that I have, but it is not okay to ask somebody in a wheelchair, “So what happened to you?” I’m not hiding anything, but it’s a super personal thing for many people with disabilities. Furthermore, there’s an appropriate context for asking that kind of question, and I can promise you, it’s never okay for it to be the first thing out of your mouth when you introduce yourself to me. You can easily bring it naturally into a conversation if you’re that curious. For example, after some pleasantries about what content I teach and how long I’ve been at BFA you might ask how I find it to be as a teacher in a wheelchair if that provides any difficulties – this is fitting in a conference for teachers. However, this woman just asked, “So what happened to you?” That’s not even her biggest faux pas. Once I told her I broke my back (like I said, I’m not hiding anything), she asked me how long I was expected to be in the wheelchair. “The rest of my life. I’m paralyzed.” I was kinda shocked at the question because most people know that breaking your back isn’t like breaking your leg. “Oh,” she replied, “I just thought it must be less because you were just sitting here looking so happy and normal.” This woman thinks you can’t be happy and normal if you’re in a wheelchair. This is the most offensive thing I’ve encountered since my accident. My wheelchair allows me to be happy and normal. Without it, I’d be bedridden and helpless. With it, I can attend a conference where people are rude to me.

I’m incredibly fortunate in that I’ve recovered a lot of mobility and can be so independent with my wheelchair, but there are people with even less functionality than I have who lead beautiful happy lives in their own realm of normal. Please, I beg of you, don’t ever think of someone with a permanent disability to be incapable of happiness. That’s dehumanizing.

I do look different than most of you because of my disability, but I’m still a human. A human with admittedly significantly less energy than most of you, but don’t rob me of my human dignity. Be like Hunter who thinks about accessibility when walking places I might go. Be like Carol who never picks things up for me (just kidding – she would if I asked her to). Be like Helen who asked me how my heart was doing as I watched the line for dinner snake up the spiral staircase. 

It’s hard to write a post this week because nothing remotely near the excitement level of last week happened again. I’ve still been working hard, and that hard work paid off big time last week, but I’ve got to keep pushing along and waiting for more results. 

I did have some great interactions with students, amazing conversations with friends near and far, and read a few delightful books. In many ways, this week was pretty routine. That’s kinda nice to be able to say – you know, that my life has so little fresh trauma that I can find a new routine. It’s still a little depressing on the flip side that the major limitations I still have are part of my routine. Part of my routine includes an alarm an hour before I get out of bed to take a muscle relaxant; part of my routine is having a way to treat and overcome muscle spasms. I still wouldn’t trade my life for the world, and I’m more than grateful for the function and friends that I have.

I’m also still really hopeful about that brief moment on my feet last week. It encourages me to think that there might be more moments on my feet like it ahead. I’m still not done improving, and I’m grateful for all your encouragements along the way. Hopefully next week we’ll see some new things that I can share. In the mean time, I’ll keep teaching and reading and having epic theological conversations with Jordy during her lunch break. 

Last week there was a small adjustment to my therapy schedule as I had a special hour long session with Anja to try something we’d attempted in earlier half hour sessions with limited success. When I showed up, I sat down in a chair in the therapy room and removed my shoes. Anja and I had a great conversation while she massaged my calves and relaxed my ankles. The drop foot keeps the muscles below my knees ridiculously tight. Eventually, she got my feet to stay put flat on the floor and asked me to lift my heel while she held one hand on the top of my foot and the other on the back of my calf.

It’s a good thing I trust my therapists. Whenever they ask me to move muscles I don’t have control over, I have the potential to get discouraged. I obey, but always question whether any of the motion is coming from me. They always insist there is a flicker from me first before they complete the motion. I know this to be true because after months of the same request from Margot, I can finally feel what she is talking about with the muscles in my butt and hips. Anja repeated the same answer – I was starting the movement and she stimulated the muscles to complete it. 

Once we’d done this for a significant amount of time, Anja pushed me in the chair close to the raised table and the exciting part began. For some context, I’m capable of standing, but it’s nothing like your ability to stand or what mine was like before my accident. I always feel like my posture is out of whack. Most of that is related to the drop foot because it’s so difficult to get my feet to stand flat on the floor. Even when I can, my calves are so tight that the ankles constantly are fighting to turn out and return the muscles above to a shortened position. Even when my feet make it flat to the ground, I’m always wobbling and unsure of my position and usually have an awkward arch in my spine as I fight to keep myself upright.

This time when I stood, none of that happened. My feet were flat; my spine was stacked. Anja instructed me to shift my weight from side to side and see if any spasms came. My ankles stayed steady and calm. I began to get excited. Eventually, I lowered my arms from the table and stayed still, feet firmly planted and shoulders relaxed. Anja continued to instruct me in different tests of moving my arms and shifting weight, but my ankles kept their cool. This was one of the most exciting moments of the last two years as it was the first time since my accident that I felt like I was standing like a normal person. I never wanted to sit down.

Eventually, my legs did get tired, and my ankles decided we were done. Anja helped me sit down and she told me that she was proud of me. That brief experience was honestly one of the happiest moments of my life so far – to have that joy of simply standing with good posture after two years of hard work and hunched shoulders. I still have a long way to go, but it was quite the celebration.

Saturday was a special treat for me as I was able to spend the day with Jo and Lydia – two of my friends from REHAB. Jo drove me out to visit Lydia who’s spending time at a facility near Zürich. Jo and I planned this surprise visit last week, and it was such a joy for me to spend the afternoon with the two of them. I had to work hard on my German, but Lydia encouraged me that I’ve improved a lot since she met me – when I could only say two sentences in German. 

My walking has improved a lot since she met me as well, and she was exited to see me on my feet as well. Despite the cold weather, I’m trying to spend more time on my feet to strengthen my muscles and improve my circulation. I’ve still been walking around the school auditorium with Hunter, and I feel safe trying new things with him since he’s trained how to help me reach the ground safely were I to fall. This week we switched from him walking backwards in front of me with his arms out to me using just my right stick with Hunter holding onto me with a gait belt. The next day we tried using two forearm crutches instead of my single stick.

Both of these variations are things I’ve tried with Hunter or my therapists before, but have always felt pretty scary and wobbly. This week, I felt a noticeable difference in how I carried myself. I could tell that I was walking better. I still have a looooooong way to go in my balance, but I was hugely encouraged to feel the weight better placed over my legs rather than hovering in my arms. These new kinds of steps indicate new steps in my healing. I’m so excited about the progress, and I’m eagerly anticipating more healing.

Also, after I talked with Anja this week, I’m adding valerian supplements to my bedtime meds in hopes of getting better sleep because she thinks that better sleep can significantly impact the rest of my recovery. I’m grateful for all your continued prayers as I keep working hard to improve my status. God is at work, and it’s exciting to see the positive changes. 

This week a friend posted on Facebook a meme that said, “I feel like I’m already tired tomorrow.” I relate to this sentiment on a painfully deep level. I remember way back in REHAB writing a post about how I worried people would get bored hearing me talk about how tired I am, so I try to down play it. The truth is, I’m always tired. I’m always excited to go to work, but I’m tired. 

After I got my heat fixed, I started sleeping better through the nights for about a week. It was a glorious week. Now, I’m back to the disrupted unsatisfying sleep, and I’m bringing it up because it affects a lot of things. Sleep and proper hydration can do wonders for an individual. Most people think those are both things within an individuals control; I’ve only recently regained the ability to drink copious amounts of water without embarrassing consequences. I’m a little out of practice, but I’m working on staying well hydrated throughout the day.

I’m also working on the quantity of sleep I get in the hopes that it compensates for the poor quality. I’d like better quality sleep though. That’s really the goal. I’ve asked for it before, but it bears repeating. Could you please pray for my sleep? For sweet dreams, that I’d go to sleep quickly and quietly, whatever you fancy, I’d be grateful.

I tried to think of a witty story to pair with this most immanent issue of the week, but I’ll be honest, I’m too tired to come up with one. I had some great interactions with students – I love them so much – sometimes it physically hurts that I can’t adequately articulate the vastness of this love to you. Seriously, guys, I have the greatest kids ever. One of them wrote me the sweetest birthday note and gave me adorable socks because she’s a gem. Another came into my class during his study hall because he didn’t have homework and misses my class this semester. I love my job. I’d like to think I’d be better at it if I wasn’t always so tired.

I’m a big fan of Jesus. (That should be obvious by now.) There’s this story recorded in the Gospel of Mark about Jesus healing a paralyzed man. It blew my mind away when I read it recently. 

I’d heard the story a dozen times since childhood – this man couldn’t walk, so his four friends climbed up to the roof and removed part of the house to lower the paralyzed man down to Jesus in a packed house where people pressed close to this wise and powerful teacher. Jesus tells the man his sins are forgiven, the religious elite freak, and Jesus tells the man to get up and walk.

Now, that in itself has some pretty powerful implications – Jesus heals the man physically only after the scribes question his bold move of forgiving the mans sins. I was caught up a sentence before that though. Mark 2:5 says, “And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.'” You might have missed it because I know I’d never seen it before. When Jesus saw their faith, he spoke to the paralytic. When Jesus saw their faith. The friends brought the paralytic to Jesus. Then the Lord, in his mercy, healed the most important thing first – Son, your sins are forgiven. Which is easier to say – your sins are forgiven or rise up and walk? Jesus did both for the sake of the scribes. 

He healed the man’s soul because of the faith of the friends; he healed the man’s body because of the lack of faith of the scribes. What must it have felt like for the man in question?

I have an idea. 

That man saw Jesus. That man listened to Jesus and obeyed. That man isn’t even named, and this is where I find such importance in his story. Christianity is a faith in community. The man was healed because of their faith. It wasn’t a one man show. He couldn’t get to Jesus on his own. I need to be carried before Jesus by all of you reading this. 

I am weak and in need of help. Please, please keep carrying me to Jesus; I need him to forgive my sins, to heal my soul. Jesus is the only one who can do that. That’s the priority. 

Now, there are also some scribes watching this story unfold. When I walk again, it’s so “that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins” (Mark 2:10).

This unnamed paralytic exits the biblical narrative after a dozen verses and Mark records many more miracles as he follows the life of Jesus. Though we don’t have a record of it, I have a guess at what this man’s life might have been like. I have a feeling he never shut up about this encounter with Jesus. He was paralyzed; his friends brought him to Jesus; his sins were forgiven. Oh, and he got to walk too.

I can imagine the epic dance party he had with his friends later that night. I’ll have it with my friends someday too. The soundtrack for that night will include “Oh, Happiness” by David Crowder and a whole lot of Family Force Five. Please, please keep carrying me to Jesus.