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How much pain are you in?

I'm not tired at all. It's 12:45 am and I've only got one thing on my mind: pain.
We always ask our patients to give us their rating of pain, on a scale of 0-10. Zero being: they aren't in pain at all and ten: they would rather be dead (for clarification- no... I don't actually ask my patients if they would rather be dead, but you get the idea). It is quite an effective little scale and even young children can comprehend what we are trying ask them... especially if it means giving some more morphine to cope with what's going on with their bodies.
It is this concept that has kept me awake so long. Not necessarily the subject of morphine, physical pain, but more along the lines of emotional pain... being hurt. When we are hurt, we feel a multitude of things such as: anger, abandonment, confusion, we feel unloved, unwanted, etc. I, personally, feel these things on a pretty rare occasion and most of the time, it has been on the account of someone else that I love being hurt.
For some reason, I have never understood the full extent of how God feels pain. I haven't really thought about it in these last few months anyway... and in all honesty, when I'm in pain, I only think of myself. For some reason, I have finally come to the realization that God does feel pain. He feels pain when I don't communicate with him, when I don't take his advice, or when I choose anything else over him. I realized fully today that this is how he feels every time I do something against him: he feels disappointed, abandoned, unloved, unwanted. He feels the hurt just as strongly as I do. I don't know if he keeps a continuous pain scale going, but I'm pretty sure I've caused him many "tens" and today, I really wished I had some morphine to give him.

My man, C.S.

I have decided that C.S. Lewis is really smart... probably one of the smartest I know of. He knows exactly how to put things in a way that most people can readily understand. If I can use the same amount of brain power in my life that that man did in 40 years, I think I may consider myself accomplished. Here is something from his book, Mere Christianity, that is lovely to chew on:

"When a man is getting better he understands more and more clearly the evil that is still left in him. When a man is getting worse he understands his own badness less and less. A moderately bad man knows he is not very good: a thoroughly bad man thinks he is all right. THis is common sense, really. You understand sleep when you are awake, not while you are sleeping. You can see mistakes in arithmetic when your mind is working properly: while you are making them you cannot see them. You can understand the nature of drunkenness when you are sober, not when you are drunk. Good people know about both good and evil: bad people do not know about either."

The beginning

I have been getting into reading the Bible more these days. I've decided to dig a little deeper than usual and started looking up the references along the side of my Bible. This is my new version of Genesis 1:1-

"In the beginning was the word an the word was with God and the word was God. Jesus was in the beginning with God. Everything was made through him and without him, there was and is no possibility of anything being created. God created the heavens and the earth. He made the world and everything in it. He is the Lord of Heaven and earth and he does not dwell in temples made with hands. He has said that heaven is my throne and earth is my footstool, what house will you build for me? Or what place of my rest? Has my hand not made all things?
He does not dwell in temples nor is he worshipped with man's hands, as though he needed anything, since he gives to all life and breath, and all things.
For the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being. He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth, and has determined their pre-appointed times and the boundaries of their dwellings.
All the inhabitants of the earth are nothing; he does according to his will in the army of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth. No one can restrain his hand or say to him "what have you done?"
God says "I am a God near at hand and not a God far off. Can anyone hide himself in secret places so I shall not see him? Do I not fill the heavens and the earth?"
So, we are to seek God in the hope that we might grope for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us.
For in him we live and move and have our being."

This is only Genesis 1:1. Looks like I have a lot more left to go. This is just the beginning.

A bike ride mixed with frustration and lack of air.

My excitement woke up with me this morning and only mounted as I set out to plan the perfect bike route, with the help of Honey Bunches of Oats and Google Maps. I found a 44 mile (round trip) road bike trail just a measly 20 miles away from my apartment in Orlando, FL and started driving towards it with very high expectations and a whole lot of adrenaline.

Upon arriving at the trail head, I thought it would be a good idea to ask another bicyclist which direction would be best to take (since the trail head was in the middle of the 44 miles). I stopped a seasoned gentleman and after my inquiry, he asked if I was a good bike rider- "I'm alright," I said, with a wink. He told me which way to go and after saying thank you, I headed back over to my car to pump up my tires. As soon as I started pumping up my back tire, I heard a "PSSSSHHHHHHH!!!" I looked down and saw my tire, sinking down to the ground... matching the deflation of my high hopes for the day. The old man came over and asked if I had a tire kit, to which I replied that I had forgotten mine that day. I wasn't about to tell him that not only had I forgotten mine, I didn't even own one. I always thought I would be close enough to call a friend if I ever had trouble, and I'm a bit of a frugal person as well and haven't wanted to spend the money on one.

Off to the nearest bike store I went and about an hour later, I had a new tube in my bike (for 15 dollars). The bike mechanic asked if I wanted a tire kit for the next time a tube popped. I turned him down... after all- I had just gotten my tire fixed and there was no way my tire was popping again.

I found the "West Orange" trail head again and started off. The West Orange trail is something that I'd never seen before. It was about as large as a road, and paved, but it ran next to the road and sometimes split off into more scenic areas. It was pretty much just for road bikes. My energy just increased with each mile I rode, partially due to the energy pack I'd had just moments before starting off but either way, I was on cloud 8 or 9. The only bad thing that happened was that my sunglasses fell in a toilet around mile 10, there was no soap so I just put them back on and continued. The miles just kept flying by. I was on about mile 12 and figured I could go another 5 before turning around... coming out to 34 miles total!

"PPPPPPPSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" That sound scared me so bad, I almost couldn't get my clip-ons off in time and just about toppled over. Unfortunately, it was the sound of my back tire popping... again. I was so frustrated, I probably could have left my bike on the side of the road and walked the 12 miles back. This second popping episode posed a bit of a predicament for me, because ALL of my nursing friends were at work. The only other person that wasn't was not answering her phone. My options were: walk 12 miles back, or hitch hike. I was at a point in the trail where there was a stop sign for bikers, and a small car road that passed in front of it. I walked out to the front of it several times, to see if I wanted to attempt hitch-hiking. Just the thought of it sent pictures in my head of possible newspaper headings... "21 year old girl is said to be missing- she went on a bike ride by herself, without a tire kit, and hitch-hiked because of a flat tire. Authorities think a newly escaped convict picked her up..." or another heading: "Mother kills daughter after finding out she went hitch-hiking."

Regardless of the thoughts running through my head, I decided to hitch hike. Thankfully the two men who picked me up were firefighters and were married to nurses... not that that really meant much. They were also on a job at the moment and had to go 12 miles in the opposite direction of where I needed to go, so they dropped me off at the closest bike store.

Mistake #1- not having a tire kit, mistake #2- going by myself on a trail in the middle of nowhere in Florida, possible mistake #3- hitch hiking. AND #4- forgetting to bring my money.

At least I had remembered to bring my phone with me. My friend called back and agreed to come and get me... and pay for everything. While I was waiting for her, The nice people at the bike store chewed me out thoroughly for not having a tire kit and told me they hoped I'd learned my lesson...
Not 5 minutes after putting the bike in my friend's car, we heard "PSSSSHHHHHHH!!!" Back to the bike store I went for the 3rd time in one day. If you are in Orlando and you happen to see a Bianchi Imola road bike on the side of the road, you'll know what happened.

Anyway, the bike people were right... I have learned my lesson: don't go on a bike ride by yourself and don't go on a bike ride without a tire kit. I'll probably go for many more bike rides by myself, but as for the other issue, it's safe to say that I now own a tire kit.

Flat bread

I have never been completely with it first thing in the morning. This morning was no exception to the rule. I stumbled out of bed and found myself in the kitchen, where I made an egg and cheese sandwich and cut up some grapefruit. For some reason, I forgot I was carrying two things in my hand when I went to the living room to eat. I subconsciously set the plate with the sandwich down on the couch and thinking that it was still in my hand, promptly turned around and sat down... right on top of my sandwich. My day only got better from here.

A bundle of sticks and a substitute teacher

"Okay guys, it's time to read from your story books... everybody go get one, they're in the back" I said, as I scanned my classroom of 12 bright-eyed 7 and 8 year olds. As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a little one at my side, looking up at me with that little blond head and sparkling blue eyes saying, "Miss Beth, can we pleeeeease go pick a partner?" Well, how could I resist?

They got into groups of two and the reading began. I went around the room, making sure Donavon and Lecyrus weren't at each other's throats again, and making sure the kids were actually reading. As I went from group to group, sitting at each for a couple of minutes, the story unraveled. It was called "A bundle of sticks" and as I began to piece the story together, from segments at each group, I found that it was about two brothers who were fighting over who was the better of the two. The father, saddened by the constant bickering, gave the boys a task. He gave them a bunch of sticks and told them to break them all at once. They quickly realized that they were, seperately, too weak to break them and had to do it together to accomplish the task.
After every group finished reading, I called them all back together to discuss the book.

"Do you guys ever fight with your siblings?" To see all the hands that went up in the air, you would think they were a gospel choir at a Baptist church. As I picked on the hands that were raised, I got the full lowdown of exactly how it was between these kids and each one of their siblings and exactly how their parents punished them. They would tell stories of, "... well, this one time, I pushed my brother, and my momma came and gave me a whoopin'!" or "... I couldn't play with my x-box anymore." Some even had stories of an infamous "spank spoon" or a certain corner they had to go sit in.

Then, I asked them this question: "Who do you think it hurts when you fight with your brother or sister?" I thought of all the different responses I could get... and the one response I actually wanted to hear. The kids answered about it hurting their mom, dad, sibling, or grandparent. Not one of them said that it would hurt God- that was the answer that I was fishing for.

This was a public school and the name Jesus or God was obviously not to be spoken by me as a teacher. It was okay to talk about God if a kid asked a question about him... but even then, I was to clearly state that it was only my opinion. I guess I asked that question because I wanted to see what they had been taught about Jesus, if anything at all. All throughout the day, I had seen snapshots of their home lives and this was just another picture.

One teacher told me that day that she could never be a nurse and she doesn't know how we do it. I told her that I could never be a teacher and I didn't know how she did it. What I actually meant by my statement though, was not about how hard it was to teach a class full of rambunctious kids. It was that I could never work in a place that didn't allow me to speak about God. I felt like I was about to burst when I asked the kids that question. I can't imagine feeling like that every day!

... so, I have a question for my readers. Why must teachers refrain from speaking about God in the classroom?