I am currently sitting on the hide-a-bed in the living room with my leg strapped to a machine that brings it up and down, pushing it to bend 50 degrees. I have already iced the leg and done my towel roll exercises. This is my life for the next week.

My dad and brother had come down for the Shepherd’s Conference last week. We had a great week together. The times at SC will always be great memories for me because I get to spend them with my dad, brothers, and other close friends and it is such a privilege to be in an environment where we are all challenged in our faith and our ministry.

Dad caught a red-eye flight on Sunday night to North Carolina to help Ian evaluate a seminary. Nathaniel flew out Monday morning. He was flying out at 6:20am from LAX, which was right around the corner from my surgery center.

So at about 4:20am, Bernie, Nathaniel and I hopped in Bernie’s new rig and headed to the airport. We dropped Nathaniel off about hour before his flight and then went to a McDonald’s so that Bernie could get a bite to eat. My orders were to refrain from eating or drinking anything after midnight before my surgery, so I was limited to simply smelling the egg mcmuffin goodness.

Since we rose so early, Bernie and I were quite tired. We drove the parking garage outside the clinic and napped for a little over than an hour, before checking in at 8:15am.

Not long after checking in, they took me into the pre-op room and had me change into a studly blue gown which came with matching booties and hair cap. Nothing quite says “MAN” like a medical outfit.

The kind ladies, Penny and Georgann, proceed to prepare me and my knee for the time our life.

Before anything else, they had me write “yes” on the shin that I was having surgery on with an arrow pointing up the leg toward my knee. California state law requires this. In talking with Nathaniel the night before, he suggested that I sign my leg with the name “Sarah Palin.” But unfortunately, a name was not what they wanted.

Next came the white tights. Yes, tights. One went on my left leg and the other would go on my right after surgery. They are to prevent blood-clotting in the legs. Very fashionable indeed.

Next came the IV. “Are you good with needles?” Georgann asked. “Only if I don’t look at ‘em.” I replied. I looked away as she tapped and squeezed my arm, making the veins pop out. She then poured something on my hand that froze the top of it temporarily as she shoved the needle up the vein between my middle and ring finger.

One of benefits of surgery is that it gives you new and awkward experiences. That was certainly true when Georgann shaved my leg – high up the thigh to midway through the calf. Now I was laying there with my left leg in white tights and my right leg awkwardly shaved.

They hooked some heart monitors to my chest and then I laid there for about three hours before being wheeled into the anesthesiologist. During those three hours, I dozed off a little, but I also had to battle some anxious thoughts that arose in my heart. With needles already in me, a girl a couple beds over weeping from pain, and the anticipation of what was coming, I was feeling a bit worried. I knew I was anxious because my heart rate was going up on the monitor.

These feelings drove me to the Scriptures. I was able to have my iPhone with me during those hours leading up to surgery, so I clicked on the Logos app and went to Psalm 43 and just started reading Psalm after Psalm. Through the words of the living God, the Spirit gave my soul incredible rest and confidence. Here are a couple of the verses that I ran across:

Psalm 43:5 – “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.”

Psalm 44:25-26 – “For our soul is bowed down to the dust; our belly clings to the ground. Rise up; come to our help! Redeem us for the sake of your steadfast love!”

Psalm 46:1-3 – “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.”

Psalm 46:10 – “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!”

Through these nuggets of truth and the prayers of the saints the Lord sustained me and mercifully calmed my heart.

After much waiting, I was wheeled into the operating room and they then sedated me and injected a nerve block into my leg, which is the equivalent to getting your mouth numbed at the dentist. Then the anesthesiologist put a mask on my face and said good-bye.

I was woken up in the recovery room by another nice lady and immediately scarfed the crackers that she offered to me. After my snack and a complicated visit to the little boy’s room, I was discharged and placed in the back seat of Bernie’s car for a groggy ride home, during which I talked to my mom and Audrey. I think they remember those phone calls better than I do

Thank you to all who have been praying for me. God has and is surely answering them. I am not resting at home with many exercises and such required of me all day long.

I had misplaced my fountain pen that my brother had given me for Christmas and it was not sitting well on my heart. Not only did I like the pen, but it was a special gift and losing it was horrible stewardship of this great gift.

This fall I read A Praying Life by Paul Miller and now I’m re-reading it, and one of the things that he emphasizes is that we need to come to our Father bringing the messiness of life. We should be like children and just blurt out what is on our hearts and minds. We cannot be ashamed for what we ask. God simply wants us to ask.

So I went to my heavenly Father and expressed my dependence and helplessness in finding the pen. I prayed knowing that if God wanted me to have that pen, then He would reveal it to me. The request seemed silly, but that lost pen was weighing on my heart.

Tonight, God answered those prayers and I found the pen in a pair of pants from earlier in the week. The recovered pen was a big reminder that God cares about the small things.

What if I never see 2011?

What if this was my last year on this planet?

If this was the case, how would I live in 2010?

I do not know what God has in store for me in this coming year, but I want to give everything I have to the gospel and to the glory of His name. This ambitious claim will probably not result in doing anything that will make the history books. It will not be the path of the well-known, but the path of unknown. It will not be the path of the popular, but the path of the unpopular. It will be the path of self-denial – which will not be comfortable, but it will be satisfying.

If I do not live to see 2011, I want to be able to say that 2010 was a year of repenting of sin, relying on the Holy Spirit, and rejoicing in Christ, for the glory of God.

A month ago, when I was flying back into LA from visiting Washington for my sister’s wedding, the forest fires were in full swing and thus were producing a lot of smoke. It seriously looked like a nuke had been dropped. Here’s a few pics from that day.

Flying in.

Driving back.

The smoke encroaching on the evening sun.

In eighth grade, I started writing poetry with my friend, David Zimmer. I wrote through my freshmen year of college, but haven’t since. I’ve dug up some of the old stuff and thought it would be good to share. It has been good to go back and read of what was on my heart and mind. I didn’t journal at the time, so my poems have helped discern what I was thinking about. Read and enjoy.

Disguised Entrapment

The gates open, the people flock,
Mindlessly traversing the streets.
The children appear happy, always wanting more,
The parents spending money on every whim.
Employees man their stations, put on their masks
And start the machines that control masses.
Hour by hour hearts and minds are conformed
To the ways of the money-hungry tyrant.

Tired feet, weary wallets, strife is in the air,
Children begging, parents reluctantly submitting;
And arguments arise pulling families apart.
Stained shirt, dirty diaper, a hat is lost.
The children restlessly squirm and complain;
Operators biting in reply, only to send them around once more;
Getting dark, all smile for finale;
They turn and go, for the day has finally ended.

The gates close, the people flee
With only dollar in hand,
For they have experienced
The unspoken terror of Disneyland

To A Murderous Mother

The choice to give life or take it away;
You all but think that the baby will pay.
This precious child is now going to die,
Because you believed this wretched evil lie.
You’ll never see the portraits in crayon and paint;
You’ll never hear the “I love you”s soft and faint;
You’ll never tuck in the child warm and snug,
Or feel the little arms give great big hugs.
The sounds of laughter shall never be heard at all,
As you chase the child down the hall.
Your house and heart are quiet, empty, and still
For one small boy or girl will never fill.
The baby has a request, so simple and so bleak-
To forgive his mommy and kiss her on the cheek.