Red pen grading my prayers...

In my graduate program, we're required (every week) to write these reports (or write-ups) for each of our various clinical placements. I have, for quite some time, labored under the delusion that I am tolerable writer. In fact, when questioned, I would probably say that writing is the most effortless part of academia.

However, my literary pride took quite a beating this semester. Every report has been revised, marked up, torn to shreds, while my report writing has been generally labelled "incompetent." It's quite demoralizing to spend 4 1/2 intense hours on three pages of written material only to have your supervisor bleed red pen all over it. (The worst is when they say, "Well, I guess you tried. I'll finish it.")

In these reports, wording is EVERYTHING. There are some supervisors who don't like it when you start sentences with clauses. There are others who get upset if you DON'T start sentences with clauses. Some don't like the use of the conjunction "but." Others have decided that their pet peeve is the phrase "due to." Often the red is whipped out on sentences that aren't wrong- they just aren't ordered the way the supervisor would have. I get jumpy around vocabulary and spend twenty minutes on the sentence "Mrs. B. is a 61 year old woman presenting with dysphagia." (Now, do I say "presenting with", "diagnosed with", "having", or just "with"?)

The other day, praying while walking across campus, I started doing the same thing. I was "clinic editing" my prayers to God- trying to cover any loop-holes, use the vocabulary that I thought he wanted to hear, trying to avoid any errors that could get my prayer "red-penned" and misinterpreted.

That is not my God! He knows the thoughts and intentions of my heart. He hears the prayers that are wordless cries for help, panicked screams for deliverance, bubbling silent joy. He doesn't need me to only use "delight" instead of "joy," "happiness," or "exhuberance"! He knows the thoughts that feeble language is trying to put forth. And it is so gracious of him to attend to my needs and desires even when my words fail.

For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous
and his ears are attentive to their prayer. (I Peter 3:12)

I think it may say something about the excitement level of my life if the ideal Friday night consists of cleaning my room scrubbing the kitchen floor.

Those standards aren't changing, sister.

I was told this week that I set the bar too high for men.

I was told that I secretly want a man like my father and that a man of that caliber is (almost) impossible to find.

I was told that if I didn't change my expectations, I was going to wind up old and alone.



Well, if that's the case- Here's to old aloneness!

**grin**

I don't have a green thumb- I have a nasty brown thumb which squashes all living botany, but here's hoping...

Today I planted close to 40 starts (to add to the 10 I did last week) in hopes my rather stark suburbian nest would blossom into this.




In the past I've failed to keep even the grass in my yard alive. I'll keep you posted on the success (or failure) of my transplanted English garden!

Speech Pathology Compliment **helps me keep going!**

This woman, Lorraine Ramig, has developed one of the THE most comprehensive therapy programs for people with Parkinson's Disease called the "Lee Silverman Voice Treatment." It has been so incredibly successful that neurologists, physical therapists, and other researchers are spending their careers finding ways to extend her amazing therapy to other venues of deficit (motor problems, children with cerebral palsy, etc.).

She is dynamite. She came and spoke to our class- she was poised, articulate, and incredibly dynamic. She did an incredible job showing us not only research but also therapy. Her focus was on the people she was helping- not just the research. This balanced focus was amazingly refreshing. In our field, speech therapists divide into two camps- research or therapy. If you enjoy both, you are forced to choose one or the other. But she created her own category.

Tonight Lorraine Ramig is being honored as Purdue University College of Liberal Art's Distinguished Alumni of 2009.

And today, in class, after she spoke to us, one of my classmates turned around and said,

"Is it just me guys, or the minute she started speaking did you think, "Oh-my-word- that's Courtney."?"

THEY THOUGHT I WAS LIKE DR. RAMIG! What a compliment.

Hmm, I wonder what my therapy program will be... ;)

Today is Thursday. This is what I'm thinking...

Today I'm really tired. You know? The nitty, behind-the-eyes fatigue that makes sleep impossible and alertness elusive?

I don't feel this way very often. I can sleep just about anywhere, anytime, any amount. I was actually born sleeping. The doctors had to wake me up. No joke. Ask my mom. There was no crying at my delivery. (At least by me...)

But, no, right now I'm very much awake and very much exhausted.

I'm supposed to be studying for an adult language exam. It's tomorrow. But I also had an exam today, and it is a very commonly known "Courtney Fact" that if there are two exams, back to back, the second one always suffers. So the detailed facts of dementia, right hemisphere strokes, and traumatic brain injuries are currently unappealing. (A fact I will regret tomorrow around 1:30.)

Did you know that people with right hemisphere strokes ignore the entire left side of everything? Seriously. The visual input is coming in. There's nothing wrong with the optic nerve- they just don't pay attention AT ALL to the left side of the world. For example- ladies will only put makeup on the right side of their face, they'll only eat the food on the right side of the plate. They'll only read words on the right side of the page. Everything on the left is non-existent. That would be very helpful if you married annoying person. Just try for a right hemisphere stroke, and then ask your honey to stand to the left of you. Always.

Of course, there are probably other ways to deal with that problem short of getting a stroke... like counseling, a romantic weekend to rekindle the "flame" (whatever that is...), or just never marrying that very annoying person to begin with. There's an idea for you! However, I've noticed very few people take that advice. They just go ahead and get married and THEN they find out the person is annoying. Very short-sighted if you ask me...

People with traumatic brain injuries often lose their "screen." You know what I'm talking about- that filter that keeps you from saying things that you shouldn't? That little invisible body guard that wrestles back some of your thoughts and keeps them from being expressed? (And yes, I know my body guard is puny. Please- he's sensitive about that.) Well, people with TBI (traumatic brain injuries) don't have that little monitor.

I think that Dr. House probably had a TBI.

Then there's dementia. My favorite are the later stages. Most of these people are just happy. Happy, happy, happy. They can't remember a thing. They have no productive language. But they show little or no frustration at this. They are (in all senses of the phrase) "blissfully ignorant."

Perhaps I have dementia...



I should probably start studying.

Epiphany: I am officially lame. I live out my dream of being an engineer by having a "favorite" computer lab in the Civil Engineering building.

You HAVE to watch this. I don't say that about many things, but this must be watched. Look at the faces of the audience, the judges, the M.C.s before she sings. Then look at them after.

Stunning.

Stunning.

Stunning.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY



I want to be her...

Linen Closet Moments

When I was little and had an "achy heart," I would sneak away, very quietly up the stairs. If I was really, truly good at sneaking, I could ease open our creaky linen closet door, and slip in under the lowest shelf, shutting the door behind me. Even when I was little, I could only fit if I pulled my knees up under my chin and scrunched into the back corner. One sliver of light would leak through, but aside from that, darkness would reign. I could take deep breaths of the fabric softener scent that filled the air. Or I could cry. I usually cried.

I'm twenty-three years old, but even now, there are "achy heart" moments. Moments when the skin around my eyes tightens to hold back tears. Moments when my hands start shaking and I have trouble breathing. Moments when my heart aches and my vision constricts to the narrow focus of me- my world, my problems.

In those moments I still want that dark, back corner. Blackness with only a sliver of light. I want to curl up and cry with my head on my knees. Cry until I can cry no longer.

But I've found that life doesn't always provide those linen closets when you need them. Sometimes you have to keep walking in the glaring daylight when you want the darkness. You have to lift your chin when you want to bury it in your knees. You have to smile when you want to cuddle with the towels. Sometimes you even have to laugh.

Easter Sunday has always been a dawn of incredible joy for me. Since I was small, my dearest mother has striven to impress upon me the wonderful hallelujah that is the morning of our Christ's resurrection. All the way to church, we would sing "Here the bells ringing, they're singing that we can be born again!" Family would pour in from all corners (complete with ham and stuffed candy eggs), laughing and shouting. Easter was a day of glorious triumph! Of rejoicing! Of joy!

But this Easter Sunday, I stood- raw and quivering, hoping that a smile and a nod would convince others (and myself) that I truly was rejoicing- I only wanted my linen closet. But God, in His gracious, unfathomable wisdom, did not ordain that it be a linen closet Sunday. Linen closets are not always where you see the power of God.

"My God's enough" was a phrase that would not have been murmured in the linen closet. But that day it was repeated silently in my thoughts.

Please don't misconstrue what I'm saying. Tying these feelings- the craving for my fabric softener scented haven, and being unarguably close to the brink of tears for the majority of Easter Sunday- to any particular recent incident in my life would be an erroneous assumption. (Though doubtless, some will assume regardless of this disclaimer.) There are just days when life has whipped through all the armor and nipped at the flesh underneath. And while it is tempting to retreat to a physical refuge, I was forced, on this brilliant Easter to retreat to a stronger, better Refuge.

My God's enough.

And He died, so I could approach Him without reserve on those scary, "achy heart" days.

Which is wonderful, because sometimes the only linen closet to be found is too small to squeeze into.

I hear leaves drinking rain;
I hear rich leaves on top
Giving the poor beneath
Drop after drop;
'Tis a sweet noise to hear
These green leaves drinking near.

And when the Sun comes out,
After this Rain shall stop,
A wondrous Light will fill
Each dark, round drop;
I hope the Sun shines bright;
'Twill be a lovely sight.


("The Rain," William Henry Davies)

Yes, I work with children, and No, I am not just going to post videos from here on out... Just couldn't help it today... :)

If you could...

Please pray for me this week. I have several large tests, papers, and reports that need to be done in addition to my normal weekly madness. I have a peak amount of stress that I perform under, however, if that peak is reached and the crossed, I have a tendency to shut down and not even try.

Please pray that I diligently handle the challenges and responsibilities that God has placed in my life this week, and that my sin nature wouldn't get in the way of practicing good stewardship with my time and opportunities.

Thank you.

It's as though the music is playing in the next room...

I was just asked if I didn't think grad school was less frantic (and easier) than undergrad.


I snorted unbecomingly through my nose.


And then apologized for my obvious derision.

Male Leadership

It's on mornings like this

It's on mornings like this- all fresh and clean. (Yes, I did shower this morning....) that I'm rejoicing without constraint at the goodness of my God.

I have a wonderful rest of the week- enough down time to satisfy anyone.

It's sunny.

And I ran out of creamer so I "had" to put whipped cream in my coffee instead.