First Semester of Med School Wrap-Up + Merry Christmas!

Hi friends! I'm writing you from the comfort of my home in the Bay. I thought I'd write a few reflections on my first semester of medical school at the Carver College of Medicine just so I can remember my journey later down the road.


The saying goes, "Once you're in medical school, they don't want you to fail. You're an investment. They'll get you through it." To premeds, the goal is to get into med school, and it's supposed to be smooth sailing from there. I found out the hard way that there IS such thing as failure, and it is something that I will probably be reacquainted with time and time again.


I honestly didn't expect medical school to be so difficult! Or, at least, I thought I would come in as one of 40 out-of-staters in my class and be stiff competition to Iowan classmates. It's not the most humble thought. It's JUST Iowa, right? I learned very early that I was wrong. I thought I studied a lot at Berkeley, but Carver College took it to a whole other level. If I could put a quantity on the intensity, duration, and focus of studying, I'd say I now study 3 to 4 times more than I did in college. Some of my classmates don't study at all and breeze through exams with top grades.


It was frustrating because something just didn't click with me. I thought I could transplant easily to the Midwest and have a fresh start, but it was rougher than I thought. I was far, far away from home for the first time in my life. I was going back to school after working for more than a year. I was coming out of a relationship. I was moving to a place that has very little cultural heterogeneity. I went home every after school and cried. I never allowed myself more than five minutes to dry my tears though, because I had to study. If I could sum up the academic aspect of medical school so far in one sentence, it would be, "I've never studied so hard to do so poorly in my life." The emotional/mental summary would be, "Med school is one of the loneliest, most isolating things I've ever experienced."


From the very beginning, I found a small group of good friends. We complain to each other all the time. But we also make time for one fun thing per week, and try to keep each other sane. It just so happens that I have made almost no close girlfriends, and most of the guys I hang out with are originally from California. I also joined the Christian fellowship at school, attend worship night one evening per week, and I found an awesome church that I hope to get more plugged into. That's about all the "extra" stuff that I do. Nothing else. It seems unbalanced to me at times, but then I have to remind myself that I'm doing the best I can.


And then there was the Month of Sickness. I got bronchitis in early November and recovered after Thanksgiving break. I'm at about 95% right now, but am still taking one inhaled steroid daily. The difference between studying in December and studying in November is like a blindfold and gag lifted. I honestly can't even remember much of November because of my drug-induced state (I watched a recorded patient interview and said aloud, "Wow, I said what?"). When I returned back to school after Thanksgiving, the most common comment I received was, "Wow! You look and sound like a human being again." I cherish my health and thank God for it everyday. November was the worst month academically for me, which put much more pressure to do well on my finals.


Regarding my biochem final that I told you about in my last post--I've never been so anxious about a test before--not even the MCAT (which, unlike med school, you can take multiple times with no penalty). This was my last hurdle of the semester, and my worst subject. If I could draw my own blood and measure the cortisol hormone levels, I'm sure they would've been through the roof. Every night I prayed I wouldn't fail and have to remediate over summer break (a very real, historically probable event). I was so jealous of my classmates who passed the course without even taking the final. They hosted Christmas parties and did fun things while I sat in a classroom, furiously memorizing any detail my brain would accept. Luckily, my friends helped me through it with donuts, coffee, shoulder massages, and lots of encouragement. I know that there are bigger things in life than just a biochemistry exam, and I tried to balance my self-absorption with thoughts about my friends at home, their families, and things going on in the world. It's tough to keep perspective you might possibly spend your ONLY summer in med school on repeating a hellish class that makes you miserable.


At 1:30am before our 8am final, T drove me home safely in freezing rain (the most hazardous of all weather conditions). I slept uneasily until 6am, put on a pot of stronger-than-usual french press coffee, and reviewed what I had learned over several days. I felt ready! The test was 35 multiple-choice questions over 3 hours. I worked at a brisk pace and finished it in 20 minutes. Then I double-triple-quadruple checked over the next hour, counting my "confident" answers to make sure I had at least the 18 points that I needed to pass the class with a Marginal Pass (70%) and 23 points that I needed to Pass with 73%. I was confident on at least 25 questions, but still couldn't breathe until the key was posted. Turns out I got 32/35 right! I jumped up and down in my apartment and screamed and did all sorts of silly things...which was actually a bigger reaction than even getting into medical school. And that's how I officially passed my first semester at UIowa. Maybe not with flying colors like I'd once hoped, but I did the best in my circumstances. Praise the Lord! He made a way when I didn't think there was one.


Which brings me to now. It's Christmas today! What a great reminder that Jesus' birth means hope and redemption for me. It means that great things can start small, and miracles do happen. I'm going to spend the season re-evaluating the important things in my life, and reminding myself to hang onto them when things get tough again next semester (and for the next 3.5 years). But God is good, all the time! I know I won't need to get through it alone.

I'm grateful for you reading this blog post! Thanks for being my invisible supporters. Merry Christmas!

May 15, 2013.

As I wrote my withdrawal letters to medical schools that have accepted me, I was humbled to tears. I wish the committees could know how grateful I am for their willingness to give me a chance. 200 out of 10,500....340 out of 4,944...I am but a measly number in this huge pool of premed hopefuls. And yet, they saw something in me. How is it that God has blessed me so abundantly?

May 15 is bittersweet because with this choice, I may have just set into motion the rest of my life!

John 5

Last week, the pastor told a story. He had gotten some routine blood tests done, and his doctor emailed him telling him that he has the cholesterol profile of a 60-year old. He's only about 30 and looks physically fit. The problem lies in his sweet tooth. So he reluctantly set out to change his diet.


At first, replacing the sweets and junk food with a list of acceptable substitutes like apples, quinoa, and oatmeal was tough. We all laughed when he said he that he ate through his list before 10am in the morning and was still hungry. He would glance over at his coworker's goodies at lunch and crave sweets.


About three weeks into his diet, he began to notice a change--not in his cholesterol level (not something you can really notice on your own) but in his mentality and in his strength. This one discipline of eating healthier permeated into other areas of his life, and he felt more in control of the choices that he made. It was like an inner resilience was being forged in him.


That is not to say that sweets are absent completely from his life. The times that he does allow himself to indulge in a small treat are extra special. He is able to appreciate it more, and time seems to slow down. 


This story really resounded with me. I know that the one discipline--in my case, D moving away--will permeate into other areas in my life and sharpen me. I hope that we can appreciate our memories from a distance. 


The first person to step in after the water was stirred was healed of whatever disease he had. One of the men lying there had been sick for 38 years. When Jesus saw him and knew he had been ill for a long time, He asked him, "Would you like to get well?" 
"I can't, sir," the sick man said, "for I have no one to put me into the pool when the water bubbles up. Someone else always gets there ahead of me."
Jesus told him, "Stand up, pick up your mat, and walk!"
Instantly, the man was healed. He rolled up his mat and began walking.

Med School Interview #6: Good Ol' California

I'm blogging from sunny Southern California! Only it's not sunny at all. In fact, the weather may be rainier than in the Bay Area right now. Oh well. 

Danny and I interviewed at Loma Linda University School of Medicine a couple of days ago. It was a good experience. I enjoyed the school's Christian mission and approach to medicine. Also, it was my first interview that started at a later hour--11am!--and there was no compounding time difference to make me extra sleepy (8am EST was terrible to wake up for every time). Hurray California! 

Just a quick story: on my way to my faculty interview at the medical center, I stopped and asked a girl for directions. A suited man speeding past stopped and said, "Interview? Let me take you!" I thought he might be on the admissions committee or something, but turns out he was just a really helpful doctor. We wandered around lost for several floors, and on the way he introduced me to his residents and told me stories. Eventually we made it--a little flustered and out of breath, but I was grateful nonetheless. If I hadn't been in such a time crunch to make a good impression with my faculty interviewer, I would've liked to chat with him more.

Morning rain

Glad I wore pants and not a skirt

Desert oasis / Good Samaritan sculpture

It also felt great to meander around campus at a leisurely pace after the interview instead of taking a cab to the airport right away. Danny and I took advantage of the Southern California traffic on the way back to debrief our interviews. I'm glad we had the opportunity to experience this together.

In an anticlimactic turn of events

I was accepted to medical school on Tuesday, October 16. When I turned off my iPhone alarm in the morning after landing from Cleveland, I checked my email in one fell swoop...I love being able to do that. And there it was in the subject line--"Saint Louis Acceptance." I turned over and went back to sleep. I didn't even read the rest of the email. I later texted my two brothers and waited for my parents to come home from work to tell them in person. My dad hugged me and said something about being the second "Dr. Chen" in the family but the first MD, and my mom said, "Oh, good," as she unloaded groceries. 


It hasn't hit me yet. I guess. Probably. Maybe. Eh.


Mostly because I am still in the thick of interviewing. If I only knew right now that SLU is the only place that accepted me, then I would make peace and start to plan for attending next fall. But I am still waiting on 23 (!) schools to get back to me...and that is a lot of hope spread over a lot of schools...and a lot of time. The secondary application cycle hasn't even closed yet.


Three years ago, an adviser told me that no medical school would ever consider me. I cried that night at Large Group, sitting on the floor in the aisle of Evans, as the worship team played. A friend on the prayer team interceded for me, and I'm pretty sure my noisy, messy sobs embarrassed him and everyone within earshot. He asked me, "Do you believe that adviser, or do you believe that God can redeem?" I sure as heck didn't want to believe the adviser, but I wasn't sure I believed God could redeem my mediocre grades and now, shattered self-esteem and broken dreams.


But He has. And oh, He has.


These last years have been a slow buildup to showing me His mercy and kindness and goodness. These last years have been a tumultuous battle against my own fears and insecurities, of number crunching and what ifs...and this is just a small instance of how He conquers. Yes, getting into medical school is just a small instance! It doesn't end here, I'm certain of it. And this is why it has been anticlimactic--because this isn't a peak that overshadows other achievements. It's merely another step in this journey that will cause me to need Him more and more.   

What I think about at work

If an eyeball is subject to repeated trauma, the transparent cornea may scar over, causing loss of vision. That healthy clear tissue turns hazy or opaque, unable to let in light. I feel like the same has happened to my heart. It has scarred over so many times that it's unable to let in light.


The scar tissue, meant to be a defense mechanism from further harm, impairs the precious original function. And it doesn't go away without intervention.


To say that this is a tumultuous time in my life would be an understatement; this is probably as shaky of a time as last May, when I moved back home following graduation. Lately, I've retreated to solitude and self-evaluation in hopes of discovering peace. 

Black Friday

All of the stories about Black Friday chaos and violence are really disturbing to me--shoppers using pepper spray on each other, being injured in stampedes, shooting people in parking lots to steal their purchases, and even walking over a man as he died to get at the sale items.


Year after year, I wonder what it is about Black Friday that transforms people into animals, inciting some innate desire for bloodshed if anyone dares to get in the way of their big screen TVs. In recent years, I've developed a staggering disdain for the day after Thanksgiving.


I read all of those news articles shaking my head, quick to judge that I am not like "those people." I went to the beach to walk dogs on Friday. My only purchase this entire week was a bubble milk tea and a bag of peppermint bark. I want neither to upgrade my 3-year old cell phone, nor purchase a device that would be nice, but not necessary for me to function. So naturally, my overwhelming sense of self-righteousness overrides all my other filters, and I feel entitled to shout from the rooftops that hah!--I have once again evaded the allure of sales and discounts and shiny new gadgets and toys, and no! I don't want to hear about what you bought. Yet the frustrating thing about trying to do everything right, everything Godly, is that I can't claim to be better than anyone else. Even my admission of trying to walk the narrow path tells of my deeper desire to acquire material things, a struggle that I face just like everyone else. I donated money to a cause I believe in, for the sole purpose of refraining from purchasing a Kindle. If that's not a self-serving reason, I'm not sure what is.


The world tells us that we need new gadgets and shiny toys to be happy. We all want things and need things, and understandably so. A friend recently reminded me of this verse from Matthew 6: 

"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

And while the point of this blog post isn't to preach,  I hope you'll consider what really matters to you next Thanksgiving, or even right now.

In Memorandum

I apologize in advance for what this blog post is, and what it cannot be. It is a mere snapshot of life in the Tam Household, three days ago.


"Do you want to see the diary that mommy and I share?"


I walk into the room where Glenda is sitting bedside with Mama Tam. Covered in a green fleecy blanket and supplied by an oxygen tank, Mama Tam looks peaceful, although struggles with breathing periodically. "She can't hear us. Or at least, I don't know. I tell her I love her anyway."


Glenda reads a couple of pages to me aloud. She smiles through tears at silly things that her mom had written and drawn. Contained in the pages of that little book are genuine displays of love and affection. Hand-drawn pictures of each other and messages of appreciation fill the first portion of the book.


"I wish we had started it sooner. Mommy was in too much pain after a while so we stopped."


Becky arrives. Glenda gets up and pops an old audio tape into a stereo. "It's of me and Ricky when we were young. I sometimes forget how much time my mommy spent raising us." We listen to the recorded sounds of children talking and laughing. The tape finishes.


"Remind me again. Does my mommy know how much I love her?"

Morning Run Reminders

Your love, O Lord, reaches to the heavens.

Your faithfulness to the skies.

Your righteousness is like the highest mountains, Your justice like the great deep.

For with You is the fountain of life; in Your light do we see light.

Senior Large Group

Did that just happen?

The culmination of Google docs flying back and forth, so sick of those bolded black letters beckoning me to click and compile and gather and update.
I keep thinking to myself that the only thing worth it is Jesus.
I keep wondering where God was in all of it. Did He look at the late night planning meetings and smile? Was He pleased that we chose to pour hours into this one night instead of studying or eating or sleeping?
What feels like a sacrifice is sometimes not a sacrifice at all, but an act of self-glorification.

In some ways I felt like I had sold out. I had made Senior Large Group an idol.
We chose work over rest and justified it with "I hope this blesses someone."
The only redeeming factor was to pray, pray, pray.
I had my hand in a lot of things, but praying was my only real contribution to senior large group.
"The real work is being done right now," prayed Y.
Without His Spirit, all is for nothing. Like a sailboat on a windless day.
Then it happened. Showtime? (Was it a show?)
Black and white and pins gathered in a circle. Dropped all things to pray.

This is my senior class.
People whom I love dearly. Have shared with freely. Been blessed by immensely.
People whom I confide in daily. Cry with occasionally. Pray with regularly.
Not without our sins and ugliness and misunderstandings and selfishness and petty arguments.
But not without redemption, either. Rated R for Redeemed.

So sappy, right?
And then it hit me during the last worship set.
I danced freely in the back, drinking in the sights and sounds of believers worshiping because things just. won't. be. the. same. again.
The only reason we're here is because of our God.
He's the common thread that stitches us together. The lifeblood of our collective Body.
This is where God was in all of it. He is in us.

Lessons from a five week-old steak

We are able to see so much more clearly when things are brought into the light.

Let me give you an example:

Some time last year, I defrosted a steak in my refrigerator. I don't really eat much red meat, and I actually don't like steak. Anyways, I got really busy and kept forgetting to cook it, but it seemed fine. Weeks passed (five, to be exact). It was still sitting in my fridge, and it still looked fine under the refrigerator light. But when an unnamed synaesthetic friend took it out of the fridge, he noticed the steak had actually turned an unappetizing shade of green.

See? I was able to see how disgusting and inedible the steak had become, thereby avoiding food poisoning and all of those unpleasantries that come with eating spoiled food. All because he brought it into the light. (On a related note, this was probably the third time that this particular friend had saved my life.)

But more seriously, this holds true for many other things.

Like sin. We are always afraid of how people will receive our messiness, our darkness, and our unlovable-ness. I was reminded multiple times this week of how deeply rooted sins can become in our lives, and the lengths to which we go to hide them. When you think about it, a fellowship is just a group of sinners who admit (or should admit) they need God's forgiveness. There must first be an admittance of sin, then receiving of grace, and a community to help build up. This is why accountability is so important, and it's something that I need more of in my life.

And the prayer of faith will save the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven. Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.
-James 5:15-16

Small Group through the ages

2007-2008: Unit 2

Fall 2008: CKC

Spring 2009: Unit 1

2009-2010: Life Discipleship

2010-2011: Life Discipleship

I've been immensely blessed.

Day at the Office | Chairs

Nowadays, there seem to be too few chairs in the office. When I first started my probationary period, I was the only office volunteer on Thursdays. Now there are at least four others, including Boss Man. Perhaps it is fitting that I should be leaving soon.

Today, before I dove into my foot-high stack of files of people to interview, Boss Man wanted my help picking out two chairs. The Old Hospital Building is being demolished soon, and the employees who work there are being moved to different locations. So the copy room that I used to frequent now has a bunch of abandoned office chairs that are being sent to salvage.

We each sat on a chair. Fiddled with the knobs. Swiveled around. Bounced up and down. Sat back, stretched out our legs, and twiddled our thumbs for a minute. We each picked a chair we liked, wheeled it to our respective offices, and that was that.

I'm not sure what the point of that story was. Maybe there is none.

Sometimes I wonder why they like me so much at the office. I'm told I have a good receptionist voice. I have a professional phone demeanor. I have a good listening ear. I'm also unparalleled when it comes to letting people down in a gentle yet direct way. They call it "The Connie." I get all applicants with poor availability, incomplete applications, or are just kind of rude. Then I tell them in my most understanding tone, "I'm sorry, but it seems that our program just isn't the best fit for you at this time. If your schedule changes, please do reapply in the future."

Maybe I'm cut out to be a receptionist. Or George Clooney from Up in the Air. Only, I don't particularly enjoy talking on the phone for five hours, and the torture of copy machines is almost too much for me to handle.

Which brings me to right now. I've already clocked 100 hours as of today. Probation is only 80 hours. I'm in a transitional limbo, of not yet moving into the Emergency Department, but no longer being the main office volunteer. I just received a phone call as I was typing out this blog, from the ED lead volunteer. He asked if I was free tomorrow at 5pm to start my training.

Sigh. Fridays.

Fridays are when I host LD dinners before Large Group. It's been my vision for some time now, to have these dinners where we could pool our resources, time, and money to share a home-cooked meal. Kind of like a co-op. ;) We've been doing them for a little over a month now, and it's been wonderful. I love getting to know my small group better, and to teach them a thing or two about cooking.

Another important point is to get away from the habit of plastic take-out containers, disposable utensils, and excess food and paper waste. One of the barriers for me last year was not wanting to eat at Asian ghetto every week, so eventually I just stopped going to small group dinners. It's not that I'm totally against eating out; I purchase take-out maybe once a semester, and I eat in sit-down restaurants maybe once every few weeks. But given the choice between cooking food in my own apartment and picking something up on the way home, I will almost always choose the former. I'm grateful that this year, I am in a position where I can potentially influence others to choose into stewardship of resources, environmentally and financially. I think that living in accordance to kingdom values doesn't have to be difficult when a community is doing it together.

Which brings me to Fridays. Which is when my potential ED shift is scheduled. Smack dab through LD dinners and running an hour into Large group. It's one or the other.

Volunteering at the hospital has been something that I've wanted to do for a very long time. And now that I've finished probation, am highly favored by Boss Man, and have the most competitive volunteer department in the county open to me, I am torn. Torn between my small group, and in essence, serving God and my community in a tangible way, and my future aspirations of going to medical school and being a physician. I wonder from time to time if they are mutually exclusive. It seems that as of right now, they are. I am getting tired of standing at this fork in the road.

In the end, I told the ED lead no, I already have other commitments. I've got my mind set on cooking curry for my small group this week.

That's what a sacrifice is, right? Choosing someone or something over yourself.

When I write it out, it sounds like such triviality is giving me undue anguish and unrest. You might ask, "You'd rather eat dinner than volunteer at the Emergency Department?" Which is something that I've also asked myself. Honestly, I don't know if my small group sees my vision as an act of discipleship. Maybe it's just dinner. Maybe no one cares. Which is completely fine with me. All I can do is invite others into my convictions.

One verse that comes to mind is "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect." Romans 12:2.

So I guess I'll keep waiting and praying. That God and my career goals will intertwine beautifully in ways I can't even imagine.

How much more...

So I never wrote a blog about the APA Conference. It was possibly my favorite conference ever, message-wise. The food for thought was incredible, and I am still digesting. I'm not sure what else I could say about it, other than it was exactly what I needed. I confess that going into it, I was stressed, burned out, spiritually empty. But the spirit came. Drenched. Refueled.

Lately, I've been shown so much grace.

So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him?

FRIDAYS. I'm at bio lab from 1:30 to 5:30 (or whenever the last kid leaves--whichever comes later) and then Helen and I debrief for a while. I am tired by the time I rush home for dinner with LD at 6. I am exhausted by the time Large Group starts at 7. I am positively delirious by the time I get home at 10.

Today was one of those days that I couldn't fake a smile or tolerate things I would normally let roll right off my back.

So it was an extremely good thing that I went home after bio lab, to spare friends my irrational outpourings of anxiety and disappointment and complaints and feelings.

My dad picked me up from the BART station. He kissed me on the cheek. I started to feel better. He took me to a pho noodle restaurant. It was just the two of us, sharing a bowl of noodle soup at 8pm. We chatted about life. I told him I wasn't sure I could get into med school. He said, "You can do anything you want to, because you are you."

Afterward, we went to a Chinese grocery store-Ranch 99. Since it's almost Chinese New Year, everyone had all of these bags of meat, seafood, and vegetables in preparation for a big feast on Sunday.

But we didn't shop for all of those things. We went instead to the bakery, and he told me to pick something out. Anything I wanted. I pointed to a slice of mango mousse cake, and he bought it for me. I wanted to cry.

So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him? Matthew 7:11.

I forget sometimes, that it is okay to be loved.

I think this means things are going to be okay.

This morning when I woke up, I spotted a rainbow in my apartment.

The sun had shone through the peephole of my front door and cast a little circle of a rainbow on my white wall. A double rainbow.

Lately, it's been hard to keep my head up. Literally, by dozing off in class, and figuratively, by not having the spiritual stamina to trust God with my life.

I'm banking my whole future on a single MCB exam (which is in about two hours).

I reason to myself: "If I do well on it, I will finally be good enough. I will be able to go to medical school. I will be able to become a doctor."

No wonder I haven't been able to sleep well for a while. I'm literally crushing myself under the pressure of expectations.

But waking up this morning and seeing this...this promise. I feel more at peace. I know it doesn't mean I'll ace my exam today. Although I think I have prepared myself enough, in the scheme of things, I know it'll be God taking 9 steps for my 1.

IV's large group series on "Signs" just ended, but I wonder if this is just the beginning for me.

Lent

So for Lent I'm fasting from quite a few things.

1. Caffeine. This is the big one. I was up to six cups of coffee and tea a day. Having 8ams every day of the week was my excuse for my morning cup(s) of coffee, and studying late after small group or leaders meeting was my excuse for my multiple cups of tea throughout the day. I'd power through problem sets with a cup of tea in my hand and a feeling of achievement and in my mind. "YES," I'd think, satisfied at how much work I was doing, how productive I was being. I realized that this behavior was more destructive than productive. Don't get me wrong; being on top of school work is good, especially when you are taking six bio and chem classes. But you see, I was relying on this artificial source of energy to get me through the day, instead of asking God to replenish my energy. My life became centered on how much I could do in a day with my own will power. Fasting from caffeine has forced me to seek God in times of physical tiredness. P.S. Ash Wednesday (the first day of me giving up caffeine) was the day of my Chem 3B midterm and also my Bio 1A midterm. God answered my prayers for a light heart and a clear head, and I suffered no withdrawal symptoms until the next day. :)

2. Meat. Last time this year, I was going through a tough breakup of a three-year relationship. From February to April, I basically stopped eating. People told me it was normal to not feel like eating for a while, but I took it to the extreme. I was convinced that the feelings of guilt, self-hatred, and sorrow would subside if I were to punish myself for the ways that my relationship fell apart. I convinced myself that this starvation was a fast. That I was focusing on God in this time of mourning, which was Biblically sound. But it was actually an ultimatum: "God, I will not eat until You heal my heart and take away the pain." Eventually, because I began to depend on Him and seek Him in more ways than I ever had before. But He also told me that fasting out of self-punishment is never glorying to Him. God never encourages fasting for solely discipline or self-denial reasons, born out of intentions other than to build a stronger relationship with Him. (In this way, a diet is not a fast). As for me, things are different this year. Jesus took me on a journey of self-discovery and healing, which I want to remember even in times when I feel content and joyful. I want to remember the good works and complete transformations that He performs! Which is why this year I am fasting for meat as a celebration instead of mourning.

3. Excess waste. The two best examples I thought of were name tags at Large Group and using trays at dining commons. I'm not sure if there is a specific verse that points to Biblical stewardship of the environment, but God does call us to take care of His creation (in this case, trees and water). He tells us to be glorifying to Him in everything that we do--not just in small group leading or other "Godly" things, but in the every day things that are often overlooked and brushed off. I always find name tags in my purses, backpack, stuck to sweatshirts and jackets. This is in no way a guilt trip! to everyone else in IV who uses name tags, but I would rather my stickers (one per week, 30 weeks a year, four years!) be left on their backings for someone else, or better, in the trees that they come from. Actually, it'd be pretty cool if everyone had one reusable name tag. As for trays, I find that using trays at dining commons encourages me to take more of what I won't eat, just because it's easier to carry more. Not using trays helps me to be more careful of my food choices and remember that we are so privileged and undeserving to have abundance. I am reminded of when I was about five, my mom taped a picture of a starving African child, jutting ribs and all, to our dining room wall. Every time my brother didn't want to eat something, she would say, "Be grateful for what you have." I know that when we pray before we eat, we say things like, "Thank you God for this food, bless it and nourish our bodies with it." But we don't say things like, "God, keep the image of those who have little or nothing to eat before my eyes so I won't take food for granted." I'm beginning to realize more and more the mercies that God has poured out into my life, and if not taking that tray from Crossroads and not using a name tag sticker at Large Group will remind me of them, then I will never use a tray or name tag again.

Thanks for reading. And God, thanks for convicting me to fast this Lenten season.

The day before Thanksgiving break

I was buying my fourth cup of coffee of the day at GBC when, at the checkout line, the guy across from me was fumbling through his wallet to find some cash. He was a student, scruffy and tired-looking. I stood there patiently, eyeballing his sandwich, Odwalla, chips, and candy. A minute passed and it was obvious that he had no money. The cashier suggested he go over to the ATM, but his response was that he didn't have a debit card.

At that moment, I said to guy, "Don't worry about it, I'll cover this." His mouth dropped open and he stared at me. "Are you serious?" was his response. "Yeah. Really." I gave my card to the cashier and she swiped the purchase. "Are you serious?" he said again. I was kind of surprised he was in such disbelief. "Don't worry about it." I gave him a reassuring smile. "Thanks!" he said. I take my card, receipt, 90-cent cup of coffee and say, "Have a happy Thanksgiving," as I leave.

Why is it that it was so easy for me to love this stranger, when it is often hard for me to love my brothers and sisters in Christ?

I admit that I have been jaded in the weeks past. I usually save my non-resident meal points so I can eat with my small group on Fridays and even swipe multiple other people in. I was so happy to give in the beginning, but have lost that joy, along with half of my points. The meal points themselves aren't of great importance, but the spirit of my giving has totally changed. It has become so routine, and people come to expect something from me without saying anything at all.

I no longer hear "Thanks!" when I give something, but "What took so long?" when I don't.

I felt used up and dry.

So why is it that God chose to speak to me through giving even more when I felt like I didn't have anything more to give?

For the Lord says in Luke 6:38, "Give and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured in your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."