A Dorm Story: What I Learned About Knees

Students were getting in and out of a taxicab minivan in front of the residence hall. Lachelle and I happened to be talking there when we suddenly noticed that Krysta, a student from China, was leaning pitifully on the floor of the minivan, awkwardly situated with her knee. 

Upon closer inspection, we found that her kneecap had dislocated, and it lay at an odd angle, frightening the poor girl almost as much as the pain. It became evident that in no way was she moving from the edge of the cab.

Lachelle went to find crutches, of which the dorm has an abundance for reasons untold. We called 911, and waited. I suggested that the perplexed cabdriver keep his meter running, for she could not move even the vertical meter upward to sit in the van and be taken to the Emergency Room. She could not, in other words, have chosen a more expensive seat upon which to become immobilized.

To make matters worse, the tough but shy Krysta was “parked” directly in front of the residence hall entrance, and it happened to be dinner time. Students were pouring out, wondering and gawking. Krysta, did not hesitate to tell them, I’m pretty sure, to keep moving and to mind their own business. 

When the EMTs arrived, we had racked up a sizable cab fare. But Krysta was treated almost immediately in the ER, and experienced great relief, after which we waited for three hours to get the x-ray and its results. 

If you’ve ever had knee trouble, you know the story does not end there. We were in and out of physical therapy for the rest of the school year. As inconvenient as that continued to be, it was actually an incredible use of time, because I got to know Krysta on these frequent drives, and she got to see that the advisers cared for her. I found that she was not actually shy, and that she had a great interest in a friend of mine: Jesus. The story continues this fall. In the meantime, some morals:

Moral 1: take care of your knees,

Moral 2: especially when the only seat available is going to charge you by the minute.

"Guess the Impulse Buy": A Fun, New Game

I made a special trip to the store tonight, folks, and I bought the following:

• Gatorade
• Fantastic yellow nail polish
• Chocolate
• Antiperspirant (you know, with aluminum)

Which was not on the original list? Probably 1/3 of you guessed it (because, let's face it, chocolate is ALWAYS on the list): Gatorade.

I won't explain the nail polish. So, regarding the deodorant, I've been trying to take two steps to prevent breast cancer (and only two steps, 'cause, well, let's not get crazy): use deodorant without aluminum, and use BPA-free bottles. But tonight I needed deodorant with aluminum in it, because tomorrow I'm helping with a wedding. There's pressure to look and smell good, despite lifting chairs and rolling tables, and keeping calm when the electricity goes out. So, here's to making an exception!

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More on bottles: http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/03/090326100714.htm
I'm not providing you any links on the aluminum thing. The studies are generally inconclusive, like, not enough to take aluminum antiperspirant off the market, but conclusive enough for us to stop buying it.

The Horror/Honor of Needing People

After special needs week at my favorite summer camp, we were in the midst of group debriefing when someone began his story with something like: "Despite the fact that these people have been dealt a horrible hand, they are still cheerful..." I don't remember what else he said because I got all hung up on the word "horrible." What was so horrible about needing help with things? Even things like going to the bathroom. Or what was so horrible about smiling all the time? Or what was so horrible about occasionally bursting out in shouts or song? Or what was so horrible about pacing a lot, and needing to be calmed down by other people? These situations are not average, of course. But were they horrible?

We're afraid to need each other. We're afraid to have to bear ourselves in the most vulnerable way, like needing to be helped in the bathroom.

As we told stories at the end of the week, I know several of us were surprised that the sights and smells of the bathroom did not repulse us more. I know we were surprised that we felt incredible accomplishment, and incredible humility after helping to wipe another person. It's a matter for gratitude to the one in need that we were able to be so materially helpful, so intimately trusted.

Each of those most vulnerable people are able to bestow upon their helpers a valuable gift which cannot be repaid. Who is greater in the Kingdom? The person who has no choice but to be vulnerable (like widows and orphans in a patriarchal society, or the meek, poor in spirit, persecuted, Matthew 5), because God says he will personally plead their case, bless them, give them the earth for an inheritance; or the one helping the vulnerable person, like the good Samaritan, who fulfilled the requirements of the Kingdom by loving his neighbor as himself?

We have to become like little children, Jesus said, trusting implicitly. We have to acknowledge how we cannot help ourselves, and smile up at our Father, and say, "thank you for wiping me."

To be honest, just writing that makes me uncomfortable. But... vulnerable ≠ horrible, in fact, it may be the opposite in light of eternity.

Why Summer Makes Me a Better Teacher

Someone told me recently that good teaching takes good content and good delivery. By content, she explained, she meant the life well lived, not just the lesson plan, but the honing of my approach to life. By delivery, she meant being able to explain my approach; because if you're a teacher, that's what you're teaching from beginning to end: how you view life.

That is what the summer is good for:

Perspective
Being quiet
Looking at a sunset, and letting it wash over me for as long as it will.
Not being the first to leave,
Not having something to say,
Not having a plan,
Not eating at 5 pm if I'm not hungry,
Reading for hours,
Talking around the fire,
Setting up a tent and sleeping in it,
Taking a nap midday because I didn't sleep well in the tent.

Summer is good for driving for hours to see my people,
Going to church,
Turning off my phone,
Going the long route on the jogging trail,
Having brunch with small groups of people,
Talking at the kitchen table about the world's problems,
Praying at the kitchen table about our own problems,
Writing letters that help me to sort through the crashing waves of thought,

And later, in August, summer is good for remembering why I love a schedule and a routine and students.

No Culture Has it All Right

But, c'mon, Japan. Schadenfreude on a whole new level. Start at 1:17. I dare you not to laugh at some of these moments. Others are just cruel, like the lady with the vegetables.