the book that I love.

For 6 months I've carried around this book. It's not intimidatingly overwhelming from the outside--no more than your average textbook. It has "First Aid" plastered in large font over the front cover, implying a simpler topic than what's below it "USMLE Step 1". But it contains 80% of the information (in abbreviated form) of what I need to know. I've lived with this book for months. I've read through each page 3-4 times now. I've noted each bullet point that is representative of an hour of lecture. I've highlighted and I've neatly printed elaborating notes and important points in the margins. The pharmacology pages are neatly marked with post-its. This book has almost become an extension of myself. My own handwriting throughout. My own notes. My own emphasis on important points, or on points that for the life of me I can't remember. As much as studying has been tedious, I still love this book. I love the knowledge that it holds. I love the centuries of research and discovery that this little book opens to me in simple statements.

I've complained that it's tedious and a bit monotonous, but I had a realization on Saturday. Numbers 11 talks of how the Israelites complained about the manna--how there wasn't enough diversity and that they were "bored" of the manna. And while I know there are great spiritual depths here that i have left unexplored, what struck me was their ingratitude for a blessing. This was convicting in the wake of my life of studying. I've always said that my education and the pursuit of medicine was something that was a huge blessing to me. One of the greatest gifts that God has given me. Why, then, am I complaining for living in "only" this blessing for the time being? Shouldn't any blessing of God's be blessing enough? So the next morning when I opened my books, I had a new perspective.

Ok, that was a good study break--back to the books :)

My God, the breath you have given me is fresh. You create it, you form it, and you keep me breathing. At some time you will take it away from me and I will have breathed my last breath in this body. And you will resuscitate me to the life of the spirit... For each breath still in me I thank you, Adonai, the God of my parents, Lord of all spirits, Master of all that happens. I offer you thanks, Cosmic Majesty and worship you for keeping me breathing. In this way, with each breath you give me Life anew.

Vacation

Today as I frantically finished up my board review class online, ran back and forth between school and home and threw my suitcoat on top of my luggage, I pushed myself though the weariness because at the end of the day I was heading here. To probably one of my favorite "places" on the earth. The airport. It's a place of reflection. With a sea full of people around me, I can breath deeply. In a sea of busyness, there's always been some sort of peace. Nothing else for me to do. My computer has only so much battery life before I'm left with books and music and myself. India did this for me. Restfulness, peace and pending adventure go together for me.

But now my pending adventure is a gorgeously nice hotel, Disney world and just a short presentation (the whole point of my traveling). I'm giving myself a few days off. I feel so relaxed. so much...shalom. The 90 degree, sunny weather awaiting me doesn't hurt either :)

And here comes the sun

What I've noted about transitions over the years is that they are often accompanied by regret for the path we're leaving, and fear of the path we're approaching. But for some reason I've had neither emotion as I approach this particular transition. I have an appreciation for where I am now and where I've been for the last 15 years of classroom education. I can enjoy (loosely used term) the next two months of studying on my own schedule and taking breaks when I feel like it. I've learned what discipline is (and how bad I often am at it). It's been a fun type of freedom and has allowed me to invest and build relationships and gave me time to wrestle with things outside of my profession.

But just beyond is a new type of learning. Just on the other side of this transition is a practicality and a set of skills, not just knowledge, for me to learn. On the other side is the immersion into why I've worked so hard towards for the last decade. And as scary as it is, there's a hope and an excitement of remembering regularly the calling that God's given me which is so easy to forget amidst books and papers and projects. I'm not naive. I know that next year is going to bring its whole set of challenges, humiliations, frustrations, inadequacies and sleepless months. But it stands for something. And for that reason, the anticipation and the hope far outweighs the fear.