Diagnosis, Prognosis


physical therapy, here we come!

Late at night, I get the most random realizations about life, love, Jesus, and how I should be living.  Then I have to tweet about it so I don’t forget what I’ve learned in the morning.  Let’s check my twitter to see what I learned last night…  I have a foggy memory about it, but I’d rather have a clear picture.

tswiftstwin Ashley McDonald
Christians look out for the others’ good because we’re called to, not because the “niceness” of our actions will save someone.
Oh, there it is!  And all of a sudden, that extra dose of caffeine I had this morning makes all the neurons fire and remember the thought process from 11:15 pm.
The reason I used to smile at people in the grocery store and hold the door open for the people behind me as I leave some place was because I had this absurd notion that if I was nice to them, they would all of a sudden realize that Jesus is Lord and that they need Him.
Not that God can’t strike someone with a holy realization in Cub Foods, but that’s not the real reason that we are supposed to love those around us.
It’s a calling, a command, to maintain a lifestyle that lives out the love that fulfills the law.  Sure, it might make a huge difference in someone’s day that I flash my pearly whites at them and make a little friendly conversation while we wait at the hair stylist’s, and that is a happy byproduct of doing what God asks of me.  So, now that I’ve diagnosed what my issue is, I can make my motives right.
I go the extra mile because Jesus did, because He asks me to.  That higher calling makes it more worth the extra effort.
The other diagnosis I’ve gotten today was Achilles tendonitis.  Ice, ice, ibuprofen, ice, rest, ice, and heel supports are the cure.  Plus physical therapy.
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Achilles, onions, and low blood sugar


Reality strikes when you smell something being stir-fried in the kitchen – the reality is that I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten for hours. In perspective, there are people in the world who don’t eat for days in a row because they don’t have the means.
Okay, fine; I’m blessed.
Taking a look at the disruptions of my happy life, ones that seem painful and undeserved at the time, I see that, for the most part, I live a charmed life. I have a sense of entitlement in my life that makes me think that I should be immune to or exempt from any sort of difficulty.
This is absurd thinking, of course. And it’s not that I’m a pansy. I don’t shirk at discomfort. Pain? I tough it out. Emotional trauma? I think about it for too long, journal about it, blog about it, tell somebody else, pray about it, and eventually figure out how to solve the problem.
I’m not a wallower. But I’m not the Hulk either. Does anybody fit neatly into a category of weak or strong? There are certain things where I am more strong and some where I lack fortitude. That’s why labels are so hard to place on myself. I should also find it a challenge to place them on others, since I know that appearances are deceiving and dot fully represent an individual, but I definitely label people more easily than I should.
Something I should learn is that everyone deserves a chance to show me their entire self before I decide who they are and if they’re worth my time.
Wait, shouldn’t everyone be worth my time?