communion

 wrote this one 10/26/14, I believe as the communion meditation at the church I was attending at the time.

Phil 1:6 being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.

I loved doing jigsaw puzzles when I was little—if I had time, I’d still do them on occasion. I used to work on them over the span of days; I would sit at the table in our family room upstairs and put together 100, 500, 1000+ piece puzzles, losing track of time, sometimes putting them together systematically—starting at the edges of the picture and working my way in—and sometimes fitting things together with no real rhyme or reason. The puzzles never looked like much in the process, but once I finished them, the mountain scene or the giant Bengal tiger staring up at me from the table made up for all the time that I spent trying to make sense of everything.

Fast forward to now…I’m at the point in medical school where everyone starts trying to figure out their plans for the future—what they want to specialize in, where they’d most like to live while doing residency, whether they want to eventually raise a family…there’s a lot to think about. And I’ll be honest: many times within this process, I’ve felt like I have to make these plans completely on my own. I’ve felt overwhelmed. I’ve found myself believing the lie that God is there but He’s not active…more often than I’d like to admit.

But on a Sunday not too long ago, God met me after service and gave me a brief glimpse of Himself, using the childhood memory I mentioned before. I saw Him sitting at a table, fitting jigsaw pieces together…slowly, carefully. He showed me that He is fitting me together, even when I don’t feel Him doing so, even if things don’t seem to make sense for days or weeks or even years. In that moment, He reminded me that I can’t put myself or my future together; only He can do that.

Phil 1:6 being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.

Prayer: Lord, I thank you for the ways that you speak to us. I thank you for little reminders that you’re there—but not just “there,” here…ACTIVE in our lives. Since the very beginning, from creation to the cross and beyond, you’ve been fitting the puzzle pieces of our lives together…you’ve had a plan for us. Forgive us for the times when we’ve tried to make sense of things on our own, and help us to rest in the fact that you are continually working in us and through us. Amen.

the affirmative action kid? i think not.

Unless you live under a conveniently placed rock, I'm sure you've seen the opinion article about affirmative action that was recently published in The Harvard Crimson.  If not, take a couple of minutes to read it here.  I'll wait.

You're finished?  Great.

I'm not going to address most of this article.  Because a lot of people have done that, including a friend of mine and even the site Jezebel (this one probably counts as fighting fire with an even hotter fire, but that's beside the point).  I'm going to focus on the following line very briefly, because as a black, female medical student, it strikes quite an unsettling chord:

How would you feel if you were assured before going into surgery that your surgeon was the beneficiary of affirmative action in medical school?  I do not see why higher academic institutions should lower their standards for admission.

Quite frankly, I doubt anyone's desire for self-preservation would allow her to entertain that question for even a second if she required immediate surgical attention.  It would be ludicrous of someone to decline the help of a surgeon of color because the presence of affirmative action makes questionable his or her ability to do the job.  The patient would still want that surgeon to stop his bleeding, or excise his tumor, or put in his stent to keep his arteries open.  Even if he or she did still refuse to be treated by that particular physician, it is important to remember that every physician could potentially make a mistake while performing a procedure--even if affirmative action didn't exist.  Opting out of treatment provided by a beneficiary of affirmative action does not magically erase the possibility of error, that uncomfortable reality of the medical field.

Sarah--Miss Siskind, if you like that better--I will be honest with you.  I've never met you.  I know next to nothing about who you are, where you come from, why you chose Harvard, anything of the sort.  And I'm sure you're a nice girl.  But your article made me furious.  After I read it, I probably called you some names and celebrated the bashing you were beginning to receive from all corners of the internet.  I could apologize for those actions and ill-feelings toward you, but I'm not sure how sincere an apology would be, seeing as how the words that you wrote (and that many people seem to agree with) still sting me and many of the people I care about.  All of us--my peers, my classmates, you, I--worked hard to be where we are, and we will go on to become fabulous physicians, lawyers, i-bankers, actresses...whatever we decide.

But I suppose I should thank you.  You've inspired me to lay aside the jokes about how Harvard and Vanderbilt must have picked me to meet a minority quota.  Your article gives me motivation to work hard, just to make sure I'm proving you wrong every second that I'm in medical school.  And I'm sure that others like me feel the same.

The bottom line is this: I deserve to be where I am.  And in a weird, twisted way, Miss Siskind, you've opened my eyes wide to that fact.

confession is good for the soul, they say...

one of the things that Harvard taught me--and i mean, drilled into my head and wrote over my life in pen--is how to lie.

i tell people "i'm fine" before they can get out the last syllable of "how are you doing."  make light of stress by talking about how i went through a whole bag of pretzels in seconds the night before, or fell asleep in the shower, or something like that.

meanwhile, my real state of being is something like Hurricane Sandy.

i know that what i need is to be honest.  to actually admit how i'm feeling instead of just saying "i'm working on it."  the Harvard mentality of "i'm fine, you're fine, everyone's fine. etc etc until the end of time" has followed me back down south like a dark cloud.  as i sit here, typing this at 2am, listening to music in minor keys and wondering why i couldn't get to sleep earlier, i realize that i need to let myself get rid of those lies.

that awesome moment when you realize you're exactly where you need to be

i'm so glad i came to Vanderbilt.  i'm so glad that God made my choice relatively easy.

there was a point that i was worried about turning down a full scholarship from UConn.  but i think being down here on federal loans with family and familiar spaces nearby is a lot better than being loanless in a new, strange city would have been.

i'm nothing but grateful that i'm here, with these people.  i know, this post isn't really profound or insightful or anything, but i just had to confess my love for Vanderbilt Medical School and the class of 2016 real quick.

i don't do resolutions. realizations, on the other hand...

any vagueness is mostly intentional.  i decided not to give too many specifics in this post.  and it's 1am.  you know how that goes.

while i was at an interview yesterday, i visited a specific hospital on a guided tour.  the admissions officers warned us at the beginning of the day that it could be a very formidable place.  "med school students spend about half of their time there on clinical rotations," they said,  "and that should factor into your decision.  if you visit this hospital today and feel like you wouldn't be able to handle the environment, then it's okay to decide for yourself now that you don't want to come here."

i've never been on an interview where we were told something like this up front, so i didn't know what to expect.  when the shuttle dropped us off downtown, right in front of the hospital, i had to stop myself from gawking at the sheer size of the building.  i started to feel intimidated, and that worried me.  i like just about everything about the school--the campus, the format of the curriculum, the weather...to have my initial feelings about the hospital that would indubitably become my home away from home negate all of that seemed so unfair.

that's when it hit me.

i can't always run from the things that scare me or make me uncomfortable.*

no long, drawn-out explanations necessary.  the simple fact is that i need to know when to fight and when to flee.  i think i've been fleeing too much in my life.  and not just when it comes to my future career.  hopefully i can work on this during senior spring, in 2012 overall, and beyond.

*aside from cockroaches and the like; some things never change...

possibly the best news of my life

i'm going to medical school.

i keep having to say it over and over to myself to get used to the way that sounds.  and i keep refreshing my gmail to make sure the acceptance email didn't magically vanish while my back was turned.

all the days of MCAT studying, every long night spent tweaking essays and praying over applications, every dollar sent via paypal or snail mail to cover various fees...it all officially pays off now.

i'm on my way to becoming Dr. Ingram.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." ~Jeremiah 29:11