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Less than feminist

Thursday I went to a Lasik specialist to see if I was a candidate for lasik corrective eye surgery and before I get into the nitty gritty details of cost, procedure, and how wonderful it would be to wake up and read the alarm clock, let me take you into the back rooms of this practice and inside the mind of one of the practitioners.

As a part of the initial visit to see if I am even a candidate for lasik there are a series of tests that everyone must go through. The first test was being taken into a back room where a nurse (female) was about to test my vision and measure part of my eye. About to, because I spoke up and asked if I needed to take my contacts out beforehand (why would I want Lasik if I already had great vision??). She then took me to another room to take out my contacts, test my vision, and see what my prescription is. After discovering what my vision is (or isn't) she had me sit in a room and wait for the doctor to talk about questions I may have about Lasik. The doctor (male) came in and looked at the scans the nurse had taken and told me I should be well qualified to have the procedure but that he needed one more test done. He handed me off to the care of another nurse (female) who led me into my 4th room of the visit (none of which I could relate in much detail, as my vision was off by, oh, about -4.75 in both eyes from being able to see any detail).

This nurse had me gaze into this HUGE eye measurement thingy and she commenced to measure my something-or-another with this machine. Being the curious fellow that I am, I made some kind of offhanded remark about how big this machine was which led to the following exchange:
Wow, this is a big machine.
"Yes, and it costs a LOT of money."
How many moving parts are in this thing I wonder? 
"I don't know, but if I had half the IQ of the guy who invented it, I would be happy."
Yes, he's probably quite wealthy.
"On the other hand, I would love to get my hands on the guy who invented this printer, because it shakes so very badly when it prints."
You're not a feminist, are you?

All of which is quite true.
Except for the last line.
That one I thought in my head.

In other news, Isaiah finished his first 5k race this morning at the Creation Museum: The Raptor Race. He finished strong placing first in the stroller division.
Meanwhile, I finished 36th, a minute behind my training friend. I found that the hills on this course made the run WAY harder than I had trained for and I couldn't keep pace in the long haul. I would sprint down the hills and then have to walk back up the next one.
While walking up one of the hills I began to draw comparisons to other metaphors about running the good race and such. Here's what I've got:
We all are called to run the race marked out for us (Heb. 12:1), and those of us who train for that race will be able to do so with much more efficiency than those who don't. Some of us say we'll get around to training some day; some of us dart back and forth and claim that that is somehow working as training; some of us simply refuse to admit that we are in this race called life. Some races are clearly marked out for us, other's journeys are not clearly marked out. Some races are short, some are long. Some are easy and flat with many other runners along the way to help raise your spirits as you run along; some are hilly and lonely with the wind blowing into your face. Some of us must train harder than others because our courses are different and demand the extra effort.
All of us are called to run, all are called to win, and all are called to train to different levels of difficulty based on what we are able to bear (1 Cor. 10:13).


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