tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40937014738922109632024-03-14T01:44:03.402-04:00Katie"I am sure that some people are born to write as trees are born to bear leaves. For these, writing is a necessary mode of their own development." - C. S. LewisKatie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.comBlogger591125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-54175511683993282582012-05-18T13:47:00.001-04:002012-05-18T13:47:01.484-04:00MovedIf you're here, it means you missed the memo that I moved.<br />
<br />
I'm at <a href="http://katieaxelson.com/">KatieAxelson.com</a> now. <br />
<br />
Come over and hang out at my new house.<br />
<br />
Thanks!<br />
<>< KatieKatie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-34870042761626048702012-05-16T04:00:00.000-04:002012-05-16T04:00:01.454-04:00CelebrationOne year ago today I received the most expensive piece of paper in my life to date. I guess I became Katie Axelson, BA.<br />
<br />
But I didn't really celebrate.<br />
<br />
Sure, I took a plethora of photos, carried some flowers, and enjoyed a nice lunch tailgate. Yet I was more overwhelmed with packing and moving involuntarily across the country.<br />
<br />
I never want to go through a year like this again, but I am grateful for the lessons I learned, the ways God proved His faithfulness, and the new opportunities that have opened up.<br />
<br />
Since I was too busy crying to celebrate last year, I'm going to celebrate this year. Better late that never, right?<br />
<br />
My celebration involves a major announcement:<br />
<br />
<b>I have a new blog</b>!<br />
<a href="http://katieaxelson.com/">KatieAxelson.com</a><br />
<br />
Just as moving across the country physically is messy, moving across the cyberworld is messy too. The new blog's not pristine and perfect yet. There are some kinks I'm still working on (but if you want to point them out, that's fine).<br />
<br />
Unlike moving in real life, I get to take you all with me on my move! Be sure to set your bookmarks, subscribe to, whatever to <a href="http://katieaxelson.com/">KatieAxelson.com</a> because otherwise I'll miss you.<br />
<br />
And you'll miss fun stuff like Jesus Worldwide, book reviews, God moments, and who knows what other fun-ness we'll explore.<br />
<br />
Thanks, friends, you're great!<br />
<>< Katie<br />
<a href="http://katieaxelson.com/">KatieAxelson.com</a><br />
<br />Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-76145078420477632882012-05-14T17:43:00.001-04:002012-05-14T17:44:34.492-04:00Jesus Worldwide: Cambodia<em>From Katie: Steph is currently on month ten of eleven on World Race. This piece was originally posted on her blog but has been reposted here with permission. To keep up with Steph's adventures, check out her blog <a href="http://stephaniechan.theworldrace.org/" target="_blank">here</a>. <>< Katie </em><br />
<em>PS: If you've got a story to tell, tell it! KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com.</em><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: tahoma, geneva, sans-serif;">There are about <span style="color: firebrick;">1,200</span> kids who live on the streets in Phnom Penh. Between <span style="color: darkgreen;">10,000-20,000</span> children work on the streets in Cambodia. <br /><br />Many of these kids sniff <span style="color: red;">glue</span>, an inhalant that causes similar feelings as being <span style="color: mediumblue;">drunk</span>, a loss of inhibition, and hallucinations.<br /><br />Glue contains a solvent called toluene, which causes pleasure in the mind. It gives glue a high potential to be addictive, especially to a hungry, hurting, neglected child.<br /><br />Inhaling glue <span style="color: mediumblue;">slows down body function </span>and can damage the heart, kidneys, brain, liver, bone marrow, and other organs. Long-term effects include memory loss, hearing loss, limb spasms, and <span style="color: firebrick;">permanent brain damage</span>. <br /><br />Boys sniffing glue on the streets are so common that passersby think nothing of seeing them anymore. </span><br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />This month, it’s been an incredible blessing to work with Teen Challenge Cambodia at their boys’ centre. The centre is located in a rural area about an hour outside of Phnom Penh. The boys are identified by a partner organization, Hagar International, and if addicted to glue, they are brought to TCC to live for a year away from the temptations of the city. The boys are taught school classes, work-skills such as how to work on a farm, and most importantly, introduced to a relationship with their Father and Creator.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 14px;"><img alt="From stephaniechan.theworldrace.org" src="http://stephaniechan.theworldrace.org/blogphotos/theworldrace/stephaniechan/DSC00552.JPG" style="height: 360px; width: 480px;" /><br /><br /><em><span style="color: maroon;">The boys/men's sleeping quarters at TCC.<br /><br /><img alt="From stephaniechan.theworldrace.org" src="http://stephaniechan.theworldrace.org/blogphotos/theworldrace/stephaniechan/DSC00565.JPG" style="height: 360px; width: 480px;" /></span><br /><br /><span style="color: maroon;">Rice fields at the farm at TCC.</span></em></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 14px;">Being here with the boys has been incredible. The youngest boys, 11-14 years old, were the first to befriend us. They look younger than their ages – maybe because of the effects of glue - and they run around, laugh, play, get into mischief, just like any other carefree child. It’s only when I hear from the staff about their struggles – and stories of their pasts – that I realize the pain that must exist behind the carefree exterior. They have similar stories; a mother who is too poor to care for them, a family that saw them as another source of begging and income. Some have suffered physical, or even sexual abuse.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 14px;"><img alt="From stephaniechan.theworldrace.org" src="http://stephaniechan.theworldrace.org/blogphotos/theworldrace/stephaniechan/IMG_4538_resize.jpg" style="height: 360px; width: 480px;" /><br /><br /><em><span style="color: maroon;">The boys and men at TCC.<br /><br /><img alt="From stephaniechan.theworldrace.org" src="http://stephaniechan.theworldrace.org/blogphotos/theworldrace/stephaniechan/DSC00689.JPG" style="height: 640px; width: 480px;" /></span></em><br /><br /><em><span style="color: maroon;">They love their football.</span></em></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 14px;">I thank God so much for bringing me here. Cambodia has always been a country on my heart, and since coming here, that heart has only grown stronger. Cambodia is one of the poorest countries in the world, with 43 percent of its population under the age of 15. I knew it was poor, but I am only beginning to get acquainted with many of its social problems, such as human trafficking, extreme poverty, and cultural mindsets that allow things such as selling of children into the sex trade or sending them to work in the streets. Stories of families selling their children, or fathers raping their daughters are frequently in the news.<br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />Something that has continually amazed me on this Race is how God really <em>is</em> the answer to <em>everything</em>. As a woman who hasn’t had much exposure to the drug world, much less experienced the incredible hardships of living on the streets, I am sometimes at a loss as to what I can give these boys. But, just like in Thailand with the bargirls, there is something very tangible I <em>can</em> give. The love of Jesus, expressed through our actions, our words, our lessons and games with them. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 14px;"><img alt="From stephaniechan.theworldrace.org" src="http://stephaniechan.theworldrace.org/blogphotos/theworldrace/stephaniechan/IMG_4393_resize.jpg" style="height: 360px; width: 480px;" /><br /><br /><em><span style="color: maroon;">Learning about the days of Creation.</span></em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 14px;"><img alt="From stephaniechan.theworldrace.org" src="http://stephaniechan.theworldrace.org/blogphotos/theworldrace/stephaniechan/DSC00705.JPG" style="height: 360px; width: 480px;" /><br /><br /><span style="color: maroon;"><em>At church with Pastor Mab.</em></span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: 14px;">After their year is over, many of the boys will return to the environment from which they came. Many in the past have succumbed to the same temptations again, maybe doing even worse. “The difference is that this time, they will have the Holy Spirit,” observed my teammate Taryn. I am humbled and privileged to have a month in these boys’ lives, being used by God to impart something that will never fade away or be destroyed – the faith, love, and hope of God. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<img alt="From stephaniechan.theworldrace.org" src="http://stephaniechan.theworldrace.org/blogphotos/theworldrace/stephaniechan/IMG_4511_resize.jpg" style="height: 640px; width: 480px;" /></div>
<br />
<em>*facts found from Consortium for Street Children, Hagar International, and Surviving Drug Addiction</em></div>
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</tbody></table>Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-59633649499878485942012-05-10T22:06:00.000-04:002012-05-10T22:06:30.142-04:00Bee-lieve It's PossibleI saw him and immediately knew we were about to have a problem. He crashed into the glass every few inches all the way down the double-hung window of "my office."<br />
<br />
It isn't really my office. It's the office one of my coworkers let me borrow because she was out for the day. Since air conditioning is not my friend, I opened the window two inches and watched the bee find the very small gap.<br />
<br />
He flew into my office, and I shrugged. Not the first bee I've shared a workspace with, and I'm sure it won't be the last. It was pretty creepy looking, though.<br />
<br />
I began to contemplate my options:<br />
<br />
1. <strong>Kill him.</strong> Provided he flew low enough and I had a good smack with whatever device I could find. I've got a great track-record of hitting bees with tennis rackets, but my racket was in my other computer bag.<br />
<br />
2. <strong>Let him be</strong>. He'd buzz around my office for awhile before venturing out into the building to bother coworkers, some of whom I know full well are very allergic to bees.<br />
<br />
3. <strong>Let him out.</strong> Right. The window was open two inches. He barely made it in. There was no possible way he'd make it out.<br />
<br />
For a few minutes I watched him fly. He wasn't coming low enough for me to smack much less kill. Maybe I should mention the window's opening was knee-height. It seemed impossible.<br />
<br />
I knew I could not handle the bee situation. I did the only thing I knew how to do: I prayed.<br />
<br />
It seemed silly to pray over a bee in a building (especially one who wasn't bothering me). But I did it. It was a simple, selfish prayer, too. It went something like this:<br />
<br />
<em>Hey, God, please get that bee back outside through the window. Thanks. Oh, yeah, I love You.</em><br />
<br />
I went back to work. Not two minutes later I looked over and watched the bee repeatedly crash into the window, nowhere near the opening.<br />
<br />
All of the sudden something happened. Something traumatic happened in the little bee's short life.<br />
<br />
<strong>He fell.</strong><br />
<br />
In between the window panes.<br />
<br />
He was stuck, so I seized the opportunity. I grabbed the best thin weapon I could find, and shoved my notebook down the gap between the panes.<br />
<br />
I never touched the bee.<br />
<br />
He flew upside down and backwards. Neither one of us are really sure how it happened, but all of the sudden he was outside again.<br />
<br />
I could almost hear him rejoicing as he flew away.<br />
<br />
I was rejoicing too.<br />
<br />
I had asked God to get the bee out through the window. He did. But it definitely wasn't in a way I could have anticipated. I never even thought about the bee getting trapped between the panes and escaping out the hole.<br />
<br />
I expected him to miraculously find the same two inches he flew in through. I knew God could make that happened.<br />
<br />
He did even better, He shot the bee out through an even smaller hole.<br />
<br />
<strong>The bee situation was more than just a chance for God to show off.</strong> (He can do that; He created the universe).<br />
<br />
It was a reminder to me to pray about <strong>everything</strong>. Not just the big things. Not just the things that are struggles for me. Not just the things that will alter my life.<br />
<br />
I am not bothering the Creator of the universe when I ask Him to rid the office of a measly bee. In fact, I think He enjoyed it. I know He enjoyed the praise I gave Him afterwards.<br />
<br />
Well done, Lord.<br />
<br />
<>< Katie<br />
<br />Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-11000526068424566032012-05-07T19:51:00.000-04:002012-05-07T19:55:18.552-04:00Jesus Worldwide: TanzaniaHave you ever read the Jesus Worldwide posts and wished you could keep up with a missionary or team while on the field rather than waiting until they return?<br />
<br />
Well, pack your bags and come with me!<br />
<br />
There's a team of Compassion Bloggers in Tanzania right now. Even though I'm eating food my stomach enjoys, sleeping days and nights the American way, and not taking anti-malaria medicine (rejoice!), I'm in Tanzania... mentally.<br />
<br />
Follow their journey here:<br />
<a href="http://compassionbloggers.com/trips/2012-tanzania?referer=122735" target="_blank">Blogs</a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/#%21/shaungroves/compassion-tanzania" target="_blank">Twitter</a><br />
<br />
Let me introduce you to the team:<br />
<br />
The Nester who met <a href="http://www.thenester.com/2012/05/well-i-didnt-expect-to-meet-her-in-tanzania.html" target="_blank">Hospitality in Tanzania</a>.<br />
<br />
Kelli thinks Minivans are Hot and <a href="http://minivansarehot.com/2012/05/on-turkish-fish-and-hope/" target="_blank">she's not callous to the amazing work</a> of <a href="http://compassion.com/" target="_blank">Compassion</a>.<br />
<br />
Gussy's <a href="http://www.gussysews.com/2012/05/let-my-purpose-be-stitched-up-by-him/" target="_blank">purpose is stitched up in Him</a>.<br />
<br />
Scott has a <a href="http://www.bigisthenewsmall.com/2012/05/07/where-there-is-no-vision-the-people-perish-tanzania-day-2/" target="_blank">watch that the children are mesmerized by</a>.<br />
<br />
Amy's <a href="http://resourcefulmommy.com/9281/hope-like-a-little-child-compassion-blogging-trip-day-2/" target="_blank">learning to hope like a child</a>.<br />
<br />
Jolanthe is looking at the practical things <a href="http://www.homeschoolcreations.net/" target="_blank">Compassion</a> is doing.<br />
<br />
Team leader Shaun Groves is building a <a href="http://shaungroves.com/2012/05/tanzanian-for-grocery-shopping/" target="_blank">Third World Dictionary</a>.<br />
<br />
Team leader Keely's <a href="http://www.keelymariescott.com/blog/" target="_blank">got an amazing eye for photography.</a><br />
<br />
Don't just take my word for it. Go check out their blogs.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm?referer=122735" target="_blank">And consider sponsoring a child in Tanzania</a>.<br />
<br />
<>< Katie<br />
<br />
PS: If you have a story to tell and want to brag on how God is working around the globe, I'd love to hear it. KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com.Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-14510375616236866572012-05-05T16:54:00.002-04:002012-05-05T17:04:37.790-04:00Life's Bad MusicAs soon as I walked into the coffee shop, I regretted it. I had forgotten one vital detail: it was Wednesday.<br />
<br />
Wednesday means open mic night. My coffee shop desk had turned into a stage.<br />
<br />
I'm all for live music. I love going to concerts. I enjoy writing to live music.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vhzCZcRHTBs/T6RqKe4egAI/AAAAAAAATng/8ag8qLNhkFM/s1600/Needtobreathe.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vhzCZcRHTBs/T6RqKe4egAI/AAAAAAAATng/8ag8qLNhkFM/s320/Needtobreathe.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo from a Needtobreathe concert</td></tr>
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Sure, I have my favorite artists, but I'm not very particular about music (you can't be when your sign choir performs "Joyful Noise" by Flame and "Come Thou Fount" in the same semester). I'm also not a musician which means it takes a lot in order to get me to cringe.<br />
<br />
The band on the stage in my coffee shop office on Wednesday made me cringe.<br />
<br />
I picked the quietest corner (as if such a thing exists), sat down, and got to work. I figured if I was working, I wouldn't notice the band as much.<br />
<br />
Wrong.<br />
<br />
I couldn't leave because I had a lot of work to do, but after a few minutes, I couldn't stand it anymore. I pulled out my headphones and turned on my own music. At first, I couldn't even hear my song over the band. I cupped my hands over my ears as if that would drown them out more.<br />
<br />
The band got louder. I turned up my music. I wanted nothing more than to block out the exterior noise and focus only on the delightful, familiar song penetrating my heart once again. Something changed.<br />
<br />
The noise around me didn't go away. It was just as awful as it had always been, but the gentle voice in my ears was so sweet.<br />
<br />
That's life.<br />
<br />
Maybe not constantly, but life definitely has some bad bands playing from time to time. <br />
<br />
We call them unemployment. Cancer. Debt. Miscarriage. Tornado. Broken relationships. Death. Illness. Car crashes.<br />
<br />
We can't stand their music, but we've got a front-row seat. We didn't intend to go to their show, but we can't unplug the soundboard.<br />
<br />
That doesn't mean they need our undivided attention.<br />
<br />
What if, instead of focusing on the bad right in front of you, commanding your attention, you chose to focus on the sweet voice of God in your ears?<br />
<br />
It's not easy, but once you get a taste of the Lord's voice, once you hear Him above the noise of life, you're not going to want to stop listening.<br />
<br />
<em>Lord, teach us to focus our attention on Your sweet voice of love and encouragement rather than the awful noise all around us.</em><br />
<br />
KatieKatie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-66075500085454476552012-05-02T05:30:00.000-04:002012-05-02T09:29:08.049-04:00Wacky WednesdayFrom Katie: The following is a collection of quotes heard in conversation and found on Twitter over the month of April. Some names have been changed for the sake of privacy. <>< Katie<br />
<br />
<strong>Jesse</strong> [23]: How are you?<br />
<strong>Woman</strong> [70s]: Well, I have a bad case of diarrhea and I've been on the toilet all morning, Honey. I hear you wrote a book. I'm going to write a book, too. Since it looks like neither of us are going to get married, let's get hitched.<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: Next time I'll just cook dinner after work.<br />
<strong>Jennifer</strong>: Hey! I've been cooking all afternoon.<br />
<strong>Amy</strong>: That's the problem.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: We appreciate your effort even if it's only effort.<br />
<br />
<strong>Laura</strong>: I'd like a diet virgin water on the rocks. Hold the ice.<br />
<br />
<strong>David</strong>: Katie, you eat in the caf more than I do.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: Not more just as often.<br />
<strong>David</strong>: Oh, good. As long as we're even.<br />
<br />
<strong>Pete Webber</strong>: I hate hockey games in libraries.<br />
<br />
<strong>Allyson</strong>: I'm so sorry, Stacy, that we're overe here having our own conversation and you're over there slaving over the microwave.<br />
<br />
<strong>Person One</strong>: What's a cello?<br />
<strong>Person Two</strong>: It's like a really big violin you play on the floor.<br />
<br />
[Allyson getting plates out of the cabinet]<br />
<strong>Jennifer</strong>: No! I already have plates out.<br />
<strong>Allyson</strong>: Where?<br />
<strong>Jennifer</strong>: Over there.<br />
<strong>Allyson</strong>: There are two.<br />
<strong>Jennifer</strong>: I was going to get more.<br />
<br />
<strong>Stephen</strong>: Anatomically, if you had brake lights, they'd be on your butt.<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: Meeting with David.<br />
<strong>Autocorrect</strong>: Mewing with David.<br />
<strong>Rebekah</strong>: I mewed with David and Meagan tonight.<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: I need to remember not to go to work tomorrow.<br />
<br />
<strong>Lisa Whittle</strong>: Tell that person you believe in them, love them, appreciate them today. You have no idea how much they may need to hear it.<br />
<br />
<strong>Isaac</strong> [Age 4]: If we were all rocks, we'd be mulch.<br />
<br />
<strong>Jennifer</strong>: Allyson, are you done with this?<br />
<strong>Allyson</strong>: That's my sandwich.<br />
<strong>Jennifer</strong>: It's all this gross stuff.<br />
<strong>Allyson</strong>: Those are called vegetables.<br />
<br />
<strong>Laura</strong>: Zeke is Twatching Katie. In public even!<br />
<br />
<strong>Anna</strong>: I wouldn't lie to you.<br />
<strong>Josh</strong>: You did once.<br />
<strong>Anna</strong>: Really? When?<br />
<strong>Josh</strong>: You once said I was a good person.<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: High of 61. What is this? January?<br />
<br />
<strong>Jennifer Rothschild</strong>: God is present in your present; He's not dwelling on your past or worrying about the future so you don't either. Be present where you are.<br />
<br />
<strong>Allyson</strong>: These strawberries are Pintrest-worthy.<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: When I come back, I want you to have two pages written.<br />
<strong>Jen</strong>: Are you coming back tomorrow?<br />
[A few days later]<br />
<strong>Jen</strong>: So, Katie, that story for class you were pushing me to write? It's not 5 pages. It's 26. And I might major in writing.<br />
<br />
"Live in a way that if anyone should speak badly of you, no one would believe it." - Unknown<br />
<br />
<strong>Jennifer</strong>: It's 7:30.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: It's 8:00.<br />
<strong>Allyson</strong>: Get a watch, witch.<br />
<br />
<strong>Jesse</strong>: Have you Tweeted yet? It's been an hour. Please Tweet responsibly.<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: I need a horrible haircut. I mean, I need a haircut horribly.<br />
<br />
<strong>Julie</strong>: If you bought a <em>Lord of the Rings</em> ring as an engagement right, you would officially be boxed in forever as a dork.<br />
<br />
<strong>Billy Bob</strong>: I got this thought. I know that's dangerous. You're in charge of marketing--<br />
<strong>John Boy</strong>: I think so. Somedays. In some places. Maybe not here. I am at my house.<br />
<br />
<strong>Laura</strong>: I'll have the steak. Medium half-well done. No pink.<br />
<br />
<strong>Friend</strong>: You have a degree in English and Spanish? You should be a music critic.<br />
<br />
[While discussing wars]<br />
<strong>Becca</strong>, high school freshman: This is why we need female presidents. They won't fight with each other; they'll all be jealous of each other and no one will talk rather than fighting.<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: I need to go shopping in your closet.<br />
<strong>Jennifer</strong>: You can pay me too.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: I'll pay you in punches.<br />
<strong>Jennifer</strong>: I don't appreciate that. Maybe I'll just let you borrow my clothes.<br />
<br />
<strong>Brett</strong>: Childbirth is not the most feminine moment in a woman's life.<br />
<br />
[Laura said something in Spanish; I translated.]<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: Why is the dog in the car?<br />
<strong>Laura</strong>: Why are you standing in a box?<br />
<br />
<strong>Max Lucado</strong>: Worship is the act of magnifying God.Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-54900935228229390352012-04-30T09:00:00.000-04:002012-04-30T11:08:41.296-04:00Jesus Worldwide: Operation WorldI'll be honest, I didn't have time to get together a Jesus Worldwide post for today. I'm in the process of making a <a href="http://katieax.blogspot.com/2012/04/wild-idea.html" target="_blank">major blog move</a>, and <a href="http://katieax.blogspot.com/2012/04/chewable-bites.html" target="_blank">I need two hands to count my writing commitments</a>. Sorry!<br />
<br />
If you've got a story to tell about how you've seen God work, I'd love to hear from you. Send me an email (KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com) and we'll set up an interview or guest post. Remember, I don't mind revisiting countries. Who knows, yours could be the first story at my "new house."<br />
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In the meantime, head over to <a href="http://www.operationworld.org/" target="_blank">Operation World</a> and select a country (or two) to read about and pray for. There are some countries I've never even heard of but God knows the citizens intimately. God understands the languages, the customs, and needs. That blows my mind.<br />
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I prayed for the Congo. What about you?<br />
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<>< KatieKatie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-26212167802309987872012-04-28T14:01:00.001-04:002012-04-28T14:04:48.953-04:00Wild IdeaI'm thinking about doing something crazy. Super crazy.<br />
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I'm thinking about retiring this blog.<br />
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Wait! Don't call the doctor; I promise, I'm not sick. <em><strong>I</strong></em> don't intent to retire. Just move.<br />
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I figured since I'm wearing big girl pants, paying big girl rent, and (some days) eating big girl meals, it's time for this blog to grow up and move across the country, too.<br />
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At this point I have more questions than answers. So, I need you to help me out please.<br />
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This is my number one question: <strong>If I move, will you move with me?</strong><br />
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For real, I want your honest opinion.<br />
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As part of moving, I'll be sorting everything into three piles: Keep, Sell, Toss.<br />
<strong>Keep</strong>: Posts I liked for various reasons. I intend to write more like them.<br />
<strong>Sell</strong>: Posts that were ok. More similar to them might appear or might not.<br />
<strong>Toss</strong>: Posts that never should have happened.<br />
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Can you do me a favor and find a post that fits each category and tell me <strong><em>why</em></strong> you've put it there?<br />
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Thanks!<br />
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<>< Katie<br />
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PS: If you're bored, you can start thinking of blog titles for the new blog. I'm hoping for a pun on my name (Katie Axelson, Ax for short).<br />
<br />Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-62973810443024840262012-04-27T04:30:00.000-04:002012-04-27T04:30:00.147-04:00Chewable BitesTechnically I had two hours. By the time I ordered a drink, got my computer hooked up to the wifi, and chatted with the barista and other coffee shop patrons, I was down to one hour.<br />
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First things first: my own blog. Then other blogs. My time was quickly dwindling. I had 30 minutes left before the student worship service started. I didn't <em>have</em> to be there. I <em>wanted</em> to be there. I also <em>wanted</em> to write.<br />
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So I closed the internet (more accurately: gave up the fight. Katie: 0, wifi: 1) and wrote for 30 minutes. It was only a hundred words before the clock read go time. I contemplated staying longer but couldn't bring myself to do it.<br />
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Neither could I bring myself to leave the characters at the coffee shop. <br />
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This is my life right now. I have five jobs. I've made five writing-related commitments to other people. Even though some are paid and some are volunteer, they are all very important to me. I am grateful for every single one of them. I want to do all of them well.<br />
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Likewise, I have made a commitment to you, my faithful blog readers.<br />
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There are a lot of words being produces from these fingers and tendinitis-elbow.<br />
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There are a lot of great thoughts running through this mush-like brain. There is not a lot of time (or a lot of words) to put them here.<br />
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How could I capture a blog post, a novel idea, and two freelance assignments in two hours?<br />
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I couldn't. So was the time even worth it? Maybe I should have just stayed home.<br />
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But I didn't. I made progress. I didn't construct this post but I did accomplish something. Small increments of time mean small, chewable bites of life. Like of like planning your life no further ahead than three months.<br />
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It's not easy. It's not fun. It's not voluntary.<br />
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If I can find 30 minutes to write this blog post, you can find 30 minutes to... play with your child, sing to the Lord, call your long-lost roommate, walk your dog.<br />
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It's not nearly enough but worth every second.<br />
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<>< KatieKatie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-56519540156980719632012-04-25T06:00:00.000-04:002012-04-25T13:24:40.238-04:00World Malaria DayIf you've never slept under mosquito netting, it's a weird sensation. It's kind of entrapping but also kind of nice because it means the mosquitoes are out there and you're in here. I used to do it when we went camping.<br />
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<a href="http://www.compassion.com/create-malaria-intervention.htm" target="_blank">Mumu</a> sleeps under mosquito netting every night.<br />
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If you've never taken anti-malaria medicine, it's a weird sensation. First, the look on people's faces when you tell them you're taking medicine for malaria is priceless. Second, the nausea that accompanies it is very much unpleasant.<br />
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During college, I spent a month studying abroad in what the CDC declared a malaria risk area of Costa Rica. Which meant every Tuesday for nine weeks, I choked down a nasty pink pill that stole my appetite and left me feeling miserable.<br />
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Every Tuesday I regretted being cautious and going to the travel doctor before my trip. (Yes, I now do a happy dance when I'm traveling somewhere and don't have to take chloroquine).<br />
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Every Tuesday, I regretted arguing with the pharmacist to get five pills when my insurance only wanted me to have four for the first filling. ("I can't come get a refill while I'm in Costa Rica.")<br />
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Every Tuesday, I remembered that I could not give blood for a year.<br />
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<strong>Every Tuesday I remembered how truly blessed I am.</strong><br />
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I had access to a doctor whose primary job is to educate travelers like me on tips for living abroad and things to carry in their own personal pharmacy (most of which I actually used).<br />
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I had access to medicine to prevent a disease that kills one child every thirty to forty-five seconds. (How long has it taken you to read this? I bet more than thirty seconds).<br />
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I had more Off! than I'd ever need just to keep those pesky mosquitoes away from my medicated blood.<br />
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Any mosquito bites I did get, were just annoying and itchy not life-threatening.<br />
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I didn't have to worry about suffering from a completely preventable, treatable disease.<br />
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<strong>I care about malaria.</strong><br />
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If the medication to prevent it made me feel so nasty, I can't imagine what the disease itself must be like.<br />
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To many people around the world, the horrors of malaria are not just imagined but rather a very real, cruel reality they face every day.<br />
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Organizations like <a href="http://www.lutheranmalaria.org/site/c.emJXKgOYJhI6G/b.7716885/k.BF10/Home.htm#intro" target="_blank">Lutheran Malaria Initiative</a> and <a href="http://compassion.com/" target="_blank">Compassion</a> are bringing hope and help to people in malaria risk-areas.<br />
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You can help by <a href="http://www.compassion.com/malaria-children.htm" target="_blank">sponsoring a child in a malaria risk area</a>.<br />
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You can help by <a href="http://www.lutheranmalaria.org/site/c.emJXKgOYJhI6G/b.7716885/k.BF10/Home.htm#intro_donate" target="_blank">purchasing mosquito netting for people living in Africa</a>.<br />
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You can help by spreading the word about malaria.<br />
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You can help by praying for the people living (and traveling) in malaria risk areas.<br />
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Thank you!<br />
<>< Katie<br />
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(Yes, I'm a Compassion Blogger which means sometimes they send me post suggestions. This was not one of them).Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-2724662564663577692012-04-23T20:02:00.000-04:002012-04-23T20:46:50.119-04:00Jesus Worldwide: Nepal<span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>From Katie: Over spring break my friends Beth and Jennifer went where no American has ever gone before. Literally. This week they're taking us to the hill country of Nepal. </em><em>These are their stories and photos as told to me.</em></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We went to Nepal to support missionaries Brandon and Tammy already living there and to encourage Anmol, another missionary contact. We stayed in Ti-se where Brandon and Tammy rent the top floor. It's kind of like a mini hotel.</span></span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kVFsBWJOFwk/T5MtpGmmUHI/AAAAAAAATcY/KUd6LKxK9CY/s1600/ViewfromTi-se.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kVFsBWJOFwk/T5MtpGmmUHI/AAAAAAAATcY/KUd6LKxK9CY/s320/ViewfromTi-se.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Our first full day was spent preparing for the week-long trip to the hill country. We set out everything we intended to take and narrowed it down further and further until it could fit in a backpack. The last things we removed from our packs were shampoo and soap. We took our flutes, one change of clothes, pajamas, and basic toiletries.</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uWuQzvWvkRQ/T5Mtf74DqxI/AAAAAAAATcQ/2p-NTuhHSak/s1600/PackingFortheHillCountry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uWuQzvWvkRQ/T5Mtf74DqxI/AAAAAAAATcQ/2p-NTuhHSak/s320/PackingFortheHillCountry.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We left at 6am with two people in the front of our left-side-driven jeep, three people in the middle, and three in the back. The road was rough with steep hills. We had to drive slowly to plot our route around the rocks and bumps. Sometimes it was barely wide enough for one vehicle with mountain and drop-off on either side. If another car wanted to pass, we'd look for a wide point in the road even if that involved backing up or waiting until the road cleared. We saw a lot of school children who would run up and chase the land rover or grab on to the back and ride along. The land rover had no air conditioning so we had to keep the windows rolled down until we passed another vehicle and we'd roll them up quickly because it was so dusty. The vegetation all looks dead because it's covered in dust. The ride was long but it was a great opportunity to chat with our team (all adult men) and see the beautiful countryside of Nepal.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">We spent 16 hours on this road.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BaR_dCcKYCg/T5SrUKa-soI/AAAAAAAATdg/7QXdznv9mEg/s1600/WeTooktheRoadontheRight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BaR_dCcKYCg/T5SrUKa-soI/AAAAAAAATdg/7QXdznv9mEg/s320/WeTooktheRoadontheRight.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">We took the one on the right.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bM66Mbw-v0o/T5SsCna3fwI/AAAAAAAATd4/I48ZJxj7hnI/s1600/Switchbacks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bM66Mbw-v0o/T5SsCna3fwI/AAAAAAAATd4/I48ZJxj7hnI/s320/Switchbacks.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Look at all of those switchbacks!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qp8C81sqfzo/T5SrnMl6zhI/AAAAAAAATdo/dTxkziCXnHI/s1600/TheRoad2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qp8C81sqfzo/T5SrnMl6zhI/AAAAAAAATdo/dTxkziCXnHI/s320/TheRoad2.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Yes, this is the road. Plot your course.</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It took two days there and two days back to get to the village but it was worth it because it's an unreached people group. The motivation to go was increased by the difficulty of traveling. Who would go if we didn't?</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QfPQWDOsSks/T5XjojkxhuI/AAAAAAAATiY/XvcSNEViw-0/s1600/CuteChild.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QfPQWDOsSks/T5XjojkxhuI/AAAAAAAATiY/XvcSNEViw-0/s320/CuteChild.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Palden is a missionary originally from India and he goes to remove villages to share the gospel. He helped us with translating, directions, and such. (Directions: drive 16 hours until the road ends in Potale then hike for five more hours). Sometimes he gets sick when he's hiking and no one knows or can do anything about it. <b>Pray that Palden can travel with ease and no problems.</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9eudMdv-cJY/T5Sue6IyrxI/AAAAAAAATeA/2PHNvKH-WMg/s1600/Hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9eudMdv-cJY/T5Sue6IyrxI/AAAAAAAATeA/2PHNvKH-WMg/s320/Hotel.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">This is the hotel we stayed at the first night on the road.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rmkNTFynpaA/T5Sun0AhELI/AAAAAAAATeI/6rkVHH7yMig/s1600/HotelRoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rmkNTFynpaA/T5Sun0AhELI/AAAAAAAATeI/6rkVHH7yMig/s320/HotelRoom.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Our hotel room.</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The drive took longer than we were expecting because we had to go slowly. Thankfully no one got carsick. That's the hotel we stopped at the first night. We brushed out teeth out the window. There was a plywood table for our bed. The photo above was taken from the men's room. There was no door, so we took turns holding up blankets to change. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A town we drove by.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kvCoqpOl_XU/T5SvCm4kCqI/AAAAAAAATeQ/PrhNGXYkl0A/s320/Countryside.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Isn't Nepal such a gorgeous country?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z5R-oHeNqPA/T5SvG5kSFmI/AAAAAAAATeY/S0tsV2Mglcc/s1600/Country.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z5R-oHeNqPA/T5SvG5kSFmI/AAAAAAAATeY/S0tsV2Mglcc/s320/Country.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Potale (where the road ends)</span></td></tr>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OmO63EO4H_U/T5SvQXSyT7I/AAAAAAAATeg/LJsOgmxGSoc/s1600/House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OmO63EO4H_U/T5SvQXSyT7I/AAAAAAAATeg/LJsOgmxGSoc/s320/House.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The third day of our trip we ate eggs, potatoes, and beans
for breakfast before driving for five more hours. The Himalayan Mountains were
beautiful and gigantic! They call this the hill country but they’re bigger than
any hills I’ve ever seen. After a lunch break at the hotel where we had been
planning to stay, we hiked all afternoon, up and down four mountains. It was
weird places to hike because of the terraced landscapes, and it was mostly
steep down. It hurt! Our hands were swollen, our legs were shaking. One of our
team members was 67, and he was an inspiration!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ZbqIHyA8K4/T5SwHzD8wyI/AAAAAAAATe4/dteWKemIKTQ/s1600/Salyan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ZbqIHyA8K4/T5SwHzD8wyI/AAAAAAAATe4/dteWKemIKTQ/s320/Salyan.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Salyan</span></td></tr>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Salyan, the village we finally made it to, was tiny with
approximately 80 houses up and down the side of the mountain. We were the first
Americans to ever enter this village. There is one house of believers in this
area. The next house of believers is two or three hours down the mountain. The
two-story house is completely made of clay and wood. The bottom floor was the
church room (where the men from our team stayed) and the top floor is where the
family lives. Right behind the house is the Buddhist monastery, so it’s like
they’re in the shadow of the monastery. The family faces heavy verbal
persecution and there are areas of the mountain where they are not allowed to
travel. The people hold to very strict Tibetan Buddhist traditions because it’s
the only thing they’ve ever know. When we were sharing the Gospel, we were
often were met with the resistance of, “I’m Sherpa, so I’m Buddhist.”<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> Pray for the believers there to be a light and for the unbelievers to have a yearning for Christ.</b></span></span></div>
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</span>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PzWB-6TJQIU/T5Swb0_nOTI/AAAAAAAATfA/PuFcEQnkIZQ/s1600/Home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PzWB-6TJQIU/T5Swb0_nOTI/AAAAAAAATfA/PuFcEQnkIZQ/s320/Home.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The house where we stayed.</span></td></tr>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span">“Namaste” is the traditional greeting between people but between
believers it is “Jamasi!” When we got to Salyan, everyone was joyfully shouting
“Jamasi!” It was so exciting. The family of several generations (total of 10ish
people) invited us in for black tea (like hot sweet tea). It’s custom to take off
your shoes when you go in, so we took ours off but it was so cold that we
eventually put our socks back on. We had been expecting to sleep on the ground,
but the sister offered us her room. We were hesitant to take it but it was an
honor for her. It meant we got to sleep in a bed with a tiny cushion, and we
were warmer since we were off of the floor, and we got privacy from the rest of
the team (all adult men). The walls were made of dirt, but the sister had
covered the walls with newspaper. All of the doors were short. Our first night
there we asked for a small meal, so they brought us a huge bowl of boiled
potatoes. We peeled them and ate them (kind of like an orange). It thunder
snowed that night with lightning and everything but it was mostly gone the next
day.</span></span></div>
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</span>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CbY8oohjX0I/T5SwneRDMnI/AAAAAAAATfI/VhYxcClZ49w/s1600/Bedroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CbY8oohjX0I/T5SwneRDMnI/AAAAAAAATfI/VhYxcClZ49w/s320/Bedroom.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Bedroom.</span></td></tr>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></tbody></table>
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</span>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FjLQ17fGE1c/T5SwuPLvQsI/AAAAAAAATfQ/Yun5afJGKtg/s1600/ViewfromWindow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FjLQ17fGE1c/T5SwuPLvQsI/AAAAAAAATfQ/Yun5afJGKtg/s320/ViewfromWindow.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">View from the house.</span></td></tr>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></tbody></table>
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</span>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--fdlwsU8xpE/T5SyLBRfcRI/AAAAAAAATfk/x1nhUnXP34A/s1600/Bathroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--fdlwsU8xpE/T5SyLBRfcRI/AAAAAAAATfk/x1nhUnXP34A/s320/Bathroom.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Bathroom.</span></td></tr>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Our first full day in the village we did a devotion about
what to expect in visiting house to house (based on the model of Luke 10). We
split up into two groups. One went down the mountain and the other stayed near
the believers’ house. We prayerfully walked through the village looking for a
house of peace. We made small talk before sharing our story about why we were
there and sharing the gospel. It was difficult because we were working through
translators (who are Christian). Sometimes the translator and the people would
talk and talk and talk but sum it up in one English sentence. It was also neat
because we traded off who was going to share our story. It was hard and awkward
because we didn’t know what to say or how to say it. They have a completely
different worldview and don’t understand the way we do, so it’s kind of like
talking to a 5<sup>th</sup> grader using short sentences to be translated. At
the last house I [Jennifer] was praying because I wanted a connection and to know
how to build to conversation. I started talking to a boy and asked him how old
he was. He was 20, so we had an instant connection and talked about school. He
appreciated our coming to share God’s love. We invited him to church but he had
an exam. </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D3Y-5TCX6gc/T5Sy9FHL-UI/AAAAAAAATf8/MUvjU7wJ7NA/s1600/Girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D3Y-5TCX6gc/T5Sy9FHL-UI/AAAAAAAATf8/MUvjU7wJ7NA/s320/Girl.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It’s strange to go into a complete stranger’s house and sit
down with the intention of sharing the gospel with them. But it was so much
fun! One older lady whose husband was out working said she wanted to follow
Jesus but her husband wouldn’t allow it. This was a common response. Family is
so important to them but it also hinders them from believing the gospel. If
someone does believe, it would probably lead to others believing. <strong>Pray for this woman and others in her situation</strong>. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes
they would walk away and give us a verbal closed door. It’s hard to love them
and want them to know the Savior even though they’re closed to the idea. What
was encouraging was that it’s less about us bringing God to them but rather us
joining God where He already is. Even though these people are in spiritual
darkness, God’s still there, still working. There are believers there. Just
because we’re gone doesn’t mean God’s gone. That’s the only way to have peace
in leaving a house that was not receptive to the Gospel.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P0eRbpW2NXk/T5SzbHkQ0cI/AAAAAAAATgE/VtOA6Fej8B4/s320/PastorNorbu.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pastor Norbu</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Pastor
Norbu had fallen off of the second story the day before we arrived and messed up his face
and leg and couldn’t talk well or move but he wanted to see us before he went
to the doctor for pain medication. To get him to the doctor, four people at a
time had to carry the stretcher over the same path we’d just walked. We prayed
for him a lot because it was already a difficult situation. We prayed that his
healing would be quick and miraculous and it would show God’s power and be used
as a testimony. He need stitches but thankfully his hip was not broken. He did
lose a lot of blood but by the time we left Nepal he was able to talk though
still weak. <b>Please continue to pray for Pastor Norbu and his recovery and that he will continue to be a light in the darkness. </b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">His brother is a Buddhist witch doctor, and people would come to
him and want to be healed, but he couldn’t heal them. Pastor Norbu would pray
for them, and they’d be healed. His </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">brother loves him but doesn’t agree with
his faith.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0vVWa3zhjRQ/T5S0Ahj48yI/AAAAAAAATgM/tCAep76TqZE/s320/Church2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nepali church</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0vVWa3zhjRQ/T5S0Ahj48yI/AAAAAAAATgM/tCAep76TqZE/s1600/Church2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In Nepal, as soon as you become a believer, you’re a leader.
Brandon taught them how to make disciples, how to teach other believers, etc.,
and believers traveled from four hours away for this training. We took the kids
out to play and take photos. Their faces were all scabbed and blistered due to
the climate, and they had runny noses. I [Beth] just wanted to cover them in
lotion. Some of them didn’t have pants and just sat in the dirt naked. In Nepal church is on Saturday. Women sit on one side and
men on the other. They all prayed out loud at the same time, and the only
instruments they had were a drum and a tambourine. They did their part then we
introduced ourselves and played our flutes. One of our team members brought the
message. There were kids poking their heads in the doors and the room was full
of kids. <strong>They were curious about the white people, but we hope and pray they
heard something</strong>.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LDzCTIp78Pk/T5S0PF8DiTI/AAAAAAAATgU/84Me_QKbteE/s1600/Child.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LDzCTIp78Pk/T5S0PF8DiTI/AAAAAAAATgU/84Me_QKbteE/s320/Child.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DMybF1fdetQ/T5S0cg2qHsI/AAAAAAAATgc/BX2UjAn9CSU/s1600/Children.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DMybF1fdetQ/T5S0cg2qHsI/AAAAAAAATgc/BX2UjAn9CSU/s320/Children.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SzCapIFNGxI/T5S0n3TAX_I/AAAAAAAATgk/oTO5USF-xgQ/s1600/Child2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SzCapIFNGxI/T5S0n3TAX_I/AAAAAAAATgk/oTO5USF-xgQ/s320/Child2.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">We left on Sunday, and it was super sad but our leaving
didn’t mean God was leaving. We hiked five and a half hours back up the mountain
for a total climb of 3,400 feet (7 miles). We literally hiked in the clouds. We
walked slowly so we didn’t have to stop as often but we still had to take
frequent breaks. The flat land was monumental. That night Jennifer was feeling
sick, and Beth was feeling worried and uneasy. We weren’t ourselves. We hadn’t
showered in days and were just cranky; the gnats attacking our ears and eyes as
we tried to journal weren’t helping either. So we said the fruits of the spirit
out loud, said we’d pray for each other, and we went to sleep. In the morning
we woke up in a good mood, feeling refreshed, and laughing. On Monday we drove twelve
hours the rest of the way back, washing our face in a lake along the way. We
finally got showers too! It was glorious! We met up with another member of our
team who had been doing something different. We all ate dinner together and it
included meat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k8lRKOR7C30/T5Sv4k2jASI/AAAAAAAATew/b7jPwtj304g/s1600/MoreHiking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k8lRKOR7C30/T5Sv4k2jASI/AAAAAAAATew/b7jPwtj304g/s320/MoreHiking.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<em>"Standing on this mountain top looking just how far we've come </em></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<em>knowing that with every step You are with us." </em></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<em>- Matt Redman, "Never Once"</em></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4vXKBp5TupQ/T5S08Q_CzAI/AAAAAAAATgs/VMSY_9AUMwU/s1600/Mountains2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4vXKBp5TupQ/T5S08Q_CzAI/AAAAAAAATgs/VMSY_9AUMwU/s320/Mountains2.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">On Tuesday morning we walked around the Bhouda, an area of
Kathmandu with one of the world’s largest stupas and people come from all over
the world to see it. There were Nepali people, Chinese people, Europeans,
foreigners, storekeepers, school children in their navy uniforms, Buddhist monks
in their burgundy robes. It’s a circle with shops all around it. One of their
rituals is to walk around the stupa with it on their right side improves karma.
There are prayer wheels to spin and offerings and all sorts of things. Since
it’s a touristy area, the storekeepers spoke English, so we started
conversations with them and gave out tracts of the Gospel of Mark. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7GpT1L5lf64/T5XdN72LOKI/AAAAAAAATho/QKtVxs8SxIk/s1600/IMG_1918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7GpT1L5lf64/T5XdN72LOKI/AAAAAAAATho/QKtVxs8SxIk/s320/IMG_1918.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tuesday afternoon was chill and recuperation time. That
night we worshiped together with Brandon and Tammy’s team of journeymen and
other supporters. We played our flutes and took hymn requests. They tended to
know the first verse and the chorus and would sing really strongly but once we
got to the second verse they’d fade out until we got to the chorus again. It
was all good, and they really appreciate it because they don’t get to have
corporate worship very often.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2HH9t4lxT9s/T5XbOscPngI/AAAAAAAAThY/UGxFzXbX_tM/s1600/IMG_2041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-akDpIA75sXs/T5XnGal3dCI/AAAAAAAATio/H9d4bzjAsFE/s1600/IMG_1765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-akDpIA75sXs/T5XnGal3dCI/AAAAAAAATio/H9d4bzjAsFE/s320/IMG_1765.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These flags have Buddhist scripture on them. They're everywhere. Supposedly when you walk past the you breathe in the scripture. The more you have, the more scripture you're breathing in.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">On Wednesday we flew to Pokhara. Everyone says to sit on the
right side so you can see the Himalayas, but it was cloudy when we landed. Pokhara is a really
touristy area where there’s a heavy western influence even though there are
cows everywhere. We got to meet Anmol and his wife Neta. Anmol’s grandfather
was the first pastor in Nepal. They lived on the border in India and for 17
years they prayed for the doors to open for the Gospel in Nepal. In 1950 the
doors opened, and in 1952 they came and started the first church in Nepal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His grandmother is still alive and she’s 101.
We got to meet her. She’d recently fallen and broken her hip, so she’s dying.
[Update: She is home with the Lord as of 4-22-12]. She’s beautiful. She’s one of those people you wish you could communicate with
her and hear her stories because she’s got so much wisdom. She was the first
pastor’s wife in Nepal. She was so frail. Anmol would translate for us, and
he’d lean right down next to her ear and yell. She’d bedridden, so she gets
lonely. Anmol told us she would love it if we came and touched her, so we held
her hand and touched her shoulders. It was a very spiritually filling, precious
time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f-DqWSuAQl8/T5Xcud85leI/AAAAAAAAThg/iAQyun50B_4/s1600/IMG_2001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f-DqWSuAQl8/T5Xcud85leI/AAAAAAAAThg/iAQyun50B_4/s320/IMG_2001.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The first pastor's wife in Nepal, age 101.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anmol shared his testimony. His parents got divorced and he
got on the wrong track and began using drugs, and he got Hep B and his kidneys
were failing. He was dying. He had a humongous faith that God could heal him,
and He did. It was a miracle! God also cured him of Hep B. Now Anmol’s ministry
is to reach out to the street boys who are addicted to drugs and have that way
of life. They have a daycare that meets in a garage (the size of my [Beth’s]
dorm room), and there are 35-40 boys ranging in age from 7 to 17 who go there
every day from 11 to 2 except Friday and Saturday. They share Bible stories,
teach them other educational things, and provide them with a simple meal. A lot
of the boys have blisters on their face from huffing. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S-sugaTB230/T5XeHzXYj6I/AAAAAAAAThw/1d8xC6ox5oM/s1600/IMG_1896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S-sugaTB230/T5XeHzXYj6I/AAAAAAAAThw/1d8xC6ox5oM/s320/IMG_1896.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Approximately 35-40 boys meet in there for three hours daily.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We took articles of
clothing, a juice box, and tooth brush and tooth paste and gave them to the
boys. One of our team members has a similar testimony involving drugs, so he
shared his while we were there, and we sang “Jesus Loves Me.” </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hBf0rTb-Cq8/T5XepNJ-3TI/AAAAAAAATh4/p4o0_e327FE/s1600/IMG_1897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hBf0rTb-Cq8/T5XepNJ-3TI/AAAAAAAATh4/p4o0_e327FE/s320/IMG_1897.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Street boys learning about Jesus.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anmol and Neta also
have a home where if the boys want to change their way of life, they can live
in the home and Anmol will disciple them. There are four boys living there
right now, one of whom has been clean for 1.5 years which is really exciting. Anmol and Neta are
renting the house, but they can’t guarantee that they’re going to have it for
any amount of time, so they’re trying to raise money to get a lot. It’s going
to be $50,000 just for the small area of land, and $45,000 for a three-story
building that will include area for the church, a house for the boys, and
living space for Anmol and his family. Anmol tries to teach them a trade and
practical things, too. The boys make and sell candles, so they can make money.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N8OZHuQ8R_o/T5Xr1yw-XiI/AAAAAAAATiw/12zUzVlQRag/s1600/IMG_1961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N8OZHuQ8R_o/T5Xr1yw-XiI/AAAAAAAATiw/12zUzVlQRag/s320/IMG_1961.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teaching some of the boys how to play flute.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We also got to encourage Anmol and Neta. Anmol’s a musician, and he’d written
some songs. He’d envisioned a melody for them, so I [Beth] got my flute out. He sang
and played it and I figured out the melody. Then I [Jennifer] got my
flute out and he had a harmony part too. It was a special music bonding time.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XQbttw0aLIM/T5XfW7L3dUI/AAAAAAAATiA/0XhexWHTZR8/s1600/IMG_1886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XQbttw0aLIM/T5XfW7L3dUI/AAAAAAAATiA/0XhexWHTZR8/s320/IMG_1886.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">God is good. All the time. (On the wall in the daycare)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Pashupati is the Hindu cremation site. There’s a river that
flows through the middle of it and on either side they build up a table where
they burn the bodies and when they’re done they just push the ashes into the
river. The river’s really holy to them. If someone’s near death and really
sick, they lay them on a tablet and set their toes into the water so their
spirits will go out into the river and it helps them in their passing. We saw
one man who was loitering, and we think he was sick and waiting to go lay on
the board. They lay there until they die so all of the spirits will come out of
them. It was really smoky. It’s supposedly such a holy place but then there are
men there dressed up and painted who are smoking pot, and they take advantage
of tourists. This was an emotional hard time because those people being burned
didn’t know Jesus as their Savior. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xv3orbD9pek/T5XgKSS3hwI/AAAAAAAATiI/LDgcZffEc-c/s1600/IMG_2101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xv3orbD9pek/T5XgKSS3hwI/AAAAAAAATiI/LDgcZffEc-c/s320/IMG_2101.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hindus build up a pyre to burn bodies then sweep the ashes into the river.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qFv8Ga3529M/T5XgnzpuLfI/AAAAAAAATiQ/k9aTN6nZhR4/s1600/IMG_2105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qFv8Ga3529M/T5XgnzpuLfI/AAAAAAAATiQ/k9aTN6nZhR4/s320/IMG_2105.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">People lay on these planks until they die.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our very last day we did some touristy shopping and flew over Everest on our way home. Really it's just a little taller than the rest of the mountains.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9UNSrGmOxuo/T5XmD_HEOyI/AAAAAAAATig/n2Ic_tIDeAU/s1600/IMG_2067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9UNSrGmOxuo/T5XmD_HEOyI/AAAAAAAATig/n2Ic_tIDeAU/s320/IMG_2067.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mount Everest is that higher peak.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-90216127629089886292012-04-20T06:00:00.000-04:002012-04-20T06:00:06.028-04:00Blindfold Worship"What's this? Why do we have these?" TK asked flipping around a yellow piece of cloth. Everyone in the theater had one, including the band onstage.<br />
<br />
I smiled. I've been hanging around this block long enough to know what was in store for us: blindfold worship.<br />
<br />
The yellow pieces of cloth were blindfolds to be wrapped around our heads for the next hour as we worshipped the Lord corporately yet individually.<br />
<br />
The idea with blindfold worship is that you are free to worship the Lord however you desire. Dancing, standing, kneeling, lying on your face, sitting, spinning in circles... No one would judge you because no one would see you.<br />
<br />
I came in late and through the side door, so I didn't get a blindfold. I didn't fret about it because I usually worship with my eyes closed anyway. I did notice with everyone else's eyes closed too, I worshipped more freely.<br />
<br />
I signed larger, I danced openly (and awkwardly), I sang in Spanish (ok, blindfolds didn't hide that). By the end of the night, I was on my knees with both hands stretched into the air as I offered myself to the Lord.<br />
<br />
It made me wonder what other aspects of worship would look like if we did them while wearing blindfolds.<br />
<br />
I don't mean how much soup would we spill if we tried to serve in a soup kitchen while wearing a blindfold.<br />
<br />
Rather, what if we served and no one saw? What if we invested in someone without expecting anything in return? What if we encouraged people privately? What if we gave food to a homeless person without telling anyone?<br />
<br />
<em>What would the world look like if we worshipped with blindfolds?</em><br />
<br />
What if we worshipped God in an uncontainable, uncontrollable, unseen way?<br />
<br />
How would you sing praises to God if no one was listening?<br />
<br />
How would you worship if no one was watching?<br />
<br />
It doesn't matter if they are or not because worship is for the Lord not the people around you.<br />
<br />
I realized the more I danced before the Lord, the more I wanted to dance. It started out as gentle swaying and ended up with me jumping, swinging my arms through the air, and goodness I'm glad no one but the Lord saw me embarrass myself like that.<br />
<br />
But it wasn't embarrassing. It was worship. It was private God-Katie time.<br />
<br />
And even if they had seen, their opinion shouldn't matter. When you've been accepted, been called a daughter (or son) by the Creator of the universe, why do you need the acceptance of man?<br />
<br />
Spend some time with your Father today. Worship Him as if every around you was blindfolded, like no one is watching. Sing loudly and off key. Do not be ashamed of your joyful noise because it's beautiful to the Lord. Let your passion for Him radiate.<br />
<br />
If you can do it when everyone else is blindfolded, you'll learn to genuinely, shamelessly worship when people are watching.<br />
<br />
It starts with me.<br />
<br />
<>< KatieKatie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-51100216445334153232012-04-18T06:00:00.000-04:002012-04-18T06:00:14.153-04:00Secret (Ghostwriting Part Four)<em>Note: This is the fourth and final (planned) post in our ghostwriting series. Sorry they've been so spread out. Be sure to check out the first three posts: <a href="http://katieax.blogspot.com/2012/03/moral-ghostwriting-part-one.html" target="_blank">Moral</a>, <a href="http://katieax.blogspot.com/2012/03/famous-ghostwriting-part-two.html" target="_blank">Famous</a>, and <a href="http://katieax.blogspot.com/2012/04/voice-ghostwriting-part-three.html" target="_blank">Voice</a>. If you've got questions, enjoyed the series, or just want to say hi, feel free to leave it in the comments.</em><br />
<br />
As soon as I hang up the phone accepting a new ghostwriting offer, I'm giddy. I run around the house like a crazy woman; I giggle uncontrollably. You'd have to try really hard to remove the smile from my face.<br />
<br />
Like good family and friends, people who see me ask why I'm so excited. <br />
<br />
Here's the thing about ghostwriting: I can't tell them. The job of a ghostwriter is to be invisible. That includes not telling people she wrote that book, article, letter, piece.<br />
<br />
When my family/friends ask, sometimes I tell them I have a new ghostwriting opportunity. Sometimes I just smile and smile and smile. Sometimes I'm a bad secret-keeper and blurt out my new opportunity. I am so excited I just can't keep it inside of me. Like a small child who purchased a parent a Christmas present, that present will not remain a secret until Christmas no matter how hard the child tries.<br />
<br />
In the original ending of the Gospel of Mark, the women leave the empty tomb and don't tell anyone what they saw.<br />
<br />
What if the story ended there?<br />
What if they kept the resurrection of Christ a secret?<br />
<br />
Imagine how different life would be. For you. For me. Imagine how different history would be.<br />
<br />
Yet don't we do that all of the time? If you call yourself a Christian, then inside of you is the secret of the ressurected Christ. That good news should evoke the same emotion in you that ghostwriting does for me (only moreso). Unceasing smiles, uncontrollable laughter, looking so silly that people ask you what's up.<br />
<br />
Um, hello, your debt has been paid in blood and you get to call the Creator of the universe "Daddy."<br />
<br />
And I get excited over writing in someone else's name. <br />
<br />
Through Christ, we get to live in someone else's name. Forever.<br />
<br />
If you're ghostwriting for the Lord, you've got to blurt your "secret."<br />
<br />
Are you a child-like ghostwriter bursting to tell or are you leaving the tomb in fear?<br />
<br />
<>< KatieKatie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-90353973144748118602012-04-16T18:50:00.000-04:002012-04-16T21:07:27.082-04:00Jesus Worldwide: Zimbabwe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<em>From Katie: I'm looking for Christians/missionaries around the globe, especially in Europe. Can you help me out? Thanks!</em></div>
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<em>If you don't know Heather, you need to know she's a character. She was </em><em>my roommate in Guatemala, and, in the market, she bartered with a Pop Tart. <>< Katie</em></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Team<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://www2.lifeway.com/fuge/" target="_blank">Fuge</a> summer camps sent out an email to all of their staffers
saying this was an opportunity. Ten of us from the United States signed up and
we worked with an organization called ACTS (African Christian Tours and Safaris)
who provide guides who try to make the team as comfortable as they can be by
filtering water, cooking, and handling things that went awry. Their job was to
serve us, but we wanted to serve them too. It was fun to go back and forth
trying to help them out as best we knew and a lot of times it didn’t work out
but that’s ok. Each mission team has two guides (ours were Dax and Caitlin),
but there were also seven guides in training who joined our team. So we went
from a group of ten to a group of twelve to a group of nineteen before being a
group of twenty-one once we got to Sanyati. Those last two, Matt and Randy, are
older men who’ve been to Sanyati before with another group. They flew in a few
days before us and got stuff prepared and then worked with us which was such a
blessing. It was really cool to see how the Lord provides this craziness and
the way He built our team.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CNvN2FH2dzw/T4ycV9ngQ5I/AAAAAAAATY8/eNY8v3y9vis/s1600/FamilyPhoto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CNvN2FH2dzw/T4ycV9ngQ5I/AAAAAAAATY8/eNY8v3y9vis/s320/FamilyPhoto.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All twenty-one of us celebrated our birthdays while we were
there. It started because I was hoping I’d remember to take my malaria pill on
Thursday, and we were talking about birthdays. I looked at Micah was like,
“What’s on Thursday?” He didn’t know. I said, “It’s your birthday, Duh!” We
even made a huge birthday sign out of a 2005 calendar where every day we’d
cross of the names from yesterday’s birthday and write new ones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sanyati</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After spending the first night in Harare (the capital), we drove five hours in Busta the Birthday Bus to Sanyati. It was Sunday and we learned they hadn’t had any power or water since Wednesday. That was one of the most interesting experiences because we had to filter water all day every day—water we used to clean dishes, water to drink obviously, water we cooked with, all water. They got it out of the new hundred-foot well that Auntie Patience’s husband said he dug himself and put it through a filtering system that purified it. I didn’t filter the water but I did take a turn getting it from the well. As the bucket got closer to the top, it got heavier. Then they pour it into a water barrel before it’s filtered.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z9OH0DzplHM/T4ye44v-exI/AAAAAAAATZg/7Lik0FSiHw8/s1600/Well2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z9OH0DzplHM/T4ye44v-exI/AAAAAAAATZg/7Lik0FSiHw8/s320/Well2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We did some construction work that was mostly roofing. We
were replacing the roof of the hospital because it was made of asbestos and
cement. The sheets were really big and heavy. At the beginning of the day, two
people could carry a sheet but as the day progressed more people were added on
because our forearms were hurting so badly. I remember one piece there were
five or six of us carrying it. It was really funny.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rFDwpcYhQIk/T4ybsVxUnXI/AAAAAAAATYk/SOEmw14OBSM/s1600/Roof+Sheet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rFDwpcYhQIk/T4ybsVxUnXI/AAAAAAAATYk/SOEmw14OBSM/s320/Roof+Sheet.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We were working at the Sanyati Baptist Hospital, and they
don’t have any doctors, they only have nurses. They can only do minor medical
things (including childbirth). Every day we walked about seven to ten minutes
from the house where we were staying to the hospital along a dirt road where at
any point you could see kids walking with no shoes, families running around,
donkeys or cows carrying things, chickens everywhere, and boys cutting the
grass with huge metal devices (It was intense. I was scared the not-machete was going
to fly out of their hands and cut off my head but it didn’t). It was really fun
walking.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jbK79CEda6I/T4yb2tNavsI/AAAAAAAATYs/t65FWmPdipI/s1600/Path.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jbK79CEda6I/T4yb2tNavsI/AAAAAAAATYs/t65FWmPdipI/s320/Path.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One of the days we got to go on a tour of Sanyati Baptist
High School. There were kids everywhere. They’re so pretty! They were super
excited about taking photos! I put my camera on sports action shot because
otherwise everything was blurry and just kept snapping photos. Some of them look
like a flip-book when you go through them. Except then my camera died.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ioyJLELMAEk/T4yZQcA0TtI/AAAAAAAATX8/THS1YvyK1ow/s1600/Kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ioyJLELMAEk/T4yZQcA0TtI/AAAAAAAATX8/THS1YvyK1ow/s320/Kids.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That afternoon we toured the hospital. It’s just not what we
would assume a hospital would look like. We did a prayer walk and prayed over
the people who were, I guess, admitted. We saw a girl who was 18, and she went
to the high school but she was in the hospital and had to a have a surgery that
they can’t do there. Basically she was lying in bed in pain day after day until
they could figure out something to do for her. I got to pray over a woman named
Emily. She was really pretty and it was
hard to see her suffering. There were two men and you could literally see their
bones and other things you’re not supposed to see through skin. For one of the
men, it hurt to lie in the bed, so he was sleeping on the floor. Every bed in
the hospital (what we would consider cots) had mosquito netting tied up around
it. There was also one little baby and a couple of really cute little kids.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-keWWHYV9_ys/T4yfTRk0LmI/AAAAAAAATZo/U-jeQsDneMM/s1600/WhiteJesus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="303" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-keWWHYV9_ys/T4yfTRk0LmI/AAAAAAAATZo/U-jeQsDneMM/s320/WhiteJesus.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yup, that's a white Jesus in the stained glass window of the hospital's chapel. They have chapel every morning at 7:30, and they invited Micah to lead worship.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lessons I</b> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Learned<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I learned a lot about sacrificial serving. The guides would
have to get up around 3:30 or 4am to filter water and get breakfast ready. It
was a continuous process. They would get up and literally serve us all day
every day. As soon as they finished breakfast, they’d start on lunch. As soon
as lunch was done, they’d start on dinner. Since we had nine guides instead of
two, they paired up to cook and clean all day. Those who weren’t cooking were
at the hospital with us working.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since we were without water and power unless the generator
was running, I really realized how selfish I am. It was the end of their summer
so it was really hot. By the end of the week I had mortar in my hair, I was
covered in bug spray, sun screen was everywhere, I had sweated a disgusting amount,
and I had asbestos and cement on me. I was tired and hot and just not having a
nice time for like twenty minutes. I wanted a shower, which were like super
crazy trickles and cold which was glorious. All I could think about was how
nobody would know if I took a seven-minute shower instead of a two-minute
shower. But then I remembered all of the other people who hadn’t had showers
yet. When I turned off the water I realized how selfish I was being and trying
to be secretive about it, too.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l2aIfEAh1yA/T4ycE-9GhNI/AAAAAAAATY0/T_gyfpCDqZo/s1600/Hut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l2aIfEAh1yA/T4ycE-9GhNI/AAAAAAAATY0/T_gyfpCDqZo/s320/Hut.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I also learned materialistic things aren’t what matter in
life. I can get rid of something and know that the Lord will provide. Things
like how many pairs of shoes I have and how many tie-dye shirts I can make
don’t matter. What really matters is relationships, being in community. When I
first went, I knew nobody, and now I have twenty new friends. It was really
cool to see how the Lord brought us together; it was a really big blessing. It
was really, really hard to leave. We cried. That doesn’t happen by just hanging
out together. That happens with hearts connecting and the Lord being there.
Sure, we could have worked together, eaten, and had a good time, but the Lord
was worshiped and glorified and therefore His redemption came. It was really
cool to see the community he can build in a nine-day span. He doesn’t build His
body lightly. There no way people from three different countries (United
States, Zimbabwe, and South Africa) can come together in Sanyati and worship
the Lord other than this is the way God wanted it to be. Every night we sang
and danced and praised the Lord. Forty-five minutes would turn into an hour or
more; we’d just lose track of time. It was really cool because you could feel
the His presence. I kept thinking about how one kid was singing and praying in
Shona and I had no idea what he was saying but my Father who created both of us
knows. It was such a sweet time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One night we ate with a family, and after we ate we did a
time of songs, testimonies, and prayer. They invited us to sing three songs,
but it was hard to figure out three songs every knew from three different
countries. We sang “Waves of Mercy,” “Amazing Grace,” and I don’t remember the
third one. I wish we had recorded “Waves of Mercy” because it was horrifically
fantastic. We did the motions but at one point we were all half-singing,
half-laughing (me more laughing that singing). I think we probably looked like
a cult going around this circle sort of dancing and singing. It was such joyful
worship. Then we did a few testimonies, and Shep translated what we were saying
into Shona because not everybody knew English. We sang “How Great Thou Art” in
Shona. (The video is me singing and Katie humming in the middle of the coffee shop).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another thing I learned is how imperative water is. I've read
about the 1000 Wells Project (<a href="http://www.bloodwatermission.com/" target="_blank">Blood:Water Mission</a>) where they try to build wells in different places,
and I know all of that, but I’ve never experienced where it’s a possibility that
I wouldn’t actually have water to drink. Not to shower, not to cook that’s fine
but no water to drink, becoming dehydrated, and dying from something so simple.
Really? That was an interesting eye-opener.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They think America is much smaller than it
is. They thought we all knew each other before. They didn’t understand it would
take a week to drive across America.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We can learn how to legitimately have joy in the midst of
craziness. Each night there was singing and dancing of some sort. There was
sharing of talents, if you will. Not in competition but in a matter of “what can
I offer?” It was an awesome gift exchange.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Especially pray for those who claim Christ to be their
Savior. Pray that they continue to build real relationships with people who don’t
know the Lord because there are a lot of other beliefs there. It’s hard because
on the way to Sanyati (on Sunday) we passed a lot, a lot of different groups
just randomly in the fields all wearing white. They’re called Zionists, and
they’re growing. It’s not a cult but really it is. Even though they claim to
believe in Jesus, they don’t let people read the Bible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Auntie Patience with her grandkid. They do everything with their babies on their back—work in the field, sweep, wash the bathtub, etc.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One night our team split into two groups and we were able to
go to homes and eat a traditional meal with a family. The woman whose home we
went to was Auntie Patience. The leaders took up the money so we they could go get the food.
I asked what we were going to eat, and they said chicken. I didn’t understand
how they were going to keep the chicken safe to eat without power. No. They
were buying live chickens. In the morning they were alive and by the time we
ate them, they were dead. I’ve always known that process but I’d never really
thought about eating something I just saw that day.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7C3FjaRLPcA/T4ybF983h5I/AAAAAAAATYU/Tfe_rL-jaog/s1600/Stirring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7C3FjaRLPcA/T4ybF983h5I/AAAAAAAATYU/Tfe_rL-jaog/s320/Stirring.jpg" width="244" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We all tried to stir it, and we were so impressed with how hot it was next to the fire and how hard it was to stir and how well she was doing. Well, that skirt thing isn’t actually a skirt. It’s a multi-layered thing that helps her not get burned from the fire. We were thinking she was superwoman. Well, she is. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> <span style="font-family: Calibri;">We also ate Sadza which kind of looks like grits but doesn’t
taste like it and your eat it with your hands. It starts out the consistency of
grits and you keep adding to it and stirring it and it gets really thick. When
it’s done, you eat the sadza with your hand. You grab a little bit, make it
into a ball with your fingers, use your thumb to scoop up “vege” (I don’t know
what that is but it was green cooked something), and then you pop it all in
your mouth and eat it. It was like nothing I’ve ever eaten before. Shep helped
me not look like a fool.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cooking by candle-light and using her sleeve as a hot pad.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our last night in Sanyati they made us what they called a
four-course meal. One course consisted of Mopani worms. Yes, legit worms from
Mopani trees. We also ate chicken, carrots, Jim squash, and potatoes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our very last night we had a Bree, a cookout/barbecue where
they cooked for us, and it was great treat. Like little kids were played
sardines for almost two hours. We ran around Africa barefoot hiding in corn
fields, bushes, behind trees, in trees, everywhere. They made us steak, mashed
Jim squash, green beans, potatoes, carrots, mushroom sauce, and in the Jim
squash bowl they put corn covered in cheese. It was so good! For dessert there
were half-peaches with this cookie with chocolate in the middle, and they had a
special treat for us—ice cream!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">They
stopped on the side of the road and got us sugar cane. You have to peel it with
your teeth because it’s so tough it could cut you—at least that’s what they
were saying, I don’t know—and they gave it to us. You can only chew it because
it would really give you the poops if you eat it.</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After dinner every night we’d clean up, shower, and do a devotion/worship time. We just shared life. Sometimes that meant a dance party or photo shoot. Other times it was deep conversation. A lot of laughter, praising the Lord, and playing Uno.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-69118117279326518612012-04-11T21:16:00.000-04:002012-04-11T21:22:43.214-04:00Voice (Ghostwriting Part Three)Two weeks ago we began unpacking the idea of ghostwriting. Be sure to check out the first two posts: <a href="http://katieax.blogspot.com/2012/03/moral-ghostwriting-part-one.html" target="_blank">Moral</a> and <a href="http://katieax.blogspot.com/2012/03/famous-ghostwriting-part-two.html" target="_blank">Famous</a>.<br />
<br />
One thing I have failed to mention is that I am a ghostwriter. Not just for the Lord. And not for my freelance coworker who's going to make me famous. (I resigned from that job when he said something snarky about Northerners).<br />
<br />
As a ghostwriter, I have spent a significant amount of time with my authors trying to identify their voice. I listen to the way she speaks, the way he tells stories, and her patterns of speech. I have to replicate it.<br />
<br />
It's a challenging (fun-challenging) job where I set myself aside and speak as someone else. When I write "I," I don't mean "Katie." When I say "we," I may or may not be part of that crowd. My favorite words disappear, and his quips appear.<br />
<br />
It takes a lot of practice to sound like someone who isn't Katie. (Then it takes practice to sound like Katie again). It's the process of finding the author's tone or her voice to accurately represent her.<br />
<br />
If we are all ghostwriters in that we are all to be invisible and God visible, then we too need to practice finding His voice.<br />
<br />
The more time my author and I spend talking, the easier it is for me to pick up on his patterns of speech, word choice, and idiosyncrasies (we all have them).<br />
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The more time I spend with the Lord, the easier it is to pick up on His voice as well. Is what I think God is saying consistent with His word? When I open my mouth, am I speaking the voice of the Encourager, Comforter or am I speaking as sinner Katie?<br />
<br />
Just like I don't always get voice right in my writing, I certainly don't always get it right in my life.<br />
<br />
I tear down instead of building up. I cling to fear rather than trust. I hesitate rather than stepping in obedience.<br />
<br />
But I haven't given up. I'm going to keep trying. The end prize will be worth it. Nothing will be for my glory but rather the One who deserves the glory. The God who put up with my blundering, who was willing to work through my failures, who took a chance in me.<br />
<br />
<>< KatieKatie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-71465830997412405152012-04-09T06:11:00.000-04:002012-04-09T06:11:00.317-04:00Jesus Worldwide: Swaziland<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">From Katie: I met Greg my first week at work when he walked into his office and I was sitting behind his desk. T</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his week he’s taking us to Swaziland, the last standing kingdom in Africa, where
he has his family served for two years. As always, if you’ve got a story to
tell, I’d love to hear it. KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com. <>< Katie</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Swaziland<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Swaziland is a small kingdom in southern Africa ruled by
King Mswati III who is considered one of the top ten worst rules in the world.
Really he’s a fairly decent guy who rules by Swazi culture. For example, he
rules a highly impoverished country but bought 13 Mercedes. Polygamy is legal
and according to Swazi culture, what he does for one wife he has to do for all
of them, so when one wife is given a Mercedes, all 13 (at the time) must be
given Mercedes.</div>
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Swaziland is about the size of Connecticut with a population
of 1.1 million people and proportionally the highest HIV/AIDS percentage rating
in the world. When we began our work there in 2005, the life expectancy was 55.
When we left two years later it had dropped to the mid-30s due to the number of
babies and young people dying from AIDS.</div>
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Part of Swazi culture is to have funerals on the weekends.
It’s a family event and all of Swaziland is invited but typically only local
people come. When they come, the family feeds them. It’s an all-night vigil
where the people stay up to visit with the family and pray to the ancestors.
Well, there were so many deaths that the Swazi nation decided they couldn’t
keep up with all of the funerals and they had to change their culture. They
buried adults on the weekends and children during the week, going from a
week-long funeral to just the overnight vigil because there were so many
deaths.</div>
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What we learned had happened was that Swaziland, being a
third world country, did not have a lot of jobs. Western culture invaded Africa
and the people wanted money, so they went to South Africa to work in the mines.
The men did inappropriate things, caught the disease, and took it home to their
families, and that’s how it spread.</div>
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What we found was that there were 26 Baptist churches that wanted
to reach out into the community but weren’t sure how to do it. As a human needs
coordinator, my job was to help the churches come up with strategies to reach lost and
dying communities. I tried not to take American preconceptions as to what works
here but rather let them determine what works. It took them through the process
of learning what a five-year plan is because they previously had no concept of
long-range planning. They hold the mindset that they may not be alive tomorrow
so why plan next week?</div>
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As we started talking about what to do to reach out to the
community, we saw the biggest need was to feed and give clean drinking water to
the orphans and widows. Most of the widows were what they call “Go-Gos” or
grandmothers, older women caring for babies. To provide food, the church would
take a plot of land and create a garden. For water, they’d install a well.
While we were there we put in three large gardens and two wells.</div>
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Some of the churches got sewing machines and would sew
uniforms for AIDS orphans to go to school. Each school has a different uniform.
The churches felt they could provide uniforms for the orphans, and they could
make extra to sell in order to buy more material and make more uniforms. That
was quite successful. In Swaziland you have to pay to go to school, and school
fees for children range anywhere from $50-$1,000/year. When you think of
somebody who might make 10 cents a day, $50/year is impossible. The government
says they’ll pay for schooling for orphans but logistically that doesn’t
happen. Orphans get kicked out of school first, and teachers have no mercy
towards them.</div>
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When we moved over, the government said they didn’t have a
problem with orphans or AIDS because people don’t die from AIDS. AIDS weakens
their immune system but they die from tuberculosis, the flu, or something else.
They’ve come to realize that they do have a problem, and they’re seeking ways
to change culture but what they’re doing isn’t very effective.</div>
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We kept saying that we have a cure for AIDS. They were all
excited about that until we told them our cure for AIDS is abstinence. Our
message fell upon deaf ears. There were a lot of young people who did buy into
the message, and church youth groups were growing quite a bit. Originally
churches had been working a lot with adults, trying to get this message to
adults.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, that was ineffective. Soon
they started working with the youth, and they had more success but not a lot.
So they started working with the children feeling if they can train up a
responsible generation then they can change culture. True Love Waits actually
began in that area of Africa and comes in every six months or so.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Christianity in
Swaziland</b></div>
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About 95 percent of the people consider themselves
Christian. Baptist studies showed the really about 3 percent are evangelical
Christian. There’s an animistic religion (ancestor worship), so it’s very easy
for them to incorporate Jesus as just another ancestor and label themselves
Christians. We found a lot of people claiming to be Christian because they
realized they could get something from it. </div>
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It’s the same with Islam. When we left, Islam was the
fastest-growing religion in Swaziland. They were building mosques everywhere
and were offering families free health care and free education if one family
member converted to Islam. People were converting in droves for the education
and health care. That’s the wrong reason to convert but their motive was no
different than ours. They’ve got the right idea: offer to people what they need
the most and then they’ll be willing to hear your spiritual message. That was
the reason we took the job we did, that was our goal. The Muslims were doing it
so much better because they had more influence and more resources.</div>
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Christian churches in Swaziland are fairly strong. We lose a
lot of pastors. Some die of AIDS, others go to South Africa or somewhere else
for employment because there’s not a lot of money. There always has to be a new
crop of pastors being trained up. I would venture to say that the average age
of a pastor is between 20 and 30. They were young, what we could consider
college kids or youth. A lot of youth led churches.</div>
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The people are the most gracious, loving people you’ll ever
meet. They will do anything in the world for you. It would upset us when we
went to someone’s poor home and they offered us the only seat, the only plate,
the only food, or the only spoon and we couldn’t turn it down. Here we are, we
have more than we need, and they’re giving us all that they have. They knew God
was going to provide the next meal for them. It’s an amazing, life-changing
experience to sit down in front of somebody who has absolutely nothing yet he’s
one of the happiest people you’ll ever meet. </div>
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There’s joy in simplicity, there truly is. We saw that so
much. It’s definitely something we can learn from them. We can learn humility
and relationships. Their whole culture is based on relationships with one
another. They know how heavily they rely on other people and they know that’s
why God created them, to be in a relationship not only with God but with other
people. As Americans, we are so disconnected from other people. We can learn
how to be in relationships with other people, how to give generously, how to
pray, how to worship. They truly lay everything before God, and they
communicate with God in such a beautiful way. Their prayers are powerful in
that they’re heartfelt and sincere. When they’re giving thanks or a blessing
for food, they know it was through God’s hands. He provided not their paycheck
or the grocery store, it was God. When they worship, it’s a sense of genuine,
heartfelt connection to God. A good part of their worship service is testimony.
They’ll sing songs and people go up as they feel led to tell about what God is
doing in their life that week and what they’re learning from God.</div>
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For us, God broke us completely while we were there. He
taught us how important it was to be connected with other people in order to
truly see God in community. Together we are the hands and feet as different
people have different gifts and abilities. He taught us how to serve, not that
we were serving but in how they served us. He showed us examples of that daily.
He taught us faith that He is in control of everything and all things do come
to good to fulfill His purposes. We broke down after a couple of months of
being there. It was just so hard. I remember standing in the shower crying because
I hated it there and at the point in time I said, “Ok, You want us here so
You’re going to have to take control” and He did. From that point on, it was
wonderful. He taught us that we have to give Him control even though we think
we know what’s right; we don’t, we have to rely on Him for that guidance and
judgment.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Pray for Swaziland<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Pray for their spiritual healing. Pray for a change in
culture because that’s the only way society is going to live. They would be
considered the first country to become extinct because of a disease. We know
the only way that’s going to change is through a heartfelt relationship with
Jesus. They’re going to have to practice abstinence. We need to pray that they
can wait, that the young people will wait so that when they’re married, they’re
both HIV-free and can live in a monogamous relationship without having to worry
about disease.</div>
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<br />Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-40268866384637868082012-04-08T06:32:00.000-04:002012-04-08T06:32:00.692-04:00Sadness and Joy{This is a rerun post from last April}<br />
<br />
A large group gathered together in a dark upper room. The door locked out of
fear. No one had bothered to light the lamp. No one wanted to speak. Complete
darkness. It was not only a physical surrounding but also an emotional feeling.
<br />
<br />
Their best friend, their leader... was dead. Three years earlier they'd
given up everything to follow Him. This is not what they had
expected.<br />
<br />
Not even a week earlier He'd been celebrated. He was welcomed
as a king. Not forty-eight hours previous they'd enjoyed a meal together. Now He
was gone. Everything happened so quickly.<br />
<br />
The room was filled with a
myriad of emotions: hurt, regret, failure, longing, desperation, depression,
darkness, confusion, loneliness, loss... the list goes on. Yet the most
prevalent had to be hopelessness.<br />
<br />
<em>"How could this have
happened?"</em><br />
<br />
<em>"I really didn't see this coming. Did
He?"</em><br />
<br />
<em>"Now what?"</em><br />
<br />
<em>"Where do we go from
here?"</em><br />
<br />
The incessant number of unanswerable questions plagued them
as they sat, paced, and cried.<br />
<br />
Silence in a crowd. Darkness in the middle
of the day. Loneliness among great friends.<br />
<br />
"Peace be with you." A voice
rudely interrupts their pensiveness. Who would offer peace on such a dreary
day?<br />
<br />
Only the One who can bring light into their darkness. Only the One
who brings hope to the hopeless. Only the One who was dead but lives
again!<br />
<br />
Can you imagine the relief of the disciples? Can you imagine the
pure joy?<br />
<br />
Place yourself in the upper room with the disciples. Kneel
before Jesus.<br />
<br />
Notice the holes in his feet. Touch the wound in His
side. When His nail-scarred hand slides under your chin and lifts gently, don't
be ashamed. When your teary eyes meet His compassionate ones, don't look away.
Think about all of the power those eyes hold, but now their focus is on
you.<br />
<br />
"I love you."<br />
<br />
Accept the warm embrace from the living Savior
and never, ever let go.Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-64963049479751329902012-04-06T18:49:00.000-04:002012-04-06T18:51:36.504-04:00A Good Day, A Happy Day<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“How deep the Father’s
love for us. How vast beyond all measure that He should give His only Son and
make a wretch His treasure.”<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last week my Scrabble app showed me an ad for Black Friday.
I chuckled to myself realizing that Good Friday was just around the corner and
Scrabble was showing me an ad for a November event.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But what if it wasn’t? What if the Scrabble app was actually
talking about the event two days before Easter rather than the horrendous
November tradition?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After all, calling it “Black Friday” seems all the more appropriate
since the day’s events are anything but good. </span><br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“How great the pain of
searing loss. The Father turns His face away. As wounds which mar the Chosen
One bring many sons to glory.”</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Can you imagine how offended the people who witnessed this
day would be if they learned we called it “Good Friday”?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Peter would not call today good. After all, he denied his
friend not once but three times. Even with full knowledge that it would happen.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thomas would not call this weekend good. He was labeled a
doubter simply because he wanted the same thing the other disciples already
had.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Judas once may have thought it would be good but ended up
taking his own life in regret.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mary could not have thought it good to watch her Son be
publicly humiliated before dying an excruciatingly painful death.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And Jesus. Jesus, perfect Jesus, died a criminal’s death.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">How could these men (and woman) call it good?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">How could they not?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While the cross caught Peter, Thomas, Judas, and Mary off
guard, it was not a surprise to Jesus. It was not a surprise to God.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even while Jesus was on the cross, God was (and is) still
good. While Jesus was on the cross, God was (and is) still in control. While
Jesus was on the cross, God still knew (and knows) what He was (is) doing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On the first Good Friday, Peter, Thomas, and Judas did what
we all often want to do. We all get so caught up in situations that we forget
who’s really in control. We all question and ask God for signs of His power. We
all want to tell God we know how to best handle a situation. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The first Good Friday Jesus, the man who could correctly
answer any complex question, remained silent while false accusers convicted
Him. Though less than thrilled about it, Jesus obediently suffered on our
behalf. He was mocked, tortured, and humiliated. For each of us. By each of us.</span><br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Behold the Man upon
the cross, my sin upon His shoulders. Ashamed I hear my mocking voice call out
among the scoffers. It was my sin that held Him there until it was
accomplished. His dying breath had brought me life. I know that it is finished.”<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My friend Christian put on facebook a
conversation between his wife and his son. They were talking about what Jesus
did on the cross, and she asked if he thought it would be a sad day or a happy
day.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The four year old responded that it would be a happy day
because Jesus washed away our sins.</span><br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I will not boast in
anything. No gifts, no power, no wisdom. But I will boast in Jesus Christ, His
death and resurrection. Why should I gain from His reward? I cannot give an
answer. But this I know with all my heart: His wounds have paid my ransom.”</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Happy Good Friday. Happy day of death because in death, we
are given life. A happy day. A good day. Good Friday. A day much better than
the absurd November tradition.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><>< Katie</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lyrics from “How Deep the Father’s Love For Us.”</span>Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-58650243308856036692012-04-04T07:50:00.001-04:002012-04-04T22:31:50.021-04:00Wacky Wednesday<em>Author's Note: The following is a collection of real quotations heard in conversation or taken from books over the last month. Some names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. <>< Katie</em><br />
<br />
<strong>Jennifer</strong>: EEEEEKKK! We're going to Nepal!<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: No, we're not. We're going to McDonald's.<br />
<br />
<strong>Grandma</strong>: Lord love a duck!<br />
<br />
<b>John Boy</b> [to Susie Ann]: That was pretty good for a woman from the North.<br />
<b>Katie</b>: Ouch!<br />
<b>Gavin</b>: <a href="http://katieax.blogspot.com/2012/03/famous-ghostwriting-part-two.html" target="_blank">You just lost your ghostwriter.</a><br />
<b>John Boy</b>: No! You aren't from the North.<br />
<b>Katie</b>: I'm practically from Canada.<br />
<b>John Boy</b>: North isn't a place you're from, it's a way you act. You don't act like you're from the North.<br />
<b>Katie</b>: I'm more offended by that because you're telling me I'm untrue to my heritage.<br />
<b>John Boy</b>: No, it's a good thing.<br />
<b>Katie</b>: Just take your soda and go away.<br />
<b>John Boy</b>: Soda! You are from the North.<br />
<b>Gavin</b>: 'Round here we cal it Pepsi.<br />
<br />
<strong>Mom</strong> [to an empty bench]: Why are you smoking?<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: You are a good driver.<br />
<strong>Nikki</strong>: Thanks, that's really affirming to me.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: I know. That's why I keep saying it.<br />
<strong>Nikki</strong>: Katie saw me when I was in my panicky driver mode. Katie, even though I don't drive the interstate back from Melia's, I know how to do it now. Correctly.<br />
<strong>Allyson</strong>: Wait. You drove in her panties?<br />
<br />
<strong>Mara</strong>: Down South, they panic and buy bread if the weather gets cold. Up North, we panic, buy buns, and grill out if it gets warm.<br />
<br />
[Airport gate kept changing]<br />
<strong>Sasha</strong>: BINGO!<br />
<strong>Mom</strong>: There's no "A" in Bingo!<br />
<strong>Nikki</strong>: Josh Groban, he's like a dramatic singer.<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: People need to come up with new encouragement.<br />
<strong>Amber</strong>: But you're beautiful. No, wait, that's the encouragement for the pregnant not the jobless.<br />
[Go tell a pregnant woman she's beautiful. She probably hasn't been told today].<br />
<br />
<b>Katie</b>: I'm trying to talk to Jesus right now.<br />
<b>Stephen</b>: Oh! Sorry!<br />
<b>Katie</b>: It's ok. He forgives you.<br />
<b>Stephen</b>: Oh good.<br />
<b>Katie</b>: I don't.<br />
<b>Stephen</b>: You need to talk to Him a bit more.<br />
<br />
<strong>Jett</strong>: Are you putting that tramp color [eyeliner] on Katie?<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: This looks like an EKG.<br />
<strong>Amy</strong>: Is that a Bible translation?<br />
<br />
[Ricky, Garret on the couch]<br />
<strong>Rebekah</strong>: Man, you guys should eat chocolates together.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: Are you trying to get my pen working?<br />
<br />
<strong>Grandma</strong>: Who are you talking to now?<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: No one. I'm making fun of you on the internet. [Twitter]<br />
<strong>Jett</strong>: Can't we text cute boys instead?<br />
<br />
<strong>Annie</strong>: At some point in life you're going to be acquainted with Vicodin. It's going to be awful, but you'll have to do it.<br />
<br />
<strong>Rebekah</strong>: Don't spill on the carpet or I'll cut your head off.<br />
<strong>Jim</strong>: You know what? I'm sick of my head anyway.<br />
<br />
<strong>Grandma</strong>: That hurted me.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: [Pointing to my ears] That hurted me too!<br />
<br />
"Never let a hurried lifestyle disturb the relationship of abiding in Him." -Oswald Chambers, <em>My Utmost for His</em> <em>Highest</em>, Jan. 23<br />
<br />
<strong>Jett</strong>: What smells like bacon?<br />
<strong>Mom</strong>: My bacon.<br />
<br />
<b>Hunter</b>: People from my church call me all the time and leave these long messages so my voicemail fills up after three or four messages. I know they are hurting and they can just say, "Pastor call me back." Instead they go into all these details and the cell phone isn't going to talk back anyway.<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: Anyone want anything?<br />
<strong>Garret</strong>: Water. No ice. No ice!<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: Any particular color cup?<br />
<strong>Garret</strong>: Green if you have it.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: We only have pink.<br />
<strong>Garret</strong>: Awe man! I don't know if I even want water anymore. Don't give me pink!<br />
<br />
<strong>Rebekah</strong>: When I lift up the couch, look and see if there's anything there.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: There's nothing there.<br />
<strong>Rebekah</strong>: I have a really good grip. Look again.<br />
<br />
<strong>Jennifer</strong>: I'm so done with homework. I wish I could just grind my teeth! [Beat] Don't quote that because it made no sense.<br />
<br />
<strong>Jett</strong>: Chocolate helps everything.<br />
<strong>Christina</strong>: Cheese always makes me feel sicker.<br />
<strong>Jett</strong>: Cheese and chocolate are not the same thing.<br />
<strong>Christina</strong>: They both have the "Ch" sound!<br />
<strong>Mom</strong>: That's about it. Cherries. Chimmy chungas. Try those, too.<br />
<br />
[Dusk]<br />
<strong>Stranger</strong> <strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>Street</strong>: Do you have your night-vision goggles on?<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: No.<br />
<strong>SS</strong>: Good girl! [High five. Walking away] No wonder you're in college.<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: What should I draw? The verse talks about hospitality.<br />
<strong>Amy</strong>: Hum... me?<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: I'll draw a sun.<br />
<br />
<b>Billy Bob</b>: It was funny then. It just makes no sense now.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: Well, I'll just laugh when you walk down the hall.<br />
<strong>Billy Bob</strong>: [Excited] Would you!? Everyone else does! You'll be part of the crowd.<br />
<br />
<strong>Jim</strong>: You can look up your "god" on the internet all you want, but I'm building a relationship with mine.<br />
<br />
<strong>Mom</strong>: He [Hank the cat] has to keep an eye on you so you don't leave too.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: He's using an eye-tooth rather than an eyeball.<br />
<strong>Mom</strong>: Whatever works.<br />
<br />
<strong>Rebekah</strong>: I'd rather sleep in Jim's bed than Wes's bed.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: I'd rather sleep in neither.<br />
<strong>Rebekah</strong>: Well, yes, that would be ideal.<br />
<br />
<strong>Julie</strong>: I don't mind feet in the pool.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: Everything's ok in the pool.<br />
<strong>Ricky</strong>: Woah! Woah! Woah! That's not a rule of thumb.<br />
<br />
<b>Mom</b>: This is what cabin-living is all about: pick up the furniture and move it where you want it.<br />
<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: Someone just knocked on the door.<br />
<strong>Garret</strong>: It was Jesus. He's knocking on the door of your heart.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: He's already got the key.<br />
<strong>Garret</strong>: Maybe there's a deadbolt.<br />
<strong>Katie</strong>: There are four, and He has those keys too.<br />
<br />
<b>Adam</b>: People are like Tootsie Roll Pops, sometimes it takes a few tries to get to their soft center. This doesn't mean go around licking people! It means don't give up.Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-30740416653850875562012-04-02T05:37:00.004-04:002012-04-02T05:37:00.647-04:00Jesus Worldwide: Nicaragua<em>From Katie: This week we're headed to one of my favorite places in the world: Nicaragua. We are blessed to be able to do it through the eyes and camera lens of my friend <a href="http://jessicahibbard.wordpress.com/">Jessica</a>. <>< Katie</em><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yAivYXdkd48/T3d66b8gNPI/AAAAAAAATMw/_x4hB0g61FU/s1600/2012Nicaragua_120309_10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yAivYXdkd48/T3d66b8gNPI/AAAAAAAATMw/_x4hB0g61FU/s320/2012Nicaragua_120309_10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">In early March a team of 30 college students (mostly nursing majors) and three leaders journeyed to Jinotega, Nicaragua. The main focus of our spring break mission trip was to do vision screenings and distribute eye glasses. This allowed us to care for the needs of many Nicaraguans and open doors for further spiritual conversations to happen.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vdw3QEHGR9I/T3d9iNzUG9I/AAAAAAAATNM/DhZtpm7ecm8/s1600/2012Nicaragua_120311_20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vdw3QEHGR9I/T3d9iNzUG9I/AAAAAAAATNM/DhZtpm7ecm8/s320/2012Nicaragua_120311_20.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Our team put on three days worth of vision screenings in the areas surrounding Jinotega. Stations were set up for blood pressure and check-in, testing each person’s prescription, fitting them with their new glasses, getting new clothing or shoes, and the prayer room. Each member played an important role in the day. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U_sWaguyl_s/T3d8sSLVMbI/AAAAAAAATNE/1J4FHt1WQL4/s1600/2012Nicaragua_120310_14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U_sWaguyl_s/T3d8sSLVMbI/AAAAAAAATNE/1J4FHt1WQL4/s320/2012Nicaragua_120310_14.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">We had so many first time overseas travelers and first time mission trip participants. It was very cool to be part of them experiencing culture shock and so many new situations throughout the week. The Lord was faithful to meld our team together and help us to work together as one unit. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5lCLACHOZfY/T3d-f8EzkPI/AAAAAAAATNU/IoLy93wKrsY/s1600/2012Nicaragua_120313_33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5lCLACHOZfY/T3d-f8EzkPI/AAAAAAAATNU/IoLy93wKrsY/s320/2012Nicaragua_120313_33.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">One experience that impacted me very strongly was two afternoons that I got to spend with some families from the city’s landfill. I’ve been to dump communities before and seen poverty across the world. This time was not terribly different. There were people living on very little in very tough conditions. The thing that was so dumbfounding was the spirit of hope that existed in the believers. They had so few things to their name but they were beyond wealthy in the hope and joy that penetrated all the stinky, dusty, dirty clothes they wore. I was encouraged and challenged by their spirit. If they can be so wealthy with what few things they do have, what excuse do I have not to praise the Lord every day of my life?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qtARFjaZvQQ/T3d7X6Z5OtI/AAAAAAAATM4/NGxz0KCWXA4/s1600/2012Nicaragua_120310_12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qtARFjaZvQQ/T3d7X6Z5OtI/AAAAAAAATM4/NGxz0KCWXA4/s320/2012Nicaragua_120310_12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">I was absolutely blessed beyond belief to be back in Jinotega. I was able to continue many of the friendships that I had begun last year and gained many more brothers and sisters in Christ!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a_yELWHPbjY/T3eBPIFAQYI/AAAAAAAATNg/3dXS3lT1PlY/s1600/signature-330x175+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a_yELWHPbjY/T3eBPIFAQYI/AAAAAAAATNg/3dXS3lT1PlY/s1600/signature-330x175+2.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><em>"The church means a lot to me. It is a place where I can find God more, a place I respect very much, and a holy place. Please pray that the church does not fall and that it will be blessed." - Nelson, Jinotega native</em>Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-64854326696469110992012-03-30T08:00:00.030-04:002012-03-30T08:00:02.308-04:00Famous (Ghostwriting Part Two)<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Open mouth. Insert foot.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That's what I did a few days ago at one of my freelance jobs. One of my new colleagues was telling me about the tongue-in-cheek book he's going to write. I opened my big mouth and told him I'll ghostwrite it for him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Big mistake.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For the rest of the day, I heard him going up and down the hall telling people he not only had a new friend (me), he also had a ghostwriter (me). Up and down the hall people shook their heads and told me to run.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Katie, my book, it's going to make you famous," he said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We laughed, and he went off to work on "his outline."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I went back to my work with two juxtaposed ideas rolling around in my head: ghostwriting and famous.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Those two words don't really go together. Ghostwriters don't ghostwrite to get famous. Most of the time they don't even get credit (or get very little credit).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When a book, article, letter is well done, the ghostwriter is invisible. The ghost strives to match the author’s tone, voice, pattern of speech, thoughts, ideas, etc. The ghostwriter is less so the author is more. The ghost's job is to make the author look good.</span><br />
<br />
I have no problem with ghostwriting because I am a ghostwriter. Yes, pieces I have written have been published under names that are not mine. But even this blog post with my name signed at the bottom is not my own.<br />
<br />
The goal of a ghostwriter is to become invisible. <span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As a Christian, should that not be the goal of my entire life: to be invisible so that my Heavenly Father is visible? Should I not be less so that He is more? Should I not do everything I can to make Him look good?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The reality is, we are all ghostwriters.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If we label ourselves Christians, people of Christ, we are ghostwriters, ghost-teachers, ghost-preachers, ghost-truck-drivers, ghost-singers, ghost-firefighters, ghost-painters, ghost-nurses, ghost-accountants, ghost-whatever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Our job, no matter our career, is to be invisible to make Christ visible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Whether my name is on it or not, everything I write is ghostwritten because it’s not for my own glory but for the One who deserves it. Every blog post, every novel, every letter, every article, every press release… they are all pieces written for His glory.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I am but a broken pen in the hands of the Author of Life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It is God who has given me a talent and passion for writing. It is God who has given me the amazing opportunities I’ve encountered. It is God who has give me life and breath.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">How could I ever even think about writing for myself?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><</span><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">>< Katie</span></span>Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-29127904396397912792012-03-28T02:46:00.009-04:002012-03-28T15:11:04.344-04:00Moral (Ghostwriting Part One)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There's a lot of drama surrounding the authorship of Isaiah. Did Isaiah himself write it or did someone else write it in his name? There are other books of the Bible that have questionable authorship, too. They’re called pseudipigraphal because they’re written in someone else’s tone, style.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">To me, it sounds a whole lot like the idea of ghostwriting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">W</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ith permission, a ghostwriter takes the thoughts and ideas of an author, puts them on paper in the author’s tone, and signs the author’s name to the article, letter, book, whatever. The thoughts are the author’s; the words are the ghostwriter’s. Some authors have more of a hand in the writing of their work than others.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It’s perfectly legal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But is it morally right?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Is it right for one person to do the work and someone else get the credit?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ve read arguments, Christian and secular, for and against ghostwriting. I have formed my opinion, but before I post it, I want to hear yours.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Let’s hash this out together:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">How do you feel about the pseudipigraphal books of the Bible?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As a reader, do you feel cheated to learn the book you read wasn't actually written by the author?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As a ghostwriter, would you feel cheated to see someone else get the credit?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As a ghostwriter, do you want to help authors put into words their concepts, thoughts, ideas?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As a reader, do you want a well-written book or are you ok with less than stellar writing?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Be sure to come back later this week as we continue to unpack the idea of ghostwriting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><>< Katie</span></div>Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-46497585117284529412012-03-26T19:13:00.000-04:002012-03-26T19:13:20.300-04:00Jesus Worldwide: Guatemala<span style="font-family: "Plantagenet Cherokee","serif";"><em>From Katie: I love how every post in this series has been different because everyone has a different story about how God works. Do you have one? I'd love to hear it! (KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com). Thanks. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Plantagenet Cherokee","serif";"><em>This week's post is from Amber, a fellow Young Adult Volunteer at the LCMS National Youth Gathering last summer.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Plantagenet Cherokee","serif";"><em><>< Katie</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Plantagenet Cherokee","serif";">When I left on March 6<sup>th</sup> to fly to Guatemala with the <a href="http://www.guatemalahands.org/">Guatemala Healing Hands Foundation</a>, I didn’t know what to expect. I’ve done local mission work before, but it was always through a church and our focus was always on outreach. This time was different. Not only was I traveling to a different country, but I was going with a somewhat different purpose. The Guatemala Healing Hands Foundation focuses on improving the health care in Guatemala through education, therapy, and surgery, with a special focus on pediatric congenital and hand injuries.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div style="background: white; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: "Plantagenet Cherokee","serif";">I applied to go on this trip as one of my occupational therapy fieldwork rotations. One of my professors is actively involved with the organization, and so she is able to take two students with her for every mission. To be selected, I had to write a series of seven essays explaining why I should go on this trip. In my application, I wrote, “My philosophy of service comes from the beliefs I have in the Bible and the servant heart it frequently discusses. This is the heart that inspires me in my pursuit to become an occupational therapist, and it inspires me as I am applying to go on this trip. First John 3:17 says, ‘But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brothers in needs, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him?’ My philosophy of service comes in showing God’s love by sharing my talents. God gave me the gift to be a strong student. He gave me the desire to help others. He helped point me in the direction of becoming an occupational therapist. My desire to go on this trip can be seen in the above verse – if I have the world’s goods, if I have the skill set to help someone out, and he or she is in need, then it is my desire to help them out in whatever way I can…in doing that, I serve not only others, but I also serve God.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div style="background: white; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: "Plantagenet Cherokee","serif";">In the days leading up to the trip, I prayed that God would give me a servant heart and attitude as I journeyed into the unknown. When I stepped foot in Guatemala, I was able to quickly see a lifestyle much different than our own. It was as if time stopped while I was there, and I was able to appreciate the beauty of the world around me. I was able to take my time and form relationships with people. I became thankful for everything that I own. Each day, I felt more and more overwhelmed with thanks to God for all the great things he has provided me with. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div style="background: white; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: "Plantagenet Cherokee","serif";">We started our mission by team building in Antigua for two days. My favorite thing about Antigua has to be the cross that overlooks the city. Our tour guide told us that every city has a cross looking over it from the north. How powerful is that!? We also were able to go shopping at various markets and spend an afternoon on Lake Atitlan. We also went zip lining and were able to visit a macadamia nut farm. During these two days, I felt very immersed into the Guatemalan culture. First, I saw so much beauty around me, especially when I was zip lining. On anticipating the excursion to go zip lining, I was pretty nervous because heights aren’t my thing, but when I got there I felt so calm. My fears were gone and I was able to take in God’s creation. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ao0Lfn9Dt8U/T3DwBwn7qRI/AAAAAAAATJ8/pxqekLJY_P8/s1600/Antigua.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ao0Lfn9Dt8U/T3DwBwn7qRI/AAAAAAAATJ8/pxqekLJY_P8/s320/Antigua.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Plantagenet Cherokee","serif";">The next big thing our team did before we began the surgical mission was spend a day in Chichoy Alto, a small Mayan village with about 750 people living in it. The Guatemala Healing Hands Foundation has helped sponsor stove and latrine building projects in the village in the past, and this year the foundation did even more. Children in this village stop going to school after the 6<sup>th</sup> grade because of financial reasons. The foundation sponsored students to continue into the 7<sup>th</sup> grade next year. Additionally, the foundation provided the money for the village to prepare a whole meal for the day we came so that we could have a celebration with them. The village people spend a few days working on preparing for our meal, and it was a special treat for them to have meat (they usually never get meat). The foundation also paid to build additional stoves and latrines this year. The whole team helped start the building project on Saturday, and the family members of the surgeons and therapists continued during the week. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div style="background: white; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: "Plantagenet Cherokee","serif";">I’ve never felt so overwhelmed with emotion as when we stepped off the bus in Chichoy Alto. The people were so excited to see us and welcomed us like we were family. While we were in the village, we were able to take the time to play with the children and bring smiles to their hearts. It was while I was in the village that I really wished I knew more Spanish so that I could really connect and relate to these children and their families. In the center of the village, there were two churches, and I felt joy in knowing that they had access to the house of our Savior. While some might look at these people and wonder how they could be content and happy with so little, maybe that’s why they’re so happy. I realized when I was there how distracted I am day-to-day, and how much the fast paced world never lets me rest. The Bible tells us that our money and possessions are nothing. They won’t go with us when we die. What’s important is our relationship with Christ. Not the desire for objects, not having objects, not greed, not wealth. God is what matters. When I was in Chichoy Alto, I was strongly reminded of that, and it made me think again about what my real focuses are in life and what they really should be. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L5jJRMvAx5c/T3Dwwwvs8SI/AAAAAAAATKE/FVSwrJY9xNM/s1600/Chicoy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L5jJRMvAx5c/T3Dwwwvs8SI/AAAAAAAATKE/FVSwrJY9xNM/s320/Chicoy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="background: white; vertical-align: top;"><br />
</div><div style="background: white; vertical-align: top;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-53QYqmoWw3w/T3DxgOLBlOI/AAAAAAAATKM/kZz3NAW2nkE/s1600/Guatemaltecos.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-53QYqmoWw3w/T3DxgOLBlOI/AAAAAAAATKM/kZz3NAW2nkE/s320/Guatemaltecos.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="background: white; vertical-align: top;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Plantagenet Cherokee","serif";">The remainder of our mission was spent working with children with congenital and hand injuries, as well as educating therapists at Guatemala City hospitals on how to treat certain injuries using best practice techniques. Our headquarters was through a Christian organization based out of Nashville, <a href="http://www.theshalomfoundation.org/">The Shalom Foundation</a>. <em>Shalom</em> is Hebrew meaning peace, wholeness, completeness, harmony, healthy, safety, and soundness; a powerful blessing. A powerful blessing indeed. The Shalom Foundation is an amazing foundation that seems strongly connected with what I wrote about when I applied to come on this trip.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Plantagenet Cherokee","serif";">When someone is in need, including medically, we will help them, just as Christ has loved us and helped us. The foundation sponsors one mission every month and all are surgically or medically related. Our team performed about 15 surgeries a day for five days on children with problems such as trigger fingers, burn contractures, syndactyly, and complications associated with cerebral palsy. Going on rounds the morning after surgery, I saw a lot of smiles, much to my surprise. The families were beyond grateful for what our team offered medically, and I’m thankful that we were at the Shalom Foundation where a spiritual offering could be given to the families as well. The Shalom Foundation’s hospital is not located in the best neighborhood, but behind the doors of the hospital, you could feel love and thanksgiving. The walls were beautifully decorated and scripture verses could be found painted into murals. God is love, and that love could be seen throughout this mission.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div style="background: white; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: "Plantagenet Cherokee","serif";">Each day, I asked God to give me a servant heart. He did. Each day I asked God to pour out His blessings on everyone we encountered. He did. While this wasn’t an evangelism mission, I think we were able to touch the lives of the people in Guatemala. Christ asked us to humble ourselves and serve others. That’s what this very mission did. When people ask about the trip, I tell them it was humbling. You realize quickly how much we have as Americans. You realize quickly how distracting that can be, and you start to see God a little more in things it was easy to overlook before. At the end of the day, if I impacted nobody (which I know is not really the case) during my time in Guatemala, I felt Christ’s fire burning inside of me and reconnecting me with the passion to always have a servant heart and to see God speaking through everything, in everything, always.</span></div><div style="background: white; vertical-align: top;"><br />
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</div>Katie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4093701473892210963.post-87395470896162558062012-03-23T09:04:00.001-04:002012-03-23T09:04:00.296-04:00SpringI don't know if it's my favorite season, but I sure love spring. After a long, harsh winter there are few things more wonderful than seeing the first buds on the trees, the first grass-cutting, the first Chaco-wearing days of the year.<br />
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Spring is a fresh start. It's a beautiful taste of hope. It's a reminder of God's promise that He will make all things new.<br />
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I had a harsh life-winter that began in May. When I say "this summer," I generally mean the time between graduation in May and when I moved back to Baptist Country in January. "This summer" is synonymous with "life winter"--the harsh season that makes you wonder if spring will ever come again.<br />
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I grew up on the Great Lakes region. We start getting snow around Thanksgiving and it doesn't usually stop until March. A white Christmas is expected. A white Easter is not unusual. After being buried in white nastiness for five months out of the year, you do begin to truly wonder if you'll ever be able to leave your house without a parka, ear muffins, and gloves. You dream about days when your first appointment of the day is not with the snow blower. You stop praying for snow days after spring break.<br />
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Harsh winters make spring all the more enjoyable. Suddenly the temperature reaches 50 and people are outside in shorts and t-shirts. The smell of spring makes everyone crave hamburgers. People realize walking to the mailbox will not result in frostbite.<br />
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Spring.<br />
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Hope.<br />
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Around here, the same time when the temperature soared to above freezing, I went inside to a new job. I'm still a freelance writer but this job involves showing up for work four or five days a week. I don't love my alarm going off every morning, but I do love my job. We laugh, we tease, we eat Reese's peanut butter cups with smiley faces.<br />
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The work is within my qualifications, the pay more than I was making before, the people great, and the company ideal.<br />
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Spring.<br />
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Hope.<br />
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I declared 2012 the year of hope, and by February I was pretty sure I had used up my annual quota.<br />
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Then the flowers started to bud, the snowmen began to melt, and the temperature rose. Hope was restored.<br />
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What is spring bringing for you?<br />
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<>< KatieKatie Axelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09361471654719262744noreply@blogger.com0