Katie

Holiday Central

2012-02-15T03:01:00.003-05:00

The problem with holidays is that they happen every year.

The problem with being a blogger is that you're expected to write about holidays... every year. (Is this true?)

Well, yesterday was Valentine's Day and my opinion about the holiday is still the same as last year: I'm still single and love should still be shown 365 days a year not just one and not just by a sweetheart but in every interaction.

Same with Thanksgiving. It's more than a day.

My Christmas tradition doesn't change. (Hence why it's called a "tradition").

And shock of God's power as displayed in Easter morning doesn't get old.

So I'm stuck: what on earth do I write about these events when I've already said everything I can? And if I haven't, someone else has.

Do I ignore them and blog on as if they never happened? Do I repost the same material every year?

What do you think?

<>< Katie

Jesus Worldwide: Uganda

2012-02-13T06:11:00.005-05:00

From Katie: This week we're headed to Uganda through the eyes of Ben who is spending eleven months traveling to eleven countries as part of The World Race. Check out his blog here. This post reprinted with permission.

Have a story to tell about how the Lord has worked somewhere in the world? Send me an email KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com; I'd love to hear about it! <>< Katie

The scene was perfectly set. The buzz was in the air. Children poured into recently opened classrooms, some for the first time ever, saddled proudly with hand-me-down backpacks two sizes too large. Their crisp, blue, collared school uniforms, dress shoes, and high grey socks were worn in varying degrees of faithfulness to their makers’ intents as untied shoes and shirts halfway un-tucked sent the message to the well-meaning institution that housed them that they were indeed “just kids.” As the African sun beat down, with relentless disregard for the lack of air-conditioners, or even fans, and as the sound of the high pitched children’s chatter testified to their excitement, I smiled and thought to myself, “I am in my element.”

This week marked our first week of teaching at Champions Christian Primary School in Mukono, Uganda, and I absolutely loved it! It was somewhat reminiscent of Nepal, in that it was a fun challenge for me to translate twenty-one year old thoughts into ten-year-old thoughts, but it was unique as well—every country moves to its own rhythm. I taught English (and some P.E.) for grades four and seven every day except Friday when I taught Religion and helped to lead Chapel.

I recognized from the outset, that because I would be teaching for such a limited period of time (a few weeks), I would need to rethink my goals. I made up my mind that my main goal would be not to work my way through a certain amount of curriculum but instead to develop—as much as two weeks would permit me to—a love for learning within the children and to cultivate the students’ pride in the quality of their own work.

In Uganda, as is the case in much of the “third world,” education is the key to escaping a life of poverty. Though a college degree is quickly becoming a prerequisite for securing any job in America, it is still a golden ticket to a well-paying job in Uganda. Education is a cherished privilege. This does not mean that the children are always keenly aware of this, as little girls still draw in the margins of their notebooks, and little boys still look forward to lunch-breaks and recess above all else but there exists the underlying mutual understanding that education is a privilege.

As I taught, however, and as I laughed, high-fived, and proofread my way through the class periods, there was another sight that caught my eye. It caught my eye all throughout the week, actually. I saw a group of children with tattered clothes peering through the open windows, observing the goings-on of the school day as outsiders. It felt as if I was simultaneously watching them in slow motion while teaching my class in real time—like two gears grinding in opposite directions, one smaller and quicker and the other larger, slower, and more representative of the deep meditations of my heart.

In Uganda, I learned, there is still no free public education. To send a child to school, one must pay school fees—without exception. Champions Christian Primary School educates over 250 students, out of which nearly one hundred of them attend school for free.

“If I had my choice,” our pastor, Joseph, told me, “I would let them all come for free. But, unfortunately, we have to pay teachers.”

When this simple economic principle is coupled with the fact that many of the children’s parents are unemployed or sell vegetables by the roadside for a living, it is no surprise that many children simply cannot afford to attend school. This cycle, is of course, self-perpetuating, as the children’s lack of access to education only guarantees that they will be barred from access to jobs that require education and will likely end up working the same jobs as their parents.

This past Friday, one of our squad leaders, Michelle, decided to take a simple step toward combating this problem by volunteering to sponsor a child, Catherine, and pay her school fees for a full year—a minuscule price by American standards. This act of compassion motivated me and got me thinking.

I became very interested in my own thought processes as they related to compassion and need. As Christians, we are absolutely called to extend extreme, outrageous, over-the-top compassion to the less fortunate. This compassion is not a non-negotiable requirement for salvation, as salvation is a free gift from God, through Christ (Ephesians 2:8-10), but this compassion is absolutely a sure sign, an indicator, that the Gospel has legitimately affected one’s heart.

“If anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother but closes his eyes to his need—how can God’s love reside in him?” (1 John 3:17)

We can debate verses like this all day long as we ask ourselves, “What exactly does it mean to have ‘the world’s goods’?”, “Who qualifies as my brother?”, and, “What does it really mean to close one’s eyes to a brother’s need?” but the fact that we are even debating them shows that we have already lost the battle. Are we asking ourselves, “How little can I do and still be categorized as the type of Christian Jesus would approve of?” or “How can I sacrificially extend myself to the point where my blessing meets others’ needs and the name of Jesus is lifted high?”

To be sure, I do not underestimate the complexity of the problems Uganda faces. Uganda still faces food shortages, high HIV/AIDS rates, and government corruption, for example. Education alone will not solve every problem. In fact, without the Gospel of Christ, it won’t solve any problem. But, with Gospel-infused education, Ugandan children can take a step towards liberating themselves from cycles of poverty. I view paying for a year of a child’s education as the perfect middle ground between cold-hearted indifference and a well-intentioned, though hurtful practice that creates dependence because it represents a helping hand (from those that have means) that will eventually manifest itself in a child’s own ability to provide for himself and his countrymen.

When my teammate, Kelly, decided that she would pay for a year of education for a child (two children, actually!), in addition to what Michelle had done for Catherine, I was sold. I knew what I needed—and wanted to do. I thank Kelly for taking that step because I don’t know if I would’ve taken that step without her initiative.

Kelly decided to pay for a girl named Shakira (a girl whose mother she had grown close to) and her brother, Regan. I decided to pay for a young boy, Shafik, whom I myself had grown close to. These children were around the school every day, though they could not attend for lack of school fees.

When we told our host, Frieda, that we would take out the money and support the children—only $120 USD for both semesters and uniforms—her eyes lit up as she sprang to action. “They will start tomorrow,” she exclaimed excitedly, “And their families will be here tonight!” We had learned, a few days earlier, that Regan and Shakira’s mother, Rachel and Shafik’s mother, Margaret were sisters, so we were excited to meet the extended family.

As I looked out my window at the Ugandan sunset last night, I heard voices speaking in the tones reserved for greetings and I knew that the families had arrived. As I walked into the kitchen to meet them, however, I was shocked. Stephanie pointed me towards a concerned and flustered looking Frieda, who took me aside.

“They are the wrong kids,” she told me, her mind clearly spinning, “These are the wrong kids.”

Little did Kelly or I know, but Shakira is a more common name in Africa than we had thought. So, when Frieda introduced the mother Rachel to us at Friday’s church service as “Shakira’s mother,” we were picturing two different Shakiras! We decided to acknowledge God’s sovereignty, however. What man sees as a “mess up,” God sees as a pre-ordained plan. With God, there is no “wrong kid.” There are no strangers and there are no outcasts.

We sat down with the (new) families on our small front porch and got to know each other. Their story almost brought tears to my eyes and Jesus Christ lifted his own name high through each syllable that was spoken. Both sisters, Rachel and Margaret, were former prostitutes and both were HIV positive. Neither had husbands any longer. Rachel’s daughter Shakira had prayed every day at school (a few years back, before they became unable to pay school fees), and her prayers had convicted Rachel herself and had convinced her to attend church on Sundays. Rachel then found Christ—or, more accurately, Christ found Rachel—at Christ Ambassadors Church. This led to her sister Margaret’s salvation as well, as Rachel preached the Gospel to her sister shortly thereafter.

Frieda apparently hadn’t told the mothers the purpose of the visit so that we could be there when she broke the news that their children would have the opportunity to attend school for the entire year. When they heard, both mothers broke into tears. Rachel threw her hands into the air and praised Jesus. We hardly had an opportunity to inject a word of encouragement, as she continually told us, through a translator, “thank you, thank you, thank you.” Margaret told us that she did not even have the words to speak. Little Shakira buried her face in her eyes so that we wouldn’t be able to see that she too was crying.

Little did we know but for months Rachel had been praying for God to make a way—any way—for her children to go to school. We had no idea that we were literally an answered prayer. We also learned—as if God had not already glorified his name enough—that God had recently spoken to Regan in a dream as he had dreamed that a white person he did not currently know would come and paid for him to attend school.

“I will testify of God’s goodness to the entire village! I must!” Rachel told us. “I do not know how I will be able to sleep. I will be thinking about this all night!” Margaret told us.”

It was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my happiest moment on the entire World Race. I couldn’t care less that the child Kelly was supporting was a different Shakira and that the child I was supporting was not Shafik, the one I had intended to support, but Deion.

I spent much of the evening throwing Deion over my shoulders and learning more about his family. Unfortunately, there was no one to support Deion’s brother Moses but there was still enough joy to fill an ocean that evening. Besides, there is still hope for Moses. Finally, we were able to pray for each other. God is a global God.

As I post this blog, Shakira, Regan, and Deion are joining their classmates for school! That very thought makes this whole month supremely satisfying.

As all of these events transpired, however, God gave me a greater vision. “What if,” I thought, “We could send not only Shafik and the other Shakira to school, but what if we could send a multitude?” What if our mark on this town could be that we passionately sent a mass of children to school—an “education revival”? I believe that it’s both possible and simple. It costs $120 USD to pay for a full year (two semesters) of a child’s education plus his or her school uniform. All we need is you.

I do not have the energy to construct a multi-faceted, guilt-laden, argument as to why you should partner with me in this. For one, I want to keep this blog safe. This is not a place to solicit. More importantly, I do not want to infringe upon the work of the Holy Spirit. I won’t bully anyone into giving.

I have a few days left in Uganda, and we can really make this happen together. How awesome would that be to write another blog proudly stating that we teamed together to send 40 children to school! I understand that the motivation may be greater for me, as I literally see, hear, smell, and touch these children everyday, but I challenge you to stretch the limits of your own compassion—for your own sake.

If you are at all interested, send me an e-mail through the “Contact Me” link on the side of the page or comment on this blog. I will go ahead and pay for you in Ugandan Schillings, take care of getting pictures and background info on the child for you, and later, when I have more Internet access, we can work out the reimbursement details. Also, if you are interested in paying for a half of a year of school, I’m sure that that too will be much appreciated.

Surprise me. Surprise a child. Surprise yourself—by extending yourself to a level of compassion that is beyond your comfort zone. You will be surprised by the beautiful effects it has on your own soul.

Capture the Moment

2012-02-10T06:57:00.005-05:00

For Christmas I got a new camera. A nice one. Like super nice. Like my professional photographer uncle did months of the research, and this is his pocket camera. It’s sweet, and I’m beyond excited about it.

But with a great camera comes great responsibility. Now I have to use it.

No longer will blurry, off-center candids be acceptable. No longer can I only photograph people doing silly things.

Instead, I need to look at the world through the eyes of a photographer.

Have you ever traveled or worked with a photographer? They see the world differently than we do. They notice what we overlook. They capture those sweet moments we can only hold in our hearts.

I consider myself a fairly observant person but compared to a photographer I'm oblivious.

I'm a writer. I should already be striving to capture those little moments, those subtleties that mean so much.

I'm a Christian. I'm supposed to be hearing both what's said and what's left unsaid.

I guess we all have a huge responsibility, no matter the device we hold in our hands or hearts.

Watching, listening, learning, observing,
<>< Katie

Book Review: Just a Minute

2012-02-08T01:42:00.000-05:00

My goal for 2012 is to read 52 books. I'm already behind so I was especially grateful for the easy-read entitled Just a Minute by Wess Stafford, president of Compassion International.

It's a book of stories, stories of "just a minute" moments from people like you and me, from former sponsored children, and from well-known names. Stories that enforce the idea that a child is like wet cement, it only takes a moment to make an imprint but once it hardens it takes a chisel to change it. This can be good or bad, used for good or used for harm. Every moment matters.

The only criticism I would have was that the book almost seemed to be too many stories. I would have preferred for the concepts to be more developed in between stories rather than brief transition paragraphs.

Luckily, I don't think I was the first person to have these feelings because the conclusion goes more in depth and asks you to not put the book down and be the same person you. Instead, you're invited to notice those little moments, take the time to affirm and encourage a child, and to realize that it only takes a minute to make an impact that can last a lifetime.

Just a Minute changed the way I look at life, both my own history and the little moments in the people around me. Not only at the breakfast table but anywhere where I cross paths with children (and really anyone since we all need to be encouraged). It brought to mind this story Andy told me about how he compared badges with a little boy in the mall.

"I have become convinced that if God stands a child before you, for even just a minute, it is a divine appointment. You have the chance to launch a life, if you will. You never know when you are making a memory." - Wess Stafford (page 14)

Do you have a minute? Pop over to justaminute.com to read an excerpt from the book and share your own "just a minute" story.

<>< Katie

PS: My copy of Just a Minute was complements of Compassion. However, all opinions are entirely my own. If you'd like to borrow it, please let me know.

Jesus Worldwide: Puerto Rico

2012-02-06T06:17:00.011-05:00

From Katie: Know of someone with a story to tell or who wants to be interviewed about their international experiences? Send me an email KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com. Thanks!

A CODA (Child of Deaf Adults) herself, today Ezelis (is-a-lease) is taking us to Puerto Rico to share what the Lord is doing in the Deaf community. (Deaf is capitalized when refering to the cultural group). For more stories of the Lord's mighty works, check out her blog at Ezelis.blogspot.com. <>< Katie

A Year in Puerto Rico

When you hear the island name, Puerto Rico, what comes to your mind? It may be the beautiful beaches, perfect weather, and the best vacation spot but, my friends, when I hear the precious words "Puerto Rico" I think of the Deaf and their children (CODAS- Children of Deaf adults). When Puerto Rico is mentioned, faces come to my mind and memories ignite and it brings absolute joy in my heart but it also brings me to my knees.

These faces and these memories are a part of me that I can never let go of the impact of these people because of the opportunity I had this past year, I had the honor of being a missionary to the Deaf and the CODAs of Puerto Rico. Life I mentioned, often times, this island is thought of an amazing vacation spot, but these Deaf and CODAs who live there hunger to know who God is. There are Deaf and their children who live in the mountains who have not even seen the name sign- JESUS and do not know how deep His love is for us, His people who He longs for.

Months and months of traveling the island, I had the incredible honor in meeting some of the greatest people. People who have nothing but still can find joy in the Lord. One Deaf married couple, Victor and Isabel, gave everything of theirs in order for other Deaf to know who God was. They would endlessly serve and have about 60 Deaf & CODAs in their house and share the gospel. I would drive hours to pick up families and bring them to Deaf church so they were able to worship their Creator. While the parents were soaking in the Word of God, I would go outside with the CODAS and teach them who God through scripture, games, crafts- anything it took for them to get a glimpse of my wonderful Father in Heaven.

The more as time passed, the parents in Puerto Rico began to see how important it was that their children needed to grow as much as they did. The CODA ministry began to be recognized by the parents and the island. We began having retreats for the CODAS. We had a zoo trip for the little K(ids)ODAs and told them the creation story. We had youth retreats at the beach twice during the summer and dug into the Word about true love. We had CODA girl retreats and I had the opportunity to disciples these girls who have so much potential in reaching others for Christ.

Here is a story from one of my blogs this past year:

Yesterday I was so exhausted and so anxious because I was going up to Orocovis, PR which is really high up in the mountains in a community filled with Deaf people. This is the community of Deaf who are poor that some do not even have beds to sleep on. I had the honor to go and actually teach these Deaf the Word of God. Being in Puerto Rico this was my first "organized" event to where I would actually get to teach them. Most of these Deaf have their own sign language and low language skills that I was praying that God would just make HIS word clear to them that night. I was so blessed because an amazing amiga of mine came along to be my "backbone" my support, my encourager while I was driving a group of Deaf to the service. She was the perfect person to come along and help because she is an interpreter here in Puerto Rico (and my age) and an incredible woman of God.

I taught from Genesis 22:1-19 about Abraham and Isaac. Que es obediencia? What is obedience? What does that look like in our lives? With these Deaf, I felt lead to do a drama from the story- so as you can see Valerie was Isaac and I was Abraham. After the teaching, everyone’s mouth dropped and said, "We understood everything so clearly, we GET IT." I was just so overwhelmed that these people got it- that when we obey God, He takes care of us, He never leaves us stranded, He provides, and all we have to do is follow and TRUST HIM. One man, was touched deeply by God that night, and decided to stop doing what he wants and to OBEY GOD because HIS way is the BEST way!!!

I was so blessed by everyone's encouragement and the responses that were given to me during the lesson. God, only YOU can make Your Word clear, I am simply a messenger. I felt like Moses, my hands get tied up and I am not a good speaker but God could even use me to bring His message. What an honor!

God did some big things last night up in those high mountains. It was pitch black that we had to use flashlights to find our way back to the vans, and you could see the stars. It was an incredible sight and these people are beautiful. It was such a blessing to be able to worship inside the house of the Deaf (it made me sad because the couple only had a pack of frozen chicken in their freezer and nothing in their refrigerator). A group of Deaf are going to take up a collection of food to donate to them. It was such a blessing to see these people pull together for their brothers and sisters in Christ. Pray for us as we continue to seek after CHRIST!”

The Lord did so much in Puerto Rico and He continues to want to do more there on the island. There are so many stories and pictures and if you would like to read more go visit http://ezelis.blogspot.com.

I have not been back to the island since April but I am planning to go back and serve for the summer. They will be having a Deaf camp in the last week of June. I need to find out more information about the camp so I am able to go and teach the CODAs again. I am so excited about this opportunity I may have this summer. I am not sure how long I will be there but I know that I long to be there. Be praying for me as the Lord leads and for money support to be able to go and disciples more of these CODAs and encourage their parents. I pray that we will be able to reach more Deaf and bring them to the camp to tell them about the only name that brings TRUE LIFE- JESUS CHRIST.

There is still more to be done! If you could please pray for the Deaf and their families in Puerto Rico right now, that their eyes would be open to the gospel and that they will be hungry for HIM.

If you are interested in donating to Puerto Rico Deaf Ministries and be a part of the ministry, here is the address (tax write offs are sent to you when you donate):

Puerto Rico Deaf Ministries
Po Box 7423
Ponce, PR 00732

Check made to: Puerto Rico Deaf Ministry

memo: CODA & Deaf Ministry

Be blessed and be a blessing.
Dios te bendiga!! Sonrisas y abrazos!
God bless you! Smiles and hugs!

Ezelis

Manna

2012-02-03T06:46:00.002-05:00

"May there always be manna and a promise for tomorrow," Chris prayed over me. He went on to ask the Lord to provide for me and for me to never know want.

There are so many things I want. A job that pays bills. Assurance that I won't go hungry. Fulfillment of God's promise for hope and a future. Manna.

Manna. It's what God provided for the Israelites during their forty years prior to entering the Promised Land, the land flowing of milk and honey. (See Exodus 16)

Each morning the dew became bread, manna, and each family collected what they needed. Those who collected a lot, did not have surplus and those who collected little did not run out.

It was always enough, exactly enough. If they tried to collect more than they needed, it spoiled overnight. Each and every day, God provided bread.

I began to pray for manna myself.

On Friday there was a campus-wide communion service. Even though I'm not a student, I looked forward to communing with my family. Afterwards, Anna approached me.

"I want you to have this," she said putting the left over bread in my hands.

Manna. Bread.

What she didn't know was that I'd been praying for manna but also that I had forgotten to buy bread when I went grocery shopping. God provided.

That night, Hank (my roommate's cat) got into our pantry. In the nick of time I stopped him from tearing open the bag and into my precious manna. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing what God had provided was once again safe.

God: Katie, what if he had eaten your bread? Would I not have provided again tomorrow? Did I ever fail to provide for the Israelites? They spent forty years in the desert; you've not been in the desert that long and already you've forgotten that I can and will provide for you, My child.

Ouch.

For forty-years the Israelites wandered as a result of their own disobedience and lack of trust. Yet each day the Lord led them with a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night.

They couldn't see very far. But they could see far enough.

Thus is my life right now. I can't see very far ahead. But I can see far enough.

I can see that God is providing manna, enough for today.

"So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today." - Jesus, (Matthew 6:34 NLT)

The Israelites kept one allotment of manna to show future generations as a reminder of God's faithfulness even in the desert. I guess that's why I keep a blog: as a reminder of God's faithfulness in the valleys and on the mountain tops, His journey along with me day by day and night by night.

Lord, give us manna, enough for today. May we learn to realize that even though we cannot see very far ahead, tomorrow is not promised. Today is the most important day of our lives and You are with us today, right now. You are providing for us even when we cannot see Your hand, even when it doesn't look like we expect. Teach us to be content in the promise that You are here, wherever here is. May the only want we ever know be the want, the desire, the yearning to know You more.

Manna. It's the little reminders that God is enough for today.

<>< Katie

Wacky Wednesday

2012-02-01T04:12:00.001-05:00

From Katie: The following is a collection of quotes and crazy conversations brought to my attention during the month of January. <>< Katie

"Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

Taft: Wikipedia is blocked by HPPA.

Brett: I miss having hair. I used to have headaches when I had hair. Actually, I didn't. I never got headaches when I had hair but now I don't have hair and get headaches all of the time.

[Via text message]
Katie: We should catch up one of these days.
Kevin: We should catch up. Who is this?

Michael: This tastes like cocoa butter.
Stephen: Cocoa butter? That's for stretch marks!

Aunt Jett: Don't squeeze the cat. She might explode or something.

"Christianity can grow and flourish under some of the most difficult opposition, but it will prosper very little when people refuse to be changed by it." - Beth Moore, To Live is Christ, 130

Lauren: I'm so not ready for a big girl job. I still get excited about foamy soap.

Mom: The wind must be coming from the west. The train sounds like a dead cow.
Christina: A dead cow, Mom? You realize that dead cows don't make any noises, right?
Mom: How many dead cows have you hung out with? They could make farting noises.

Brit: Decaf? Are you trying to stay awake? [Beat] Wait. I mean go to sleep?

Uncle Jack: [Hands in the air] I didn't do that! [Beat] Did I?
Mom: No, you didn't put the meese peep on the marinated rug.

Rebekah: You're such a good kitty when you're not being a bad kitty.

"If we're waiting for the needy to walk through our church doors, we may wait a long time. God doesn't wait for people to come to Him. He goes to them and desires to intervene right at the point of their need. He's looking for a few brave people, like the Apostle Paul, who are willing to go rather than wait for them to come. He's not looking for show-offs. He's looking for people through whom He can show off His Son. May we be some of those people." - Beth Moore, To Live is Christ, 151

Danielle: You can't say "Indian style." It's offensive.
David: It's criss-cross apple sauce.
Casey: I'm allergic to applesauce. That offends me.

Aunt Jett [About her husband]: One of the best things about him is his ability to drive backwards.

Katie: Hank [the cat] let me pet him for a long time today! Like two pets.

Stephen: Why does everyone rub my head?
Rebekah: It's your spiritual gift.
Brett: Your head is my heroine.

Christina: Mom, does Dad's arm look swollen?
Mom: Yes, of course. He's been karate chopping live trees.

"God wants to be found. He does not will for any to miss Him, and His is so gracious to show up right where we are looking--so He can take us beyond anything we've ever seen." - Beth Moore, To Live isa Christ, 151

Allyson: The overnight forecast is snow. Either that or stars.

Stephen: I read your blog faithfully except for recently. What's Wacky Wednesday?
Katie: If you read my blog, how can you not know about Wacky Wednesday?
David: Wacky Wednesday is arguably the best day of the month!

Evan: Twitter makes me like people I don't know. Facebook does the opposite.

Dad: What's the plural of moose?
Aunt: Elk!

Taft [praying]: Lord, don't smit us.

Rebekah: Then why doesn't he just say that?
Katie: 'Cuz he's a boy. They only think half-thoughts.

Bob: That shirt looks very nice on you.
Emily: You can't say that to her!
Bob: Why not? Gosh, I've been trying to work complements into my conversation and now you just ruined it! Katie, you're dirt ugly. Now you can just be mad at me; you can't have me arrested.

Brett: Hank. Don't eat electicity.

"It's very rare when you're following Jesus that you know exactly what you're doing and where you are going." - Jonathan Martin

Uncle Jack: Assuming this is a right angle...
Laura: Then you have three right angles. You can't have three right angles in a pentagon!

David: What if there was a food that makes you break bones? Like "I can't eat burgers 'cuz they make me break bones."

[Neal was cleaning up water on the floor]
Amber: Ethan got so excited about his cookie that he spilled his water.
Katie: Sorry, Neal, I couldn't make it to the bathroom in time.
Neal: At least it's clear.
Katie: I drank lots of water today.
Neal: Isn't that just inappropriate, Ethan, for a woman to be talking like that?
[Ethan was grinning like he wasn't sure what to do]

Rebekah: You smell like leather-flavored crayon.

Wife: How can you explain all of these awful things happening?
Husband: Easy. This is earth.

Katie: Since Christmas I've gotten a new camera, a new job, a new phone, a new-to-me computer, and a new house. Now I just need a new car.
Mom: Your brain is going to be mush. Next thing you know you're going to try to call with your camera, take pictures with your car, and scrapbook with your phone.
Katie: There's an app for that.

Brandon: I've told this story a lot of times but a lot of you haven't heard it because you haven't heard me tell it.

Dad: Oooowee!
Katie: You ok?
Dad: Yeah. That hurt! Somebody parked the vaccuum cleander in my coat.

Michael: When in doubt, pull out your actual Bible. If your cell phone doesn't know about Jesus, your actual Bible will. You never can tell about cell phones. I don't know if they're believers.

Beth: Sometimes I just breathe.

David: We all want to see your relationship succeed or fail, whichever is better.
Stephen: I hope you have many Lord of the Rings babies, and they don't look like gollum.

Katie: Brett! You heathen non-recycling Canadian!

Artemis: Daddy? When we go to Disney, Mommy said we could go for two whole days!
Daddy: Yup.
Artemis: When we are 10 or 11 years old.
Daddy: Yup.
Artemis: Where are we going to sleep? I mean, we could bring our sleeping bags and camp out in the back of your car.
Daddy: Or we could stay in a hotel.
Artemis: They have those there?!

Rebekah: Yeah, blinds take awhile to master.
Katie: Yeah, I don't have my master's in blinds yet.
Rebekah: I'm working on mine.

"If you write for God, you will reach many men and bring them joy. If you write for men, you may make some money and may give someone a little joy and you may make some noise in the world, for a little while. If you write for yourself, you can read what you yourself have written and after ten minutes you will be so disguisted that you wish that you were dead." - Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation

Jesus Worldwide: Kenya

2012-01-30T06:29:00.009-05:00

From Katie: Know people who have stories to tell about how they saw the Lord work through short-term or long-term mission work? Have them send me an email at KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com; I’d love to talk with them.

I am grateful that this week I got to chat with Chris and Lindy Thompson (and Ezra, too) who have been serving the Lord in Kenya for almost four years. You can find more about their ministry at OnlyServants.blogspot.com. <>< Katie

Katie: As full-time missionaries in Kenya, what kind of work do you do?

We do a variety of projects including:

A guest house for missionaries, mission teams, families, individuals, and church group.
Empowerment projects such as chicken farms. These are business opportunities for Kenyans where we help start them, raise the capital for the projects, train the Kenyans how to conduct the business, and then walk with them for a few months to a year before turning the businesses over completely. All of the proceeds are theirs.
Helping to start a Bible college that brings specific and ongoing funding, grants, guest lecturers, and sorts. Our second class with graduate in June.
Working with the church in Kenya by building a network of support for other ministries, NGOs, and organizations based out of Nairobi. We try to advocate for them because we believe in them.
Food distribution through a partner in ministry called Feed the Hunger. Every Tuesday we distribute food to about a thousand students in slum schools.
The Street Boys Project. We have identified eight to ten young boys who live on the streets because they have been abandoned, orphaned, run away due to abuse, and other horrific circumstances. We build relationships with them, help to bring them off of the streets and away from additions. Besides the guesthouse, this is where we spend most of our time, energy, and resources.

Katie: What is the Lord doing in Kenya?

God has blessed Kenya in a mighty way. To its north are three of the most vocal Muslim countries: Ethiopia, Somalia, and Sudan. To its south is Tanzania, one of the most classically Muslim countries in how it organizes and conducts itself in government and structure. Between these powerful Muslim influences sits Kenya which is still called a Christian nation.

Kenya posses a significant amount of businesses, hubs, and foundational name offices for groups and organizations because it is stable, there are good roads, good networks, internet, relatively safe places for families, and more developed in terms of technology, business, and economics. Nairobi has a very robust economy but it doesn’t look like it due to the turmoil going on underneath.

God has allowed Kenya to be in this position and the world needs to know that if we don’t back it up and aren’t supportive, encouraging, and prayerful for Kenya, it will get gobbled up by the Muslim influences.

Just in the four years that we’ve been there, we have seen an influx of the Muslim ideology in new mosques being build and it’s starting to influence legislation. More politicians are being supported by Muslim groups or are Muslims. If Kenya doesn’t take seriously the statement that they consider themselves a Christian nation, then like America and a lot of other nations, Kenya will lose its Christian identity. We hope it uses its position for His cause rather than for selfish ambition.

Eighty to eighty-five percent of the population would consider themselves Christians. However less than ten percent of the population are genuine Christians.

There’s a cliché that says the Christian church in Kenya is a mile wide and an inch deep. Even though it’s a stereotype, it holds some truth. There are Christian churches and ministries all over Kenya but most of them do not go very deep. There is an over-emphasis on evangelism and an under-emphasis on discipleship. It would be a blessing to see them become discipled and grow deeper in their walk, to trade what is fleeting for what is eternal.

Our western culture owes them a deep apology for introducing to them things that are a lie—pursuit of money, wealth, fame, and notoriety. Things like the prosperity gospel that look like the Gospel but aren’t are putting a bacteria in Kenya and it’s rotting the opportunities to share the Truth.

If you have an unhealthy shepherd, you will not have healthy sheep. This is why we believe so strongly in discipleship the Bible college. We have seen seven boys that were addicts living on the street whose lives have been radically changed by the Holy Spirit. They have left that life, are now in formal schooling and doing well, and most of them have given their lives to Christ. The graduating class from the Bible college are lay people, pastors, aspiring ministers who had no means to get an education because they lived in the slums but they have now graduated and are capable, trained pastors who are raising healthy sheep.

Katie: What are some of your favorite parts?

Definitely the relationships both with Kenyans and non-Kenyans. We’ve been able to learn so many other cultures through international contacts. We are blessed with relationships.

Specifically, our gardener whose nickname is Thomas who was uneducated beyond high school. He’s quiet, meek, and unbelievably giving. He gives the thing that he has the most of and that is himself. God took this man named Thomas and has made him my (Chris's) most trusted person that I work with. I could give him any amount of money and know that he would do exactly what I’ve asked him. That’s hard to find. He has now graduated Bible college, has his own chicken farm business, is an elder of his church, and is probably my number two person. And he started out as a gardener. Thomas understands that being a Christian isn’t a name you were but rather a life you live. He is evidence that discipleship can help. He is the most giving Kenyan that you will ever meet.

The food is great, too: stew, ugali (grits with a little less water and salt, left in the bowl until it can be broken off like bread and dunked in soup), and sukuma (finely-shredded keels).

Katie: What are some challenges you’ve faced?

Being away from family, of course. Seeing so much need, even in other countries, and not really being able to do anything about it. We’ve got such full plates already and doing anything for another country, takes away from someone you’ve already committed to in that they’re getting less of your time, resources, and funds. Balance is always a struggle. Sometimes we feel like walking ATMs.

Where there is poverty, there is also great envy, strife, and violence. We have to be very careful in the manner in which we conduct ourselves and the locations we go. We have seen and heard of harsh things happening to believers from other parts of the world. Thugs, gangs, and criminals target non-Kenyans due to the misconception of wealth.

We’re also westerners. We could live there for 30 years and still aren’t Kenyan. There are some legacies, traditions, and histories that we are not able to understand.

Katie: How have you seen the Lord work in ways you weren’t expecting?

Our son Ezra. We tried for six years to have children and were not able to due to inconclusive medical tests and two failed adoptions that nearly bankrupted us emotionally and spiritually. At the eleventh hour God opened Lindy’s womb and blessed us with Ezra.

In the first two years we were in Kenya, we saw over 2,200 professions of faith. Countless people have been disciple and grown in their walks. There have also been business opportunities that have empowered and given different financial opportunities to Kenyans such as the chicken farms.

Katie: How can we best pray for Kenya?

To stand strong against Muslim influences.
For genuine depth among believers.
Kenya is to have an election this year. The last election in 2007-2008 ended in horrible violence where 1,100-1,300 people were killed and hundreds of thousands were displaced. It put a black eye on the country yet now they have an opportunity to do it right and make a statement to the rest of Africa that they don’t have to operate this way anymore. The African Big Man Syndrome is a common problem where the mindset of one being the biggest, wealthiest, most influential man in the village is on top and everyone else, the common-men, are beneath him. The Big Man seeks to make himself look better and it has little to do with the community. If they can move beyond that to see that helping everyone does better than just helping myself, it could make a some huge statements to the rest of the African nations who struggle with the same thing.

Just a Minute

2012-01-27T06:08:00.001-05:00

I was rummaging through my purse for a donation in exchange for my bowl of grapes and half bagel at my Baptist church's breakfast bar. They let us (encourage us even) eat during the service.

I looked up and saw a little brown-haired boy on the other side of the table helping himself to the donut holes.

When I called his name, he looked up. He lit up.

Then he hesitated, embarrassed by the sparkle in his eye as he tried to restrain himself from leaping over the table and attaching himself to me.

Instead I invited him to come hug me. (I would have begged, but I knew it wasn't necessary). We both abandoned our breakfasts; I knelt as he rocketed around the table. He wrapped his arms around my neck, and I scooped him into my arms. Neither of us said a word. Neither of us wanted to let go. I was pretty sure I was going to have a seven-year-old-sized growth on my side for the rest of the service.

Life is made up of moments just like this. Compassion's president Wess Stafford wrote a book about how it takes just a minute to change the life of a child.

How often do we turn to children begging for our attention and say, "Just a minute" as we try to finish up whatever project is, in that moment, more important than the child?

What if you tried something different. Instead of "just a minute"-ing, you took just a minute to invest in a child. It makes a difference in his or her life, and I'd be willing to bet it makes a difference in yours, too.

Just a minute. It matters.

I don't get to spend a lot of time with children. I cherish the minutes I get to be trampled by fifty children trying to hug me simultaneously, be the human jungle gym, or be a galloping horsey.

What a precious gift for both parties involved. (The bruises are definitely worth it).

As adults, we have so much to give children. At the same time, we have so much to learn. It takes just a minute. But it makes a difference that last long beyond a sixty-second hug.

Learning to embrace the little moments with little people,
<>< Katie

What Does Your Twitter Say About You?

2012-01-25T05:34:00.000-05:00

A friend asked for my help with his Twitter. He gave me his password, told me he trusts me, and left the country. True story.

I logged in on my phone, did what he asked me to do (and only what he asked me to do), and moved on with my day.

A few hours later, I was scrolling down Twitter and realized this was not my feed. In case there was ever a question, I am not following Sesame Street, REI, and the Minnesota Vikings on Twitter.

Before switching back to my own Twitter, I took a gander along his home page, curious about what I would find. It seemed really intimate and stalker-ish. I mean, your Twitter feed is personal to you; no one else is following exactly the same people that you are. What did my friend see when he logged on to Twitter? What was he filling his brain with privately?

Nothing I found surprised me. Amused: Yes. Surprised: Nope. Every person and business that caught my eye fit his personality, his hobbies, his passions, and how he presents himself. According to his Twitter feed, he is who he says he is.

I switched back to my own Twitter and wondered about who I have chosen to follow.

Does my feed say that I am who I am?
Does it represent my passions, my hobbies, and my favorite things?
How often does tasteless language appear on my homepage?
What am I putting into my mind?

Of course, this doesn't only apply to Twitter.

What are you feeding yourself?

Through your Twitter, the blogs you read, the tv you watch, the people you spend time with, the books you read, etc.

If you can tell a lot about a person from what he or she posts on Twitter, then what am I showing? Goodness knows I share a lot.

As I shared last week, a sister in Christ when home to heaven unexpectedly. The world has leapt all over the fact that her final Tweet was a prayer of thanksgiving for another year of life.

We Christians can't help but smile at God's sense of humor and omniscience.

The secular world uses it as a warning that if you Tweet-pray, God might kill you.

Sorry. I hope my last Tweet is a prayer, a scripture, or a powerful song lyric. After I'm gone, I'd much rather everyone see my faith than whatever silly thing my roommates said or the cat did.

Take some conscious time today to objectively pay attention to the following things:

1. What are you seeing? Reading? Inhaling?
2 .What are you posting? Saying? Exhaling?

Are they consistent? Are they consistent in who you are and the Jesus you represent?

<>< Katie

PS: If you see something questionable in my life or on my feed, I trust that you'd be kind enough to call me out on it.

Jesus Worldwide: South Africa

2012-01-23T06:43:00.014-05:00

A Note from Katie: The same missions scholarship that made it possible for me to go to China brought to fruition my friend Laura's dream of going to Africa. I am so grateful for her willingness to share her story. <>< Katie

Adventures in Africa

For four years, it seemed like all I wanted was to go to Africa. I finally got my chance this past summer. I worked at an orphanage near Johannesburg, South Africa called The Love of Christ (TLC). This orphanage primarily cares for newborns to kindergarten age children. Most of the children there were given up by their mothers when they were born or were found abandoned.

The work there was unbelievably difficult but soooo rewarding! I learned everything from feeding to burping, giving meds, and cleaning up potty training accidents. I learned how to teach, to discipline, and how to love in ways that spoke best to each child. I even learned how to say goodbye, with tears running down my face but joy in my heart, when our babies were adopted.

At first it was difficult to figure out how to teach such young children about Jesus. Sometimes we would have simple conversations, starting with questions such as, “Who made the sky?” I would find myself whispering to them as they fell asleep that Jesus loves them, and I do too.

When I think back to my time there, there is one event that always stands out. In part because I was so afraid but also because I saw Jesus in the hearts of the children.

It was a night during my first week of nightshift. We usually clean the rooms, continue the rounds of feeding the newborns, and change nappies. On this particular night, we had only been cleaning for a little bit when we heard screams coming from the main house. The main house is attached to the nursery and is where all the adopted kids and family of TLC’s founder live. We stood there wondering for a moment if the kids were just rough housing but then we heard screams for help and one of the kids ran in and grabbed my nightshift leader.

In the next hour, we found out that a gas heater in one of the boys’ rooms upstairs had exploded, his room was on fire, and he had been badly burned. The teenager ran to the yard and finally ended up jumping into the pool.

We rushed buckets of water upstairs and hurriedly carried the children downstairs into our nursery. It was really difficult because the kids were all in shock. Many had seen their brother’s burnt face as he ran out of the house screaming. There was a 14 year old boy we found curled up in a corner of the kitchen unable to move, another boy was shaking too hard to hold a cup of milk, still another just stared unseeingly into space, and a little girl kept repeating over and over how scared she was.

The boy who had been burnt was quickly driven to the hospital (which is faster than waiting for an ambulance). Once we had all of the main house kids safely in our nursery, we wrapped them in blankets, hugged them tightly, told them they were safe. They were terrified for their brother. Most of the main house kids are kids who never got adopted so the founder’s family adopted them. And to them, family is priceless.

Soon after we got them into the nursery, we gathered around and prayed. I was surprised at how some of the youngest had the most profound prayers. One little boy asked for angelic presence in his brother’s hospital room! They prayed honestly and earnestly. It was a moment when I truly was able to see their hearts. Their trust in God was beautiful.

Praying together really seemed to calm them, although they were still very much afraid.

The rest of that night was rough for us. The night staff was pretty shaken. The sounds of the boy’s screaming were haunting, and I found myself jumping every time someone walked into the room. It wasn’t until I called someone and asked them to pray for me that I was finally able to calm myself down. Still, the light from the rising sun was a welcome sight. Dawn was beautiful and it was as if everything that happened the night before was just a vague dream.

Being able to witness the power of prayer and the faith these kids had was amazing. We were in a third world country, where you can’t count on someone to be there in an instant to help you like you can in America. You put a house fire out yourself because you have no other choice. You drive a burn victim to the hospital because it would take too long for an ambulance to arrive. You comfort your family because they’re all you have. In a moment when there was so much fear and uncertainty, Jesus was there so clearly. And it started with the prayers of the children.

And, just so you know, by the time I left the orphanage two months later, the boy who had been burned was absolutely, completely, 100 percent healed. You would never know he had been burned. God is so amazing.

What More Do You Want

2012-01-20T11:41:00.003-05:00

"What more do you want from God?" Neal asked the congregation. We all came from very different backgrounds united only in the Lord.

"¿Qué más quiere de Dios?" Manolo translated.

I didn't need to wait for the translation before I began making a mental list of things I wanted from God. All selfish things, too. I was in Nicaragua and still had an out-standing balance on my trip. I had applied to five graduate schools and was still hoping for acceptances. I was hoping to head to China in the summer and was waiting for those pieces to fall into place.

"He's already give you Jesus." Neal's words slapped my list-making face. I needed to hear them again.

"Él ya te dio Jesús."

What more can I want from God when He's already give me the best He can: His Son. He's already given me all that I need, and it's called grace. He's engraved my name on the palm of His hand, and I'm asking for money. He's given me purpose, hope, and a future and there I sat in an uncomfortable Nicaraguan folding chair asking for more.

I felt naked, like my selfish, dirty list had been broadcast by the broken LCD projector. In a way, they were. They were available for One to know.

I like to think God chuckled when He watched me frantically try to erase them, delete them, unthink them.

I gave up on my list that day. I took peace in Abba giving me His Son. What more could I ever need or dare to want?

Days like today it's easy to start making a list again. I want this job interview to go well. I want to see her joy and her smile on this earth once again. I want reassurance that God truly is good and in control.

I want everyone to know the hope we all have in Jesus. Jesús. 耶稣.

I want all of God's children to know how loved they are by their Father. I want them to know forgiveness as intimately as I do. To know they don't need any more than that.

Abba, use me to reach Your people. May my life show Your love today and every day. In the States and across the world. When things go well and when dreams aren't achieved. Lord, let my love for You be contagious. When people see me may they have no choice but to love You more. Draw them into Your loving arms, Lord. May they know that no matter what life brings, Jesus is enough. Our greatest need has been satisfied. Thank You for Jesus. Teach me to remember that He is enough, always more than enough.

This is my prayer. My hope. My desire.

<>< Katie

For His Glory No Matter What

2012-01-18T13:40:00.001-05:00

I saw the ambulance. I was sitting in the front window of the coffee shop when it whizzed by. I zoned out watching it, noticing it was EMS rather than the local rescue team. Didn't mean much.

From the front window of the coffee shop you can see everything that's happening in town. I could see the ambulance was not headed towards the nursing home. It could have been headed towards campus, but I couldn't tell. Didn't mean much.

It did prompt me to think about how we have not lost a student since I started. Sure, students have had seizures, passed out, dislocated shoulders in class but they've all been fine in a few hours or days. We've lost professors, staff members, and family members. But never a student.

I went back to my work.

Not long after that, I saw the same ambulance return in the direction from which it came, sirens still on. I thought about Tweeting about how it's not a good sign when an ambulance returns from a call with its lights and siren.

Despite the town only having one stoplight, despite my roommate working in campus ministries, despite seeing the ambulance, I learned from Twitter that one of my sisters in Christ had passed away.

The world stopped.

I didn't recognize her name, but I knew her face. I definitely knew her face. I've heard her testimony.

It was her birthday.

The night before she'd Tweeted that she was excited for the next day. I'm sure she had no idea how exciting it would be for her. She got to celebrate her earthly birthday with the Lord.

That morning, she'd Tweeted and thanked the Lord for another year of her life. That night, He took her home.

Sniffles and tears were overwhelming at our weekly worship service last night. My roommate had hugged her the morning she went Home. Others had been in her class. We were all grieving.

And it's ok to cry. It's ok to be sad. Jesus was. When His friend Lazarus died, the Bible says Jesus wept.

Yet still there was an element of joy in the air. We knew (and know) that she is with the Lord.

You see, this sister I never had the pleasure to hug, loved the Lord. A lot.

We know that her death is not in vain. We know that she's in the arms of our Father. We know that she would be overjoyed if everyone (if anyone) came to know the Lord through her death.

We celebrated. We praised the Lord. We know that He is good even when life is bad. His timing is perfect even when ours is a little off.

Yes, it's hard. Yes, we thought He was going to do a lot more with her on this earth. Yes, we know that her testimony will continue to inspire, to encourage, and to draw people to Him. It's all she wanted to do with her life and now in her death.

That's what I want my life and death to be about: the glory of the Lord. Today. Tomorrow. Every day until I'm called home. And even then.

If you don't mind, can you take a few seconds right now and pray for us? Pray for her family. Pray for her friends, roommates, and colleagues. Pray for this campus, this town. Thank God that He took one of His children home rather than a student who didn't know Him. Thank Him for His goodness and journeying with us.

But don't pray for her. It's not necessary. She's ok because she's in the arms of the Father. And if she's not in heaven, then we're all in trouble. But I know she is.

And next time you see an ambulance, do me a favor and pray for the patient, the team, and the team meeting him/her. Pray for the family, the friends. Pray that God be glorified as He as been here.

This verse was very important to her. It is now very important to me.

"For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek." Romans 1:16

Today's a gift, friends. It's the most important day of your life. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow isn't promised.

You never know when you're going to be called home. It could be in the middle of class on your 21st birthday.

And I'm ok with that.

<>< Katie

Jesus Worldwide: Rwanda

2012-01-16T04:01:00.002-05:00

From Katie: In July my friend Hannah began The World Race, that is visiting eleven countries in eleven months. Currently on month six and finishing up her time in Rwanda, Hannah blogged this post about how God got her attention. It has been reposted here with permission. To follow Hannah as she finishes up her journey, check out blog.

"A Little More of Jesus Inside of Me"
by Hannah Dagenhart

As I look out over the valley that we are about to cross once again, something at the bottom catches my eye. A group of children are gathered down at the “bridge” (a few logs held together with barbed wire and mud) to fill up their water jugs from the creek. The water is dirty. No doubt the cows in the adjacent pasture drink from it and tramp mud through it as they pass. Nonetheless, it is used for everything from laundry to cooking and I can pretty accurately assume, for drinking.

Some of the children have spotted us now as we are descending. They have all straightened up from filling their jugs and now they are shouting, jumping and waving: “A mzungu! A mzungu!” Even though they are the most adorable kids, dressed in nothing but dirty and ill-fitting rags, sometimes I’d rather not have the attention all of the time. Anywhere we go people shake our hands, give a thumbs up, shout out greetings, or walk beside us. Sometimes I make the mistake of politely shaking neighbors' hands in order to continue on but later realize I actually know them. We have met these children before. We have walked with them up the valley, sometimes carrying their water jugs for them. We have seen them in church or passed by their homes.

Some village kids at a nearby home.

As we continue down the hill their smiles become more clear and their squeals of excitement more adamant. Before we reach them they abandon their water jugs and run to us, arms open wide, ready for hugs. We walk hand in hand to the bottom and there they give up their water. Several times before we have helped them make it to the top, so this time they are willing to hand over their burdens. I pick up two jugs, one from each of the kids smiling next to me. While they aren’t extremely heavy for me, they’re certainly not light. Imagine carrying a couple of milk gallons in each hand as you climb the mountain. I smile and take them, in my heart half resenting that I must carry the water when I’m already tired.

Then the Lord hits me with a lesson. Hannah, these kids understand. They know how to give up their burdens to someone stronger. Remember? I told you: “Cast all your cares on Me because I care for you” (1 Peter 5:7). “My yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matt 11:30). How joyful these youngsters are to give up their burdens. They do not feel guilty or try to carry part of the load. They easily and freely cast off their burdens.

I feel convicted for being selfish and unconcerned. My Jesus would never have thought twice about carrying their loads. He would be delighted to do so with no thought for Himself. Thank you for continuing to teach me, Lord. I am learning, one small step up the mountain at a time.

We reach the top. We pass off the water as we are going a different route but the smiles stay the same. The children have such joy. We meet up with our pastor who is talking to two women as they harvest corn to give to us. I continue to be amazed at the generosity of God’s people overseas. They give not out of abundance but out of sacrifice.

We continue on up the hill and to the left as we go to visit a house that we know well. What started as a visit for evangelism erupted into a discussion of Christianity mixed with a presentation of the Gospel. It ended with many onlookers and seekers gathered and a few women with lives changed. We have come back the following week to encourage these women and their children in their new faith. Our team prayed over them for provision for their children, as well as healing for two of them that are affected by HIV/AIDS. My heart goes out to them since we visited the Genocide Memorial and learned about the extreme hardships and pain since the horrible event nearly 18 years ago. Many people were killed, many women raped (mostly by HIV positive males), and others were tortured and humiliated. This country needs healing so badly.

Still, there is hope. The purpose of our visit that day is to take Bibles to the women, as they had none of their own. We give one each to Delphine and Liberty. The looks on their faces are priceless. They are truly thankful to have received God’s Word in their own language. We pray for them as they thanked us.

Delphine and Liberty excited to receive their new Bibles.

As we pass through more cornfields and plots of banana trees we come to Godanse’s house. This woman has such a love for the Lord! As one of four women at last week’s Bible study, she has a Bible that is tattered and torn. She carefully turned the pages that were still intact as she searched for the passage in Romans, handling the Word with such grace and reverence.

Now, a week later, we arrive at her home with a new copy of the Word. She quickly invites us into her home, which was crumbling, small,and smells of the putrid pig kept right outside. I have never been more honored to be a guest in anyone’s home. As I take the Bible from my backpack she holds her hands to her face in disbelief. I pass it to her as she doubles over with laughter, her eyes dancing with joy.

She keeps saying, “Amen! Hallelujah!” as she thanks us repeatedly. This gift means the world to her. There is more excitement and joy than I’ve ever seen – all for the Word of God. Oh God, that we all would love your Word like Godanse. Godanse walks us all the way out to the path, still laughing and smiling as she clutches her Bible. She gives me such a powerful handshake that my hand stings. I will never forget her.

We keep walking, literally to the top of the hill. The radio tower is in sight nearby and the view of the valley is absolutely incredible. Our team is soon met with smiles and greetings from the four widow women that live in this home. One of the women, Kimana, who is usually bubbly and sweet at church, looks rather down. We ask if she was sick, and she clearly is, so we pray over her as we present her with her own copy of God’s Word. Even after being nauseous all day, you can see the thankfulness and happiness in her eyes.

Taryn with Kimana

Our tasks for the day complete, we begin our descent. There are still miles to go before we reach home, but my heart is much more thankful now than when we’d started. As I walk the hills, I have quite some time to think. I begin to ponder about my life and how it compared with that of my Lord and Savior.

My feet sometimes have blisters or scrapes. They are dusty, and I have a tan line from my Chaco sandals. Some days my legs ache when I walk those hills. My presence is always announced as I walk down the street: “A mzungu! A mzungu!” Several people, young and old, run to meet me and enthusiastically extend their hands. When I stand outside of a store for more than a minute or two I am approached by beggars in filthy clothes. As I pass children who only know a few English phrases I am met with, “Give me money!” Anytime we go to visit or attend a service we are expected to share a testimony or song, some nugget of wisdom.

What about Jesus? I turned my thoughts to Him. How He had walked tons of miles through dust and dirt to reach people. He probably had a tan like mine across His dirty feet. His calves probably burned from going over mountains and walking through towns. I bet His clothes gave off a pleasant aroma of man-sweat since He wore them day after day. He had people following Him constantly – needy people – those asking for healing, those seeking teaching, some just looking for an exciting show. I’m sure He shook a lot of hands, had people begging for His attention at every moment.

In many ways I see myself in similar situations to those of our Lord. Yet, most times I react – not like Jesus – but like His disciples…

Then little children were brought to Jesus for Him to place His hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked those who brought them. Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” (Matthew 19:13-14)

I recently read the story in Matthew of how Jesus fed the five thousand. Do you realize how the story starts? Jesus finds out that John the Baptist has just been beheaded. One of His good friends, a relative, has been executed. He takes a boat and intends to withdraw to a solitary place, but the relentless crowds followed Him there. What does He do?

When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, He had compassion on them and healed their sick. (Matthew 14:14)

Then, as evening comes, the disciples tell Jesus to send the people away – they have no food. I can only imagine that the disciples were restless and wanted some supper for themselves as well. So, Jesus, already knowing they can’t do it, tells them to feed the crowd. After the disciples admit their inabilities, Jesus takes what is there and offers it to the Lord. The crowd is fed and there’s an abundance left over.

As I’m thinking about my spiritual journey lately, I realize that I’m more like the disciples than Christ. The disciples were supposed to look like Christ, yet they still gave in to their human tendencies. They were grouchy with children and they answered to their stomachs rather than to their spiritual appetites. (I know that the Twelve were godly men who gave up everything to follow Christ. They gave up their lives in the end, but at times, they’re only human. Like me.)

The house of some church members at the top of the hill.

Throughout the past six months I have been meeting with my team each night for “feedback.” We give each other honest feedback on what we see and offer compliments as well as constructive encouragement. My team has consistently told me that the Lord has blessed me with good discernment. I realize it’s true because I can analyze these feelings and situations to see where I need to change. While I don’t celebrate the fact that I feel like a grouchy disciple some days, I am so thankful that the Spirit lets me know of my shortcomings. He points out the rough areas and breathes conviction on the things that need to change. It’s a refining process. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it’s embarrassing, but it’s necessary and beneficial.

Most of this month has been a battle of the mind and heart. No matter what my mannerisms on the outside appear to be, I know my heart and so does God. I have seen the importance of getting into the Word, of praying for an attitude change, of putting up a strong fight against self-pity or homesickness. The mind is a powerful thing and how we steward what goes into it will determine what type of disciple we ultimately become.

I want to be more like Christ, I really do. But it remains a conscious choice that I must continue to make every day for the rest of my life.

"A Little More"
*Lyrics by Shawn McDonald*

Just the other day went walking
Down to the corner and I saw a man
Sitting with a cup in his hand
Saying, "Hey won't you give me something
Won't you give me something to eat?"

I took a look into his eyes and
I saw he had a story to tell
But I walked away with my pockets full, full of change
And I said, "I got nothing for you"

It's time to confess that I need a little more
Jesus inside of me, Jesus inside of me

Don't you see, Jesus was homeless
Walking from city to city
Teaching people how to love
Giving them grace and mercy
Giving them grace and mercy

Now, Jesus was a friend to the friendless
Loving on all the outcasts
Teaching them that there was more
More than what they're living for
More than what they're living for

Don't you see, if you do not learn love
Then you will be completely nothing
You could be absolutely amazing
But you would be nothing

May Day

2012-01-13T01:50:00.002-05:00

May 28.

According to my daily devotional, that's today's date. Grace for the Moment: A 365-Day Journaling Devotional by Max Lucado was a graduation gift from my suitemate Amy's parents. So the day after graduation I began reading it. I continued once a day until I went on vacation and the book was too bulky for my carry-on bag.

Instead I decided I would read it daily when I was at home (at my parents' house). Thus, it did not go to China with me, it did not accompany me on my month-long networking trip in October, and it did not come on our Axelson Family Unplugged trip over New Years.

Knowing this, it was very sad to watch the bookmark move closer and closer to the center of the book. Every day was another devotion, another page turned and in that another day in limbo, another morning greeting unemployment, another reminder that my life was not what I expected.

Well, today is not May 28. I have packed as many of my personal belongings as I could fit in the backseat and trunk of my car. Dad and I are driving across the country, back to the town where I moved away from when the calendar really read May.

Hope.

It's been a lot of days between real May and fake May. No, I'm not going to count them (English major). It's been a lot of tears cried, a lot of harsh prayers, a lot of mopey blog posts.

But today, May 28 to some, January 13 to others, the world starts fresh.

I hit 1,000 on my list of blessings. I am moving out of my parents' house. I am returning to the land I love. This is a new beginning.

I don't know what that means. It may mean that in three months I return to limbo. It may mean that I work at Starbucks for the rest of my life. It may mean that I convince myself to be a student again. I don't know.

But God does.

And I'm willing to trust that. I'm willing to cling to the promise that He has not let abandoned me nor will He ever. I'm willing to hope, willing to dream, and willing to not know what the future holds.

Hope. It's good. Just like God.

Hope. It's necessary. Just like God.

"Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer." Romans 12:12

<>< Katie

Wacky Wednesday

2012-01-11T09:20:00.000-05:00

Author's Note: The following is a collection of ridiculous or profound statements and conversations heard throughout the month of December. <>< Katie

[In bed not wanting to get up on a Sunday morning]
Jennifer: Why can't we just have church here?
Katie: Those are called televangelists.
Amy: Or Katie could preach. My Bible's over there.
Katie: Oh, good. I need that.
Amy: Jennifer can be the pulpit.
Katie: Who's going to serve communion?
Amy: We're Baptist. We don't do that every day.

Mrs L: There's the cookie sheet I've been looking for! The flat one.

Mom: Awe, man! My new vacuum is parts as parts! With screws and everything! I just want to plug and play! I don't have time to put together a vacuum cleaner; I have to vacuum! The humanity!

Katie: What is that noise and how do we make it stop?
Mom: It's me washing the windows.
Katie: Oh. It sounds like Tina's farting ringtone.

Katie: This is your job for next week.
Uncle Jack: Put that vacuum together? That I can do. Is there more than one piece?
Katie: No.
Uncle Jack: Well, then we're pretty much done. What's the next project?
Katie: Fix the dishwasher. That's tomorrow's job. It can't wait until next week.

Uncle Boris: For senior photos I got: "Your head looks like a mushroom" or "your head looks like a plantain."

Amy: How do you only lose one boot?
Jo: I just kicked it off and I don't know. How do you need stitches once a week?
Amy: What?
Jo: I'm not kidding. Every Saturday I needed stitches. It was usually stupid stuff too like getting excited when the grandparents came over and tripping up the cement stairs.

Katie: Look! It's a bracelet I can wear as a belt and it's ok!

Dustin: Katie, what's one word that describes you?
Phil: Jobless.

Jennifer: Your volcanic pretzels look like an anteater nose.

Mom: Now you told Laura that she has big feet and Christina that she weighs more than the dog. You need to go to bed. Go to your room!
Uncle Jack: Oh, do you need a complement, too? You look very nice up there dusting.

Alex: No more squeaking in the car.

Caroline: (something about) Britney Spears.
Katie: Does she have hair again?
David: I thought she was dead. I thought she D.O.ed. I mead ODed.

Laura: Girl, I have a knife and an onion in my hand. Don't mess with me!]

Jennifer: Katie, if you were on a desert island with email and a book, you'd be just fine.
Katie: Yeah, I'd just Tweet for someone to come rescue me.
Jennifer: You wouldn't have Twitter. Well, I guess you could just email someone.

Jo: How do you poop in your shoe when you lay on your back?
Amy: He's two months old. Who knows!

Mom: Look at those white caps!
Katie: Those aren't white caps; they're mud puddles.

Jennifer: So we put these there.
Katie: But these already have those.
Jennifer: "These already have those?" Katie, I wish you would write down your own quotes.
Katie: Sometimes I do.

Alex: Wal-mart is like a time-warp. You walk in and boom you've been there for an hour.

Katie: We have a tendency to be late to Peder Eide concerts.
Mom: No, you have a tendency to be late.
Katie: No, last time I was two hours early! But I might have been responsible for making the entire concert late.

Uncle: All of the sudden you get a gray eyebrow, and it's like, "I'm here, and I'm looking around! I can drive the car all by myself, thank you. Where's my beer?!"

Amy: By the time I get to church I'm tired.
Katie: Amy doesn't love Jesus!
Amy: No. [Beat] Wait. [Beat] What did you say?

Laura: Do we have any Dixie cups?
Mom: Yes, they're in the slow cooker.

Christina: Laura, I really like those pants. They make your legs look two inches deep.

Uncle Boris: If you give a moose a muffin.
Mom: If you give a pig a pancake.
Katie: If you give a squirrel a shrimp.
Uncle Boris: If you give a cow a cornflake.
Mom: If you give a mouse a cookie.
Uncle Boris: No, it has to start with the same number.

Grandma: The [Christmas] tree was giving me the finger in reverse.

Katie: I have "Live Like Christmas" stuck in my head.
Laura: Good! 'Cuz IT'S CHRISTMAS!

Tabitha: Sorry. My stomach makes weird noises after I eat.
Rebekah: It's called digestion.

Alex: You just stabbed yourself with my fingernail.

Laura: I have to go pick up twenty things in my room because that's how old I am.
Mom: Or you could pick up for twenty minutes.
Laura: No!

Jamie: My goal this weekend is to make it in Katie's quote book.

Mom: Oh, there's a random plate in the fridge.
Katie: Better than a fork in the den.
Friend: Did I just walk into an alternate dimension?
Christina: Welcome to the Axelsons'!

Jamie: Ok, she never needs to wear her hair like that again. She looks like the girl from Star Wars--Glena.

Mom: If I'm going to get anything done today, I have to take off this sweater.
Katie: What?! If you want to be productive, you have to be naked?
Mom: No, no, no. That's now what I said. This sweater--
Laura: She already told me. That sweater you can't roll up the sleeves and the bottom's stretched out so it's BAAHUM PAAAAAH!
Katie: Is that a direct quote?
Mom: How do you spell that?

Chris: What will Andy say is your quirkiest feature?
Elizabeth: I repeat myself. I say the same thing.

"Rudolph is like the Bible--you can't take it out of context."

Uncle Jack: We didn't pray, you know.
Katie: I talked to Jesus already.
Uncle Jack: I find myself doing that a lot--especially with you guys around.

Jennifer: Save money. Buy pants.

Katie: Matthew, I really don't mind if you sing Christmas songs--even if your voice isn't cooperating. But we need Jesus Christmas songs. No Santa Christmas songs today.
Matthew: Well, if you paint Santa as a Christ-figure--
Katie: No.

Laura: Sometimes Miranda bites me.
Mom: Bite her back!
Laura: Zach did once, and she cried!

Katie: Jennifer, do I need my Bible?
Amy [serious]: No. We're only going to church.

Rhonda: Awe, man, I am tired! Claudia, it's going to have to be a fast bath.
Donovan: I am totally Tweeting that!
Rhonda, Claudia: No! We want jobs some day! Don't Tweet about us giving the cat a bath.

Mom: Katie's driving so that means she's ultimately the boss!

Katie: Does anyone know what the temperature is supposed to be today?
Amy: Check your email.
Jennifer: High of 51. So cold!

Mom: I have not successfully made burnt carrots yet!

Lauren: Do you spell your name as one word or two?
Maryrose: One with no capital "r."
Sarah: I don't think God cares.

Katie: What's for dinner?
Mom: I don't know yet. I don't know who's all going to be here. If it's just Dad and me, we're having steak. If everybody's here, we're having bologna.

Laura: If your socks and my socks had a baby, it would look like this scarf!

"God appoints people who disappoint to point to a God who never disappoints." - Ann Voskamp

Jesus Worldwide: Guatemala

2012-01-09T06:04:00.011-05:00

From Katie: Today I'm excited to head to Guatemala (one of my favorite countries) with Compassion (one of my favorite ministries) through the eyes of Ashley (one of my favorite bloggers whom I've never actually met in real life). Sit back, relax, and cheer as you see how God worked!

I didn’t think I had the kind of courage it takes to pack my passport and hop on a plane to a foreign country without any friends or family until my friend Brian died. He’d been doing work with a humanitarian aid organization in Afghanistan when he was killed on August 5, 2010. Brian and I had worked as camp counselors together for two years and had become good friends. His death shook my world to the core. I wasn’t sure how to cope, so I prayed. Often.

I was already sponsoring two little girls through Compassion International but had felt for many months that I needed to sponsor another child. In the midst of the grief surrounding my friend’s death, I decided to start searching for another child to add to my Compassion family. It took a few weeks, but I finally found a very handsome little boy in Guatemala. He had a shy smile and sparkling eyes but those were not the first things that caught my eye. That little boy shared both his first and middle names with my friend.

A few months later I found out Compassion was hosting a sponsor tour to Guatemala. I’d never been out of the country before. I couldn’t say much more than “¡Qué pasa, calabaza!” in Spanish. And my heart pounded every time I thought about trying to go through customs. But in a moment of insanity or incredible courage (I’ll never know which), I signed up for the trip and paid the deposit.

I shouldn’t have been afraid. I should have known God would take care of me. But me of little faith, I was afraid. Very, very afraid. As the trip inched closer and closer, I started to notice strange “coincidences.” I nearly unraveled in gratitude when I received the schedule for the tour and saw that the day I would meet my little Brian was the one year anniversary of my friend’s death.

I set out on the trip at the end of July, passport and antacids in hand. We started out the trip with an outing to a Compassion church partner. The kids led us to our seats one by one and sang familiar songs in Spanish. They showed us their classrooms and drawings and letters from their sponsors, then we ate dinner together. I’m from the South where hospitality is an art form, but the kids in this project took it to a whole new level. I didn’t feel like a stranger in the country of Guatemala. I felt like family.

The week continued, and I only fell more and more in love with the people I met, with the others on my tour, and with Compassion. We witnessed children carrying the world on their shoulders, setting it all aside as they walked through the doors of the Compassion project and saw their friends. We met young adults with accounting and architecture degrees all because of God’s work in their lives through Compassion and letters of encouragement from their sponsors. I particularly enjoyed walking through the office there in Guatemala City, getting to know the staff, and hearing about the inner workings of Compassion in Guatemala.

On our last day there, we met our sponsored children. I lined up and waited to meet Brian, feeling more nervous than I’d felt on my wedding day. I worried Brian wouldn’t like me or that he’d be upset because I hadn’t written him enough letters. Suddenly my name was called, I was propelled into a large room, and a little boy rocketed himself into my arms. I saw his dark brown hair, falling into his eyes in the same way my friend’s hair had fallen. I choked on tears and a smile.

That little boy loved me. And God loved me enough to take my grief and turn it into something beautiful through something as simple as sponsorship. When I first started my journey as a Compassion sponsor, I kind of guessed how my letters and $38 a month could change the life of a child. But I never dreamed that God would use that same sponsorship to pour compassion and joy into my own painful circumstance. All through a little boy with my friend’s name and haircut.

Returning Home

2012-01-06T05:37:00.009-05:00

I didn't do it intentionally. Honest!

Things like Christmas, family vacation, pre-planned blogposts, and a sore arm had gotten in the way. All of the sudden it had been... well, way too long.

It hadn't felt like it had been a long time otherwise I would have taken care of it long before I flopped down on a king size log bed with a purple pen and my Writer's Notebook.

Yup, I was rusty. It hurt. And I silently cursed myself for smacking my forearm on whatever I was clumsy enough to crash into.

But I loved it.

It felt so good to be back, to be doing something I loved. It was a deep breath of rich air. It was calming and refreshing.

I pushed through the pain of the pen's movement across the page. I slowly shook the dust from the dictionary stored in my corner of my brain. I smiled as I saw the influence of other writers and as the piece took a different direction than I anticipated.

It was good. It was home.

Home is watching my fingers bleed purple ink.

Home is the opening chords of a familiar song.

Home is digging into the Word when you've gotten busy, lazy, and unintentional.

Home is freedom and fresh air. Comfort, love, and uncontainable joy.

Home is sleeping between your own sheets after a long vacation. Home is hugs waiting for you at the door and milk in the fridge.

While the physical location of home is changing once again, the emotional feeling of home follows me wherever I go.

For this I am grateful.

I am also grateful for grace. For hobbies, no, for ways of life, that return after having been abandoned.

<>< Katie

Different Than Planned

2012-01-04T08:01:00.004-05:00

Ashley and I have never met in real life. We both call Baptist Country "home." Right now God has us stationed in two different winter wonderlands.

So I'm pretending I'm skiing and sledding in hers today.

But, really, I'm talking about what to do when life doesn't look the way you expected and examining the life of Joseph (he's from Genesis).

Come play with us!

<>< Katie

PS: In the interest of things being different than planned, Wacky Wednesday will be next week.

Now stop stalling and go over to Ashley's.

Why are you still here?

Jesus Worldwide: Haiti

2012-01-02T08:19:00.002-05:00

We're kicking off our journey around the world in Haiti with Rachel. Rachel is in physician’s assistant school and has had the opportunity to serve the Lord in Haiti on three medical mission trips through the North Carolina Baptist Men (NCBM). You can read other stories from her trips and hear more from her heart at HopeinHaiti-Rachel.blogspot.com.

Katie: Tell us a little bit about Haiti.
On January 12, 2010, a 7.0 earthquake affected approximately two million people around Port-au-Prince, the capital. It is estimated that 220,000 people lost their lives during the earthquake.

Haiti before the earthquake:

Over 70 percent of people lived on less than one to two dollars per day
In the city, approximately 86 percent lived in slum conditions
80 percent of education was provided in often poor-quality private schools
One out of two people in Port-au-Prince had no access to latrines and only one out of three had access to tap water

Haiti after the earthquake:

1.5 million people live in tents; over 100,000 are at critical risk for storms and flooding
Over 180,000 homes are damaged or destroyed leaving 1.5 million people homeless
Less than 65 percent of primary school age children are actually enrolled because they cannot afford it. Of those enrolled because they cannot afford it, only 63 percent will complete it.

(source: The World Fact Book)

People are living in tents cities like this around Port-au-Prince

Katie: What were you guys doing in Haiti?

We stay in a house at a mission compound rented from Global Outreach (also presently housing Samaritan’s Purse) located in Titanyen, Haiti, about 20 miles north of the Port-au-Prince airport. The teams consist of volunteers doing construction and medical missions. The construction teams build temporary Samaritan’s Purse shelters and permanent cement houses and churches.

Since October 2011 the construction phase of the mission has stopped, but the medical mission seems to be growing. Each week the medical teams see on average about 1,700 to 2,000 patients. There are two medical teams, Alpha and Omega, each led by a Haitian doctor and consisting of Haitian translators, nurses, and pharmacy workers. We serve alongside the Haitian staff to see hundreds of patients each day. Each day the two teams go to a different mobile clinic site around Haiti. We pack everything we need to set up clinic in our van and have clinic in churches, tents, and outside under a tree.

Medical Clinic begins with set up, then introducing yourself to the patients, sharing scripture, a testimony or greeting, morning prayer, then the doctor teaches the patients about a pertinent medical topic (Cholera, hygiene, Malaria, etc.).

The patients first come to triage (where I work) where we assess the patient, taking vital signs, then they see the doctor, and then go to the pharmacy to get their medications or other needed items (clothes, infant formula, shoes, glasses, etc.). The night time activities consist of packing pills in preparation for the next clinic day, as well as devotions with the team.

These are the faces of the ones that, though they have little to none of things, they minister in mighty ways. We come to provide hope, medical care, or build a house, yet we too are forever changed and blessed.

Katie: What were you expecting?
In looking back at my blog, I was not really sure what to expect, I had never been to third world country. However, ever since I was young I knew that God had called me to go and do medical missions in a country in need.

I did not imagine that God would call me to Haiti. After I heard about the opportunity through a missions conference through my church, I knew God was calling me to serve in Haiti. It was neat that my mother had been to Haiti when she was my age, and, before passing, my grandfather gave me a Haitian dollar my mother had given him twenty years. For each of my trips the Lord has provided a way for me to go.

These boys made stick glasses to look like mine!

Katie: What did you find?
What I have found in Haiti is much more than I could have ever imagined. I found purpose and a calling to long term medical missions. It was eye-opening to go to the poorest country in the Western hemisphere.

I found a people who are in need of the basic necessities of life, in need in shelter, clothes, food, and medical care. These people less than a four hour flight away yet live in a totally different world than the one I left. They live in the hot year-round Haiti weather, working hard day in and out to survive, to provide food and shelter for their families.

I found a people on spiritual journeys as we are, some so on fire for the Lord, serving Him whole heartedly, yet some not knowing Christ at all, and some turning to Voodoo for healing and fulfillment.

I found a people living a tough life, one of hard work, many miles of walking whether it be to school, to the market, or to work. They are a beautiful people who speak Haitian Creole and French. They are craftsmen, many are mothers, and have many children. The children are so loving; they long to learn, and have opportunity. The people are kind, patient, and very appreciative of you coming to their country.

I found a people whom I have grown to love and care about their health and well-being but most importantly care about their salvation in Christ.

Katie: What can we learn from Christians in Haiti?
We can learn humility. We can learn to be thankful and appreciative of the healthcare we have, the clean water we are able to drink, the accessibility we have to food, and medications. In comparison I do not have to fear each night for my safety, I do not live as many children are living in orphanages, unable to read or write, wearing the same shirt and shorts day after day, walking with no shoes, not knowing what it means to be able to draw, or read a book or the Bible.

We do not have to live in a tent, walking miles each day for food, not knowing if we will eat. We do not have to worry if the ran comes and destroys our tent or take turns to sleep on the ground at night. We have a family; we have free schooling. In Haiti, many cannot afford schooling, many go without proper medical care, many women and infants die during child labor.

What I have learned from the Christians in Haiti is they have a faith so much stronger than I feel I could ever have. They have hope of a better future; they work so hard and are thankful for the opportunities God gives them each day for life, for the ability to serve others, for a job (even if they do not make much). They go each day without complaining. They serve God and worship Him with all their being, hands raised high, and voices loud and harmony with thanksgiving!!

They are inspire me and encourage me in my daily walk with Christ, motivating me to continue my studies in Physician Assistant school, pushing me towards a stronger faith and trust in my Lord. My Haitian sisters and brothers have such a passion, as I do, to tell the Haitian people about Christ, to show them God’s love, and meet their needs physically and spiritually. The Haitian doctors I work with finished medical school in the U.S. and could practice in the U.S. yet they know that their schooling was a gift and choose to stay and serve their people in Haiti.

NCBM have some of the most amazing Haitian workers, Christian men and women serving their Lord and their people with such humble hearts. They are dear friends and I am so thankful to serve with them through NCBM. One worker writes:

"I live in Port-au-Prince I work with NCBM in pharmacy and as a translator (I learned English at school). I appreciate the things NCBM has been doing in Haiti for about two years, helping the homeless and the sick people after the earthquake. It's the first time in my life I have been employed, I pray God to bless all of you, thank you for coming to help my people and me. I have a reason to pray for all of you, I’m so glad to work with NCBM, and for my first time it's a good experience in my life. God bless you."- Michel

Katie: How did you see the Lord work while you were in Haiti?

I saw God working in countless ways. Each trip God has brought particular children and people into my life whom will now be forever friends. I am able to support them in their schooling, uplift them in their faith and walks with Christ, and stand alongside them during the good times and the bad.

The first trip I met a little girl named Venia. Venia's mother brought her with complaints of mouh sores and ear pain. As I examined her and began to get her vital signs, I noticed some injuries: her right arm was extremely scarred, her little hand mangled, and the right side of her face drooped and was swollen.

I soon learned from Dr. Vlad that this little girl had been injured in the earthquake. Her house collapsed on her and the right side of her body had been caught under debris. During the earthquake her mother was safe having been outside at the market. She searched for her daughter and after three days could still not find her.

The mother resolved to pay someone to bulldoze the house to retrieve her daughter's body. However, to everyone's surprise and amazement, they found her alive!

Medical volunteers performed surgery for free to save her right upper extremity and her face. Today she is doing well with minor complaints. Venia has trouble with mouth sores due to the scarring in her mouth but has adapted well at using her right limb. Her personality and cognition are all there. She caught my attention as soon as I met her, standing out from the other children with her sweet demeanor and affectionate smile.

As I treated Venia, she wanted to hold my hand and was curious about each task I performed. Venia sat so patiently, letting Dr. Vlad clean her sores and her ear until the very end when he had to apply a lot of pressure. She burst into tears, however was comforted by a small prayer Beanie Baby I was able to give her.

The bear's name on the tag is Hope. My sister gave it to me to give to a child who might need it. I carried it in my bag each day to the clinics but was not sure if I would find the right child to gift it until Venia.

Venia was hope because at age two she had survived the earthquake for three days. Now, at age three, her mother hopes to send her to school but cannot afford it. (Haitian children begin school at age three).

Dr. Vlad saw the potential in Venia and made sure to get the mother's contact information to see about the possibility of getting financial support for school. Unaware of this need, I approached the doctor about how I could help support Venia. He mentioned her need for schooling.

As the other team members heard about her story, they wanted to help as well. We were able to raise enough to send her to school for three years and hope to continue to raise support for her.

I was so thankful that God sent her to our clinic that day. Since then I have been able to see her again and help her with her continued medical needs as well as her needs for school and clothing. I have developed a close relationship with her family, and they keep a dear photo album I made for Venia of photos of us. I am praying that the schooling she has is able to teach her to adapt to overcoming the disabilities caused from her injuries and that she will grow to know the loving Savior who saved her life and has a purpose for her!

On my second trip I remember a tough day with almost 200 patients, and we had one little boy whom we didn't think was going to make it. The little guy, Somy, was fighting for his life. He had been orphaned and was not being taken care of. We tried so hard to start an IV but he was so dehydrated that the only veins we could find on his head could not hold up.

It was so sad seeing the little boy so helpless, and we were growing hopeless as he laid almost lifeless. I held him cradled in my arms; my mother and I sang, "Jesus Loves Me" over little Somy as I tried to think of what to do. I finally figured out that he would drink my Propel water as I tripped some into his mouth with a syringe.

We really wanted to pay for him to go to the hospital, but the Haitians told us sadly his caretakers would pocket the money and never take him to the hospital. Instead my mother spent the rest of the day at the clinic holding Somy in her arms and giving him drips of Popel until his belly was full. We would later send his caretaker medications and more Propel packets but all we could do was pray for his life.

Somy

In the midst of this sad time a blessing came into the church in the form of a screaming woman. At first we didn't know why she was screaming, but we quickly learned she was about to deliver! I was so excited and draped a blanket on a broken table on the ground behind the church to prepare a place for her.

During the painful delivery, the mother and I became very close very fast as I got to support this 19 year old mother as she rested her head on my leg and squeezed my hand. I got to assist the Haitian doctor deliver a baby girl. When we were finished the doctor asked the mother what she wanted to name the baby. She answered, "Rachelle" after me!

Baby Rachel and her namesake

I was looking back at my blog from my first trip and God reminded me of how He was teaching me about humble sacrifice. I blogged this:

"The sacrifices we may have made to come here to Haiti (time, money, etc.) seem pale in comparison to the sacrifices the Haitian people make each day to live, many still praising and serving the Lord. Sacrifice: Haitian doctors have the ability to practice in the States or in their home part of Haiti yet they choose to work with NC Baptist Men serving in some of the poorest areas of Haiti. They even sponsor children for schooling from their own meager salaries. Sacrifice: I observed the children who so graciously shared so much when they have so little. **One such family came to me, all three children with chicken pox, and very high fevers 103-104 F. I immediately gave them Children's Tylenol. After they took their medication, I gave them my one last dumdum sucker. It amazed me that without even being asked each child passed around the sucker to each other. Never complaining but calmly waiting for their turn. We saw this throughout the day. We gave some of our left over PB & J sandwiches to the workers that helped us and a few hungry children. They began to break the sandwiches and divide them among the others."

This theme of sacrifice I would see carry over into my third trip to Haiti. Having had just finished my first intense semester of PA school and just finished finals I had one day to pack and prepare for my next trip to Haiti. I felt rushed in getting ready for this trip, but I knew God had provided for me to go, and I just prayed that God would use me and reveal Himself to me in new ways. God had already been using me even in the U.S. I had been able to speak to my church and to my work about Haiti, and I had been able to keep in touch with the Haitian workers from home, building relationships with them, learning more about their lives and continuing to lift them up in prayer and be support for them.

God opened my eyes and heart to seeing the struggles that the handicapped face in Haiti.

One lady, almost fully blinded by cataracts, guided to me by her son. It was so sad to see: this woman losing her sight due to something that can be fixed in the U.S. Just to think how much this woman is having to endure and go through just to make it each day. Living in Haiti is hard enough but being handicapped is unimaginable to me.

One of our coordinators shared about a woman at her clinic crippled from rheumatic fever; she usually crawls each week to clinic to get needed medications. It’s hard enough to walk miles and miles to clinic in the heat but to crawl and walk on your hands to clinic is astounding to me. This woman also brings her three children, one she papooses to her stomach and the other two follow close behind. This was unfathomable for me to hear, showing true dedication this woman has to life and for her children! Seeing them makes my struggles in life seem so meaningless compared to what she goes through each day.

During this last trip God taught me firsthand to see how the sick and handicapped truly feel and what they experience in Haiti. I had three days where I worked at the clinics, which was such a blessing, but on the third night I got severly sick.

I did not expect to get so sick and miss the last two clinic days. Yet when my control and comfort were taken from me and I was struck down by a violent illness, I had to rely on God to get me through. During that time of pain and suffering, I clinged to the praise song:

“I may be weak but Your Spirit’s strong in me, my flesh may fail, but my God You never will... I may be weak… but Your Spirit’s strong in me… my flesh may fail… but my God You NEVER will… all I am I surrender… give me faith to trust what You say, that Your good and Your love is great, I broken inside I give You my life…" - “Give Me Faith” by Elevation Worship

I am unsure what I actually had or how I got it but through it all God was so faithful and I was able to get better for the plane ride home. Although this was not at all what I had planned, God taught me new things during that time.

During my time of pain I tried to think about the sick patients in Haiti whom are outside, sick and lying on the dirt, no bathroom, no IV, no doctor. I tried to think of the little child whom I may have gotten this illness from and it broke my heart to think that even if we gave that child antibiotics, without IV fluids, he probably will not make it this night.

Earlier in the week I shared a devotion from the Bible verse from 2 Corinthians 12:9 “My grace is sufficient for thee for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” In this passage Paul is praying to God to remove the “thorn in his flesh” which was causing him constant pain. It was such a deep difficulty that Paul pleading with God to have his suffering taken away.

Although God did not remove the painful burden Paul had, He answered his prayer promising something more: His grace. God not only gave him His grace for this particular difficulty but promised His grace throughout life, in every trial. Though Paul would suffer, he was still able to exalt the name of Christ. When we are helpless God’s strength and power is even more evident and able to shine through. These struggles we face are opportunities to fulfill God’s purpose as a Christian, more than we ever could in a pain-free life.

This week I did not believe that this devotional would manifest so readily in my life, but God’s power was an answer to my prayers this week. I originally presented this devotional thinking only of the Haitian patience and what they endure in their daily struggles and pain, but God taught me first hand I too needed His grace this week. I know God is preparing me through these trips for the mission field. Once I complete school I hope to serve in medical missions more long term.

Giving away clothes and school supplies in the clinic tent

Katie: How can we best pray for our brothers and sisters in Haiti?

Since NCBM responded to help the people of Haiti following the earthquake, we have see 124,847 patients and had 1,519 salvations! Wow, praise God!! Please pray for this upcoming year that God may do even more amazing works through the missions organizations in Haiti and through our medical missions teams serving at the mobile medical clinics each week.
Please pray for Haitian staff that God will provide for their needs, give them encouragement, and strength to continue the tiring work week after week.
Please pray for the new government and leadership in Haiti, that they will have God's guidance in deciding how to best establish a better Haiti. To provide schooling, jobs, healthcare, housing, electricity, clean water, safety, etc. To address sanitation and water issues. To care for the growing number of orphans.
Pray for the doctors that they will be able to establish more long-term clinics.
Pray for my Haitian friends tha they will have opportunities for more schooling and for continued jobs.
When I went to Haiti, I experienced the closeness the people face to life and death. Death is an all too common occurrence in Haiti, so please, please pray for those who don't know the Lord. Many die daily from the small infant plagued by malnutrition and fever to the adult who dies suddenly from a heart attack.

Me and the Haitian staff

Dear 2012

2011-12-31T07:41:00.002-05:00

Dear 2012,

This year we welcome your arrival with New York. No waiting in the past to see how your first hour turns out before we take the leap.

But it's ok. I'm ready to welcome you, 2012. I think.

Your sister 2011's report card reads, "Not living up to potential."

She brought the change she promised but not the good kind.

Throughout 2011, the word I kept returning to was: faithful. Would I be faithful to the Lord even when life was less kind? Would God be true to the promise of His faithfulness?

Faithful.

Crossing into your realms, 2012, is an action of fear. An action of trust. A myriad of feelings. A juxtaposition of emotion. I am concerned about what you will bring.

Yet still I dare to hope. You bring with you new opportunities, renewed passions, and uncontainable excitement. While you may not look exactly like I would hope or anticipate, I step into you with confidence.

Hope.

That's what I feel when I look to you, 2012. I hope for many of the same things as last year: a job, a boy, a future. But, above all, I hope for the Lord. I hope to seek and to see Him in the good, the bad, and the ugly. Through tears of joy and tears of pain, I want to gaze into the eyes of my Abba Father.

I hope to dwell in the shelter of the Most High, to rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I hope to be calmed with His love and be delighted with His songs.

I hope. In Him.

And that is enough.

"Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in Him!'" Lamentations 3:21-24 NLT

With hope,
<>< Katie

A Year in Review: Books Style

2011-12-28T11:31:00.001-05:00

My goal for 2011 was to read 25 books. Well, I blew that out of the water and read 45 books. Since I figured you don't want to read 45 reviews, I'm posting the list of what I read, highlighting a few of my favorites, and the rest of the reviews can be found on my bookshelf (see the bottom of the blog). There are other books I started and didn't finish, but we'll save those for reviews if/when I finish them.

As always, I love to hear your suggestions.

Happy reading!

<>< Katie

1. The Greatest Salesman in the World by Og Mandino

2. Choosing to See by Mary Beth Chapman with Ellen Vaughn

3. How the García Girls Lost Their Accents by Julia Alvarez

4. Lifestories by Mark Hall with Tim Luke

5. Lipstick in Afghanistan by Roberta Ghately
This was good. It broke my heart, too.

6. Forgotten God by Francis Chan
Love it!

7. Navigating Rough Waters by Marcia Meier

8. Magic Hour by Kristin Hannah

9. A Loss for Words by Lou Ann Walker

10. Over the Edge by Brandilyn Collins
I loved it! Maybe it was my pre-existing interest in Lyme disease or how well the book is written, but I devoured it in three days! My only real criticism would be that during the most intense moments of the story, it seemed Jannie's Lyme symptoms were ignored or forgotten. The plot line is a lot of building and then a quick ending but it wasn't necessarily bad.

11. Friendship for Grown Ups by Lisa Whelchel

12. Too Busy Not to Pray by Bill Hybels

13. Saints at the River by Ron Rash

14. Dreaming in Chinese by Deborah Fallows

15. Crazy Love by Francis Chan

16. The Heavenly Man by Brother Yun

17. Heaven is For Real by Todd Burpo
Wow! An easy read that's worth your time. (My dad even read it).

18. The Atonement Child by Francine Rivers

19. Radical by David Platt
If you only read one book from the list, make it this one.

20. Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom

21. Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok

22. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

23. Outlive Your Life by Max Lucado

24. One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp
Read it. Really.

25. Closer than your Skin by Susan Hill

26. Eli the Good by Silas House

27. SHE by Rebecca St. James, Lynda Hunter Bjorklund

28. Letters from War by Mark Schultz with Travis Thrasher

29. Southern Fried Sushi by Jennifer Rogers Spinola
I loved this book! It had excellent hooks (especially towards the beginning) but it was predictable at times. The book is full of beautiful langauge and analogies, cultural aspects, and questions left unanswered for Sweet Potato Pie (book two of three to be released in the spring). Definitely a must read. I can't for the next book in the series, Like Sweet Potato Pie, to be released in March

30. Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay

31. God's Story; Your Story by Max Lucado

32. What Women Fear by Angie Smith
I read this book with a highlighter in my hand. I love the way Angie vulnerably shares her own heart and uses scripture to battle fear. It's definitely worth reading (more than once).

33. One Perfect Day by Lauraine Shelling

34. Perfect Match by Jodi Picoult

35. Crossing Oceans by Gina Holmes

36. Providence by Chris Coppernoll

37. Composing Amelia by Alison Strobel

38. Networking is a Contact Sport by Joe Sweeny

39. {W}hole by Lisa Whittle
I was almost in tears in the very beginning of the book. Lisa shows you her broken heart, her holes and invites you to journey with her to wholeness. I found myself in this book.

40. The Write Practice: 14 Prompts by Joe Bunting (eBook)

41. The Writer's Manifesto by Jeff Goins (eBook)

42. The Wedding Invitation by Alice J. Wisler

43. The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis

44. Words by Ginny Yttrup
A good book is any book that gets be writing. So far, this one has. (Not quite finished yet).

45. The Well by Mark Hall with Tim Luke
(ok, I really got this for Christmas but hope to finish it before Jan. 1).

Journey Around the World

2011-12-26T06:03:00.016-05:00

All too often people go on mission trips expecting to be taking Jesus to another country, another part of the world.

While there are areas of the world who have never been told the name of Jesus, short-term missionaries often arrive and realized He is already there.

The Lord is working worldwide, and we are oblivious.

I want to offer all of what I have and to tell His story.

In 2012 we're going to take a blog-series journey around the world. We're going to see God working worldwide through the eyes of our brothers and sisters abroad.

Every Monday for the next fifty-two weeks we're going to be headed to places like the Philippines, Zimbabwe, Guatemala, the Congo, India, Haiti, etc.

These worldwide journeys are coming in the form of guest posts, interviews, and photo diaries from people in a variety of stages of life. And I'm "sups excite" (that's "super excited") about it!

Are you willing to get on the plane with me?

Bon voyage y Dios le bendiga,
<>< Katie

PS: I can't do this without your help. I don't have fifty-two weeks worth of international contacts, so if you have ideas, I'd love to chat. Shoot me an email at KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com. Thanks!

PPS: This blog series needs a title. Any suggestions?

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2011-12-23T15:08:00.001-05:00

Sometime just prior to Halloween I heard my first Christmas carol of the season. It flipped a switch inside of me and I was ready for Christmas.

Of course, my gifts weren't purchased and I was pleasantly surprised to feel 40 degree days rather than the 4 below I was expecting, but all through November I waited anxiously for the snow and for the rest of the world to be ready to play Christmas songs.

Yet now it's the night before Christmas, the tree is decorated, the gifts are wrapped, the last of the cookies are in the oven, and the snow gently falling. But I am ready to put on the brakes.

Christmas isn't the most wonderful time of the year when you're unemployed. Rather, it's a brutal reminder of your lack of income, your need to pinch every penny, and your wreath decorating your parents' home rather than your apartment.

Giving up isn't an option, but hope is fleeting. Still I pray "Thy will be done" and "Send me." Still I have a nice collection of rejection letters.

I don't mean to be all doom and gloom, but, honestly, singing "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" is lying through my two front teeth.

I try not to linger too long in this world of overwhelming pessimism. Life is hard right now, and I'm sick of repeating myself about my failing job search. I'm well beyond ready to talk about something else.

So let's talk about some other people whose world may have also seemed overwhelmingly pessimistic.

Mary. She's pregnant and engaged but her fiancé isn't the father. I bet she got sick of trying to explain that.

Joseph. Someone else impregnated his betrothed. Well, isn't that a sticky situation?

Herod. Some baby is lobbying for his throne (or so he thinks).

The inn keeper. The "No vacancy" sign is illuminated yet still there's a very, very pregnant woman and her man on the front porch.

The sheep, oxen, and other stable animals. Um, hello, there's a baby in their breakfast bowl.

Jesus. God Himself is being shoved into the skin of an infant. Ouch.

The Christmas story is not exactly what the Jews were expecting. Nope, rewind. Christmas was absolutely nothing like what the Jews have been anticipating, the hope-filled stories they've been passing down for generations.

A king was supposed to come to rescue them. Fallen cities would be restored, a temple would be rebuilt, death would be destroyed, and peace truly would exist on earth.

The long-awaited Messiah... a baby. It didn't make sense.
Emmanuel--God with us---is sleeping in a dirty cow trough.

Yup, definitely not the most wonderful time of the year.

I'm so glad Mary, Joseph, Jesus, the shepherds, et al. didn't call it quits, didn't tell God how to do His job. Even in these less than ideal conditions, hope shone brighter than the star illuminating the sky.

Like the shepherds, I am willing to drop everything and sing praises to the One who deserves them.

Like the inn keeper, I offer all of what I have, even if it doesn't seem like much.

Like Joseph, I desire to be obedient even when it looks very different than I expected.

Like Mary, I want to be faithful to what God has asked of me

Like Jesus, I seek to do what needs to be done no matter how uncomfortable, how agonizing it may be.

And, unlike Herod, I am not going to take matters into my own hands.

Maybe the most wonderful time of the year doesn't mean a walking in a winter wonderland.

Maybe it means hope and anticipation for something new. It means finding peace and comfort in God's promise never to abandon us. It means joy even in life's less than comfortable moments. It means resting in the loving arms of the Father.

The most wonderful time of the year is any moment when you remember that Christ truly is Emmanuel, God with us, both now and forevermore.

Amen.

In the Arms of the Father

2011-12-21T08:28:00.007-05:00

The plane was preparing to land and the man across the aisle from me frantically fastened his toddler back into the window seat. The little girl began to whimper.

"Shh, shhhh, shhhh," the man said.

The girl whimpered more. The shushing wasn't working. Eventually the man unbuckled the child and pulled her into his lap.

The whimpering stopped. The child was no longer afraid. She was in her daddy's arms.

That's who I want to be: the little girl perfectly content my Heavenly Daddy's arms.

Even when I don't know where my next paycheck is coming from. Even when I don't know when I'll get to see my friends (read: family) again.

Are you willing to curl up in the lap of your Abba Father?

Even when finals are hard. Even when your kids are disobedient. Even when you're not sure if you'll be able to pay for the avocados to make the guacamole you promised. Even when life is hard.

"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" 1 John 3:1a NIV

I pray in marker.

Putting prayers on paper prevents me from getting distracted (raise your hand if you have the attention span of a butterfly when praying). It's childish and messy to use a thin-line Crayola on college-ruled paper. It is good.

Prayer is messy. Life is messy.

Like a child whose hands are more colorful than the paper, I stretch them up to my Daddy and let Him shush me with His perfect love.

"The LORD your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
He will quiet you with his love,
He will rejoice over you with singing.”
Zephaniah 3:17 NIV

Just as the daddy on the airplane cared for his little girl, all the more will my Heavenly Daddy care for me (and you).

Even through our childish fits about things not going our way. Even through our crying and panicking when there is nothing to fear.

Take a seat in His lap, stretch your marker-hands to the sky, let Him hold you, His child. Take peace and comfort in His love.

I do.

Love,
<>< Katie

Chinese Christmas

2011-12-19T08:11:00.011-05:00

Author's Note: If you followed Amber's and my China blog or talked to us about the trip for more than five seconds, you've probably already heard this story. It's our favorite to tell. In the spirit of Christmas, I'd like to tell it again. Even if you've already read/heard it, enjoy it again. Thanks! <>< Katie

There are exceptions to every rule. The exception to what we could and could not teach in China was more of a loophole. We were not to teach religion that was very clear. We were to teach the English language and American culture. In that was our loophole: Christmas, an American holiday.

One day we taught the secular version in the form of a Christmas party where Santa delivered Christmas presents, we ate candy canes, and we sang Christmas carols. Never have I worn sandals and kapris to a Christmas party before. Neither have I ever helped host a Christmas party in August. Welcome to China.

The following morning, Curt and Vernon were to teach the real Christmas story using a reader’s theater script.

First period had been dismissed when Vernon ran into our classroom, script in hand.

“We didn’t finish,” he said breathlessly. I was not sure if he had run from the hotel or from the classroom next door. “Will you finish it for us?”

Jori and I graciously accepted. The lesson plan we had stayed up all night revising had flopped first hour anyway. Jori revised our lesson again while I skim-read the script.

The sixteen-person class of college students and English teachers took their seats in the horse-shoe we had set up. I prayed silently and began asking them questions about where they’d left off. Jesus had been born and the magi were asking Herod where they could find this new king.

I summarized the remainder of the story being relatively brief since we had another lesson to teach but not so brief so as they could have missed the point. Then Jori and I welcomed questions. This was one of our more talkative classes but we were not in the least prepared for the forty-five minutes of questioning that followed. We ended up scrapping our entire planned lesson to answer their difficult questions.

What happened next?
Why did God choose Mary?
Was Jesus a king?
Joseph was king, right?
Where Mary and Joseph his real parents?
Jesus was killed, right?
So Jesus is a god? What do you mean there are three gods?
How do you believe something you don’t understand?
Does God still speak through dreams like He did to the magi?
Did Jesus talk to special people?
Was Jesus rich?
How do you (as Christians) make decisions?
What is faith?

We were flabbergasted. So many questions don’t have pat answers. While I spoke, Jori prayed. While Jori spoke, I prayed. We both quoted scripture and read directly from the New Testament. So many questions were directly answered by the Holy Spirit speaking through us.

As soon as the class left, Jori and I joined hands and prayed until tears filled our eyes. It was an incredibly humbling experience we were excited to share with our mission team at lunch.

But God wasn’t done.

Two periods later the same students were in a class co-taught by Amber and Juanita who had no knowledge of what happened earlier. They were teaching the five love languages and discussing the love language of giving and receiving gifts. Juanita held an empty gift back and asked the students what they most hoped would be in the bag. Money, food, books, and jewelry were the most common answers. One girl said she wished a Bible would be in the bag. Amber was immediately on the edge of her chair, anxious for the end of class.

Everyone on the mission team had been given a New Testament in Chinese and English to give away. Immediately, Amber knew hers was for this student, Monica. As soon as class was over, Amber approached Monica to ask if she was serious. Monica confirmed she was serious about wanting a Bible, so Amber handed her the New Testament. As per Chinese customs, Monica refused to accept the gift. However, Amber insisted, and Monica got misty-eyed when she accepted it with a huge smile. She was so grateful and so excited! Amber also connected Monica to a woman who attends the local church.

Once morning classes were over, we sought refuge in a classroom to wait out the rain. To Juanita, rain means that God is near. Before heading back to our hotel for lunch we were able to piece together the puzzle and allow God to reveal Himself to us. It had been a rough morning of team disunity yet still the Lord used it ways beyond what we ever imagined!

We were all grateful for loopholes and exceptions. We could not teach religion but we were permitted to answer all questions honestly. We were not permitted to distribute religious materials, but we were able to gift Bibles if the student directly asked for it. Above all, we were grateful for God’s prompting through the necessary loopholes and exceptions to be able to openly speak about Him even in communist China.

An Inspirational Gift Idea

2011-12-17T11:04:00.001-05:00

They wanted to watch Glee. I didn't have any good distractions.

My suitemates used to love watching Glee. It was not unusual to find twenty people in our apartment squished around the TV on Thursday night. One roommate even wrote her undergrad thesis on Glee.

My family watches Glee too and honestly I just can't stand the show. All of the adults act like children and makes me cranky.

Last night I was too comfortable in the family room with my notebook to move when they turned on the Christmas episode. So I half-watched it and half-wrote (and half-talked but that's apparently three halves).

For maybe the first time ever, I actually enjoyed it! I'm not itching to watch it again, but I don't regret the first time.

On national television the real Christmas story was read! My Jesus was called Lord and Savior!

On national television characters that are often selfish and immature realize that the reason for the season is not for gift giving. Instead, they seize opportunities to give back.

They serve at a homeless shelter, they ring the Salvation Army bells, and they give African pigs as gifts for Christmas.

Rather than the earrings she wanted, Finn gave Rachel a pig in Africa that will get fattened up all year long and then serve as food for an entire family. Rachel rejects the gift at first but then recognizes the beauty of it and names it Barbara after her inspiration grandmother.

I just checked the Compassion gift catalog, there's a pig you can give for Christmas! If that pig gives birth to about 16 piglets a year, that family will have a lifetime of income! Name it after your own inspirational grandmother.

That or an African drought survival kit.

A cow.

A "Survive to Age 5" kit.

Really, go check it out.

Give a gift in memory of someone inspirational. Give it to someone inspirational (aren't those people always the hardest to buy for?). Be inspirational and ask your relatives to give you a goat, chickens, and a blankets for Christmas.

Thank you for making a difference!
<>< Katie

PS: Grandma, I circled the safe and sanitary bathroom. But I won't name it.

Off the Couch

2011-12-15T01:37:00.003-05:00

Let's be honest: I'm awkwardly skinny.

You know those things in the gas station bathrooms with a height and weight chart based on body type? The "small build" for my height starts ten pounds above how much I weigh.

I promise, I'm not trying to lose weight. Really I would like to gain some. So, to combat this, I eat like a pig (minimum of three plates) and avoid the gym (no one likes a skinny kid on a treadmill).

But what if that was how I lived spiritually?

What if I sat around reading devotional books, blogs, and my Bible? What if I attended as many Bible studies and small groups as I could possibly fit into a single week? What if I went to every church service offered, listened to every online sermon I could find, and attended every Christian concert within two hours of here?

What if I ate, ate, ate spiritually?

Don't hear me saying those things are bad. Eating isn't just good, it's vital.

But what if I did no more than eat? What if I avoided the spiritual gym? Herein lies the problem.

What if I didn't reach out to those around me? What if I didn't seize missions opportunities to see what the Lord is doing in Jerusalem, Judea, and Samaria? What if I ignored the hurting, homeless, and hungry right here in my own city? What if I failed to show compassion, encouragement, and love to those I interact with?

Eating like a pig and avoiding the gym are physically unhealthy. Just as they are spiritually unhealthy.

Eating and exercising need to co-exist.

It's like breathing. You can't breathe in without also breathing out. You can't eat without also exercising.

There's a balance. It can be hard to find, but it is good.

Excuse me now why I get off my spiritual couch and head to a spiritual gym to work off that spiritual brownie I just inhaled.

<>< Katie

Missing Spanish

2011-12-12T01:50:00.000-05:00

This is a little weird to be confessing because I never dreamed these words would leave my mouth: I miss Spanish.

When I miss Spanish, I send a letter to Smile or Maria (my Compassion sisters in El Salvador and Columbia). They get a lot of letters.

When I miss Spanish, I pull out my Spanish-English Bible and pray to the God who understands espanglish.

When I miss Spanish, I read about what God is doing in paises hispanohablantes (Spanish-speaking countries).

When I miss Spanish, I seek out every opportunity to use it. From a simple facebook message to a real life conversation with a missionary confined by a language barrier.

The Spanish I miss is not a language learned in a classroom all the way through middle school, high school, and college. It's the ability to make a difference I learned from my community's food pantry, in a dusty school yard in Nicaragua, and through fútbol games in Guatemala.

Why do I confine the ability to make a difference to a language?

Why do I not miss serving the Lord in my mother tongue?

Why does my second language make me more bold? More so, why am I more reserved in English? After all, I don't grasp Spanish nearly as well as I do English which means the opportunity to make a complete fool of myself are all the more numerous.

Yet still I don't care.

"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you. And you will be My witnesses, telling people about Me everywhere—in Jerusalem, throughout Judea, in Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." Acts 1:8 NLT

Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.
That's locally, nationalwide, internationally, and to the ends of the earth.

God, I'm sick of being timid and shy in English. Give me the passion for Your people here in the United States like You've given me for hispanohablantes worldwide. Help me be Your witness right here in "Jerusalem."

<>< Katie

The Most Holy Place

2011-12-09T11:00:00.000-05:00

During Bible study one girl made the comment that she is always blown away by the tearing of the temple curtain. Another admitted she was unfamiliar with that aspect of the story of Jesus's death and resurrection.

In ancient Jewish temples, there were different areas where people were permitted or prohibited from traveling based on their religion, gender, and profession.

The Most Holy Place was the most-restrictive area of the temple where only the rabbi was allowed and only once a year on The Day of Atonement. This was so strict that when the rabbi entered The Most Holy Place to make the annual sacrifice, he was required to bathe himself, wear specific linen garments prior to entering and then remove them and re-bathe upon his departure.

The Most Holy Place was considered to be the very presence of God. (Leviticus 16)

When Christ breathed His final breath on the cross, the thick curtain separating The Most Holy Place from the rest of the tabernacle was torn into two.

"Then Jesus shouted out again, and He released His spirit. At that moment the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, rocks split apart, and tombs opened. The bodies of many godly men and women who had died were raised from the dead. They left the cemetery after Jesus’ resurrection, went into the holy city of Jerusalem, and appeared to many people." Matthew 27:50-53 NLT

"Then Jesus uttered another loud cry and breathed His last. And the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. When the Roman officer who stood facing Him saw how He had died, he exclaimed, 'This man truly was the Son of God!'” Mark 15:37-39 NLT

"By this time it was about noon, and darkness fell across the whole land until three o'clock. The light from the sun was gone. And suddenly, the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn down the middle. Then Jesus shouted, 'Father, I entrust My spirit into Your hands!' And with those words, He breathed His last breath." Luke 23:44-46 NLT

There's a lot going on. It's easy to miss. I mean, the Messiah is dead, hello! Roman soldiers are declaring Him the Son of God, saints are being raised, there's a huge earthquake, and it's dark in the middle of the afternoon. Who cares about some curtain way over in the temple tearing?

I do.

With the removal of the curtain, we are able to enter into the presence of the Lord. We are invited, welcomed, and encouraged go to before God directly. No longer do we need a mediator, a rabbi, a go-between.

As His beloved sons and daughters, we are ushered directly into the presence of our Abba Father. Our harsh words, our love, our fears, our praise, our frustrations are spoken straight to Him.

I tend to take this for granted. And today I am especially grateful for it. I am once again blown away by the significance of a temple curtain, an Old Testament regulation, ripped to shreds. For you. For me.

Excuse me now as I, a Gentile woman, enter into The Most Holy Place.

<>< Katie

Wacky Wednesday

2011-12-07T06:44:00.002-05:00

Author's Note: The following are quotations taken from real conversations heard, read, or encountered during the month of November. Enjoy!
<>< Katie

Scott: My wife told me we're going baby shopping this afternoon.
Bob: Didn't you already buy one of those?
Scott: Two. We bought two.
Bob: Make sure you save the receipt.
Dawn: Were they on sale?
Katie: Two for the price of one?
Bob: He's an extreme couponer!

Christina: Lady Gaga is a singer.
Dad: Lady Gaga is a nightmare.

Linnea: If my baby is born with a beard, we're switching it in the hospital!

Random Man to Son: You were crying in your apple juice. Do you know why you were crying in your apple juice? Because you don't like apple juice.
David: Book! [meaning Writer's Notebook where I keep Wacky Wednesday quotes]
Jocelyn: I like your boob! [She meant book]
David: Book!

Christina: What does the guy from "Sister Wives" put on facebook [for his relationship status]?

Katie: Shaun Groves just Tweeted, "Googling the lyrics to my own dadgum song."
Christina: Who's Lulu?
Katie: What?
Christina: Lulu liked his song? Who's Lulu?

Brent [To some giggly high school girls at a Peder Eide concert]: Go bug Peder. Seriously. It'll take some pressure off of Katie.

[Reading the monthly cell phone bill over dinner]
Dad: Someone spent three dollars downloading a video.
Mom: Wait a second, let me see that, that three dollars was the [Dad's number] guy.
Dad: Oops.
Katie: So what I'm hearing is that Laura's a minutes hog, Mom only texts Christina, Dad buys three dollar videos, and Katie wins with the least usage of everything.
Mom: Yeah, whatever.
Katie: Whatever? I haven't gotten a text message in three days.
Mom: That's because your inbox is full. You need a new phone.

"No matter what this world does, you're valuable. The Lord gives you help for the hurt and hope for the future." - Bob Lenz

[Taking a photo]
Katie: One, two, four.
Peder: Miss Katie, we need to work on your counting.
Katie: I was an English major.

[After I'd been on the phone for twenty minutes]
Grandma: I'm glad she took sign language in college!

[Putting my number in his phone]
Mark: L-A-U-R-A
Katie: Um... I spell my name with a K.

Mom: Here, wear this step stool!
Sparkle the cat: I just did. Why do I have to wear it again?

Laura: Katie! You'll be so proud of me! I played The Alphabet Game yesterday and WON! TWICE!
Katie: Was the other person driving?
Laura: There was no other person.

"Thank You that even in the wilderness You are Emmanuel--God with us." -Tracy

[On facebook]
Andy [to Elizabeth]: I love you!
Katie: I love you, too!
Andy: I think you misspelled two, Katie.
Katie: No, I only love you; not Elizabeth.
Andy: lol I completely saw that going the opposite direction! I love you too, Katie. And so does Elizabeth!
Katie: Success! I love you two and miss you, too!

Bob: Don't complain about being dress size one when I'm a sixteen!

Christina: How was Oscar's [the cat] surprise attack?
Mom: Well, the doctor cut off my wart today.

[Catch Phrase]
Linnea: The continent that--
Katie: Alaska!

Katie: With as little as I listen to the radio, when I know all the words to a song, it's overplayed.
[Laura burst out laughing]
Katie: Um... I didn't think what I said was that funny.
Laura: It wasn't! That... that bar we just... passed... had a... had a toilet... on the front porch!

Mark: I can walk and chew gum at the same time!

[via text]
Katie: I am at the coffee shop actually being productive on a Saturday for once!
Amber: Good for you
Katie: It's because you're not here.
Amber: Haha
Katie: But I am lonely.
Amber: That's why you're actually getting work done.

Jocelyn: They danced funnily.

Katie: Look at how these pants sit on me. If I didn't have my hips right here, they'd just fall right off. If something happened to my hips, I'd never be able to wear pants again... without suspenders.

Greg: We're going to catch a deer then put it in the back of the van and take it to the vet to kill it humanely.

[Mark was walking out of church with three empty cups]
Katie: Were you a little thirsty?
Mark: Yeah. Dehydrated.
Katie: You're going to have to go to the little boys' room.
Mark: No, I already--
Katie: You already went? In church?!
Mark: No. I'm wearing a diaper. [Beat] And you sat next to me. Does that make you uncomfortable?

Mom: Lies!
Laura: I wouldn't lie to you! You're my momma!
Katie: All the more reason to lie to her!

[At small group]
Dustin: No talking about Jesus! It's not allowed.
Katie: I'm not going to be able to come anymore.
Dustin: Wait, what? Why can't you come anymore?!
Katie: Because we can't talk about Jesus.
Dustin: Oh, ok.

Mom: Come here. And don't get excited because I'm asking you to follow me upstairs.
[Dad's face fell]
Mom: The balance ball is NOT a horizontal surface!

Charlie: I have this friend. I don't know if he's alive. I've been checking the obituaries but I haven't found him, so I'm going to call him. I figure if he picks up, that's a good sign.

Lauren: It's the same storyline just with different characters.
David: Twilight?
Drew: No, those are the same characters.

Katie: This shirt kind of makes me look fat.
Mom: Good! Wear it every day!

Hygienist: Do you floss?
Katie: Yes. Not like I should but yes. Especially after I eat popcorn.
Hygienist: Ok, every day at 3:00 you have to eat popcorn.
Katie: That I can do!

"Praise, not perfection. He wants my praise not my perfection." - Ann Voskamp

Losing Narnia

2011-12-05T10:28:00.008-05:00

At the end of Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Aslan tells Lucy and Edmund that they will never return to Narnia. Lucy is devastated. But then she confesses it's not actually Narnia she wants, it's Aslan. Aslan says he's in the other world too only by a different name. In fact, Lucy and Edmund only spent time in Narnia so that they could better recognize Aslan in the other world.

I understand Lucy's disappointment in never being able to return to Narnia. I just graduated from a university I love very much, and God has asked me (at least for now) to give it up. If you've a regular visitor, you are familiar with my moping. If you're new, there have been lots of tears. I'm sure the feeling is similar to Lucy's leaving Narnia for the final time.

What I miss about my university is the people--their love, their transparency, and their friendships. Yet, I also miss being able to see the Lord everywhere, to not be afraid to vulnerably ask for prayer ... in the caf, to lock myself in the prayer room for an hour or four for some privacy with God.

Yet maybe God put me there so that I would better learn to identify Him here (wherever "here" is this week). I learned some awesome things, saw Him work in miraculous ways, and felt His presence like I never have before. But I now have a responsibility to take what I learned, what I saw, and what I experienced and apply it elsewhere. God is not only to be found in a one stoplight town that shuts down half of its sewer when students go home during the summer.

God can be, has been, and is found here, too.

But sometimes I'm too busy mourning the loss of Narnia that I forget that Aslan is on the move right here with me in this world.

<>< Katie

PS: Have you taken a minute to give me your opinion about my blog? I really appreciate your feedback-both good and bad! Thanks!

Pray for China

2011-12-04T01:48:00.002-05:00

I'm so discouraged as I look back on my time in China and remember the HUGE need for the Lord that still exists in that country.

Sure, we saw some amazing things: hundreds of believers gathered freely to worship, a local church being gifted land and money to replace that which was usurped from them 30 years ago, the opportunity to give away Chinese-English New Testaments.

Yet there is so much work left to be done. So many people who have never even heard the name of Jesus.

When we went to China, they told us we would (in all likelihood) not see the fruits of our labor. We were not even planting seeds. Rather, we were plowing ground, removing rocks, and preparing for future seed planters.

We did not see many fruits of our labor. Yet He will. He will use our efforts, our energies, and our work. That's what we've prayed. We've seen it in small ways but the Lord is not done in China.

Can you do me a favor right now and pray for China? Pray that the Lord used and continues to use what we gave (all that we had). That He, not we, made a difference. Pray for our friends. Pray for the students. Pray for the Chinese believers and foreign believers. Pray for the unbelievers. Pray for the government. Pray for the Lord to be honored and praised in new ways.

He's God of that city, too.

Thank you!
<>< Katie

PS: If you want to be part of the ground plowing, send me an email and I'll hook you up with the organization we went through as volunteer English teachers.

Your Thoughts

2011-12-01T07:24:00.007-05:00

Hey, friends, the year is drawing to a close. Obviously. It's with great excitement that I look forward to next year. Mostly because I hope it brings a job offer. But I also look forward to a top secret blog series starting in January!

Before I announce what that will be, I want to hear about what you guys want to see here next year. This is your chance to tell me that you hate my background and wish I used more scripture in my posts. Be honest. I can take it.

Some guiding questions:
1. What have you liked? What have you disliked?
2. What has worked? What hasn't worked?
3. What do you want to see more of? What would you like to never see again?
4. What do you think of the layout? The content? The frequency?
5. Anything else you'd like to add but I haven't offered?

You're welcome to post in the comments section (anonymous posting is enabled) or email me at KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com.

Thanks!
<>< Katie

PS: In other news, I became a National Novel Writing Month winner yesterday by officially logging in 51,9523 words written in the month of November. My novel isn't quite done (is it ever?) and I've got a lot of revising to do but for the purpose of validation: completed!

Our Adoption

2011-11-29T01:43:00.003-05:00

Adoption is costly. Unfortunately, rescuing a child from poverty is not an easy task. It's costly financially and costly emotionally. But it's a price parents are willing to pay for their child(ren).

Likewise, our adoption was costly. In Ephesians Paul says, "God decided in advance to adopt us into His own family by bringing us to Himself through Jesus Christ. This is what He wanted to do, and it gave Him great pleasure." (Ephesians 1:6 NLT)

The price for our adoptions? Christ's death on the cross. Yet our Heavenly Father (and His Son) were willing to pay that price. More than willing.

For us.

<>< Katie

(Journal entry dated 10-10-11. Posted in honor of National Adoption Month)

Why Not Today?

2011-11-27T06:53:00.010-05:00

"You need a new phone."

I've been told that regularly for the last two years. They're right: I do need a new phone. When I started college the question was always, "Is that the new model?" Now that I've graduated, same phone in pocket, the question has become "When do you get an upgrade?"

They want me to make the leap into the twenty-first century and go from a dumb phone that only texts and calls to a smart phone that does everything except brush your teeth for you.

"With as much time as you spend on Facebook and Twitter, you're going to love it!"

That's what they all say. And they're probably right. I wish I could Tweet on the go, always had my email at my fingertips, and my text message inbox didn't remain at 98 percent full. The upgrade won't break my budget and the thirty dollars a month data plan is feasible.

Weeks of second-guessing and questioning led up to the moment when I signed the check. Knowing full well what I was doing, I handed it to Brent. He handed me a receipt.

Smile* was mine.

My check was not for thirty dollars. It was for thirty-eight. If I could feasibly pay thirty dollars a month just to have the internet with me wherever I went, how could I not spend thirty-eight dollars a month making sure a child had food?

For years I have been the primary letter writer for Maria, our family's sponsored child in Columbia. That means the misunderstanding about us having fourteen grandchildren... yeah, I'm culpable.

I knew someday I'd sponsor a child through Compassion. The question that ragged on my heart was: Why is that someday not today? I was out of excuses.

For a dollar and twenty-five cents a day, I can provide Smile with food. That's not even the cost of one cup of coffee. That's one small fries from McDonald's.

Let's be real: I don't have a lot of money. But I have enough. I'm not worrying about going hungry. Smile is.

Katie: God, why are you providing for me but not for Your children in third world countries? Is food not a necessity?
God: I am providing. Katie, I am providing you.

It's going to be a sacrifice. I want (borderline need) a new phone, but it's going to have to wait.

There's a little girl in El Salvador who needs an education. She needs medical care. She needs hope, esperanza. She needs to know someone cares. That someone is an unemployed hispanohablante in the US. That Someone is her Heavenly Father.

Why not today?
<>< Katie

*not her real name

PS: This is my story of how God led me to child sponsorship through Compassion. It might be reckless to commit to $38/month with no income. But I know the Lord and saw His hand in this decision long before I signed the check. I trust He will provide, and I've seen Him do so already. If that means I have to eat peanut butter and jelly for a week (I hate pbj) so Smile can eat rice and beans, so be it.

Thankful

2011-11-25T01:17:00.002-05:00

It's hard.

It's hard to be thankful when you don't know when your next paycheck is coming (or from where). It's hard to be thankful when your best friends are 900 miles away. It's hard to be thankful when your office is the most central location of your parents' home, when your internal clock has no idea what time of the year it is, or when you don't have any idea what your calendar will look like even a month from now. It's hard to be thankful; it's easy to host a pity party.

Every once in awhile, I let the tears roll. They're good. They're healthy. But once they come, they're hard to stop.

Like Job, I speak bluntly and harshly to the Lord. While it's nice to get those feelings out on paper, it doesn't usually solve much. (Did I just say that out loud?) I still don't know what's next. I'm still playing pin the tail on the donkey.

And still even here, I have a lot to be thankful for. Did I not wake up this morning breathing and refreshed? When I rolled over and put my feet on the floor, did they not stay there and hold my weight? (No peanut gallery comments, please). Was there not toothpaste in the tube, toilet paper on the roll, and soap in the dispenser? Is there food in the pantry and hot water in the shower? Do I have a jacket, shoes, and gasoline?

Have I not people who love and care about me? People who encourage me and pour into me? Scripture tucked away in my heart? Is the Lord not in this limbo, this barren desert, this hideous time in between?

Life is hard. Yet still there is so much to be thankful for even if they're the small, simple things we tend to take for granted. Even if it's the tears and the angry words. Even if it's the promise, "I will be with you always to the very end of the age" (See Matthew 28).

Even if nothing else goes correctly, that one reason alone is enough to bring thanksgiving to my lips again and again.

<>< Katie

More than a Day

2011-11-23T01:25:00.003-05:00

Almost a month ago a switch flipped inside of me. In 0.4 seconds I went from enjoying and appreciating fall to ready to deck the halls. I threatened to make Trick or Treaters pretend they were Christmas carolers before I gave them candy. (No wonder no one came to my house).

Of course, my passion and excitement for Christmastime has been met with resistance. Everyone wants Thanksgiving to have its day.

Hogwash, I say! Hogwash.

Thanksgiving is not a day, friends; it's a lifestyle!

Let thanksgiving have its day... today and every day!

Yes, I'm eating turkey, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin pie. Yes, I'm participating in the round-table discussion of what we're thankful for.

But it goes beyond today. Since the beginning of September I've been keeping a list of 1,000 things I am thankful for, inspired by Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts. I just passed thing number 500.

Should I not be further? Should I not be able to list 1,000 things each day for which I am thankful? Every breath, every minute...

Here are some highlights from my 1,000 gifts and counting.

I am thankful...
95. For working heat in my car.
100. For friends who are going to make sure I come out of limbo as a prayer warrior.
102. For Sunday lunch.
106. For hunger.
115. For the courage to blog about my struggles.
118. For Your appearance at rock bottom and the willingness to touch hearts of even the most broken people.
126. For the beautiful wet leaf on my sunroof.
149. For self-imported Chinese tea.
160. For warm wash cloths and the reminder You sent me through it.
188. For friends all across the country willing to let me stay with them.
190. For the reminder of what You've done and how You've been faithful.
205. For music videos that leave me with a "bowl full of tears."
208. That it somehow worked to have a queen mattress, king sheets, a twin comforter, and a full quilt.
225. For laughter so hard I can barely breathe.
236. For fifty hugs in eight hours.
245. For a busy schedule.
254. For the reminder that just because our circumstances aren't great doesn't mean You don't love us and we're not in Your will.
274. For peanut butter and chocolate covered pretzels.
280. For encouraging, not awkward, networking meetings.
291. For the ability to contact people around the world with the click of a button.
321. For the beautiful moment we shared during communion and the reminder that I am not worthy yet You grant me grace.
338. For Job who spoke harsh words to You long before I ever did.
342. For fast email responses. (And really email responses in general).
360. That the question is, "How much will I pay for gas?" Not "Will I find gas?" or "Can I afford gas?"
362. For esperar--hope, waiting
372. For a lifestyle of Thanksgiving rather than a day or a month.
387. For nearly-coffee-spewing laughter.
388. For the reminder that You want to fill my cup until it overflows (without cracks)
399. For memories so sweet.
427. For the hair dryer.
437. For Starbucks gift cards.
453. For the heart You've given me for missions and Your children worldwide.
460. For evenings of reading by the fire curled up in a blanket.
465. For the ability to proclaim, "If it's You, I'm in!" and both mean and believe it. To trust it.
474. For online ASL dictionaries.
488. For forgiveness when I sing happy birthday to the wrong person.

What Would You Write?

2011-11-21T01:08:00.002-05:00

Write what you know.

That's what writers are always told. I'm not good at following that advice. I always seem to start writing stories that I have no authority to write, horrors I can barely imagine.

What do I know? I know what it's like to go to a college prep school. I know what it's like to live with seven other girls in a four-bedroom apartment. I know what it's like to attend fifteen concerts by the same artist.

What I know is boring, at least to me.

Who wants to read a fictional work based on the reality of being an unemployed recent grad? Not me, that's for sure.

But it got me thinking: if I were the author who got my fictional character into this mess, how would I get her out?

Would I turn one of her cold-calling strangers turn into a job offer? (In this economy?)

Would I send a knight in shining armor to whisk her away to marital bliss? (That sounds pleasant, cheesy, and unrealistic)

Would I have her blog discovered and novel picked up by Huge Name Publishing House and it become a best seller? (I'm just dreaming all possibilities here)

Would I send her to graduate school, the international mission field, or a homeless shelter?

Would I make her sulk and wait? Wonder and hope? Would I teach her about trust and obedience?

I am not the Author of this life. And I guess that's a good thing since none of these options seem good and viable at the moment.

I am the protagonist in this lifestory, trusting the Author's plan. Unlike me, He doesn't change His mind, He doesn't kill characters for plot excitement, and He definitely doesn't abandon half-finished stories.

And that, my friends, brings me hope.

<>< Katie

The Cup

2011-11-19T02:48:00.022-05:00

Something crunches beneath my tires as I parallel park outside of a Christian bookstore. Coming around to pay the meter, I see the crunching came from what used to be a coffee cup that is now smashed to smithereens. Clearly, I was not the first one to run it over.

"You alone hold my broken cup."

I can't help but smile at the irony of the moment. Over coffee a few days before, I had a conversation about (among other things) parking meters, Christian books, and cracked cups.

"You alone hold my broken cup. My heart's so dusty and dry."

Two days earlier I stood in the audience and listened to singer/songwriter Peder Eide talk about cracked cups.

We all have cups. God pours out love, affirmation, encouragement intending to fill our cup until it overflows. Yet fear, abandonment, rejection, etc. have cracked our cups. Some cracks are bigger than others yet still the goodness of God leaks out and the cup never overflows. This is not what God intended.

"I'll ache 'til You make me whole."

As an audience, we extended our hand-cups into the air, handing them to our Abba Father like a small child hands a broken object to a parent. Individually we identified a specific crack and asked Him to fix it.

"Abba, this belongs to You."

I had just spent the last hour closely examining the multiple cracks in my cup. The cracks that are causing fast leaks and those that are slower. The causes of the cracks and the repercussions of them. The need for the Lord to repair the cracks and fill my cup.

"Abba, this belongs to You. This belongs to You, Abba Father."

Mending takes time, especially when your cup has been run over... twice. Especially when the cause of the cracks lead to multiple, "Oh, Honey"s. Yet when you, when I, lift our broken cups before the Lord, He graciously repairs them and pours into them until they are overflowing. He fills them until it's not the former cracks or even the cup itself that can be seen but rather His love pouring over the edges.

"I thirst for You, Jesus, fill me up!"

<>< Katie

Lyrics from "Make Me Whole" and "Abba, I Belong to You" by Peder Eide.

Quality Time

2011-11-17T07:00:00.001-05:00

As my week back home in Baptist Country was drawing to a close, I pondered who I had gotten to see for a substantial amount of time and who I wanted to spend more time with.

The friends I am closest to, naturally, fit into the "I want more time!" category. But I began to wonder, how much more time did I want? If life and other obligations were no object, how much time would be sufficient with them?

Forever.

I wanted to stay in their apartment forever. I wanted to sit in their offices and chat days away. I wanted to never ever leave again.

Of course, an infinite amount of time with my friends would be fun.

But I decided that's what kind of relationship I want with the Lord. I want to lock myself in the prayer room and never come out. I want to sit at His feet and never move. I want to rest on the chest of my Abba Father.

Forever.

<>< Katie

Esperanza

2011-11-15T07:36:00.005-05:00

Ann Voskamp wrote this beautiful blog post entitled "When You Are in Desperate Need of Hope" contrasting an Ecuadorian girl named Lidia waiting for a sponsor through Compassion and the joy of finally getting one. She wrote about being picked by hope.

Esperanza, she sprinkles in. The word hope, coming from the verb esperar.

Esperar, the Spanish verb for to hope.

Esperar, the Spanish verb for to wait.

I remember learning esperar, struggling to spell it and struggling to remember both of its meanings. They seemed like a weird combination.

Then "Esperanza" became the name belonging to the protagonist of my thesis. (The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros) Daily I wrote about Esperanza and her multicultural struggling. I know all about Esperanza's struggle with her name: too many letters, sadness, waiting.

Yet today, "esperar" is hope and, in it, waiting.

To hope for something means you're waiting for it. Nine years after first learning the word, the light bulb clicked.

I remember some of my current favorite verses:

"Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: the faithful love of the Lord never ends. His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness. His mercies begin anew each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritance; therefore I will hope in Him!'" Lamentations 3:21-24 NLT

What if I took it upon myself to translate that word differently? (If it makes you feel better, I looked it up in Hebrew: yachal, it also has the connotation of "waiting" that the word "hope" loses in English).

"Yet I still dare to WAIT when I remember this: the faithful love of the Lord never ends. His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness. His mercies begin anew each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritance; therefore I will WAIT in Him." Lamentations 3:21-24 (emphasis mine)

The same promise. A new spin.

Hopeful yet waiting.
Hopeful in His; waiting on (and in) Him.

That's what I want. Nothing else.

<>< Katie

Reverse Trick or Treat

2011-11-13T06:36:00.003-05:00

It was a few days after Halloween and I was driving across the country.

Sixteen hours. Alone.

I was constantly searching for cheap(er) gas, only stopping at fast food restaurants where I had coupons, and paying half of my life savings to the state of West Virginia in tolls.

I got cranky fast. At two dollars a pop, those tolls were adding up fast. It cost me more to drive through West Virginia than I spent on food, by the way.

But then I got an idea.

At the next toll booth, I pleasantly greeted the man. What an awful job he has. I handed him a five dollar bill. He gave me my change. I took it and extended my hand with a Baby Ruth in it.

"Happy Halloween," I said. He laughed. Not a chuckle, not a smirk, not a courteous "that was a joke attempt that wasn't really funny." No, a full-belly laugh.

The gate went up, I wished him a good day and drove off. Maybe his day really was good. After all, he had a fun size Baby Ruth to munch on until the next driver came.

But my day was good. I had "miles to go before I sleep and miles to go before I sleep" but I also had his laughter bottled up in my memory.

All it took was a piece of candy and a smile. It didn't hurt me a bit.

I've heard it said it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile. The huge bag of Trick or Treat candy was sitting in my passenger seat just waiting, begging to be eaten (maybe that's why I spent so little on food). I don't even like Baby Ruth. But from this guy's laugh, he does.

Make a difference today. It doesn't hurt much. Laughter overrides cranky.

<>< Katie

News from Brazil and Ecuador

2011-11-11T11:11:00.012-05:00

Toddler. Emergency neurosurgery. Third world country.

Those six words make me shudder. This wasn't some heart-breaking story from a world away, this was Jenny's son Ethan. (You may know Jennifer Rogers Spinola as the author of Southern Fried Sushi... if you don't yet, you need to!)

As some of the aforementioned words in English and Portuguese started popping up on my facebook and blog dashboard, I tried to piece together what was happening and how I could best pray for the Spinola family. Jenny wrote this beautiful post detailing their terrifying experience.

Now, a week later, this popped up on my newsfeed: The CT scan was clear! Followed by another beautiful post about the power of our Creator!

Third world country. Compassion International.

Those five words excite me!

Right NOW there's a team of Compassion Bloggers visiting Ecuador to see what the Lord is doing there through Compassion International. They're telling stories of hope in a poverty-striken town that will break your heart. They're making a photo dictionary of words like "kitchen" and "closet" in Ecuador. It's hard. It's right. It's good. Read it.

National Novel Writing Month

NaNoWriMo... Those words make my brain hurt. I hit 17,000 words tonight. Several thousand of them were puked out in the last four hours or so. That and it's 1am. I'm going to bed, friends. Happy 11-11-11!

But don't forget to check out Jenny's blog and the Compassion bloggers! You won't regret it!

Peace!

<>< K

Where to Start?

2011-11-09T03:46:00.004-05:00

"The first sentence is always the most difficult."

That's the post I saw on Twitter from my blogger-friend, Ashley. Her statement is true: the first sentence is the most difficult to write. It's also the most important.

Katie: I never write it first.
Ashley: What do you write first? I tried the last chapter one time. Failed miserably.
Katie: Somewhere. Usually towards the beginning.

This conversation made me ponder my own writing habits and wonder about yours. So, in the spirit of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo): where do you start when you're writing?

It doesn't necessarily have to be a novel. It could be a blog post, a poem, or a song. Where do you start?

Like I told Ashley, I start somewhere towards the beginning but not usually the first line. The first line is probably the most important line of the novel (or post). I've heard of people who collect first lines. The first line is vital, so why start with something so important?

I start later. I have a temporary first line, write the brunt of the piece, and then adjust the first line to be the stunning opening line it should be. I don't think I write good first lines (except in that one post from Philly last November; that was a killer first line, if I may say so).

I like backstory. I like to set the scene. I don't like to jump right in and make the reader try to tread water while he/she is figuring out how deep the lake is and who else is in it. I write like I think sharks should come with big huge arrows in the sky pointing to them. But, I have been told that the first line is an awful place for backstory. What are your thoughts?

Ashley mentioned she tried starting at the end once. That's what I have in my NaNoWriMo novel: the beginning (sans opening line) and the end. Now I'm sitting here like a child on Christmas as my parents open their gifts from me and I'm telling them what it is before the paper is off.

I'll ask it again: where do you start? And why?

I guess it doesn't matter much as long as you start somewhere.

Happy writing,
<>< Katie

Communion

2011-11-07T06:45:00.002-05:00

I was a little frazzled as I headed towards the front of church for communion. Our self-guided section turned into a mob rather than a line. By the time we half-organized ourselves, I was ready for body, blood, seat. That fast.

I stepped to the front, held my hands out for the wafer, and looked up into the face of our senior pastor. Pastor Mike stopped and looked back at me.

"They're letting everybody in today!" He teased.

It's a joke I've heard many times over the last few years, but it still catches me off-guard every time. I chuckle but my first thought is always, "This is a church; we should be letting everybody in."

To be confronted with this joke at the communion table helped me remember that I am not worthy to even be let in the door much less invited to approach the table of grace or enjoy the sweet taste of forgiveness. This isn't a weekly ritual we do even when the lines turn into mobs... it's a beautiful gift purchased by the ultimate sacrifice.

Pastor Mike placed the wafer in my hand. "Body of our Lord," he said.

In my hands I clutched the tangible reminder of that gift, that forgiveness, that perfect love that I am not worthy of. The body of Christ given for me. The body of our Lord--Pastor Mike's and mine. We may not always agree yet share a common goal: to serve and honor Him. Along with Christians worldwide, we share hope, faith, and forgiveness through Christ. He's our Lord.

"It's good to see you," he said, smacking me playfully in the arm.

I was out of town for the entire month of October. He noticed. Thousands of members and he noticed my absence. Billions of people on earth yet when we haven't spent quality time with the Lord, He notices. Billions of people on earth and when we sit at His feet, He's glad to see us.

I ate the bread, drank the wine, and got lost on my way back to my seat. Both literally among the sea of people and pews but also figuratively in the beauty of that moment I shared with the Lord.

Thankful for grace,
<>< Katie

Who are the Poor?

2011-11-04T10:05:00.000-04:00

For the last week I have been dog-sitting in a very nice neighborhood. Day after day, I walk the dog down the freshy-swept street looking at the fancy homes, the manicured lawns, and expensive cars. Part of me wonders if I could ever afford to live here.

Financially, it's a lofty goal for this unemployed recent grad. That's not what I meant.

I mean, could I afford to live here

when some live here?

Can I live here

having been here?

The Bible doesn't say "Don't live in a nice house"... but it does say "give everything you have to the poor."

But who are the poor?

Are the poor the children in a hogar in Guatemala who play with one-armed Barbies but have the joy of the Lord in their hearts and it shows on their faces?

Are the poor the people paying taxes on their 4,000 square-foot homes who are on the brink of divorce, have disrespectful children, and hire someone else to pick up their dog poop?

Part of me says, no way, I will never live in a classy neighborhood. (Especially based on those stereotypes). I've seen too much poverty to be comfortable in a large, neat home.

Perhaps that is true. For just me and the dog, this four-bedroom, three-bath home is way too big. But what if I had a husband and children?

Through trial and error, I have learned some aspects of third-world ministry. I have been to places where hand sanitizer and toilet paper are luxuries. The girls in the photo above aren't just children worlds away with stories that would break your heart. We know each others' names, they are my sisters, and they almost knocked me fifteen feet off that ledge ten seconds after that photo was taken when they tried to all see it simultaneously.

Yet, as I walk through this nice neighborhood and wonder about the people inside of the homes, I wonder about them and their lives. Do they know their neighbors? Do they realize there's more to life than fnancial success? Most importantly, do they know that God loves them?

How can I walk my dog down this street

knowing stray dogs roam down this street?

Easy. On both streets there are people that have never heard the name of Jesus.

How can I limit ministry to the without-money poor without including the without-Jesus poor?

Third world ministry may be teaching people how to brush their teeth, handing out bracelets, and fitting them with eye glasses. It can be loving them, making a fool of yourself, and living the gospel.

Is that not also what is the first world also needs? Love, humor, and (most importantly) Jesus.

First world ministry is greeting neighbors as you pass them on the street, hand-delivering a warm breakfast to the neighbor's housesitter and inviting her over for dinner, or cutting someone else's grass because they're having a busy week. It can be releasing a child from poverty through child sponsorship and telling others about your Fridge Kid. It's loving the way Christ commands us and living the gospel.

He is the God of this city

just as He is of this one.

Can I afford it?

How can I NOT?

The Great Commission commands us to GO and make disciples of ALL nations (Matthew 28:19, emphasis mine). I like to GO to another nation; it has become comfortable to me. But GO can also mean GO to the other side of the shurbery.

No matter where you live, GO and be the missionary you were called to be (Acts 1:8).

It starts with me.

<>< Katie

Wacky Wednesday

2011-11-02T01:32:00.005-04:00

Author's Note: The following come from real conversations. They are the crazy, funny, or profound things heard in everyday, sober conversation or discovered in a book. If you ever hear a great/weird conversation, please feel free to send it to me. Who knows, it may be featured in a Wacky Wednesday! <>< Katie

Katie: I'm going to write that down for Wacky Wednesday.
Jennifer: No! You have to wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow is Wednesday.
Katie: No, no, no Wacky Wednesday is only the first Wednesday of the month.
Jennifer: Well, tomorrow is the first Wednesday of the month you've been with me!

Allyson: I don't know why "bewares" camed out.

Dad: Do you need any help with anything before I go to bed?
Uncle Bill: You could brush my teeth for me or take out my contacts. I'll just lay there.
Dad: I'm going to hurt you in the morning.

Katie: What's the weather like outside?
Elizabeth: It's like medium.

Mom: Ooooh! Do these stoplights tweet like the ones in Baptist Country? Oh, no, those are real birds.

Katie: You've got candy all over your face.
Amy: Your face is candy!

Alex: You have to assert your manhood.
Jennifer: I don't have any manhood to search.

Dad: Do you growl at them sometimes?
Laura: [Sheepishly] Yeah. [Proudly] I even bark at them sometimes!

Laura: The capital of Honduras is To-gucci-golf-ball.

"I don't think I'm a failure because I have had fears, and I certainly don't think that it is a requirement for Christians to forgo fear in order to be good followers of Christ. I believe fear is the natural response to the question satan whispered, and I find that every day I have to adjust my footing consciously to move toward Jesus." - Angie Smith, What Women Fear, 4

Sara: You [Katie] only have good ideas today. And on Wacky Wednesday.

Alex: Katie, what would you say are Jennifer's top three qualities?
Jennifer: You can't just limit it to three; I have so many. Humility is one of them.

[SC, 16, counting on her fingers]
Katie: Do you need me to take off my shoes?
SC: Huh?
[explained]
SC: But why did she make it sound like an insult?

Girl, 13: There are no cows here, so--!

Amy: What is that?
Katie: It's a flower on the top of the mountain. It was my attempt at being artsy. Apparently I'm not as good as Allyson.
Amy: No, I like it. I was just... confused.

Boy, 11: You can stay here and you won't even have to fold laundry!

Jennifer: I like your ring. Who made it for you? [She had]
Katie: I don't know. Some stranger.
Jennifer: Stranger than who?
Katie: Allyson.
Allyson: What?

Allyson: Wait! Was this morning Wednesday?

"The world is not going to teach us how to love God; only God can do that." - Angie Smith, What Women Fear, 43

David: The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker.
Rebekah: That's what little girls are made of!

Jennifer: My right foot writes well.

Carson: I don't really understand why girls like making their heads look like horse butts.
Girls: What?!
Carson: Ponytails. Where is a pony's tail? The butt.

Mother: We could cage him [the dog].
Son: We could cage Brother.

Rebekah: Like you licking Nikki?
Katie: NO!!
Rebekah: Sorry, Nikki licking you?

Mark: You [Katie] take the left over brownies. They'll look better on you than they will one me.

Katie: Ok, I'm going to leave it blank.
Alex: Go to the bank.
Jennifer: Why are you going to the bank?! It's 11pm. They're closed.

Katie: I have helicopter parents: they hover but they don't choke.

Allyson: I don't think we were acting too strange.
Katie: We were pretty normal for us but strange for most people.
Allyson [light bulb]: That was it!

Nikki: MW did it, and if he can do it then so can I, maybe even teach at a better university.
Katie: Woah, woah, woah! First, did you just compare yourself to All Star English Major MW? Second, did you just dis our alma mater?

"Faith for my deliverance is not faith in God. Faith means, whether I am visibly delivered or not, I will stick to my belief that God is love. There are some things only learned from a fiery furnace." - Oswald Chambers in Run Today's Race

Allyson: Are you going to get your haircut?
Jennifer: I don't know where.
Allyson: Tah-tay-tow?

Neal: Are you blogging?
Katie: Are you making fun of me?
Neal: I don't make fun of people.
Katie: Neither do I.
Neal: You're not sarcastic either.

Sarah: He's not Slut Bucket; he's Garret the Ferret.
Rebekah: He's not a rodent!
Sarah: He's more of a rodent than a slut.
Garret: Hey, now!

Allyson: Katie's just so cool. She has good body language, too, and her thinking is so... inter... intermaculate. It's real cool. And, Katie, I like her walk.

"We don't just want to get them out of the dumpsite; we want to get the dumpsite out of their hearts." - Tania Meza

Luch With Christ

2011-10-31T01:05:00.003-04:00

My phone alarm rang: luch with Christ.

Yeah, that was really supposed to read "Lunch with Christa." Someone must have been in a hurry.

Yet that someone can't help but laugh at the irony. "Luchar" is a Spanish verb which means "to fight." While "Luch" isn't actually a word, it's similar enough.

Fight with Christ: 12:10.

As much as I hate to admit it, I fight with Christ. And it's more than just at 12:10.

<>< Katie
In other news, Happy Reformation Day!

And Happy Deep-Breath Day... NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow and I'm participating for the first time. The idea is that you write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November. So, I apologize if I'm more sparse on your dashboard, but "every word on your blog is one less word in your novel" (I forget who said that, but it wasn't me).

Also, I'm thinking about making some changes on my blog in the future, and I would love to hear your feedback. What do you want to see more of? Less of? What haven't I done that you'd like to see? What do you never want to see again? You can post your feedback in the comments or email me at KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com. I promise, I won't hate you for being honest (at least not forever).

Flowers

2011-10-29T15:31:00.001-04:00

Right now I'm participating in an online bookclub through Bloom (in)courage and we're reading What Women Fear by Angie Smith.

I've been reading the chapter in the book, watching the corresponding video, and participating in discussion. Yesterday was Chapter 7: Fear of Not Being Significant.

In the video, co-host Jessica Turner told a story she heard from a woman named Roseann.

Roseann's mentor, Miss Helen, had passed away and in visiting the gravesite, Roseann noticed her grave stone had cracked and there wasn't even a place to put flowers. Of course, she demanded the gravestone be fixed. As for the flowers, she realized that Miss Helen loved the Lord and she now has flowers all over the world.

I have recently started collecting/ taking photos of flowers around the world and sticking scripture on them with the intent to hang them in my bathroom (when I have a bathroom). I thought it was a cool idea to be reminded of God's truths but also of His people around the world.

But now it has become more than that. I want to love the Lord to the point where it shows no matter where I go. I want to leave a glimpse of the Father in myself as flowers around the world. As I collect international flowers, I also want to leave flowers for the Lord.

Blooming,
<>< Katie

Anyone Can Cook

2011-10-27T02:41:00.002-04:00

I had everything for a sandwich out on the counter when I decided I wasn't in the mood for salami. I decided to prove to myself (and the world) that I can cook!

"Anyone can cook," as Gusteau in Ratatouille says.

I have never met Gusteau, as evidenced by his statement that anyone can cook. I think I fall in the category Remy argues, "Anyone can cook but that doesn't mean anyone should!"

I decided on a very basic meal and assembled my ingredients. I was in luck! We had everything.

So I began, step by step to assemble my--never mind, I'm not telling you what I didn't actually make.

It's not that I didn't want lunch. It's not that I didn't how to make lunch. It's not that I couldn't make lunch. No, it was the thoughts and questions rolling around in the back of my head.

How do I know when it's done? When it looks like you'll eat it. But what if it isn't done all of the way? What if I get food poisoning and die? It's not working. This isn't what it's supposed to look like. I did something wrong. This isn't safe.

So I changed what I was making. Bonus points for thinking on my feet, right? Yet the questions and doubts continued.

This doesn't look right. Will I smell it if it starts burning? What if I burn the house down? Where is the fire extinguisher? Is it supposed to do that? I don't think this is right. I'm not eating this.

I gave up. I turned off the stove, poured my epic fail into a garbage bag, and took it out to the street. Salami sandwich it would be.

You better learn to like P, B, and J because that's what you'll be eating for the rest of your life. Your kids will be the one with the mom who can't cook. You better make a lot of money so you can afford to eat out regularly because PBJ and frozen lasagnas are going to get old fast. Gusteau lied.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to smack something in frustration or cry in embarrassment. Maybe both.

The kitchen was littered with the dishes from my lunch fail and I sat at the table pouting, salami sandwich on my plate.

Katie.
Not in the mood, God.
Why are you listening to the enemies lies?
You mean the truths?
They're lies. You can cook.
Do you not smell that? Were you not watching me make a mess?
You are a mess. But a beautiful mess. Do you want to know what you did wrong?
I know what I did wrong: I tried to cook.
You didn't wait. Everything you did--except switching "recipes" in the middle--was correct. But you didn't wait. Cooking takes time. Learning to cook takes time.
If You're going to tell me it's like fishing, I don't want to hear it. Not a fisherman, fisherwoman nor a fisher-of-women. Sorry.
Why are you swallowing the lies? Toss them out like you did that half-cooked meal. Be done with them. All of them.

A Real Person

2011-10-25T06:31:00.006-04:00

Eight twenty-somethings sat squished around a card table. It has become a Monday night tradition.

Although I sit among them with minimal elbow space, I feel far away. Six of them are in graduate school together taking the conversation to a level where I spend more time trying to find the verb in the sentence than actually comprehending it. The other two have jobs. Real jobs, careers. They make money, own homes, and cook real meals.

There I am. Lost among friends. It's not their fault. Does that mean it's my fault?

My fault I didn't get into grad school? My fault I don't have a job? My fault I'm stuck in limbo? My fault that sometimes I wear work clothes just so I can feel like a real person?

Even putting those words on paper... er... the screen seems ridiculous. But it's very real. Real enough to bring tears to my eyes... again.

Let's just be real: job searching sucks. (Although, I have a new appreciation for rejection letter because it means the company loves you enough to tell you they don't want you rather than just letting you guess).

People always ask me what I'm called to do, if I feel led to a certain job or company, etc. What the heck does that even mean?

I am called to do the same thing every one else is called to do: to love and serve the Lord wherever He puts us.

For six of my Monday dinner buddies that means serving Him through divinity school. For the other two, it means honoring Him in their respective careers.

For me, it means trusting in the unknown. It means looking hopefully towards the future (whatever that is) but also finding a way to enjoy today. It means adding "free Monday dinner and enjoyable socialization time" to my list of 1,000 gifts. It means knowing this time in between isn't a wasteland. It means trusting that I haven't been deserted in this desert.

It means sometimes I get to write mopey posts because, in order to be a real person, I need to be real about my struggles and fears. I don't have it all together. I don't know what I'm going to be if I grow up. I don't know what tomorrow looks like.

But I do know One who will accompany me tomorrow.

Because He is faithful.

"Yet still I dare to hope when I remember this: the faithful love of the Lord never ends. His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness. His mercies begin a new each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritence' therefore I will hope in Him." Lamentations 3:21-24

Keeping it real,
<>< Katie

Lukewarm

2011-10-22T06:31:00.001-04:00

Yet I am lukewarm.

(This is post is in response to my Thursday declaration to never want to be lukewarm).

In the book Crazy Love author Francis Chan devotes an entire chapter to profiling lukewarm people.

Here are my interpretations of Chan's points:
1. They do what is expected of them, what "good Christians" do.
2. They tithe when it's comfortable.
3. They do what is popular rather than what is right.
4. They aren't sorry for their sin; they are sorry for the repercussions of it.
5. Their hearts are moved by radical stories yet their feet remain stationary.
6. Fear of rejection keeps them from sharing their faith with everyday people.
7. They compare themselves to the secular world.
8. They only let Him be part of their lives rather than their whole life.
9. They love Him but not with their whole heart, soul, and strength.
10. They love themselves more than they love others.
11. They are limited in how they serve others, holding time, money, and energy limits.
12. They focus more on everyday life than eternal life.
13. They're thankful for their life luxuries and do not consider giving everything to the poor.
14. They do only the minimum.
15. They're concerned with safety rather than being willing to risk and sacrifice for the Lord.
16. They are content, secure.
17. They structure their lives so they don't have to live by faith.
18. They don't live drastically differently from non-Christians.

Ouch!

I guess I am lukewarm.

I do what is expected of me out of obligation not out of passion for the Lord. I do the "good Christian" things but not always because I want to. It's hard to throw a dollar, ten dollars, twenty dollars, fifty dollars in the offering plate when there's nothing headed into the wallet. It's hard to financially support my friends' mission trips when I'm unemployed. I am a crowd follower. I apologize, repeat the offense, and apologize again... for getting caught. Stories touch my heart, blogs change my life yet I don't change my actions...

I could go on.

Is there something (or somethings) on that list that punch you in the gut?

But what are you going to do about it?

It starts with me.

Hot, not lukewarm,
<>< Katie

Stable

2011-10-20T10:29:00.001-04:00

I've been living out of my suitcase for two weeks as I job search. It's been two weeks of ups and downs. Of awkwardly cold-calling strangers and laughing until I can't breathe. Awful and great. Uncomfortable and easy. Yin and yang.

It makes me miss my favorite roller coasters: mission trips. If you've ever been on an international mission trip before, you probably know what I'm talking about. The ups and downs. The high highs and low lows. Encouraged, discouraged. Peaks and valleys. One minute of tears of joy; the next tears of sadness. You switch back and forth so many times in one day that you forget what it's like to be stable.

What is stable? Stable is somewhere in the middle. Somewhere I don't often find on mission trips. Stable is what we cling to in everyday life. Stable is comfort, contentment, conformity. Stable is lukewarm.

In Revelation 3, John transcribes what the Lord commands him to write to the church in Laodicea:

“To the angel of the church in Laodicea write:

'These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation. I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.'" Rev. 3:14-16 (italics mine)

It's like God is saying, "When you're on fire for Me, I can use that. When you're cold, I can use that, too. But when you're apathetic, when you're stable, I don't want you."

This passage isn't really talking about emotional roller coasters. But I think it applies here, too. When our hearts break for and with others, we connect as God's children. When we rejoice and celebrate, we exalt God and His goodness. It's when we're in the middle, stable, and comfortable that we're in the most dangerous position of all.

We don't want to change. We overlook the needs of others. We're too caught in our own ways to see matters worthy of praise. While I would love for the tears to stop coming so easily, I don't want to be stable. Not now, not ever.

I don't want to be comfortable and content. I want my heart to break for what breaks God's heart. I want to love the way Jesus loved--the least of these, the broken people, the forgotten. I want to live a life worthy of the calling I have received!

I do not ever want to be lukewarm!

<>< Katie

Sarchi, Land of Broken People

2011-10-18T01:34:00.002-04:00

Sarchi, Costa Rica, will forever be ingrained in my brain as the "Land of Broken People."

In the one afternoon we spent their, we saw more physically disabled people than I have seen in my entire life. He's wearing an eye patch, she's missing a leg, and that is not what a bandaged arm is supposed to look like.

I really wish I could say I did something noble like praying over the ailing or dispensing Advil or something.

I didn't.

I gawked and laughed at jokes about what must be in the water. It ashames me now. But to this day, anytime I see people with physical handicaps or disabilities, I remember Sarchi, land of broken people.

Could we not all be considered to be from Sarchi? Are we not all broken people?

Wounded physically, maybe but more likely wounded emotionally. Broken hearted.

Ironically, one of the two friends who visited Sarchi with me, the one who made the joke about the water, is responsible for breaking my heart. Intentionally or unintentionally doesn't matter. It happened.

Broken people.

I am growing to love broken people. It's in their vulnerability, when they share their brokenness, that God's glory shines most brightly. We can't all be perfect people. Let me rephrase that, none of us are perfect people.

Just admit it: you are broken. It's hard to say, but I am broken. I don't have it all together. I don't spend time with the Lord like I should. I snap when I should be courteous. I miss blog days when I have committed to blogging every other day. I try to exalt myself sometimes even at the expense of someone else. I even, gasp, cry.

I hate being broken. I want my body to do what I tell it to do. I want my emotions in check all the time. I want my heart guarded and unbroken. But trying to heal myself only turns into a more-contorted broken arm. More damage than good.

Yet I choose to sit at the feet of the Great Physician and let Him, in His time, bind up my wounds, replace my broken heart, and mend my soul. It is only then that I begin to heal. Maybe more slowly than I would like; maybe not perfect in the world's sense but perfect in God's sense.

And it gives me a story to tell. A story that boasts my weakness and His greatness.

I understand now, the older song that says, "Brokenness, it's what I long for. Brokenness, it's what I need."

I am broken.
I am Sarchian.

<>< Katie

One

2011-10-14T01:30:00.002-04:00

My sisters and I sat in the front pew. In between us were our parents and a few adult friends from church. I looked down the pew to notice all three of us held up one finger.

No, not that finger.

It was our pointer fingers. I promise. It almost looked like we were singing "This Little Light of Mine."

Except we weren't. We were singing, "Back In His Arms Again."

One life.
One love.
One way home.

Mark Schultz was fifteen feet in front of us. He looked towards us, saw our "Ones" and shook his head. He made us stand up as he announced to the audience that we had been to fifteen of his concerts. Fifteen. No embellishing.

We know every word, every motion, every story. Yet still we sit in the front row every time we can.

One life.
One love.
One way home.

Once we began to sing that refrain too early in the song. He just chuckled.

Tonight I as drove home from a wonderful dinner, "Back in His Arms Again" came on the local Christian radio station. I subconsciously put up ONE to declare that He is the one, the only.

The One I want to run to.
The One who unites us around the world as brothers and sisters.
The One who knows which of my cold phone calls will lead to a job interview.
The One who is walking with me, walking with you through every step.
The One whose arms I want to fall into.

"Back in His Arms Again" by Mark Schultz

I see it in your eyes

the pain you keep inside

is slowly tearing you apart.

Through you've run away

reminded day by day

you've stumbled and you've fallen.

Still He's calling

I believe that He loves you where you are.

I believe that you've seen the hands of God.

I believe that you'll know it when

you're back in His arms again.

I believe that He never let you go.

I believe that He's wanting you to know

I believe that He'll lead you 'til

you're back in his arms again.

I'm glad I found you here

'Cause in between the tears

something in your eyes shows hope.

When I stand before you now

as one that knows the power

of coming to Him open and broken

I believe that the loves you where you are

I believe that you've seen the hands of God

I believe that you'll know it when

you're back in His arms again.

I believe that He never let you go

I believe that He's wanted you to know

I believe that He'll lead you 'til

you're back in His arms again

And I know that He's calling,

He's calling you home.

One life.

One love.

One way home.

and when you rise

and when you fall
He will see you through it

He is waiting in the dark

back in His arms again

One life.

One love.

One way home.

I believe it. And I trust it.
<>< Katie

Retouched

2011-10-12T17:24:00.000-04:00

As I was looking for a photo to use for my new LinkedIn account, it was suggested that I use one of the individual shots from the family portraits we had taken at Christmas time.

I remember that day. It was the dead of winter, a bad hair day, and I had three new pimples. Not ideal for family portrait day.

The photos turned out great. My eyes jump off the page; my skin is blemish-free. Everyone says they're beautiful, stunning... and they are. In a worldly sense.

Honestly, they make me sad. It's not the fault of the photographer; he did a great job. The retouchings are pristine, flawless, beautiful.

But is blemish-free and radiant blue eyes really what defines beautiful? In today's society: yes. As unfortunate as it is.

It has bothered me before but seeing my own face match those with "perfect, clear skin" punches me in the gut.

Do I like having red splotches on my face? No.
Do I shutter when I look back at photos taken on a particularly bad day? Yes.
Does this make me proud? Absolutely not.

I've heard it said one of the hardest things to trust God in and with is physical appearance. In seeing those retouched photos, I feel like I'm telling God, "You didn't do a good enough job; good thing my friend PhotoShop is here to help You out."

I don't want that attitude, and I don't want anyone else to be forced into that attitude.

It's not scriptural.

"You are altogether beautiful, my darling, beautiful in every way."
Song of Solomon 4:7 NLT

"You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you."
Song of Solomon 4:7 ESV

(Sorry, I couldn't pick a translation... I love them both).

<>< Katie

PS: I am not condemning retouched photos; I am just expressing some concerns of my heart. Neither am I bashing the photographer. Someday I'll get married, I'll hire the same photographer (after all, he's my uncle), and I'll ask him to retouch my photos.

Katie V. GPS

2011-10-10T12:38:00.001-04:00

Usually battles of Katie Vs. GPS are victorious. Common sense trumps machine, right?

Yesterday I tried to outsmart my five year old GPS yet again. I lost. Something about having never been to that town before should have clued me in to the fact that it was not a good idea. The "seven hours to destination" didn't turn off my creative mind either. Since I needed to go east (seven hours east), I decided to turn on the east-bound side of the highway rather than the west-bound like Eunice (my GPS) was telling me.

Well, Eunice is persistent and after a few miles of "Make a U-turn" and "Turn around when possible," I decided to pull over in the parking lot of a country Baptist church and check the rest of her directions.

Going west to get east made no sense. Going west one mile to pick up a straight-shot east-bound freeway did make more sense. Eunice was right. Although the logic seemed backwards, the directions were correct. Going west was a short jog out of the way that would lead directly to my destination... in seven hours. I made a U-turn when possible.

Sometimes God and I argue like I do with my GPS. For some reason I have this tendency to think I'm smarter, my common sense more sound, and my ideas better. So I turn east to get east. Surely God's directions to go west were a detour but the road isn't closed anymore.

Except, unlike me, God sees the full set of instructions. He knows about the freeway one mile west and the direct shot, 70mph, it'll take me to my destination.

Sorry, Lord. I did it again. I deliberately ignored Your directions and followed my own. I thought I knew a better way. I was wrong and lost. Thank You for being persistent and not giving up on me.

<>< Katie

Wacky Wednesday

2011-10-05T22:44:00.001-04:00

Ken Davis: People don't jump out of the boat at the first speed bump. Boats don't have speed bumps. Let me think that through.

[While trimming trees]
Mom: No, no, no. Leave that one.
Dad: Ok. We'll get it next year.

Mom: Those are cute pants.
Katie: Thanks. I found them in the bottom of my closet and by that I mean on the top shelf. I don't know where they came from.
Mom: You probably wore them in middle school.

Christina: KATIE! Toga expert! I need to borrow your skills [because] it's Salad Dressing Day tomorrow for Homecoming.

Dustin: Jews knew the Old Testament scriptures the way we know songs, so finding OT references in the New Testament not only reminded them of that particular passage but also the context of surrounding passages.

Katie: Jews waited for the Messiah with great anticipation and excitement. It was like waiting for Christmas that wasn't coming... literally!

[playing Harry Potter Wii]
Katie: Look! I'm riding the broom!
Boy, age 10: It looks more like you're riding a bull.

Grandpa: Stinkin' winter lasts all winter!

"Creativity is being comfortable with not knowing what comes next." - Ann Voskamp

Christina: Taylor's sleeping over, too!
Katie: She's sleeping over TOO? That means someone is sleeping over one! AH!

Christina: Michael's bringing Bridesmaids [to my campfire party] just in case the weather is bad.

Katie [Sarcastic]: Sometimes I drive around with two tennis hoppers in my trunk. [Serious] Actually, right now I am driving around with two Haitian drums in my trunk.
Mom: As long as it's not two Haitian drunks in your trunk.

Ezelis: I'm not okay with living in a way this world calls "normal." I am called to be different so people can see how God is real.

Katie: You think I made it up?
Grandma: You coulda; you're a writer. Nah, you wouldn't a thought of that!

Mom: Look! Four-hundred and ninety miles until empty! We can get halfway to--
Katie: Church.

Matthew: She's a transplant.
Katie: Yeah, I moved to Baptist Country but they spit me out.
Dawn: Why'd we take her back?

Katie: Do you pray before you go to bed?
Pastor's Daughter, 8: Sometimes.
Katie: Sometimes?
Daughter: Yeah. Sometimes we forget.

[Playing Harry Potter Wii]
Boy, 10: Just walk around while I'm doing this level. Don't go down. And don't kill yourself by going off the edge... again.
Katie: I didn't mean to! Either time!

"When He says something to you, it will be your own language, significant in a personal and specific way. It will be exactly what you need to hear. All you have to do is listen." - Susan Hill

Katie: You're busier than I am, so give me a call when you're free; I'm probably free too. And if I'm not, I will be free in the next half hour.

Mom: What are you going to do today?
Katie: Sit around and wish I was in Baptist Country.
Mom: That's what you did yesterday!

Automatic voice message: --will expire shortly. Consider this your last notification. To be removed from future notifications, press three.

Mom: No sleeping in the cabin sheets.
Katie: Ok and no eating in the dining room either.
Mom: No four-legged fish sleeping in the cabin sheets.

Mom: These subs are huge! No one can eat all that! Ok, Katie can, but no one else!

Charmaine: With God you gotta always keep a suitcase packed because you never know where He's going to take you!

"It's the art of seeing that makes gratitude possible, and it's the art of gratitude that makes joy possible, and isn't joy the art of God?" - Ann Voskamp

Sorry it's late. It was typed on an iPad magnetic keyboard from a house with no furniture smack dab in the middle of nowhere. I'll fix any grave errors when I have access to a computer again. I hope all is well! <>< K

The Wash Cloth

2011-10-02T01:52:00.005-04:00

It had been a good but long 15 hour day. I left at 8am and returned home at 11pm with only a few hours before I had to get up and do it all over again.

But there were things separating me from that extra soft twin bed with two king size pillows. Namely: a shower.

I showered as fast as I could, sinus headache growing in intensity with every passing minute, but I kept my eyes on the promised land.

I reached absentmindedly for my facial lotion. Welcome cold weather, the phase of the year when my face is at risk of falling off because it's so dry. Lotion would bring me one step closer to dreamland.

But then I stopped.

I had an idea that would at worst be one step further from dreamland (and one step closer to a missing face) and at best relief to my painful head. Idea: to drape a warm wash cloth over my face.

So I did. As hot as I could stand it. It was heavenly!

In that moment, nothing but the warm wash cloth mattered. The rest of me was getting hypothermia as my wet hair dripped down my back.

But I didn't care. That simple hot cloth was the best thing that happened to me in all fifteen hours of my day (sixteen if you count the getting ready hour). I wanted to stay there forever, wash cloth over my face, cold hair dripping onto the floor.

Except I couldn't. So eventually, I bore the separation and continued my bedtime routine.

"Hey, Katie," God spoke but not in an audible voice.

Of course, He would start speaking as I was rushing to bed. Sometimes He's like my family, starting a conversation with me as I'm on my way out the door.

"Yes, Lord," I answered. Something like that.

"Remember how that wash cloth felt?"

"How could I forget?" Ooh! Jesus-like. I answered a question with a question.

"Remember how nothing else mattered and you wanted to stay there forever even thought your toes were cold and those hairs I numbered were matting together as they dripped water molecules down your back and onto the slippery floor?"

"Yes, Lord, and if You say to stay like that forever I totally will! After all, You're God and I'm not, so if you tell me, I'll do it obediently."

"Katie, stay that way forever. But let Me be the warm wash cloth. Bury your face in Me so nothing else matters. Not this world, not the job hunt, not even the fact that your pants don't fit. Let Me be your wash cloth."

"Yes, Lord."

"Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.'" Psalm 91:1-2 NIV

Listen

2011-09-30T08:13:00.002-04:00

I woke up with a sore throat. I had hoped it would get better as the day progressed. It didn't. By the middle of the afternoon I sounded like Kermit the frog.

Wonderful.

I thought about not going to small group. It was a 45 minute drive there at the end of rush hour and a 45 minute drive back at 11pm. I was already exhausted from making that same trek once that morning. And I was sick.

Do I go and risk infecting other people with this sudden illness? Do I stay home and try to fight it?

I'm not a "stay home because I have a cold" person. I get colds a lot, so I'd miss out on a lot of life if I stayed home every time.

So over to the mansion I drove. When I got there, I learned half of the other people had colds, too. Last week we were all healthy; this week we had a germ-sharing party.

A sniffler. A sneezer. Kermit. What a choir!

Out came the guitar to sing some praise and worship songs.

Sometimes my speaking voice "frogs" before my singing voice or vice versa. It's rare they're both nasty at the same time. But, then again, I don't usually go from fine to Kermit in one day.

I apologized to the girl sitting next to me and tried to sing. Yup, nothing.

Time to move my lips and life a joyful noise from my heart...

Time to listen. Losing your normal voice is like being put in time out. Sometimes it's just not physically possible to speak. Other times it hurts. Or you just don't want to hear yourself.

"I'm worshipping YOU, God," I said in my traditional frog-voice campaign.

Listen, God spoke to my heart.

Is this like Guatemala but without the orange paint? I want to sing.

Listen. You sang on Sunday.

Thank You that I had a voice to participate in such a wonderful, Spirit-filled praise and worship service on Sunday. I'm sorry it took losing my voice today to be grateful for something I took for granted yesterday. Lesson learned. [pause] Can I have it back now?

<>< Kermit

Bird Brain

2011-09-28T00:28:00.004-04:00

A few months ago Rich (Nikki's pastor) awoke to a tap, tap, tap, and some clawing on his bedroom window. He opened the blinds to find a bird trapped between to panes of glass.

Unfortunately, the exterior pane cannot be opened from the outside. Instead, he hoped the bird would be patient and stay away from his hands as he opened each pane individually.

You see where this is going?

He opened the interior pane and, sure enough, the bird flew in. He spent the next half hour trying to get this bird out of the parsonage.

We are that bird. Some how we've trapped ourselves. Rather than waiting for God to complete His rescue mission, we escape at the first chance we get, only to realize it's not an escape at all but a larger trap.

Luckily, that's not the end for us. God's willing to do what it takes to get us, His little birdies, out of the bondage that is our parsonage.

Rich used a broom.
God used Christ.

<>< Katie

Listening Everywhere

2011-09-26T15:03:00.001-04:00

Sorry this is late. Some days unemployment means I sit around bored out of my mind. Other days it means I run around like a chicken with my head cut off helping everyone and thinking I can do everything because I don't have a job. Well, it's been a headless chicken weekend.

I love Mondays.

"Sure you do, Katie, you're unemployed and you had a busy weekend."

I heard that.

My busy weekend lasts until tomorrow, thank you. And I got up earlier today than I did all weekend.

But no, I love Mondays because all of my once-a-week devotions come out on Mondays. I think weekly devotion writers sit around and think, "Hum, Mondays would be a good day." I see the logic, but Mondays are a busy reading, inhaling day for me. ;-)

Do you ever have those days (or weeks) where God seems to speak through everything you read, every conversation you have? Those are my favorite. When I can sing, "This is My Father's World" and the line, "He speaks to me everywhere" rings true.

But, more often, that line feels like I lie on my lips. Devotions aren't inspiring, conversations are surface-level, and the world seems dry.

Whose fault is that? Mine? God's? The devotion writer? All of the above?

Just because what I'm reading doesn't jump off the page/screen and instantly into our hearts doesn't mean it's a waste. It doesn't mean God isn't using what we read. Sometimes they just take a little more thought.

I'm learning to ask myself: Why did God put this devotion in my path today? What does He want me to get from this scripture? Why is that song stuck in my head even though I haven't heard it in two weeks?

He uses those things we consider worthless or unrelated. How cool is that?

Learning to listen everywhere,
<>< Katie

Habit

2011-09-23T06:51:00.001-04:00

I have this bizarre habit that resulted in incessant mocking from my suitemates. Actually, I have many bizarre habits and sometimes even breathing results in mockery.

However, this one happened every time I entered the apartment. It didn't matter if I came from class, the caf, or the coffee shop.

The first thing I would do was put my keys on the hook. We each had hooks by the door with our names on them, hypothetically, so we'd never lose our keys.

Then I'd go in my room, put down my heavy backpack, take off my shoes (and coat), and hit the power button on my computer.

It's what happened next that got me mocked relentlessly.

If someone had started a conversation with me in those first twenty seconds home, I put it on pause until this next step was complete.

I would go into the bathroom and wash my hands.

I knew I did it regularly, but I didn't realize I did it every time I came home until they pointed it out.

The habit is rooted deeply back to elementary school. My sisters and I would get off the bus and almost immediately were ushered into the bathroom to wash off our school germs.

I have no doubt that this healthy though bizarre habit was why chicken pox started going around my kindergarten class in October but I didn't get it until May. I'm sure it helped my six year no-puking record, too.

Just from being taught to wash off my school germs as soon as I got home. And it has become a subconscious habit.

I've got some of the habits Mom and Dad taught us growing up, but I've also got to build my own habits.

I need to be intentional about spending time in God's word. I need to be conscious of my prayer life. I really wish I could say they were habits, but they aren't. They're hard.

The alarm clock says, "Get up! Go! Go! Go!" The lunch break is short; the boss demanding. The course load difficult; the homework plenty. The after school activities are many; the free time is rare. The days is long, the body exhausted.

I've confessed to you all before that some days I grudgingly read my Bible. Yet still God works through it.

Soap doesn't only wash off my school germs when I tell it to. It kills 99.9% of them every time I wash (or so the commercial says).

God doesn't just speak to my heart when I want Him to, when I'm willing to hear what He has to say, or when I have the right attitude. Of course, those things are beneficial, but they're not necessary. Sometimes God still speaks when I'm crabby, tired, distracted, or just don't want to be there.

And that makes it worth building the habit.

<>< Katie