Capture the Moment

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

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

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.

Chinese Christmas

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

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.

More than a Day

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.

The G-Word

As many are quick to remind me, graduation is less than a month away.  I'm trying to ignore this fact.  If I don't think about it, if I don't write it on my calendar, it's not going to happen, right?

At our mission trip reunion I shared how I'm having a hard time with this whole graduation thing.  Later someone mentioned that summer was coming fast.

"Shhhh!  Don't remind me!"  I protested.

They were all really supportive and told me it's going to take forever to get here, like Christmas.  A little while later, someone else spoke about graduation.

"We're not allowed to use the G-word," I said.

Of course, Neal's ten year old son Ethan proceeded to use "The G-Word" repeatedly just to vex me.  He counted down the days and told me how fast it was going to come.  Typical brother...

It was all in good fun but I didn't really appreciate it.  Later, in telling the story to my suitemates, I slanted it to share how I got picked on by a ten year old.

Allyson came in to the middle of the story.  "Wait, what G-word?  God?  We're not allowed to say, 'God'?"

From now until whenever I'm allowed out of time out, whenever my suitemates and I are discussing graduation, I must also say "God is in control."  But don't tell Ethan.

God IS in control!
<>< Katie

Marathon Christmas

I grew up thinking this was normal.  I grew up thinking a lot of things were normal, myths my roommates have quickly dispelled.  You mean everyone doesn't have four Christmas trees and a 30-hour Christmas?  I supposed now you're going to tell me everyone has more than three cousins, too, right?

Christmas Eve
3:00pm- "Get in the car now!"

4:00pm- We start Christmas where all Christmases should begin: in church.  We pass the bulletin from one end of the pew to the other, share notes, and split a half a piece of gum thirteen ways.  You think I'm kidding.

6:00pm- "And WHY are you snow blowing in your Christmas suit?"
All thirteen of my maternal side of the family is gathered in my aunt and uncle's kitchen.  We're munching on meatballs, shrimp, and the world famous cheese dip.  We need something in the stomachs as we begin a long night of alcohol consumption.

7:00pm- "Maybe we should open presents." 
"Yes, that bow is beautiful on your head." 
"What kind of tape did you use?  It's impossible to rip!"

8:00pm- Grandpa and Grandma get a fifteen minute head start (we even use the microwave timer) to light candles and turn on lights before the entire party mobilizes to Grandpa and Grandma's house.  We open presents first from my grandparents and second from my aunt and uncle from out of town.

9:00pm- Grandpa and Grandma serve us pizza subs on paper plates just to have some substance during our night of grazing.  "Sure, I'd love some blackberry wine."

10:00pm- My family's turn for the fifteen minute head start.  There are advantages and disadvantages to being the last house in the round-robin.  The biggest disadvantage is that the hair and makeup need remedial help before the photograph in front of the tree.

11:00pm- "Who wants to be Santa?"

12:00am- Grandpa and Grandma decide it's time to go home.

1:00am- "Someone has to eat my food!"

2:00am- We karate chop the remaining family out of here, clean up the kitchen, and set up for the morning.  Time for bed!

For the next four to six hours visions of sugar plums dance in our heads while Santa flies over head.

Christmas Day
8am- "Santa's been here!"

9am-  The family gift exchange and Santa presents are opened on Christmas morning.  Dad gets coal.  And the grille to go with it.  Mom cries when she opens the puzzle photo collage of my sisters and me growing up.  My flannel jeans from Cabela's miraculously fit!  "Dad, I got you a six pack of beer just because I can.  No, I don't want one." 

10am- "Get in the car!  We're late!"

11am- "Are we there yet?"

12pm- Growing up, my family was always the last to arrive at my paternal grandparents' house.  Some traditions die hard.  Christmas dinner will be served at two.  I regret not eating more than a banana for breakfast and dive into the chips, fudge, and pie on the kitchen table.

1pm- I'm in a photo war with Travel Buddy, my uncle who's a professional photographer.  I take literally 178 photos.

2pm- The Charlie Brown Tree. 
Every year my grandparents go to the tree farm and find the most ridiculous tree in the $5 bin.  It's too thick to put ornaments on it.  It's so thin you can see through it.  It has two tops.  They then barter until the owner lets them buy the tree for $3.  They give him a $2 tip.  This year the tree branches needed to be transplanted, so they got it for $2 with a $1 tip.  Remember, the camera adds ten pounds.

3:00pm- "This restaurant is only open twice a year, so you'd better dig in!"
Thanksgiving dinner is remarkably similar to Christmas dinner.  The main difference is that the men are actually allowed to sit in the dining room with the women rather than being banished to the kitchen.  We pass rolls by overhand tossing, make the misbehaving adults sit at the children's table, and, heaven forbid, we forget the olives.

5:00pm- Photo shoot! 
Each family.  "At least pretend like you like each other."  All the girls.  All the boys.  "Stop that!"  Three generations.  "Where'd Grandpa go now?"  All the granddaughters.  All eleven of us.  The stray people we picked up on the street.  All dogs.  "Ok, my camera's memory card is full."

6:00pm- "Yes, I'd like a brandy old fashion, please.  We're going to be here for awhile."
Commence the longest present opening extravaganza in the history of present openings.  Grandma hands the first present to Tina.  Tina opens it, throws the wrapping paper on the floor, and examines it for fifteen and a half seconds before she must stand to pick and hand out the next present.  If she surpasses her allotted fifteen and a half seconds, the entire crowd shouts, "PICK A PRESENT!"

7:00pm- Fifteen minute intermission to fill the glasses and empty the bladder.

7:15pm- "Pick a present!"

8:00pm- "PICK A PRESENT!"
Every year Grandma and Grandpa give each of their four grandkids a gold ornament engraved with our names, the year, and "Love, Gma & Gpa."  After twenty-some years, Wal-mart stopped making the ornaments, so Grandma had to get creative.  This year she bought some silver ones from Target and engraved them herself.

9:00pm- "Pick a present" brouhaha is finally over after three hours of present opening!  Grandma and the four granddaughters sit in the heaps of wrapping paper for the annual photo.  Grandma boasts that she is 71 and can still get down on the floor.  We help her up.

10:00pm- Grandma asks who brought the iPod for the traditional Christmas Day dancing in the kitchen.  No one has music; no one has the energy to dance.  The men are Wii bowling in the kitchen.  Grandpa's winning.  "That's an awful nice purple dress you've got there, Jim," Greg says, and the crowd rolls.  Grandpa's using my Mii.

11:00pm- The food comes back out for those who are hungry.  I eat some cherry pie, little smokies, sweet potatoes, and fudge.  In that order.  "Shhhhh!  Someone may be sleeping."

12:00am- That someone should be me.  But we're having too much fun retelling old stories, hacking up lungs, and laughing hysterically.

1:00am- That someone is me.  It's the only night of the year when I can sleep with socks on because of the heat problems in the old farmhouse.  Yet I sleep with a smile on my face.  Another great Christmas!

I love hearing about Christmas traditions.  What are yours?

<>< Katie

Faith, Hope, Joy, Love

Christmas is finally here!  School is on a hiatus while people become cooking maniacs and wrapping machines.

The traditions rooted deeply except I don't really think Mary and Joseph sat around staring at dead trees and eating candy out of their socks.

I bet they were exhausted from traveling and discouraged by the lack of places to stay.  Then Mary gave birth in the most unsanitary place ever; oh, yeah, and her fiance isn't the father.  Now all of the animals want to know where they're supposed to be eating for the next several days because there are some unexpected visitors.  Shepherds are being visited by terrifying angels, and magi come bearing expensive gifts--one of which was a burial spice.  I think most modern parents would be offended if someone gave them embalming fluid at a baby shower.  Just saying.

Big mess! Big message!

God became man.  The creator of the universe shoved Himself into a little baby's body.  Prophesies and promises fulfilled.  Christ, our Lord, born to die for our redemption.

About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his own ancestral hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David's town, for the census. As a descendant of David, he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiancée, who was pregnant.


While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in a manger, because there was no room in the hostel.
There were sheepherders camping in the neighborhood. They had set night watches over their sheep. Suddenly, God's angel stood among them and God's glory blazed around them. They were terrified. The angel said, "Don't be afraid. I'm here to announce a great and joyful event that is meant for everybody, worldwide: A Savior has just been born in David's town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master. This is what you're to look for: a baby wrapped in a blanket and lying in a manger."

At once the angel was joined by a huge angelic choir singing God's praises:

Glory to God in the heavenly heights,
Peace to all men and women on earth who please him.

As the angel choir withdrew into heaven, the sheepherders talked it over. "Let's get over to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see for ourselves what God has revealed to us." They left, running, and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. Seeing was believing. They told everyone they met what the angels had said about this child. All who heard the sheepherders were impressed.

Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they'd been told!

(Luke 2:1-20 MSG)

It's a story of real people having the FAITH to do what God called them to do--even if it was uncomfortable.

It's a story of the HOPE given to the world in the form of a baby.

It's a story about JOY bundled into an unusual package.

It's a story about the LOVE my Savior has for me. The LOVE He has for you.

Merry Christmas!  Have a blessed day, my friends!
<>< Katie

Christmas Wishes from the Fire Department

Somewhere between ten and eleven on Sunday night reality hit.  It was bedtime and we still had "miles to go before [we] sleep and miles to go before [we] sleep."  Three hours worth of miles.

I offered to switch and drive for awhile, but Amber pointed out that might be futile since I was yawning too.  She said she'd just curl up and go to sleep rather than keep me awake, but I wouldn't fall asleep while she was driving.  Probably true.  A few days earlier we'd learned the hard way that her reaction time is good even when she's tired.

Hit was a sudden, God-send burst of energy, I began the most animated, elaborate retelling of one of my favorite Christmas Eve stories. Followed by three hours worth of other stories, laughter, and no yawns at all. 

It was Christmas Eve afternoon and I was almost done getting ready for the traditional brouhaha when the smoke detector went off.

As a teenager, what to do in case of a fire had been drilled into my head.  I went out the garage door and passed both cars in the garage.  I found out later that my sisters were in the car ready to go, unaware that the smoke detector was going off.  When I rounded the house and headed towards our "meeting place" I realized there is a flaw in our plan: snow makes the meeting place hard to get to.  But it didn't matter because I saw both of my parents just chilling in the kitchen.

I opened the backdoor and walked back in.  Apparently my mom had spilled something in the oven earlier in the day and wanted to clean it out before everyone came over.  She used the self-cleaner oven feature for the first time and it set the smoke detector off.  Other than a hazy house, everything was fine.

The security system on our house is supposed to call the police if our house is broken into and fire department if the smoke detector goes off.  We were literally five minutes away from leaving for six hours.  We didn't want to come home (with the entire extended family fifteen minutes behind us) to discover our door had been broken down because we didn't answer.

Dad called the non-emergency fire department number to tell them everything was fine.

Fireman: Since you called, we have to send a truck out.

Great.  Although, we later learned if the security system had called they would have sent trucks from two different stations because we're right in the middle between the two.  As it were, the other station got an ambulance call around the same time.  I like to think that in inconveniencing ourselves we saved a life.  Whatever, Katie.

Anyway.  Fire truck came.  Big flashing lights.  Alarmed neighbors called.  Firemen stood in the back hall and listen to our crazy story.  They didn't even go into the kitchen!  They left.  Dad called the security system people to make sure the fire department isn't going to be called again.  Ultimately, against their advice, he disconnected our security system.

We showed up to my aunt and uncle's church a half hour late.  My cousin's choir, the reason we were going to church there, was returning to their seats.  We did make the pastor's day because the sanctuary was full, so they put seats in the atrium for us.  This is why we don't save seats on Christmas Eve anymore.  You never know when some firemen are going to make you late to church.

After church we began our normal round-robin at my aunt and uncle's house.  Food, drinks, presents, cookies, moving on.  The entire party of 13 journeyed to my grandparents' house for a repeat.  Food, drinks, presents, cookies, moving on.

Our house was the last in our parade.  We are also the only house with a functioning fire place.  My uncle from out of town wanted to roast chestnuts over our fire.  It made the kitchen a little smokey, but we didn't think anything of it.

Until my aunt shouted, "FIRE IN THE OVEN!"

Some bread dish--the same dish that had spilled earlier--was literally flaming inside of our oven.  That's bad.  One uncle grabbed a hot pad, pulled out the pan, and held it over the sink.  The other uncle blew out the flames.  Dad took the scorched pan and threw it in a snowbank in the back yard where it stayed for the next three days.

Of course, the fire alarm went off again and the house is full of smoke.  For the second time that day we opened all of the windows to let the frigid winter air into our home and the smoke out into the world.  I'm pretty sure the temperature in my kitchen was below freezing that Christmas.  I camped out in the basement, the warmest place in the house.

No more chestnuts roasting over an indoor fire.  No more flaming bread dish.  Just a great Christmas tale.  And a year full of photos with the fire extinguisher in them.

About a week later my mom's oven still needed to be cleaned.  So she set the self-cleaner again and opened the kitchen window.  She was on the phone with my aunt when she heard sirens in our area.  It's not really that uncommon because there are two deadly traffic corners within a mile of our house.  Except this was a fire engine siren.  Getting closer.  And closer.  And closer.

Mom: I've got to go.  That firetruck is coming down our street.

It stopped two houses away where they had a small electrical fire.

I hope this Christmas there are no unexpected guests.  Especially those that drive a big red vehicle and wear yellow suits.  Happy December First!

<>< Katie

Exercise

Gosh, I love Mondays. Hear the sarcasm. My first class starts at 9am and my last class ends at 9:50pm. Yes, please pray fr me on Mondays especially. This is relational exercise in patience.

I knew it was going to be a weird day in my ASL class this morning. We were talking about different shapes and the professor signed, "KNOW MEDICAL DOCTOR SERVE HAMBURGER CIRCLE IN BOX." Huh? Must have zoned out because that didn't make sense. Yeah, it was "McDonalds" not "Doctor." Both signed "MD" with one on the back of the hand and the other on the inside of the wrist. Oops. Wrong me. Mental exercise.

This afternoon, I was sitting in my hammock reading about poetry. My favorite thing. More sarcasm. It's no wonder I couldn't focus. So, I looked across my room and noticed my bike. Let's go for a bike ride! Ladies and gentlemen, it is JANUARY and I went for a bike ride without my jacket. The terrain here is different than I'm used to and I'm completely out of shape, but even my short bike ride was enough to get some exercise, clear my brain, and enjoy the wonderful weather.

One of my suitemates is currently taking violin for the first time. Back in the day, I used to play viola. Not well, mind you, but I played never the less. Everyone took a turn trying to play her violin and everyone sounded awful. Sorry, girls. When it was my turn, I played an old simple song I remembered and jaws dropped. I remind you, I am not a good violist, but it was great to have a stringed instrument in my hands again. Excellent exercise for my fingers and my brain.

Part one of my Christmas present arrived in the mail today, our Wii. I call it the "you and your suitemates aren't good enough at killing time" gift. It was later followed by a Wii Fit, the "you need to lose weight" aspect of the gift. Huh? The Wii Fit isn't here yet but my shoulder hurts from bowling and tennis. More physical exercise.

However, the most challenging exercise happened in my night class. This is the first time we've met, but the professor has had all of us as his students previously. Prior to even handing out the syllabus, he stated a vague situation and gave us an hour to respond to it privately. This was an excellent writing exercise in my religion class, and I might post what I wrote tomorrow. Really, it was a masked-exercise in discovering Christology. However, it was hard! An emotional and spiritual battle. At the end of class, the professor apologized for "any tear and sweat this may have caused." It caused both. Spiritual and emotional exercise.

Are you in shape? Relationally? Emotionally? Physically? Mentally? Most importantly, spiritually?

<>< Katie

PS: Yes, I realize this was kind of a "I had peanut butter on my bagel instead of cream cheese" post and no one really cares, but it was just a very interesting day and I think you should hear about it. I tried to tie it together. Oh, and I don't really believe the Wii Fit joke aspect of the Christmas present, by the way.

Never Underestimate the Power of a Good Book

On the way to the airport to come home for Christmas, my friend Kevin (who sometimes reads this blog) told me he rarely reads books anymore and never books that are more than 200 pages. I asked him if he'd read a 201 page book if I wrote it, and he said no. He's pretty serious about this 200 page rule.

The other day I jokingly asked him if he's read anything good over break and he said yes! Just from the tone in his... er... text message, I could tell he was excited about this book. Yes, a quick google search revealed it is less than 200 pages but that isn't the point.

That's all it takes, one good book. Earlier this break I was feeling lazy and apathetic. All I did all day was blog, participate in "family somethings," and play Bejeweled Blitz. That is until a spontaneous trip to Barnes & Noble changed (and charged) by break.

I'm now deep in to two books. Whether I love them or not is beside the point because once again the words are flowing. While I haven't written a substantial amount, maybe five pages, there has been a lot of plotting and some major changes. In this case, change is good. And I owe it all to the 300 pages I've read this week. (Ok, and my Almighty God who has given me the words to speak).

Excuse me now why I go disappear into a comfortable recliner with a blanket, a good book, and a glass of wine on this beautiful blizzarding day. (Ok, just kidding about the wine... maybe).

Be verbose!
<>< Katie

Hope, Pray, Wish

I didn't come up with this idea but rather stole it from another blog I read.

Hope, Pray, Wish

I hope you all have a blessed, healthy, and safe white Christmas. This is especially important for my family because it would be a significant first if we made it through Christmas without a glitch. Let's just say we're gotten really good at throwing flaming items into snowbanks, and we tease my sister that it isn't Christmas until she almost passes out. :-) However, we always have a good time, laugh a lot, and take a million photos enjoying each others' company.

I pray for those who aren't with their families this holiday. I am thankful we know if in all of our brouhaha we need emergency personnel they're on the other end of 9-1-1 ready to take our call, but this also means they are not celebrating with their families. Likewise, I pray for those who are fighting for our freedom both here and abroad. I pray for those too sick to enjoy today the way we think when we think of Christmas. I pray for those stranded both due to problematic travel plans and financial difficulties.

I wish for everyone to know the real reason to be joyful this Christmas season. It's not about the big man in red who magically squeezes down the chimney. It's not about the candy. It's not about the pretty lights outside. It's not about the gifts under the tree. It's about the Gift God gave when He sent His Son to leave the heavenly realms and become a baby. What a marvelous gift.

Every time I write "Hope, pray, wish" I have to think because it reminds me of "Tears, Hopes, and Promises" a wonderful Easter song that discusses how after Jesus died on Good Friday there were many tears, lost hopes, and broken promises. However, those of us who know the rest of the story know the tears became tears of joy, the hopes came to fruition, and the promises were fulfilled. May your Christmas be filled with hope, prayer, wishes, joyful tears, and promises.

I thank you for reading and I thank you for putting up with my grammar errors this blog. We're leaving in twenty minutes and my hair is still wet, but I had to post this before my Christmas got too wrapped up in the traditions and I hadn't taken a minute to remember the real reason we celebrate.

Merry Christmas, everyone!
<>< Katie

Perfect

I've been trying to figure out what to write about for this blog because I'm trying to be more regular in updating... these were some of my ideas:
- I could talk about how the 7 foot Christmas tree in my living room has only one ornament on it (it's red) because we lost interest after trees numbers one, two, and three.
- I could talk about wearing gloves to bed to protect my freezing cold hands with 100 little tiny paper cuts. Thank you, winter wonderland.
- I could tell how my sister thought I cut the grass yesterday (It's December and snowing, really, Tina?)
- I could talk about how annoyed I was this morning in church when everyone was texting, coddling babies, passing notes, or making faces at strangers across the sanctuary.
- I could explain how thrilled I am for the Christmas paparazzi later this week since I've got a beautiful new pimple on the end of my nose that makes me look like Rudolph and a grow-out line in my hair that is phenomenal. (I stopped dressing up for Halloween when I went to college, but I might take up dressing up for Christmas...)

Except most of those include some sort of complaining, and I'm really trying to work on that...

Or I could tell you about the some inspiration I recently received.

I had the amazing opportunity to hear Peder Eide talk about Christmas. He said something that really struck me, and I've been mulling over it ever since. He said God made a plan to save the world and it went off without a hitch. God's plan worked, and it worked the first time.

Does ANYTHING we do happen on the first time? This very sentence I've recrafted three or four times. Even the simple activities sometimes take two tries.

Yet, Jesus doesn't have a Plan B. Plan A worked and it worked perfectly. The census, the manger, the shepherds, the virgin birth, all worked perfectly.

Wow. What a perfect surprise.

Peder ended his Christmas devotion with a prayer as possibly prayed by several people vital to the Christmas story. Will you combine them and make this your prayer?
"No matter what people think or say, or even it works out completely different than I planned (Joseph). It’s all about You God (Angels). Give me more passion for what You want, logical or not. (Shepherds). Do with me as You will! (Mary)"

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!
<>< Katie

Twas the Night Before Christmas...

Today was a pretty close to miserable day. It took me a over an hour to do a drive that should take less than 45. I dropped my sister off at the movie theater and had a nice lunch with a friend. We sat down, and he teased that it was going to take him an hour to eat, but I didn't need to feel compelled to stay that long. Well, his food was finish and our conversation still raging in full gear.

After lunch, I pulled back into the theater parking lot just as the movie ended. We then had to go to the mall. One day before Christmas. In a blizzard. Puke.

It was very easy for me to say, "If the glasses people hadn't broken my glasses the first time they tried to fix them, I could just go home now and finish making Christmas cookies. Wrap the presents? Oh, yeah, gotta do that, too." No. I had to be sitting in the mall... for an hour... while they replaced the lens of my glasses and then tried to tell me I needed to pay for it. In reality, they broke it, and eventually they replaced the lens for free.

While I was stalling for an hour, I ran over to a department store looking for a specific item. Well, apparently they don't make the size I need. Surprise, surprise. My entire body doesn't fit into the sizes made. Shoes, pants, shirts, you name it... it doesn't fit properly... After many hours (or at least many, many minutes) of searching, a sales associate approached me and asked if I was finding everything alright. I answered honestly (no) and told her what I was looking for. She then tried to convince me I needed to sign up for a charge card for that particular store. Well, if I can't find the product I want, why do I need to save money by signing up for a card? I told her no literally four different times. She then went to find another sales associate to ask if they make the size I was looking for. The second associate said no without offering any other suggestion. I walked away in frustration, and I heard the two sales associates making jokes. Maybe they weren't directed at me, maybe they were just having fun, but I highly doubt it. Needless to say, I promptly left the store.

My sister and I left the mall and I asked her where the package was. Her boyfriend is coming for Christmas and I didn't know what to get him, so she was going to go buy something while I was picking up my glasses. Well, apparently she couldn't find what she was looking for, so she bought nothing. Now I have no present for Boy. For tomorrow. Crap.

Drove home. Yeah, let's plow the roads.

Found a message waiting for me from a friend who wants to get together before break is over. Well, I had most of last week free, but she couldn't do anything. Now I'm booked and she's moderately free. I really, really want to get together with her, but there seems to be no time. It's frustrating!

Ok, awful day, eh?

So I come home, wrap the presents I do have (I figured out something for Boy), and took out my anger on our Wii. I bowled a 168! That's a personal record for me. I then upped my skills level on Wii Tennis to 606 (We've had this game for two days...).

At least the virtual world likes me.

Although, my shoulder wants to kill me.

I hope your day was better than mine!

Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow we remember the Savior of the world entering His creation in the form of an infant. Not just any infant, but an infant who was born in a stinky, smelly stable to a carpenter and his teenage wife-to-be. Perhaps my situation wasn't the only one that's less than perfect.

<>< Katie

Lord, I'm Amazed by You

Picture this:
It's July, so I'm eating ice cream.
Yet I'm standing outside wearing long pants and a hoodie because it's not even 60 degree outside.

What's wrong with this picture?

Nothing.

I am at a bonfire with 50 of my closest friends. (No, I'm not close enough to actually feel the fire therefore I am physically shaking).
We're being led in hymns like
"How Great Thou Art"
"O Come All Ye Faithful" (no, I'm not kidding... it's not the first nor second Christmas song I've sung this weekend either, haha)
"Lord, I'm Amazed by You".

A great night of worship praising our Abba Father!

Good night everyone,
<>< Katie

Christmas Stocking

Don't ask why I was thinking about this today, but I was.

When my mom was pregnant with me she started making a Christmas stocking for me. I don't know if her goal was for me to use it my first Christmas or what, but she was making this stocking. She worked on it in the hospital after I was born, she worked on it in the hospital after my sisters were both born. (I'm beginning to think she only worked on it while she was in the hospital and thankfully that hasn't been very often). Anyway, I am now a legal adult and this stocking has yet to be completed. It has been a work in progress for at least nineteen years now, and I wonder if it'll ever be completed.

I've been a work in progress for at least nineteen years now, and I won't be completed until the day I die. Like my mom works on that stocking little by little (we'll pretend she works on it more than she really does), God works on our lives to draw us closer to and to be more like Him.

<>< Katie

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart." Jeremiah 1:5 a, b