Disclaimer One: Sometimes these God moments are great when God and I are talking about them... but they don't seem as great when I write them down.
Disclaimer Two: The title of this post may only be read aloud in a British accent, particularly one that belongs to Rupert Grint, aka Ron Weasley.
The other day I got brown Sharpie on my finger where the fingernail meets finger. I apparently haven't washed my hands enough (no peanut gallery comments, please) because it hasn't come off yet. Every time it catches my eye, I think I'm bleeding. Naturally, I stop what I'm doing to further investigate. It's not normal to be bleeding.
A few years ago, my aunt and I were putting something into a Ziploc bag (shells? rocks? wild flowers? I don't know) when I noticed some blood on the bag.
"Are you bleeding?" I asked.
"No, you are," she told me.
I'd say most people are pretty quick to tell each other when they're bleeding. If you have something stuck in your teeth or a booger hanging from your nose, they're not as quick to let you know but your real friends will still do it. What about if you're messed up spiritually?
I'll be honest: you're bleeding, I'll tell you. You've got food in your teeth, no big deal. Your zipper's down, chances are I'll let you know. If you're messing up spiritually, I'm not so quick to jump in.
First of all, I'm far from perfect: who am I to correct someone else? I've got more than my share of battles of my own, thank you. Frankly, I think that's an excellent excuse. Until something inside of me remembers I am quick to exhibit physical common courtesy but a little more slow to offer spiritual common courtesy.
But where do you draw the line between spiritual common courtesy and bashing someone upside the head with a Bible? (Side note: my mom physically did that to my sister once... it was an accident). Does it matter? An open zipper, a stray piece of food, and a little bit of blood is hardly life and death. Spiritually, it's eternal life or not. The stakes are bigger and the risk less willing to be taken. Why is that? The only answer I have is fear.
Most people consider faith to be a matter of opinion. Hey, guys, Jesus didn't say, "Follow whomever you like." He said, "Follow Me."
Does that mean I'm going to stand on a street corner with a megaphone? No. Does it mean I'm going to reconsider before I let another witnessing opportunity pass? Does it mean I'm going to try to be more obedient to that nudge from the Holy Spirit? Does that mean when people ask what I'm doing next year instead of saying, "I don't know" I'm going to say, "I'll be wherever the Lord leads"? You betcha.
Will you join me in doing the same? Consider this my telling you that there is a piece of broccoli hanging from your spiritual braces.
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label Harry Potter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Harry Potter. Show all posts
Monday, June 28, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Finals Week
I'm kind of on a roll spilling secrets this week, so we're going to go with one more: I love exam week.
1. Boing, Boing, Boing
There is this unwritten rule against throwing bouncy balls inside the apartment. I grew up in a house with a strictly-enforced "no throwing balls in the house" rule, but apparently Andy didn't. It's not unusual to find bouncy balls whipped at you from across the room. Well, over the last semester these bouncy balls have disappeared into dark crevices of life. Since we're actively moving out, they've been reappearing and flipped into full action. Boing, boing, boing.
2. Out to Dinner
I rode an hour with my adoptive family to have dinner with my parents. It was weird to arrive with someone else, eat with those people and my parents, and leave with someone else. Just to paint the picture for you: my dad is shy, naive, and quiet. So is Ruth. Dr. Z is a strange bird, and Mom is Sarah Palin. Yes, I think we were the waitress's favorite table that day. Well, we were her only table for awhile because we scared away the rest of the guests... Oops. By the end of dinner she'd challenged my dad to go trout fishing in the lake and offered to play frisbee with Malachi in the parking lot. On the ride back, we tried to use the words "indefatigable" and "perspicacity" in normal conversation. Bonus points if you could get them both into a single sentence.
3. How did this happen?
Allyson and I use two separate bathrooms, so how we met outside one to do this I'm still not sure. I had my "gooked" electric toothbrush in my right hand held high above my head. In my left I held Allyson's left wrist. In her right hand she had an open bottle of listerine. Realizing how silly we looked we burst out laughing and couldn't figure out what we were doing. Something about Allyson wanting to turn on my toothbrush and spray toothpaste all over the apartment...
4. Breakfast of Champions
The incentive to walk to the caf to eat breakfast before an exam is virtually non-existent. Luckily, we also have to use up our points and eat all of the bizarre food we've accumulated throughout the semester. Nikki ate a re-heated hot dog, chips, and old cheese dip. Allyson ate some chocolate cake with her whipped cream. Chris, an hour away and unaware of our creativity, had a peanut butter sandwich. I feel lame for eating an apple and peanut butter (by clutching the jar of peanut butter between my knees); I really don't like apples.
5. EXPECTO PATRONUM!
Allyson's taking a conducting class right now, so her baton is waving as she prepares. Carrie borrowed said baton and turned it into a Harry Potter wand. My favorite part is when she speaks into the end of the wand so that it can hear her better. :-)
6. (in the middle of a class discussion exam)
Dr. T: Alex Haley and Malcolm X co-write the Autobiography of Malcolm X, and they both have "X" in their name. Isn't that weird?
Katie: What do you have against people that have "X"es in their names?
Dr. T: Nothing... it's just... Saxon has an "X," too, and you're sitting next to each other.
Katie: It was the "X" factor that drew us together on this side of the room.
Dr. T: My middle name is "X."
Katie: Are you lying to me?
Dr. T: It's Xavier.
Katie: You are lying to me.
The rest of the class kind of stared at us.
7. Redecorating?
Nikki: Remember that one time our phones used the same charger?
Katie: Remember that one time you asked to borrow my phone charger and I said no because you licked me?
I do remember that one time when Nikki stole my phone charger and replaced all of the photos on my bulletin board with Kleenexes... Thanks.
8. Why is Cornhole in our apartment? (aka Bean Bag Toss)
I really don't know, but we played. Who says Cornhole's an outdoor game? We played in the living room with one person standing on the Platonic Love Seat and the other standing one of the arm chairs. I'm better inside than out.
9. Four Hour Exams
It started innocently enough at 6pm. By 6:30 our class of eight was seated around Dr. Paul's dining room table eating summer chili, chocolate-covered pretzels, and (get this!) fresh strawberries. By 7:15 we were having a living room discussion of the Christology of William Paul Young as found in his book, The Shack. By 8, we'd looked up the Wii Fit. For the next two hours we pondered how "Grandaddy" was born in 1975, is 5'7", and weighs 107 pounds... Either way, he looks great while juggling, hula hooping, and flying in a chicken suit!
10. Moving
This is my least favorite part of spring exam week: studying and packing at the same time. Some of my stuff goes to storage; some of my stuff goes home. Friday means 14 hours of driving, three cars and two drivers. Wait. Switch that. I guess I'm not indefatigable. By the time you're reading this, we've probably gotten a little giggly in the car. After retelling our favorite stories we'll start playing word games. Dad's a "numbers guy" so he loves writing sentences like "Tiny Tim tinkled in the timbers" or "Blue birch-bark burn on Bob's bum." Mom's a little bit better. :-)
Bon voyage and bueno suerte,
<>< Katie
1. Boing, Boing, Boing
There is this unwritten rule against throwing bouncy balls inside the apartment. I grew up in a house with a strictly-enforced "no throwing balls in the house" rule, but apparently Andy didn't. It's not unusual to find bouncy balls whipped at you from across the room. Well, over the last semester these bouncy balls have disappeared into dark crevices of life. Since we're actively moving out, they've been reappearing and flipped into full action. Boing, boing, boing.
2. Out to Dinner
I rode an hour with my adoptive family to have dinner with my parents. It was weird to arrive with someone else, eat with those people and my parents, and leave with someone else. Just to paint the picture for you: my dad is shy, naive, and quiet. So is Ruth. Dr. Z is a strange bird, and Mom is Sarah Palin. Yes, I think we were the waitress's favorite table that day. Well, we were her only table for awhile because we scared away the rest of the guests... Oops. By the end of dinner she'd challenged my dad to go trout fishing in the lake and offered to play frisbee with Malachi in the parking lot. On the ride back, we tried to use the words "indefatigable" and "perspicacity" in normal conversation. Bonus points if you could get them both into a single sentence.
3. How did this happen?
Allyson and I use two separate bathrooms, so how we met outside one to do this I'm still not sure. I had my "gooked" electric toothbrush in my right hand held high above my head. In my left I held Allyson's left wrist. In her right hand she had an open bottle of listerine. Realizing how silly we looked we burst out laughing and couldn't figure out what we were doing. Something about Allyson wanting to turn on my toothbrush and spray toothpaste all over the apartment...
4. Breakfast of Champions
The incentive to walk to the caf to eat breakfast before an exam is virtually non-existent. Luckily, we also have to use up our points and eat all of the bizarre food we've accumulated throughout the semester. Nikki ate a re-heated hot dog, chips, and old cheese dip. Allyson ate some chocolate cake with her whipped cream. Chris, an hour away and unaware of our creativity, had a peanut butter sandwich. I feel lame for eating an apple and peanut butter (by clutching the jar of peanut butter between my knees); I really don't like apples.
5. EXPECTO PATRONUM!
Allyson's taking a conducting class right now, so her baton is waving as she prepares. Carrie borrowed said baton and turned it into a Harry Potter wand. My favorite part is when she speaks into the end of the wand so that it can hear her better. :-)
6. (in the middle of a class discussion exam)
Dr. T: Alex Haley and Malcolm X co-write the Autobiography of Malcolm X, and they both have "X" in their name. Isn't that weird?
Katie: What do you have against people that have "X"es in their names?
Dr. T: Nothing... it's just... Saxon has an "X," too, and you're sitting next to each other.
Katie: It was the "X" factor that drew us together on this side of the room.
Dr. T: My middle name is "X."
Katie: Are you lying to me?
Dr. T: It's Xavier.
Katie: You are lying to me.
The rest of the class kind of stared at us.
7. Redecorating?
Nikki: Remember that one time our phones used the same charger?
Katie: Remember that one time you asked to borrow my phone charger and I said no because you licked me?
I do remember that one time when Nikki stole my phone charger and replaced all of the photos on my bulletin board with Kleenexes... Thanks.
8. Why is Cornhole in our apartment? (aka Bean Bag Toss)
I really don't know, but we played. Who says Cornhole's an outdoor game? We played in the living room with one person standing on the Platonic Love Seat and the other standing one of the arm chairs. I'm better inside than out.
9. Four Hour Exams
It started innocently enough at 6pm. By 6:30 our class of eight was seated around Dr. Paul's dining room table eating summer chili, chocolate-covered pretzels, and (get this!) fresh strawberries. By 7:15 we were having a living room discussion of the Christology of William Paul Young as found in his book, The Shack. By 8, we'd looked up the Wii Fit. For the next two hours we pondered how "Grandaddy" was born in 1975, is 5'7", and weighs 107 pounds... Either way, he looks great while juggling, hula hooping, and flying in a chicken suit!
10. Moving
This is my least favorite part of spring exam week: studying and packing at the same time. Some of my stuff goes to storage; some of my stuff goes home. Friday means 14 hours of driving, three cars and two drivers. Wait. Switch that. I guess I'm not indefatigable. By the time you're reading this, we've probably gotten a little giggly in the car. After retelling our favorite stories we'll start playing word games. Dad's a "numbers guy" so he loves writing sentences like "Tiny Tim tinkled in the timbers" or "Blue birch-bark burn on Bob's bum." Mom's a little bit better. :-)
Bon voyage and bueno suerte,
<>< Katie
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Book Buying with a Writer
"What do you want to do today?" Dad asks me every morning (or afternoon) when I get up. Everyday all week the answer has been the same,
"Sleep!"
"You've already done that; it's noon-thirty. What else do you want to do today?"
"Nothing!"
"That's what you did yesterday."
He's bored and therefore is objective is to annoy the rest of us, but he's right. As I look at my yesterday, my day before yesterday, my everyday since Christmas I realize I haven't done much. I read The Five Love Languages: Singles Edition and that's about it. I've read some blogs, written some blogs, played a few million games of Bejeweled Blitz, whooped butt in Bananagrams, scrapbooked a bit, and that's really about it. I'm not ok with that. I decided I have this time, so I should work on the story. Well, since I have this time the characters don't want to play with me. I've also found when I'm blogging regularly I obtain my "writing fix" without even opening a Word doc. That's a problem.
Umpteen years of writer's block has taught me to read when I want to write. Problem: there's nothing here I want to read. Sure, just within arm's reach I can grab four different books with bookmarks less than 100 pages in and almost a million more I've never read. Yet none of them seem appealing at the moment. I need to do something with my days, and I need to read more.
"One of these days I should go to Barnes and Noble," I said aloud to myself. Then I decided: why wait? Go right now. Instead of waiting for a car, I hopped in our minivan and tooled down the road. I don't like driving the van but nothing gets between a girl and her books!
As I was on my way out the door Dad asked where I was going. He's bored, and I was the only one home. When I told him he asked for how long. My response didn't please him. "Until I'm done kinking my neck to read book title sideways."
"You're just going to walk up and down the aisles until you find something you want to read?"
"Exactly."
"Then I'm definitely not going!"
Good because you weren't invited. Going to B&N alone is something I love. It started freshman year of college when I didn't have a car on campus. I always went shopping with people. Yes, Wal-mart by yourself can be lame, but it's also refreshing to wander the aisles alone and at your leisure. I'm not allowed to go to Wal-mart when I'm home, so I always try to make at least one trip to Barnes and Noble by myself.
"I have my phone but don't call me. I'll be home when I'm done," I announce as I depart.
"What if we need the car?" It's a legitimate concern because we have four and a half drivers and three cars.
"If Dad can hog a car sitting in the parking structure at work untouched all day five days a week I can hog one for a few hours."
No, you can't even go to the mall while I'm at the bookstore because when you're done I have to be done. I want the freedom to be on my own time.
Call me rude but if I run in to people I know while at B&N, our conversations are exceptionally brief. I'm on a mission and I cannot be distracted. However, sometimes I have to pause to people watch.
"Can you just point me to my section?" an annoyed father asked his wife. Their grade school daughter stood in between them.
"This is the adult section," the girl says waving her hands. "All of these books are for adults."
I didn't hear how his wife responded, but he apparently was not satisfied.
"You mean I have to walk around and read every sign to find what I'm looking for?"
Yes, sir. That is exactly what I do.
I wander through the bookstore searching for something to read. For an English major, I'm not very well-read, so I investigate the classics. Nope. No Dickens of Shakespeare for Katie, please. I peruse the 1/2 off books. Since I don't know what I want how marvelous would it be to find it to be on sale? No luck. I sneak to the back corner where my B&N keeps the Christian books. I already have all of those Max Lucado books. They're out of Francine Rivers, and I don't love Karen Kinsbury's grammar.
Without fail I always find my hands on a writing book. Today I laughed at myself when I picked up the first one and quickly put it back. Not even five minutes later I picked up a second one. Realized I'd flipped them both open at random and they both fell open to sections dealing with rejection. That's not something I handle well, so I figured it was a message from God and am now the owner of A Novel Idea. :-)
After this it's the purposeless roaming. I think about books I've heard other people are reading. I recognize authors' names and check out their other books. I remember I've had professors encourage me to read more non-fiction, so I try to come home with at least one non-fiction book (usually this goal fails miserably). Really, though, I'm looking for a novel, and my B&N doesn't have a creative nonfiction section. I want something good to get lost in during these cold winter days as I fight cabin fever.
After that, I do exactly what every child is told never to do: I judge books by their covers. If I like the cover (or title or whatever) I pick up the book and read the back. If there's no synopsis on the back of the jacket I usually put it back down. If the synopsis sounds interesting, I fan the book open. Does it look like a book I could read? Laugh if you want but I almost stopped reading The Five Love Languages because the page number was really close to the edge of the page and I was afraid it was going to get cut off. I also scan for words; books littered with swears will not be enjoyed. For me, sex doesn't sell. No dark, no dirty.
My last stop before hitting the check-out counter is the investigate the teenage section. I didn't discover this section until I was a little too big. I always figured the teen section was for... well... teenagers. Not sheltered twelve or thirteen year old me. I read Harry Potter and Princess Diaries throughout most of my teenage years (this could explain why I'm not very well-read). Oh, well.
Few people enjoy going to bookstores with writers. Thanks for going there with me today (but not literally because I really just want to be there alone).
<>< Katie
"Sleep!"
"You've already done that; it's noon-thirty. What else do you want to do today?"
"Nothing!"
"That's what you did yesterday."
He's bored and therefore is objective is to annoy the rest of us, but he's right. As I look at my yesterday, my day before yesterday, my everyday since Christmas I realize I haven't done much. I read The Five Love Languages: Singles Edition and that's about it. I've read some blogs, written some blogs, played a few million games of Bejeweled Blitz, whooped butt in Bananagrams, scrapbooked a bit, and that's really about it. I'm not ok with that. I decided I have this time, so I should work on the story. Well, since I have this time the characters don't want to play with me. I've also found when I'm blogging regularly I obtain my "writing fix" without even opening a Word doc. That's a problem.
Umpteen years of writer's block has taught me to read when I want to write. Problem: there's nothing here I want to read. Sure, just within arm's reach I can grab four different books with bookmarks less than 100 pages in and almost a million more I've never read. Yet none of them seem appealing at the moment. I need to do something with my days, and I need to read more.
"One of these days I should go to Barnes and Noble," I said aloud to myself. Then I decided: why wait? Go right now. Instead of waiting for a car, I hopped in our minivan and tooled down the road. I don't like driving the van but nothing gets between a girl and her books!
As I was on my way out the door Dad asked where I was going. He's bored, and I was the only one home. When I told him he asked for how long. My response didn't please him. "Until I'm done kinking my neck to read book title sideways."
"You're just going to walk up and down the aisles until you find something you want to read?"
"Exactly."
"Then I'm definitely not going!"
Good because you weren't invited. Going to B&N alone is something I love. It started freshman year of college when I didn't have a car on campus. I always went shopping with people. Yes, Wal-mart by yourself can be lame, but it's also refreshing to wander the aisles alone and at your leisure. I'm not allowed to go to Wal-mart when I'm home, so I always try to make at least one trip to Barnes and Noble by myself.
"I have my phone but don't call me. I'll be home when I'm done," I announce as I depart.
"What if we need the car?" It's a legitimate concern because we have four and a half drivers and three cars.
"If Dad can hog a car sitting in the parking structure at work untouched all day five days a week I can hog one for a few hours."
No, you can't even go to the mall while I'm at the bookstore because when you're done I have to be done. I want the freedom to be on my own time.
Call me rude but if I run in to people I know while at B&N, our conversations are exceptionally brief. I'm on a mission and I cannot be distracted. However, sometimes I have to pause to people watch.
"Can you just point me to my section?" an annoyed father asked his wife. Their grade school daughter stood in between them.
"This is the adult section," the girl says waving her hands. "All of these books are for adults."
I didn't hear how his wife responded, but he apparently was not satisfied.
"You mean I have to walk around and read every sign to find what I'm looking for?"
Yes, sir. That is exactly what I do.
I wander through the bookstore searching for something to read. For an English major, I'm not very well-read, so I investigate the classics. Nope. No Dickens of Shakespeare for Katie, please. I peruse the 1/2 off books. Since I don't know what I want how marvelous would it be to find it to be on sale? No luck. I sneak to the back corner where my B&N keeps the Christian books. I already have all of those Max Lucado books. They're out of Francine Rivers, and I don't love Karen Kinsbury's grammar.
Without fail I always find my hands on a writing book. Today I laughed at myself when I picked up the first one and quickly put it back. Not even five minutes later I picked up a second one. Realized I'd flipped them both open at random and they both fell open to sections dealing with rejection. That's not something I handle well, so I figured it was a message from God and am now the owner of A Novel Idea. :-)
After this it's the purposeless roaming. I think about books I've heard other people are reading. I recognize authors' names and check out their other books. I remember I've had professors encourage me to read more non-fiction, so I try to come home with at least one non-fiction book (usually this goal fails miserably). Really, though, I'm looking for a novel, and my B&N doesn't have a creative nonfiction section. I want something good to get lost in during these cold winter days as I fight cabin fever.
After that, I do exactly what every child is told never to do: I judge books by their covers. If I like the cover (or title or whatever) I pick up the book and read the back. If there's no synopsis on the back of the jacket I usually put it back down. If the synopsis sounds interesting, I fan the book open. Does it look like a book I could read? Laugh if you want but I almost stopped reading The Five Love Languages because the page number was really close to the edge of the page and I was afraid it was going to get cut off. I also scan for words; books littered with swears will not be enjoyed. For me, sex doesn't sell. No dark, no dirty.
My last stop before hitting the check-out counter is the investigate the teenage section. I didn't discover this section until I was a little too big. I always figured the teen section was for... well... teenagers. Not sheltered twelve or thirteen year old me. I read Harry Potter and Princess Diaries throughout most of my teenage years (this could explain why I'm not very well-read). Oh, well.
Few people enjoy going to bookstores with writers. Thanks for going there with me today (but not literally because I really just want to be there alone).
<>< Katie
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