Life Without Music

Earlier this week I had coffee with a delightful woman whose family does not listen to much music. My understanding is that it's a sound issue where they can't handle the volume level. They went to a concert and had to leave because the sound stimulation was too much.

I tried to envision what my life would be like without music. I almost always have music playing. If it's not on, there's probably a song running through my head. Concerts are my family's bonding activity.

We've gone to the same multi-day Christian music festival for nine years. Our record is six Mark Schultz concerts in one calendar year. We sit around quoting "As Is" by Peder Eide as if "Samson was a long-haired, arrogant womanizer" is a perfectly logical thing to say in conversation.

If it weren't for music, we'd probably have to watch movies or take up karate like normal people.

When I talk about Lifest, I tell the silly stories: the standing ovation earned by a water bottle, the mud so bad our van had to be pushed into the parking lot, using my lawn chair as an umbrella, etc.

But I think about it, I think about worshipping with Phillips, Craig, and Dean as the rain gently fell on my face. I think about kneeling on fist-sized gravel to stretch my arms up to my Abba Father like a child wanting to be held. I remember Peter Furler (when he was in Newsboys) talking about God's perfect timing only to have a nearby train interrupt his sentence.

Can I worship without music?

I love how the Lord gets my attention through songs I've heard a million times. I get a taste of heaven when strangers unite as a family to sing praises to our Father. I didn't perform "My Savior, My God" in ASL in front of a crowded room of Nicaraguan believers; I worshipped my Savior, my God with my hands.

Through music may be one of my favorite ways to worship, but it's certainly not the only way.

To affirm or encourage someone, that's worship. To serve and love on someone, that's worship. To hug someone, to squeeze a shoulder as you pass, to look someone in the eye. Worship. To genuinely ask how someone's doing, to sit down and share life over a cup of coffee, to bring lunch to an under-employed freelance writer. Worship. To dance, to play ping pong, to sign, to make copies, etc. they can all be worship. (My thoughts on this have been heavily influenced by TASTE Worship--check it out).

In Guatemala, there was a day I was "forbidden" to sing and sign. I worshipped that day. I removed flecks of orange paint from a brush and bucket, and it was worshipful.

Can I worship with music?

Last summer, I remember running through the park arguing with God about being twenty minutes late to a forty-minute show. He brought to my attention that I was not approaching the concert with the right heart.

It wasn't the first time.

How often do I attend a concert just to add another artist to my repertoire? How often do I absent-mindedly sing along without realizing what I'm saying?

These questions hurt because I am ashamed of their answers.

Even at Christian concerts, my heart is not always in the right place. I've sung along, I've waved my arms, I've screamed at the top of my lungs, and I hate to confess it has not always been for the Lord.

It happens under a rain-free sky. It happens in a crowded, dark auditorium. It happens in my church on Sunday mornings. It happens to me more often than I care to admit.

I voluntarily took a day this week and turned the music off. I washed dishes in silence. I drove across town in the quiet. I worked without any accompaniment.

It was weird and awkward at first but then it became peaceful.

That's worship.

Weird and awkward at first. Uncomfortable and strange. But then peaceful, wonderful, and necessary.

Whether you're a person who loves to literally feel the beat of the drums or just prefers white noise in the background, take some time this week to worship with the radio off.

Let me know how it works for you.

<>< Katie

Wacky Wednesday

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

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 Cup

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.

That's What Family Does

I was talking through some of my feelings and challenges on the phone with my friend Stacy.  Basically, I melted on her.  I don't understand why God has asked (forced) me to leave home to move across the country home.  Among other things, she reminded me that my friends, though 900 miles away, are still here for me. 

Next time I was bored and lonely, I picked up the phone.

It has been so good to hear the voices of the people I love so much.  Sometimes we talk about our days, sometimes about superfluous things, and sometimes our conversations go deeper.  Sometimes there is silence on the phone, just like there is in face to face conversation.  But neither of us hang up.

Over the phone you can't have a sleepover with two twenty-somethings in a twin bed, you can't have children fall out of the laundry shoot, and you can't have a spontaneous dance party in the living room... but you can remember and laugh about them.

Over Skype, there are still quotes for Wacky Wednesday, still crazy facial expressions, and still people falling off the bed.

As I sat down to dinner alone, I plugged in my new Peder Eide Rescue CD.  The first time I heard "That's What Family Does," I figured it would need some time to grow on me.  It only took one more listening and it had grown!  It had me almost in tears.  (Though, I will admit: that's pretty easy these days).

"That's What Family Does" by Peder Eide

There are times when life is tough
and a yes to God is not enough.
When the hill is steep,
the summit high.
You wonder why.
You've lost your spark, your fight, your song
now wrong seems right
and right seems wrong.

Look around and see
the face of family
and lean into the love.
Lift each other up,
cheer each other on.
We do it all because
that's what family does.

The table's set
and the food is hot
reminding you what you've forgot
the warmth of home,
and a fragrant grace,
a holy place.
And all of us
can hardly wait
to hold you close
and celebrate.

Look around and see
the face of family
and lean into the love.
Lift each other up,
cheer each other on.
We do it all because
that's what family does.

They say out there that no one cares and you are all alone.
Seems they may be alone, well, we claim you as our own.

My spark, fight, and song are missing in action...

I can't physically look around and see... but I can see the face of family in my phone bill and my Skype's "Recent" log.  I can lean into the love even if that means no hugs.

Though it's not ideal, I'm lovin' it!

<>< Katie

Fear of Rejection

I've always struggled with fear of rejection.  Part of it comes from eight long years of middle and high school feeling like an outcast.

But overcoming the fear of rejection is more than having a place saved for you at the lunch table.  More than hearing the words, "Katie, we'd love for you to live in our apartment."  More than, "Will you go to the dance with me?"

It also involves a graduate school saying, "We see potential in her and want to grow her."  It's an employer saying, "We want her on our team!"  It's someone, anyone, saying "I believe in you."

Fear of rejection is still very real in my life, even if my name is shouted joyously when I enter the caf.  It still has a bigger hold than I'd care to admit, a bigger hold than I thought it did six months ago.

But in Christ I've found someone who says, "I believe in you."  I've found acceptance.  And it comes from the Creator of the Universe.  What more can one want?

Maybe I don't know what comes after China, but I am slowly learning to say, "It's going to be alright."  And do you know why?

Because God IS good.  ALL the time.

Even when it's hard to believe.  Even when you get seven rejections in five months.  Even when the world says, "She's not good enough."  Even when you're alone at the lunch table.

A Run in the Park

My family and I used to go to Lifest for the bands.  Hours were spent circling artist names in the program and making a strategic plan of where we needed to be and when.  Unfortunately for me, long gone are the years when I spent five days running from stage to stage, from mosh pit to lawn chair, from merch table to meet and greet line.

This past opening night of Lifest we got caught in the madness where the one-lane road through the park became a parking lot.  The only show I wanted to see all evening was to start in four minutes.  So still in the holding pattern at the park's entrance, I abandoned my family and our minivan.  I began to walk with a purpose towards a party with a purpose.  It took me fifteen minutes to walk from the park entrance to the fairgrounds entrance (in case you ever need to know).

Fifteen minutes is long time to repeatedly glance at your watch and realize you're missing the only show you wanted to see that day.  It's also a long time to question if you're approaching with the right heart.

Even if I miss my show, will tonight still be worth it?  Am I willing to hear from the Lord through a speaker I've never heard of, a band whose CD I have never purchased?  Am I here for an artist, a speaker, or am I here for the Lord?

Valid questions to take my mind off of the ticking minutes.

A fifteen minute jog through the park, thirteen minutes in line to exchange my ticket for a wristband, and I finally made it to the Grandstand as Peder Eide was wrapping up "Yes, Lord" and beginning a new song, "We are Not Orphans."  A new, new song.  So new the CD it's on won't be released until July 15th.  Peder has personally told me about this song twice, but I've been waiting a year to hear it.

A year.  No embellishing.

I thought I was late.  Twenty-three minutes late, to be exact.  Twenty-three minutes late to a forty minute show.

I wasn't.  I was right on time.  Sure, I missed the first twenty-three minutes that I would have thoroughly enjoyed, but I was right on time to hear the song I had been anxiously awaiting.

It was a beautiful moment.

"I haven't forgotten.  Welcome to Lifest.  We've been waiting for you," the Lord whispered to me.

It might have taken twenty-three minutes of anxiety, but once again I could honestly proclaim, "God, I'm all in.  I'm here for You.  Not the artists, not the speakers, not the expo center, not the camaraderie.  I'm here for YOU!" 

What a wonderful feeling that is!

When's the last time you spent fifteen minutes running through a (figurative) park adjusting the focus of your heart?  When's the last time you let your Abba Father sing over you and remind you of His goodness?  He's waiting.

"For the Lord your God is living among you.
He is a mighty savior.
He will take delight in you with gladness.
With his love, he will calm all your fears.
He will rejoice over you with joyful songs."
Zephaniah 3:17 NLT

Skype Date

At Lifest on Saturday two lives where forever changed in one slightly uncomfortable moment.

Peder Eide, the host of the grandstand, held the packet of a Compassion child above his head and said, "Lifest, I've never done this before.  But this is Maria from Honduras and we need a sponsor for her right now.  Who wants to sponsor Maria?"

There we all were, listening for the pull of the Holy Spirit, wondering who was going to step up.  A woman from the sea of lawn chairs answered the call.

Peder invited her on stage and asked her why she chose to sponsor that child.  A brand new Compassion sponsor, you could tell she was a little overwhelmed.

"How would you like to meet Maria?" Peder asked.

She didn't know what to say.

He invited her out to a computer that was set up to Skype Maria.

Their conversation was short yet powerful. 

I cried watching Lifest Skype Honduras.

It made me homesick... for Central America.  For Spanish.  For kissing people on the cheek.  For trying to understand the difference between mango and manga.  For worshipping our God, our same God, in another country, another language, and another way and realizing He understands and is comfortable with all of it.

I can't buy a plane ticket to Nicaragua.  I can't Skype my family in Costa Rica.  I can't play with my kids in Guatemala.

But I can write a letter to Maria, my family's Compassion child in Columbia.  I can facebook my brothers and sisters in Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Guatemala.  I can pray for believers in Central America and around the world.  I can look forward to and prepare for my upcoming trip to China with an unquenchable excitement.

What are you going to do?

Do you sponsor a Compassion child?  If so, send your child a letter.  If not, why not? 

Sure, most people don't get to Skype their sponsored child.  My roommate Jennifer got to meet her sponsored child in the Philippines, but that's not a reality for most of us.  Yet through letters and photos, your sponsored child becomes part of your family.  You get to share the hope of Christ and one day you will meet your sponsored child... just not on this earth.

Think about it.  Pray about it.  Try it.

Excuse me now, my sister Maria is overdue for a letter.

Dios les bendiga, amigos,
<>< Katie

Project 7

What can make or break a college student's self-esteem in mere seconds?
A trip to the post office.

For years I've been listening to Peder Eide talk about Taste Worship's family bonding activities.  My family is mostly grown, lives in three states, and refuses to participate in anything I suggest.  I'm sick of waiting for a future family to apply the things I'm learning.

Last week I began to ponder: what about my Ministry Team Family?  We're a group of ten students who go out in the community and lead youth retreats, lock-ins, Wednesday nights, etc.  We spend time weekly sharing life by praying for each other, talking about what God has been teaching us lately, sharing our testimonies, doing devotions, etc.

Like all good ideas, what if?  What if we all do our own Project 25?  The idea is that you write, "I love you because" on the top of a piece of paper and then list 25 reasons why you love a particular family member.  Well, 25 things I love about that person is a lot to come up with for someone I met six months ago and see once a week for an hour.

The what ifs continued and out popped Project 7.  I immediately facebooked the idea to my co-leader.  If I hadn't, I probably would have chickened out.  My mailbox was empty that day and thus so was my self-esteem.

By the strength of the Holy Spirit, I pitched the idea to my team.  What if every day for the next seven days we as a team were each going to anonymously encourage a certain team member?  Lift them up in prayer, affirm them, mail them Bible verses and candy, etc.  I really thought they'd think it lame.  (Mailbox was empty that day, too).  I told them to be creative.

We exchanged names and went on our way. I prayed everyone would participate so no one was left out.  I had no idea how God would use a silly "What If?" idea.

Day One
I saw three excited facebook status updates thanking their Project Seven person.

Day Two
Taste Worship sent out the Project 25 idea.  I realized how far we've come from the original idea!

Day Three
One girl told me she was loving sending her Project Seven person anonymous notes.  It took some prodding to figure out she was not receiving anything but she didn't mind.  (Her sender was home sick).

Day Four
God used my Project Seven Person to encourage me exactly how I needed it that day.

Day Five
Blew! My! Mind!  A friend not on my team cornered me in the caf. 
"Hypothetically, if my Project Seven person lives in your apartment and I, hypothetically, had something to leave on her bed.  Would you, hypothetically, let me in?"
Hypothetically, how did you learn about Project Seven?
Another team stole the idea and were participating as well!  How awesome is that?

Day Six
I began to get emails and text messages, "Are we going to do this again next week?!  We're not meeting this week because of the Green Bay Packers bringing the Lombardi Trophy home to Titletown, can we keep sending our person stuff?"

Day Seven
I have a gift in my backpack to slide into a friend's backpack tomorrow... on behalf of my roommate who didn't have any idea that this whole cockamamie scheme developed in her own bedroom.

God multiplied a simple "What if?" idea and used it well beyond what I could have ever dreamed!  The only credit I can take is obediently following the prompting of the Spirit.

Some of our creative ideas:
- campus mailed handwritten notes containing encouragement and Bible verses and accompanied with candy bars (campus mail is free)
- a card with seven note cards: one for each day (sent through real mail... postage paid)
- notes slid under dorm room doors
- affirming text messages sent from blocked numbers
- a phone call on behalf of a Project Seven Person with a personal, encouraging message.

And unlike most things that happen in my suite, Project Seven has stayed anonymous.  No one wants to be figured out!  They want to keep it a secret and guess at our next meeting.  Our next meeting we will, by popular demand, re-exchange names and do it again, getting more creative as the semester progresses.

Two lessons here:
1. Let the Holy Spirit use you.  Don't make our self-esteem depended on what you receive (or don't receive) in the mail.  Be willing to be bold.
2.  A little bit of encouragement goes a long, long way.  The knowledge that someone is praying for you is HUGE!

<>< Katie
PS: Feel free to take this idea and use it as you and the Lord see fit.

"And Then I Found Five Dollars"

Since I've been home, I've told a lot of stories around our dinner table. When I finally pause to breathe at the end of each story, Christina has looked at me and said, "And then did you find five dollars?"

Every time she's said it, I've boiled with anger and frustration.  The desire to rip off her head has increased with every smart alec comment that could be translated to, "That pointless story was a waste of my time."

I think that may be why Max Lucado's A Love Worth Giving has resonated so well with me, the queen of pointless stories.

In the chapter "Your Kindness Quotient," Max talks about Christ wanting to hear your story.  The example used is the woman with the bleeding problem whose story is found sandwiched in Mark 5. 

Basically she's been sick for years and years.  She was out of money, and everyone told her to be out of hope.  But she wasn't.  She had the faith to believe Jesus could heal her, so she went to find Him.

Of course, He was busy.  The daughter of a city leader (Jairus) was dying, and Jesus was on His way to perform a miraculous healing.  This woman didn't want to take up Jesus's time, so she slid behind Him in the crowd and touched the hem of His robe. 

Instantly she was healed and ready to go on her way.  Jesus wasn't going to let her get off that easily.

"Who touched me?"  He demanded.

Can you imagine the disciples' response?  "We're in the middle of a crowd and You wonder who touched You?  A million people!  That guy there, this woman over here, but I was the one who stepped on Your foot.  Sorry.  Come on; let's go!"

Christ was adamant, and the woman timidly came forward.  If it was me, I'd be ashamed of the ruckus I'd caused.  Maybe she was, but she was also healed.

Max writes, "A girl was dying, people were pressing, the disciples were questioning, but Jesus... Jesus was listening.  Listening to the whole story.  He didn't have to.  The healing would have been enough.  Enough for her.  Enough for the crowd.  But not enough for Him.  Jesus wanted to do more than heal her body.  He wanted to hear her story--all of it.  The whole story" (26).

It blows my mind that we have a Savior who is willing to hear every story we tell.  He's not even disappointed when they're long and pointless.  He'll never ask if we found five dollars.  If the story is important to us, it is important to Him.

I saw a prime example of this years ago at a concert meet and greet crowd.  A little girl came up and cut me in the blob of a line.  Of course, at the time I was annoyed but years later I'm glad to have witnessed such a beautiful moment.

The artist, Peder Eide, leaned over to be at her height, put his arm around her, and held his head next to hers in order to hear her over the crowd.  I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I knew it was intense because every once in a while Peder would draw back to make eye contact with her.  As her story drew to a close, he started gently asking her questions.  The crowd pressing for his attention no longer mattered; he wanted to know more about this little girl.

When she was done and he was done asking questions, Peder looked her in the eye and said, "Thank you for telling me that.  I'll be praying for you."

Christ's waiting for you to tell Him the whole story.  The crowd of people lobbying for His attention vanishes when He's got His arm around you listening to your story.  He's willing to sit there and talk with you for as long as you want.  He'll stay until your story is complete, even if it's long and boring.  He'll ask questions and carefully listen to the answers.  When you're done, He'll say, "Thank you for telling Me that.  I'm sure it wasn't easy."

Sit and talk.  Let Him be your Audience of One.

The non-monetary amount you find will be worth a whole lot more than five dollars.
<>< Katie

Favorite

Katie: I'm going to go upstairs now before one of those cookies leaps off the pan and into my mouth.
Mom: One already leaped into Dad's mouth.
Katie: They're my favorite.
Mom: I thought the rugelach was your favorite?
Katie: It is.  And Grandpa's Favorite Cookies are my favorite too.

Huh?  Katie, you can't have three favorite cookies.

Actually, I can.  If Peder Eide can have five favorite children, I can have three favorite cookies.

Peder [to his middle son]: Ethan, guess what?  You're my favorite.
Ethan: Cool!
Peder: Ethan, guess what?  Allison's my favorite.  And Taylor?  He's my favorite.
Ethan: Let me guess, Makenzie and Teshome are your favorite too?
Peder: Yup!  You are all my favorite!
Ethan: That's not as cool, Dad.

I understand Ethan's plight.  My sisters and I used to drive our father nuts asking him who was his favorite.  Now he says his favorite number is one-two-three.  He leaves us all notes proving he loves us each the most.

That just doesn't make sense.  I can't have three favorite cookies.  Peder can't have five favorite children.  Dad can't love us all the most.  It's not possible!  Or is it?

Why can't it be?

Friend, you are God's favorite.  He loves you the most.

He loves you so much He engraved your name on the palm of His hand. (see Isaiah 49:16).

He sent His Son to earth to be born in a dirty manger, to grow up in a world that disagreed with Him, to be brutally killed, to be raised again from the dead.  All because He loves you.  All because you're His favorite.

How does that make you feel?

Excuse me now while God's favorite daughter catches the favorite cookie that is flying at her mouth.

<>< Katie

"You are Faithful"

Some families watch movies. Some families have a game night. My family goes to concerts. It's our bonding activity.

I think it's safe to say we are professional concert go-ers. We are armed with CDs to have signed and even bring our own Sharpies. We consider our seats good ones if we can see the performer's teeth. We know all the words and sing along, even if not invited. We've had artists talk to us from the stage, tease us in the Meet & Greet line, and remember us from concert to concert.

The other night, we went to a Peder Eide concert. Peder has recognized me before, but I was out of context so I wasn't sure if he'd recognize me again. At one point during the show, I was looking at the screen and he was looking at me. When I looked back, we made eye contact and he gave me an "I see you" look.

After the show, we made our way through the crowd and towards Peder. When it was my turn, he greeted me with a hug and said, “It’s good to see you, Katie.”

He remembered my name! If I ever gave him my name, it was six months ago in a very different atmosphere. Maybe he found eight seconds to facebook stalk me. I don’t know, but he knew my name! We could have walked away right then and I would have been happy.

But we didn’t. When he signed my CD, while teasing me about being old school for bringing a CD from 1999, he signed his name, wrote my name (which he spelled correctly), and then thought for a minute. Eventually he wrote, “You are faithful.”

Ok, Peder Eide addressing me by name and calling me faithful. That’s cool!

But you know who I really want to hear that from? God.

I want God to put His arm around me and say, “Katie, you are faithful.”

I don’t want my faith to be limited to Christian concerts and blog posts. I want my faith to be a daily experience. I want to always seek God more. I don’t want the smile on my face to be fake. I want to be filled with joy—even when I have a headache, even when I’m stressed, even when the world seems to be against me.

Through it all, may I live faithfully to the Lord.  After all, He's the one that gave me my name.

<>< Katie

GIGATT

My heart was not in the right place last night.  It was one of those days where all of the little things add up and get to you until the smallest thing causes a waterfall.  Someone asks you what's wrong and you can't come up a reason worth crying.

Sure, your unreliable internet spent more time in the "cannot connect" phase than the "connected" phase, but that's not worth crying over.  Your laundry was disrespected in the community laundry room, but that's a perk of college life.  Today's caf food and your stomach are having an argument, but it will work itself out eventually.  A playful sass from your suitemates crossed the invisible line, but that's all (supposedly) backed with love.  And you ran out of blaze orange notecards before you were done making notes.  But none of those seem to justify the tears.

"Can't one thing just go right please, Lord," I said out loud, much to the chagrin of my sleeping roommate.

I walked into the bathroom to take out my contacts before they were permanently glued to my watery eyes.  A drying shirt slung over the shower curtain caught my eye.  Big white letters on a black shirt.

GIGATT

It was as if Andy's bouncy ball hit me in the face.

God is Good.

All The Time

Thanks.  I needed that.

I bought this Peder Eide shirt to wear on days where things aren't going too well just so people ask me what my shirt says.  Telling them, "God is good all the time" is a great reminder for myself, too.

GIGATT, friends, ATTGIG,
<>< Katie

Tear down the walls. Let everything fall

I don't like alarm clocks.  I still remember flying out of my skin the first night I shared a room with Amber when her alarm clock when off in the morning.  It seemed to take me forever to calm down and realize it was NOT the fire alarm.  Over the year it got better, but every morning she got up first, I got an unwelcome jolt.

My own alarm clock is music.  I plug my iPod in, put it on shuffle, and wait to see what God sends me in the morning when the alarm goes off.  Today the first song I heard was "Break Through" by Peder Eide.  As I was in bed trying to convince myself to pull my lazy head off of the pillow and sit up, the lyrics that I've heard a million times hit me in a new way.  I decided to make this my prayer for today.  Feel free to do the same.

"Break Through"
By Peder Eide

Sing all the songs
and read all about You.
I know right from wrong.
What does it amount to
if my life doesn't show
how much I love You?

I need You to break through.
Tear down the walls;
let everything fall.
'Cause I want to praise You.
Nothing between You and me.
I need you to break through.

I know there is more
I've yet to discover.
So many things
You want to uncover.
I've been scratching the surface;
I want to go deeper.

I need you to break through.
Tear down the walls;
let everything fall
'Cause I wanna praise You.
Nothing between You and me.
I need You to break through.

Break through the pride.
Break through the shame.
I've had enough of staying the same.
Break through the fear.
Open the gates,
I'm getting tired of playing it safe.

I need You to break through.
Tear down the walls;
let everything fall.
'Cause I wanna praise You.
Nothing between You and me.

I need you to break through.
Tear down the walls;
let everything fall.
'Cause I wanna praise You
Nothing between You and me.
I need You to break through.
Need You to break through.
Break through!

Wacky Wednesday

We all say funny things.  Some of us more than others.  <>< Katie

Dad: I'm booking your hotel for Festival.
[This was literally two days after Festival...he clarified it was for 2011]
Laura: Mom said you already did that.
Dad: Yeah, well, hotels are weird.  Sometimes you have to call them twice.

Random Guy in the Post Office: You don't need a passport to visit Hawaii, do you?  Because it's in the same country, right?

Katie: What's the purpose of a foyer?
Mom: To welcome your friends into your house.
Katie: Last time I had a friend over it was October.  And we came in through the garage.
Mom: I'm sorry your friends don't live in this country.

Christina: What's another word for "mouth" that starts with a "b"?
Laura: Orifice.
Christina: That's it!

Peder: Hey, Festival, love your lawn chair.  Hug your lawn chair.  Take your lawn chair home with you otherwise it will go into the lawn chair morgue, and we don't want that.  We love our lawn chairs.  You can bring your lawn chair back at noon tomorrow.

[Easter Sunday morning]
Katie: What's in your pocket?
Andy: My pocket knife.
Katie: Why?
Andy: In case I need to cut something.
Katie: What are you cutting in church?
Andy: Who knows: sandwiches, pickles, leaves, people--I'm trained to handle that.
Katie: It's wrong to cut people.
Andy: What about surgeons?  They cut people.
Katie: That's a slightly different situation.
Andy: You're a slightly different situation.
Katie: So you're bringing your knife to church because we're going to have surgery in our church clothes?
Andy: No, they cut those off.

Mom: Tina, get the blue laundry basket off of the... um... what's it called?... um...
Katie: Chair.  Washing machine.  Couch.  Counter.  Mantel.
Mom: Deck!
Katie: I'm glad you figured it out on your own because I would have been shouting nouns at you for a long time before I came up with that one.

[a facebook conversation... no photo involved]
Brother One: Brother!  Nobody wants to see your poop!
Brother Two: Please?
Katie: I bet your dad's interested.
the dad: I'm as interested as Katie is.
Katie: I like poop stories better, thanks.

Sarah: I sleep in pajamas most nights.

[on the bus back from the NYG]
Katie: Pastor Russ, I don't have ample floorspace back here, so I put my flip flops under your seat.  If they slide up there, just kick them back to me, please.
Pastor Russ: If they slide up here, I'm throwing them in the garbage.
Katie: That's fine, but then I get to wear your shoes.
PR: Good thing I only have four different types of foot fungus.

[Mom had just used some relatively normal medical term... Christina's in high school]
Christina: I know I'm going to be a nurse and I should know what that means, but I haven't taken physics yet.

Uncle Bill: What are you holding?  A zucchini?  A cucumber?
Uncle Jay: A carrot?
Dad: A grape?
Uncle Jay: With elephantitis!
[it was a potato... a normal potato.... now forever known as a grape with elephantitis]

Christina: Daddy, why were you at the doctor?
Dad [creepy voice]: Bahlud.  Vampries.  Bahlud.
Christina: Did they take a pint?
Dad [serious voice]: A quart.  Might have been a half-gallon.
Christina: Oh.

Pastor Seth: Have you gotten dinner?
Katie: I ate lunch at like 3.
PS: So you had lunner?

Mom: I need a Rav-4 Brochure.
Katie: I don't know what that means.
Mom: A Rav-4 is a car and a brochure is a little booklet.
I took her all of the little booklets I could find.

Speaker Dude: Your story isn't about you.  Look it up.  [pointing to a Bible]

Nikki: Keith!  I think I'm sick, I've blogged twice in a week and I have two others in draft.
Keith: If that is sick, rush me to the critical care unit.  And bury Katie; she's been dead awhile.

Dance for Joy

I think the thing I say to God most frequently is a sarcastic, "Wow, You're funny."  He's got perfect timing and sometimes it just makes me shake my head.

If you've ever seen Peder Eide in concert, you know that at some point he plays a "hymn on Mountain Dew" that is an upbeat arrangement of "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee."  Towards the end of the song, the invisible band vamps while Peder talks about how if what we're singing is true and we really have the joy of the Lord we don't just uses our voices, we use everything we have.  He tells the audience to put their arms around their sweaty neighbors, complete strangers that are now family.  Then everyone jumps.  Without letting go of each other.

Then, he tells us we can let go.  He moves on to talk about how dance is worship.  There's no right or wrong way to dance for joy.  He says, "David danced before the Lord.  He was almost naked, but we're going to skip that part."

I always play my iPod on shuffle.  Always.  I have over 3,300 songs on it; it's the only way I get to hear all of them.  The other morning, I was getting dressed when "Joyful, Joyful" came on.  Peder's version.  I stopped and danced.

Then I doubled over in laughter.  There I was, just like David, almost naked and dancing before the Lord.

Try it sometime.  It's fun.  Dance before the Lord.  Get the rest of your family to join you, too!

Note: if you are in the presence of others and you are not married to said others, please put some clothes on.  Thanks.

<>< Katie

"It's All in the Serve"

Do me a favor and hold your imaginary tennis ball in your left hand, racket in your right.  Bounce the ball on the ground a few times because in a second you're going to toss it straight into the air.  Now, cross your wrists.  You know this.  "Down together; up together; swing when you're ready."

How's your serve?

Off the court, how's your serve?  Invisible?  Are you putting the towel on like Jesus and washing dirty, smelly feet?  Are you getting dirty?  Are you being used?  Are you serving your own intentions or feeding the needs of others?

Honestly?

No one's judging you (except God, of course, but He loves you anyway).

The serve
An Ace: A job well done.  Applaud but not because of what you did.  Applaud that God used you, and no one saw.  Don't you dare tell anyone what happened.  Now, go do it again.

The Let: The job was completed, but you got caught in the act.  Bounce the ball a few times, brush it off, and step up to the baseline.  Take two.  Don't get caught.  Let God work.

It's Out: You pushed your own intentions, and the ball went long.  You didn't do what needed to be done, and the ball went wide.  That's ok.  Try again.  Whatever you do, don't let the ball fall short.  Good intentions do nothing.  Follow through.

<>< Katie

Note One: some of the ideas in this post come from Peder Eide.  If you have never explored his Taste Worship ministry, I highly recommend you do so.  Especially if you have a family.  Which you do.

Note Two: The title of this post comes from a Michael W. Smith song from The Second Chance movie.

See the blue; be the blue

My summer days have been pretty much the same: check blogger for updates, facebook, read blogs, check blogger for updates, write a new blog, read a chapter, work on novel (50,000 words!), check blogger for updates, read a chapter, work on novel, check blogger for updates...

When I finally tear myself away from the computer, I head to the basement to work on my scrapbook.  Directly above my workstation is a window that leads to a hole in our backyard.  When we first punched holes in the walls to add the windows, we put flowers in the terraced dug-out because they were pretty.  Well, the years have gone by and so have the flowers.

The other day I was banished to the basement (tornado warning?).  After cranking out a few pages, I looked up and saw this:

That's the best photo I could get without climbing on the counter and sitting in the window well in a "super safe way," sorry.  There is one small clump of blue flowers in a huge sea of green.  I looked at those blue flowers and smiled.

That's how we're supposed to be: one blue flower in a sea of green.  We're supposed to stand out in the crowd.  Stand strong for Christ, even when we're alone.  Daily show His grace, mercy, joy, and compassion even when it isn't easy.  We're supposed to be the blue.

A couple of hours later, I was still thinking about this God moment when I remembered the title of disc two in my car: See the Blue by Peder Eide.

The back of the CD case says,

If you look around yourself right now - even as you read this- and look for the color blue, you will most likely find many things that are blue.  The color stands out when you look for it.  It has always been there, but it's when you look for it that you find it!  The same goes for God's presence, God's fingerprint, God's grace, and God's still small voice.  It's always there, but often we don't notice it, hear it, or see it until we look for it."

Do you see the blue?  Can you be the blue?

<>< Katie

Blue

I don't know if it is like this on all college campuses, but here you cannot spend time on campus without having at least one story about our housekeeping staff. The housekeepers LOVE to talk. Perhaps that's an understatement. They will start up conversation with anyone and everyone. Last year, a trip to the bathroom that should have taken eight steps took forty-five minutes because Miss Jessie caught me and I was without a good exit excuse.

Now that I no longer live in the dorms, I am no longer forced to interact with them as frequently as I once did. However, I still see them around campus. Just yesterday, Miss Anna had no problem interpreting my prayer to tell me about how she working double shift in order to attend the funeral of former housekeeper the next day. I figure God wouldn't mind if I spent five minutes talking to her while she changed the garbage bag in the prayer room.

Except that they're long winded, Miss Jessie and Miss Patty never have bothered me because I can understand them. It's the older women like Miss Rose and Miss Joy that make me nervous because they have the thickest accents I have ever heard. With Miss Rose, my motto has always been smile and nod politely as she tells me all of the gossip for the week.

With Miss Joy, smile and nod doesn't work. In the words of one of my professors, "Miss Joy was a housekeeper for almost a million years, so when she retired they invited her to audit any classes she wants. As I'm sure you've noticed, that means she sleeps through them all."

When she'd speak up in class, all eight of us (including the professor) would listen intently trying to hack through her deep drawl and old age to formulate some comprehensible statement and interpret it for the rest of the class. I could understand maybe three words every fifteen.

Since then, she's gotten older and her health has deteriorated taking some of her verbal skills with it. This means if I could understand one word before I can't understand anything now. That's a problem because like all of our other housekeepers, Miss Joy loves to talk. I knew I was in trouble when I spotted her sitting outside the cafeteria after dinner tonight.

"Good evening, Miss Joy," I said. There was no way around it; I had to acknowledge her presence.

"Hello. Slkjadansdmasd," she responded.

"Excuse me?"

"I like your blue coat."

"Thank you," I said. It's purple, I thought to myself. Everything I own is purple; Wonder Jacket is no exception. Poor Wonder Jacket is often confused to be blue and now she's feeling blue because of it (I just decided that if my coat has a name it should have feelings, too). Instead of correcting Miss Joy, I let it go.

"Yes, I think blue is your color."

"Thank you very much," I said trying to appear flattered as I walked away insulted.

BLUE?! My color? No you didn't! Purple is my color! A quick glance around my room confirms this. From my desk I see the following purple items: two backpacks, two Nalgenes, two blankets, four pens, my watch, post-it notes, tennis shoes, slippers, a purse, a hammock... Today even my sweater and socks are purple! My world is purple.

Blue is not my color.

See the blue? There's not much of it: blue books, blue pen (professors prefer blue to purple; why is that?), blue jump drive, blue tissue box (only because Wal-mart was out of purple), blue jeans, blue hand... No, not mine. Well, yes mine. It's made from paper and hanging on the wall above my desk. It's my reminder to see the blue.

In 2008, Peder Eide released a CD entitled See the Blue. The whole idea is that blue is everywhere around us but if we're not looking for it we don't see it. Likewise, God is everywhere around us but if we're not looking for Him we don't see Him.

Even though she insulted my jacket and me, Miss Joy reminded me to see the blue, to open my eyes and see God. Thank you! Maybe I will hold the door for you again.

View the Blue,
<>< 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