On August 2, 1989, Freddy arrived home from a work dinner to find his house empty. Nothing unusual. He called his in-laws who lived down the street. He says he knew the moment his father-in-law answered the phone.
His wife, Parah, didn't know. She was too busy running up and down the stairs trying to relieve the cramps caused by eating a whole bowl of green beans for dinner. After the stairs, she moved on to the stationary bike before resolving herself to the bathroom floor. She still had three weeks.
A few hours later, they were in the car on the way to the hospital. Freddy's eyes rotated between the road, the clock, and his screaming wife. Less than five minutes. As they drew nearer, he expressed his lifelong dream of being pulled over at that very moment. Through gritted teeth Parah told him to shut up and drive the car.
One stoplight away and an ambulance appeared on the horizon. Freddy didn't stop to think. He knew he had to get his wife to the hospital before that ambulance arrived. He ran the red light and threatened to park in the ambulance bay. He parked in the on-call physician spot instead.
Inside of the hospital a few floors up, their sister-in-law Sasha heard about Freddy and Parah's late-night arrival. She slowly meandered downstairs thinking she had plenty of time. Stopping at the nurse's station to talk to her friends, she was told about a patient in Room One mere minutes away from giving birth. Suddenly the pieces fell into place and she rushed into the room, almost missing the birth of her goddaughter.
She wasn't the only one who almost missed it. The doctor almost missed it, too. He arrived at the hospital and poked his head in Parah's room. "Do I have time to change my clothes?"
"If you hurry," the nurse said.
They teased he could have been there sooner if Freddy hadn't been parked in his spot. Luckily, the doctor did make it back in time to deliver a baby girl at 1:35am on August 3.
That was 21 years ago tonight. How do you think I should celebrate?
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label bathroom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bathroom. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Thoughts from the Bathroom
After six exams, eight hours of packing, and a 13 hour drive I am home for the summer! This means time to re-establish home life with the family. One of our biggest places of contention is the bathroom. It makes sense: I have two sisters. It's also why my parents put two sinks in our bathroom when we built the house. When I'm at school it works well: two girls, two sinks. When I come home, the drama begins as we re-establish the pecking order, I mean bathroom organization.
When it comes to bathroom time, I'm pretty low maintenance: brush my tooth, pop in the contacts, lotion, comb the now-short hair, done. My sisters...not so much. I asked Dad to "handle the situation upstairs," and he didn't know what I was talking about until I showed him our bathroom. I then went to find a shovel to help him get his chin off of the floor. He went downstairs and told my sisters to get some of their "crap" off the counter.
"What crap?" my sisters responded innocently.
"Make-up, bottles, cords, I don't know... girl stuff."
It was their turn to use the shovel. I also think the stuff was levitating because there was no counter visible. The shower was just as bad. Between the two of them there were: fourteen bottles, four loofas, and three razors. I just don't understand.
After they moved their "crap" (and I evicted Mom's "overgrown toothbrush mold" of a decor) I was able to move-in. I opened my drawer and found four open bottles of contact solution. I practically drink the stuff, so I don't have any idea how I managed to get four open bottles (one from home, one from school, one from Dad, and one from some trip? I don't really know), but I do know I won't be needing to buy anymore this week. No promises on next week, though. As I was sorting through the surplus of hotel lotion, unused orthodontia rubber bands, and old contacts God got my attention.
Every August I get new contacts whether I need them or not. Most years it's a not. This means I have an ever-growing stack of out-dated, old prescription contacts that I don't know what to do with. Every August Mom tells me to keep wearing the old contacts to use them up and start the new ones in September. It's a great plan since "your eyes will never be closer to what they were than they are right now" (does that make sense?). Besides, normally I don't know how bad my prescription is until I get the new one. Flaw in the plan: when you go to the eye doctor they fit you for new contacts and you have to prove you know how to put them in. I've been wearing contacts everyday for the last six years, but sure you can teach me how to insert them into my eye... Yes, I'm a fast learner. Anyway. Once you put in the new contacts you instantly realize how much of the world you've been missing. There is no going back to the old prescription once you've tried the new.
You don't realize how messed up your life is until God starts fixing it. But, like with the contacts, once you've seen the new way there's no going back to how life used to be. Like the hymn says, "I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back; no turning back." Once you've allowed Him to work in your life there should be no holding back, no pulling away. No turning back.
<>< Katie
When it comes to bathroom time, I'm pretty low maintenance: brush my tooth, pop in the contacts, lotion, comb the now-short hair, done. My sisters...not so much. I asked Dad to "handle the situation upstairs," and he didn't know what I was talking about until I showed him our bathroom. I then went to find a shovel to help him get his chin off of the floor. He went downstairs and told my sisters to get some of their "crap" off the counter.
"What crap?" my sisters responded innocently.
"Make-up, bottles, cords, I don't know... girl stuff."
It was their turn to use the shovel. I also think the stuff was levitating because there was no counter visible. The shower was just as bad. Between the two of them there were: fourteen bottles, four loofas, and three razors. I just don't understand.
After they moved their "crap" (and I evicted Mom's "overgrown toothbrush mold" of a decor) I was able to move-in. I opened my drawer and found four open bottles of contact solution. I practically drink the stuff, so I don't have any idea how I managed to get four open bottles (one from home, one from school, one from Dad, and one from some trip? I don't really know), but I do know I won't be needing to buy anymore this week. No promises on next week, though. As I was sorting through the surplus of hotel lotion, unused orthodontia rubber bands, and old contacts God got my attention.
Every August I get new contacts whether I need them or not. Most years it's a not. This means I have an ever-growing stack of out-dated, old prescription contacts that I don't know what to do with. Every August Mom tells me to keep wearing the old contacts to use them up and start the new ones in September. It's a great plan since "your eyes will never be closer to what they were than they are right now" (does that make sense?). Besides, normally I don't know how bad my prescription is until I get the new one. Flaw in the plan: when you go to the eye doctor they fit you for new contacts and you have to prove you know how to put them in. I've been wearing contacts everyday for the last six years, but sure you can teach me how to insert them into my eye... Yes, I'm a fast learner. Anyway. Once you put in the new contacts you instantly realize how much of the world you've been missing. There is no going back to the old prescription once you've tried the new.
You don't realize how messed up your life is until God starts fixing it. But, like with the contacts, once you've seen the new way there's no going back to how life used to be. Like the hymn says, "I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back; no turning back." Once you've allowed Him to work in your life there should be no holding back, no pulling away. No turning back.
<>< Katie
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Baptist Easter
I was nervous about my first Easter in Baptist Country. Come to find out, it was just me being a pessimist. Big surprise. I was wrong. My Easter was very good! Even if no one responded when I called, "He is risen!"
Sometimes when you live in a dorm room you forget what it's like to live in a house. You forget what it's like to not be able to swipe your card and get a (maybe) hot meal but instead have a fully stocked pantry.
Lunch on Friday was a challenge. I can't really call it "lunch." A more accurate term may be: the massive amounts of bizarre food consumed around mid-day. It was Good Friday, so I couldn't eat meat and I don't eat Ramen (so many college students live on Ramen noodles that it's my goal to graduate without eating them), Elizabeth can't cook anything except mac & cheese and there wasn't any, Jennifer only wanted cereal, and Emily only likes food that begins with the letter "c" and won't eat food that begins with "p." Thus our lunch dilemma. We ate: Ramen (not me), rice and cinnamon, cereal, cantaloupe, applesauce, pudding, and string cheese. Don't tell Mrs. Mary. :-)
When you live in a house you have to remember that the blurry red lights across the bedroom aren't just there to be annoying but to someone they reveal the time in the middle of the night...
Something you may not know about me: I am a bad bed partner. I talk, I kick, I really hate sleeping on the top bunk without a safety bar because, well, I use the whole bed and sometimes more. When I learned Elizabeth and I were going to be sharing a double bed for five nights I was scared... for her sake. Even if I only kicked her once every night that would still leave five painful bruises on her legs. As it turns out, I never kicked her but instead I took an elbow to the face in the middle of the night. Thanks, friend. She said it's because I stole the covers. I told her if she would have asked nicely I would have given them back but nooooo she had to get violent on me. :-)
In a home, everything has a place and the only thing out of place is Bananagrams, the most frequently played game in the house.
When I close my eyes to go to sleep at night, I see Bananagrams letters. I'm kind of experiencing withdrawals being back on campus. It's a word game kind of like Scrabble but better; we played for hours every day. This is marvelous for word-lovers like me. Not so great for the weird math-lovers like my future roommate Jennifer or friend Chris. No one is still quite sure how Andy was able to play Bananagrams with one hand and look up spellings in the dictionary with the other. Either way his "n comes after m" got really annoying... If you can't use a word in a sentence, define it, or spell it then you can't use it!
When you live on campus sometimes you forget driving can actually be faster than walking...
Since I wasn't home for Easter, some traditions had to be broken... like sitting in a dark closet for three hours on Friday afternoon to commemorate Jesus' time on the cross. One tradition I refused to sacrifice was the Good Friday Service of Darkness. It's an incredibly powerful service for Jesus reflecting on the seven things He said from the cross. I forced Chris, Andy, and Elizabeth into funeral clothes and to the Lutheran church down the road (not to be confused with the funeral home). We were teasing about the five cars outside and all of us leaving wearing black; people were going to start calling asking who died. Jesus did. Well, we walked into church and the first person we saw was wearing bright green scrubs. Another person was wearing an Easter bonnet. And there we were all dressed in black... So maybe this Lutheran church is a bit different than mine. My three Baptist friends were good sports about it, though.
When you live in a house you forget that in some places of the world there are commitments before 8am.
Including Elizabeth and her two sisters, Andy, and me there were five of us fighting for one bathroom. We were really expecting this to be a huge problem Easter morning, but it actually wasn't too bad! For the first time in years we made it to the Sonrise service on time! I'd never been to a Sonrise service, so it was a cool experience to stand in the parking lot and put flowers on the cross. It a beautiful tradition and it works in Baptist Country, but it wouldn't work in place where a white Easter is feasible.
When you live in a house you have real dishes and nice china, too.
This Easter was the first holiday without my family. I handled it a lot better than I anticipated... until Mrs. Mary asked me to set the table and handed me a set of plates. The china pattern was the exact same as my mom's. Our also rarely-used good china was being placed around a rarely used dining room table 900 miles away where, according to an earlier text from my sister, a place had been set for me. I think I'm going to be late...
All in all, my Easter was great!
Care for some quotes for good measure?
Emily: What's the lowest note you can sing?
Andy: Um... I think a seven.
Emily: Will you do it?
Andy walks in carrying a heap of blankets
Elizabeth: What's that?
Andy: My gardening utensils.
Jennifer: Will you hold my Nerds? And don't tell me I am what I eat!
Elizabeth: I feel like a limp noodle!
Andy: Emily, can I put this pig in your speed bump?
<>< Katie
Sometimes when you live in a dorm room you forget what it's like to live in a house. You forget what it's like to not be able to swipe your card and get a (maybe) hot meal but instead have a fully stocked pantry.
Lunch on Friday was a challenge. I can't really call it "lunch." A more accurate term may be: the massive amounts of bizarre food consumed around mid-day. It was Good Friday, so I couldn't eat meat and I don't eat Ramen (so many college students live on Ramen noodles that it's my goal to graduate without eating them), Elizabeth can't cook anything except mac & cheese and there wasn't any, Jennifer only wanted cereal, and Emily only likes food that begins with the letter "c" and won't eat food that begins with "p." Thus our lunch dilemma. We ate: Ramen (not me), rice and cinnamon, cereal, cantaloupe, applesauce, pudding, and string cheese. Don't tell Mrs. Mary. :-)
When you live in a house you have to remember that the blurry red lights across the bedroom aren't just there to be annoying but to someone they reveal the time in the middle of the night...
Something you may not know about me: I am a bad bed partner. I talk, I kick, I really hate sleeping on the top bunk without a safety bar because, well, I use the whole bed and sometimes more. When I learned Elizabeth and I were going to be sharing a double bed for five nights I was scared... for her sake. Even if I only kicked her once every night that would still leave five painful bruises on her legs. As it turns out, I never kicked her but instead I took an elbow to the face in the middle of the night. Thanks, friend. She said it's because I stole the covers. I told her if she would have asked nicely I would have given them back but nooooo she had to get violent on me. :-)
In a home, everything has a place and the only thing out of place is Bananagrams, the most frequently played game in the house.
When I close my eyes to go to sleep at night, I see Bananagrams letters. I'm kind of experiencing withdrawals being back on campus. It's a word game kind of like Scrabble but better; we played for hours every day. This is marvelous for word-lovers like me. Not so great for the weird math-lovers like my future roommate Jennifer or friend Chris. No one is still quite sure how Andy was able to play Bananagrams with one hand and look up spellings in the dictionary with the other. Either way his "n comes after m" got really annoying... If you can't use a word in a sentence, define it, or spell it then you can't use it!
When you live on campus sometimes you forget driving can actually be faster than walking...
Since I wasn't home for Easter, some traditions had to be broken... like sitting in a dark closet for three hours on Friday afternoon to commemorate Jesus' time on the cross. One tradition I refused to sacrifice was the Good Friday Service of Darkness. It's an incredibly powerful service for Jesus reflecting on the seven things He said from the cross. I forced Chris, Andy, and Elizabeth into funeral clothes and to the Lutheran church down the road (not to be confused with the funeral home). We were teasing about the five cars outside and all of us leaving wearing black; people were going to start calling asking who died. Jesus did. Well, we walked into church and the first person we saw was wearing bright green scrubs. Another person was wearing an Easter bonnet. And there we were all dressed in black... So maybe this Lutheran church is a bit different than mine. My three Baptist friends were good sports about it, though.
When you live in a house you forget that in some places of the world there are commitments before 8am.
Including Elizabeth and her two sisters, Andy, and me there were five of us fighting for one bathroom. We were really expecting this to be a huge problem Easter morning, but it actually wasn't too bad! For the first time in years we made it to the Sonrise service on time! I'd never been to a Sonrise service, so it was a cool experience to stand in the parking lot and put flowers on the cross. It a beautiful tradition and it works in Baptist Country, but it wouldn't work in place where a white Easter is feasible.
When you live in a house you have real dishes and nice china, too.
This Easter was the first holiday without my family. I handled it a lot better than I anticipated... until Mrs. Mary asked me to set the table and handed me a set of plates. The china pattern was the exact same as my mom's. Our also rarely-used good china was being placed around a rarely used dining room table 900 miles away where, according to an earlier text from my sister, a place had been set for me. I think I'm going to be late...
All in all, my Easter was great!
Care for some quotes for good measure?
Emily: What's the lowest note you can sing?
Andy: Um... I think a seven.
Emily: Will you do it?
Andy walks in carrying a heap of blankets
Elizabeth: What's that?
Andy: My gardening utensils.
Jennifer: Will you hold my Nerds? And don't tell me I am what I eat!
Elizabeth: I feel like a limp noodle!
Andy: Emily, can I put this pig in your speed bump?
<>< Katie
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Burnt Popcorn
This week in my creative writing class we're been discussing point of view (pov) and tense. Personally, it's a bit basic because I know my preferred pov and tense. I know that if I'm writing creative non-fiction it's almost always in past tense, first person. Sure, the first person protagonist isn't always me but it's how I tend to write. My fiction pov of choice is bit more complicated. Almost always third person but beyond that I cannot/could not be more specific. Last week, I would have said omniscient. This week I'm not so sure. Senior year in high school, a classmate read one my writing assignments and commented, "This is written in third person limited. That's what Mrs. Martin said was the hardest to write, wasn't it?" I took that as a complement but brushed it off because, well, he wasn't the best student in our class. I regret not going back and investigating whether he was right in his judgment or not because now I'm quite a ways into a novel and I realized it's the wrong point of view. Sure, some parts can stay but most of it needs major revisions. I have my work cut out for me, and I realize this four days after spring break. Oh snap.
As a class exercise, I've rewritten this same scene multiple times from multiple povs.
<>< Katie
I first knew Chuck was over when I noticed his car in the parking lot as I walked back to my apartment as I late after class on Monday night. This meant I would not be accomplishing much in the hour and a half I had left of my day. As I walked up the stairs the smell of burnt popcorn was almost overwhelming. Of course, I wondered who did it, if the fire alarm had gone off, and how long the stench had had to clear. I turned the corner and had my answers before I pulled out my keys.
"Are we the ones who burnt the popcorn?" I asked as I walked through the open door. Bad choice. I regret opening my big mouth. Clearly the answer was yes. As soon as I made it through the foyer I saw Mandy curled up in a chair, her face buried in her knees. Chuck knelt beside her trying--and failing miserable--to console her.
"I set the fire alarm off," Mandy said looking up at me. Mascara and tears seemed to be hosting a marathon on her cheeks.
"Let me put my stuff down and I'll give you a hug," I said doing just that. When it comes to rectifying situations involving my roommates, a hug is always step one. Step two was biting my tongue and not complaining about the frigid temperature and awful odor.
"We were going to watch a movie, do you want to watch it, too?" Chuck offered.
Who could think about a movie at a time like that? Sir, your girlfriend is clearly upset, our apartment will soon reach subzero temperatures, and I doubt the aroma of burnt-popcorn will ever dissipate, I wanted to say, but I didn't. Instead I ignored him.
"I don't want to watch that movie now," Mandy confessed quietly. I went into the bathroom and grabbed the air freshener. I could still hear them talking in the kitchen.
"Where'd you find that?" Chuck asked when I returned armed with Oust.
"My secret stash," I said covering up the burnt popcorn with strawberries and cream.
"Heidi, I wish you'd have been here," Mandy cried.
"Me, too," I said hugging her again. It was only half of a lie. I would have rather been here with Mandy and her fire alarm than taking notes in class at 10pm. I wish I had been here for her sake, not my own.
"I was here," Chuck interjected. I smiled at him. He's trying; he really is.
"Everyone knew it was my fault. I forced everyone out of the building," she groaned. Even my story about Emily burning popcorn during business hours and forcing an administrative building to evacuate didn't really help. It was time for Plan B: comic relief.
"Did you try waving the towel in front of the smoke detector?" I asked; she nodded.
"As soon as we stopped the alarm went off. I thought about blocking the detector, but I didn't think that would work," Chuck explained.
"Have you used a wet towel to clear the smell?" They doubted it would be beneficial, but I wanted to try anyway. At the very least, it might cheer Mandy up a bit. I put a fresh towel under the faucet, rang it out, and began to swirl it above my head.
Success! Well, I don't know if it really helped with the smell, but Liz smiled. In fact, I think I heard a giggle! And right then, that giggle was more important to me than the overwhelming burnt popcorn smell. Mission accomplished, Heidi. Well done.
Oh, but next time I try to cheer someone up with the helicopter-like towel maneuver, I might remember to close the blinds first. I think we had an audience in the parking lot.
As a class exercise, I've rewritten this same scene multiple times from multiple povs.
<>< Katie
I first knew Chuck was over when I noticed his car in the parking lot as I walked back to my apartment as I late after class on Monday night. This meant I would not be accomplishing much in the hour and a half I had left of my day. As I walked up the stairs the smell of burnt popcorn was almost overwhelming. Of course, I wondered who did it, if the fire alarm had gone off, and how long the stench had had to clear. I turned the corner and had my answers before I pulled out my keys.
"Are we the ones who burnt the popcorn?" I asked as I walked through the open door. Bad choice. I regret opening my big mouth. Clearly the answer was yes. As soon as I made it through the foyer I saw Mandy curled up in a chair, her face buried in her knees. Chuck knelt beside her trying--and failing miserable--to console her.
"I set the fire alarm off," Mandy said looking up at me. Mascara and tears seemed to be hosting a marathon on her cheeks.
"Let me put my stuff down and I'll give you a hug," I said doing just that. When it comes to rectifying situations involving my roommates, a hug is always step one. Step two was biting my tongue and not complaining about the frigid temperature and awful odor.
"We were going to watch a movie, do you want to watch it, too?" Chuck offered.
Who could think about a movie at a time like that? Sir, your girlfriend is clearly upset, our apartment will soon reach subzero temperatures, and I doubt the aroma of burnt-popcorn will ever dissipate, I wanted to say, but I didn't. Instead I ignored him.
"I don't want to watch that movie now," Mandy confessed quietly. I went into the bathroom and grabbed the air freshener. I could still hear them talking in the kitchen.
"Where'd you find that?" Chuck asked when I returned armed with Oust.
"My secret stash," I said covering up the burnt popcorn with strawberries and cream.
"Heidi, I wish you'd have been here," Mandy cried.
"Me, too," I said hugging her again. It was only half of a lie. I would have rather been here with Mandy and her fire alarm than taking notes in class at 10pm. I wish I had been here for her sake, not my own.
"I was here," Chuck interjected. I smiled at him. He's trying; he really is.
"Everyone knew it was my fault. I forced everyone out of the building," she groaned. Even my story about Emily burning popcorn during business hours and forcing an administrative building to evacuate didn't really help. It was time for Plan B: comic relief.
"Did you try waving the towel in front of the smoke detector?" I asked; she nodded.
"As soon as we stopped the alarm went off. I thought about blocking the detector, but I didn't think that would work," Chuck explained.
"Have you used a wet towel to clear the smell?" They doubted it would be beneficial, but I wanted to try anyway. At the very least, it might cheer Mandy up a bit. I put a fresh towel under the faucet, rang it out, and began to swirl it above my head.
Success! Well, I don't know if it really helped with the smell, but Liz smiled. In fact, I think I heard a giggle! And right then, that giggle was more important to me than the overwhelming burnt popcorn smell. Mission accomplished, Heidi. Well done.
Oh, but next time I try to cheer someone up with the helicopter-like towel maneuver, I might remember to close the blinds first. I think we had an audience in the parking lot.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Bus Ride Prayer
On the long bus ride back from the ski trip, we took a Prayer Break where all distractions were put away. Or at least that was the intent. My distractions are often in my head (aka mentally writing), so eliminating those are hard but I really tried. No iPod, no cell phones, no movie, no talking; only talking to God.
I folded my hands but opted against closing my eyes. If I closed my eyes, I probably would have fallen asleep. Besides, who wants to close their eyes while riding through the beautiful mountains?
Katie: Hey, God, I absolutely love these mountains You've created. I'm willing to risk motion-sickness and take my eyes off the road to enjoy this beautiful creation You've made. Every tree perfectly formed and every mountain hump meticulously placed. The effort and precision amazes me!
God: You know, Katie, I put the same amount of effort and precision into creating you.
My prayer time could have been over right then and there. I was content; I was filled. But it wasn't. There was still eighteen minutes to go, and God had more things He wanted to teach me. He often teaches me through the things I see (another reason I didn't want to close my eyes).
We passed a sign that said, "Rest Area. No facilities."
I began to think to myself about how dumb that is: a rest area with no facilities. As we drew closer there was another sign stating it's a look-out point without facilities. Ok, beautiful but not practical.
We all, women especially, want to be considered beautiful. Most of us enjoy feeling pretty. In fact, sometimes when we're getting gussied up we don't pay attention to the practical. We're too concerned with "Does this look good" than "Will I be able to walk in these shoes?" We much rather have lovely long eye lashes than realize we can't see because mascara is making lines down our glasses every time we blink. I prayed that God make my life practical rather than beautiful.
Maybe He doesn't have fame and glory in my future. Maybe my blog will never have more than eleven readers. Maybe the words He's given me have a deep impact on those eleven readers and draw them closer to Him. Maybe that type of intimacy isn't available in a community with a larger reading audience. Maybe one day I'll be ok with that. I prayed that day would be soon. Make my life practical rather than beautiful.
Not five minutes later, the Garmin fell. Sitting in the front seat of the bus, I crawled forward, rescued it off the dash board, stuck it back together, and re-suctioned it to the windshield.
"Good in theory; poor in design," the bus driver said to me with a smile.
I am a firm believer that things should be designed by the people who are going to use them. College students should design dorm rooms. Teachers and students should design classrooms. Doctors and nurses should design hospitals. Bus drivers should design Garmins.
However, there is one exception to this rule. One time when the "thing" being used should not be designed by the user. Life. My life should not be designed by me, the liver (aka the person living it). Instead, I believe life should be designed by God. After all, the life we create is good in theory but poor in design. The life we make is beautiful but not practical.
Travel with me through the mountains of life and into this dangerous prayer:
Abba Father, make my life practical rather than beautiful. Wipe away my good theories and replace them with Your great designs. Let me be ok with it.
Let me know how I can pray for you and have a wonderful week!
<>< Katie
I folded my hands but opted against closing my eyes. If I closed my eyes, I probably would have fallen asleep. Besides, who wants to close their eyes while riding through the beautiful mountains?
Katie: Hey, God, I absolutely love these mountains You've created. I'm willing to risk motion-sickness and take my eyes off the road to enjoy this beautiful creation You've made. Every tree perfectly formed and every mountain hump meticulously placed. The effort and precision amazes me!
God: You know, Katie, I put the same amount of effort and precision into creating you.
My prayer time could have been over right then and there. I was content; I was filled. But it wasn't. There was still eighteen minutes to go, and God had more things He wanted to teach me. He often teaches me through the things I see (another reason I didn't want to close my eyes).
We passed a sign that said, "Rest Area. No facilities."
I began to think to myself about how dumb that is: a rest area with no facilities. As we drew closer there was another sign stating it's a look-out point without facilities. Ok, beautiful but not practical.
We all, women especially, want to be considered beautiful. Most of us enjoy feeling pretty. In fact, sometimes when we're getting gussied up we don't pay attention to the practical. We're too concerned with "Does this look good" than "Will I be able to walk in these shoes?" We much rather have lovely long eye lashes than realize we can't see because mascara is making lines down our glasses every time we blink. I prayed that God make my life practical rather than beautiful.
Maybe He doesn't have fame and glory in my future. Maybe my blog will never have more than eleven readers. Maybe the words He's given me have a deep impact on those eleven readers and draw them closer to Him. Maybe that type of intimacy isn't available in a community with a larger reading audience. Maybe one day I'll be ok with that. I prayed that day would be soon. Make my life practical rather than beautiful.
Not five minutes later, the Garmin fell. Sitting in the front seat of the bus, I crawled forward, rescued it off the dash board, stuck it back together, and re-suctioned it to the windshield.
"Good in theory; poor in design," the bus driver said to me with a smile.
I am a firm believer that things should be designed by the people who are going to use them. College students should design dorm rooms. Teachers and students should design classrooms. Doctors and nurses should design hospitals. Bus drivers should design Garmins.
However, there is one exception to this rule. One time when the "thing" being used should not be designed by the user. Life. My life should not be designed by me, the liver (aka the person living it). Instead, I believe life should be designed by God. After all, the life we create is good in theory but poor in design. The life we make is beautiful but not practical.
Travel with me through the mountains of life and into this dangerous prayer:
Abba Father, make my life practical rather than beautiful. Wipe away my good theories and replace them with Your great designs. Let me be ok with it.
Let me know how I can pray for you and have a wonderful week!
<>< Katie
Friday, June 6, 2008
Dental Floss
I have a confession to make: I don't floss my teeth very often. Er, that's great, Katie, why do we care? Well, see, last night I had this urge to floss, but I couldn't find any. I looked in all of the cabinets in the bathroom and still no dental floss. I knew my floss was downstairs in the dining room (don't ask), but surely one of the two other people with whom I share the bathroom would have some. Negative. All of my searching ended in vain. Instead of going downstairs to get my floss, I gave up and went to bed.
Sometimes we all get like that with our Bibles, yes? You know it's good to read it. Your intentions are good, but you can't find it. Or, you know where it is but are too lazy to go get it. What if you start reading, in Genesis (because after all the beginning is a very good place to start). Exodus isn't too bad, but then by the time you get to Leviticus you're losing focus. Numbers? Forget it! That's like playing math. Anything that translates, "These are the names" can NOT be entertaining... Deutero--what? Maybe starting at a different beginning is better: try Matthew. Mark's short. Luke's detailed. John's loved. Before you know it you're four books in and you're still reading about the life of Christ! :-)
Just like brushing your teeth is good, reading devotionals is good. But flossing is harder yet better, just like reading the Bible.
Oh, and I recommend reading the Bible more than I floss. It's healthier that way.
These blogs are getting weirder and weirder, sorry! (Our God is creative; I'm just tellin' ya what He told me...)
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"Who has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time." 2 Timothy 1:9
Sometimes we all get like that with our Bibles, yes? You know it's good to read it. Your intentions are good, but you can't find it. Or, you know where it is but are too lazy to go get it. What if you start reading, in Genesis (because after all the beginning is a very good place to start). Exodus isn't too bad, but then by the time you get to Leviticus you're losing focus. Numbers? Forget it! That's like playing math. Anything that translates, "These are the names" can NOT be entertaining... Deutero--what? Maybe starting at a different beginning is better: try Matthew. Mark's short. Luke's detailed. John's loved. Before you know it you're four books in and you're still reading about the life of Christ! :-)
Just like brushing your teeth is good, reading devotionals is good. But flossing is harder yet better, just like reading the Bible.
Oh, and I recommend reading the Bible more than I floss. It's healthier that way.
These blogs are getting weirder and weirder, sorry! (Our God is creative; I'm just tellin' ya what He told me...)
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"Who has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time." 2 Timothy 1:9
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Let God Shine
After a great coffee talk with Laura, Chelsy, Heather, Christa, Annie, Morgan, Liz, Natalie, and Russell I made a pit-stop on the way into the caf. I then felt like Natalie because God spoke to me while I was in the bathroom. :-)
I was in the ladies' bathroom in the top of the caf building (side note: that bathroom is so awkward!) and I was looking at the granite counter top. I'm pretty sure they installed them backwards.
Most granite has certain fish-scale like sparkles that can be seen only on one side. Most people are oblivious to this fact. In fact, the installer and owner of the company that installed our granite had never heard of this before. Looking at the granite from one direction it looks normal. Beautiful, but nothing extraordinary. Going to the other side of our island, the granite pops! The flakes catch the light just right and it shines! (Sometime when you're at my house, ask me to show it to you because it's kind of hard to explain). When we installed our counters, we asked that the sparkle side be facing toward the dinette--or out so all of our guests could see it--instead of towards the kitchen--or in to where we could see it.
I was looking at the counter tops in the bathroom and God said,
"Katie, sometimes you're kind of like the backwards granite counter top. I'm always there just like the sparkles but I'm facing in. You've got your counter top turned around so you're keeping the sparkles to yourself. You don't let the world see see Me shine; you keep Me to yourself."
It made me think of Christina's favorite song growing up: "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it... Hide it under a bushel? NO... I'm gonna let it shine... Don't let Satan blow it out... I'm gonna let is shine."
Are you letting your Sparkles shine or are you keeping them all to yourself?
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ." 2 Corinthians 4:6
I was in the ladies' bathroom in the top of the caf building (side note: that bathroom is so awkward!) and I was looking at the granite counter top. I'm pretty sure they installed them backwards.
Most granite has certain fish-scale like sparkles that can be seen only on one side. Most people are oblivious to this fact. In fact, the installer and owner of the company that installed our granite had never heard of this before. Looking at the granite from one direction it looks normal. Beautiful, but nothing extraordinary. Going to the other side of our island, the granite pops! The flakes catch the light just right and it shines! (Sometime when you're at my house, ask me to show it to you because it's kind of hard to explain). When we installed our counters, we asked that the sparkle side be facing toward the dinette--or out so all of our guests could see it--instead of towards the kitchen--or in to where we could see it.
I was looking at the counter tops in the bathroom and God said,
"Katie, sometimes you're kind of like the backwards granite counter top. I'm always there just like the sparkles but I'm facing in. You've got your counter top turned around so you're keeping the sparkles to yourself. You don't let the world see see Me shine; you keep Me to yourself."
It made me think of Christina's favorite song growing up: "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it... Hide it under a bushel? NO... I'm gonna let it shine... Don't let Satan blow it out... I'm gonna let is shine."
Are you letting your Sparkles shine or are you keeping them all to yourself?
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ." 2 Corinthians 4:6
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Burnt Bagels and Broken Fingers
So many birthdays lead to so many updates!
Yesterday was Natalie's birthday. I couldn't decide what Natalie story to tell and to still "be censored" (to quote Laura one small group). For some reason Natalie's stories always end of in one of three places: sports, science, or the bathroom. Did you know God can speak through the chemistry Principle of Microscopic Reverse? How about getting your eyebrows waxed? Using the same bathroom stall repeatedly? He's God and He can do anything but that doesn't mean He needs to speak through spell check. In hearing from Natalie how God speaks through bathrobes and lip stick, I've come to hear God speaking a lot more clearly through the strangest things.
My friend Natalie is an amazing woman, but sometimes the things she does makes me laugh at her. Natalie dislikes the way a toaster toasts a bagel, so whenever she wants a toasted bagel she has cook it in the oven. One afternoon she decided she wanted a bagel. Well, she put it in the oven and got distracted. She remembered the bagel a little while later and it was literally flaming in her oven. After getting the flames to stop, she realized the scorched bagel was not going to giver her body nutrition; she threw it away and made a second bagel. As luck would have it, poor Natalie did the exact same thing! On the third try she finally was able to have a snack.
A few weeks later, Natalie was playing flag football with a group of people when she once again made the same mistake twice. During a play she was reaching for one of her opponents’ flags when the flag slipped out of her hand and she got her finger caught. A wise choice perhaps would have been to stop playing for the day, but Natalie is way too competitive to bench herself. Instead a few plays later, using the exact same move with her other hand. She succeeded in fracturing two fingers on two different hands during two plays so exact to the point where the x-rays were identical.
Natalie needed to break two fingers in order to stop playing football and burn two bagels in order to pay attention to what she was doing. Sometimes we're incredibly stubborn to the point where we have to make the same mistakes twice before God is able to get our attention.
What does God have to do to get your attention?
<>< Katie
"As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received." Ephesians 4:1
Yesterday was Natalie's birthday. I couldn't decide what Natalie story to tell and to still "be censored" (to quote Laura one small group). For some reason Natalie's stories always end of in one of three places: sports, science, or the bathroom. Did you know God can speak through the chemistry Principle of Microscopic Reverse? How about getting your eyebrows waxed? Using the same bathroom stall repeatedly? He's God and He can do anything but that doesn't mean He needs to speak through spell check. In hearing from Natalie how God speaks through bathrobes and lip stick, I've come to hear God speaking a lot more clearly through the strangest things.
My friend Natalie is an amazing woman, but sometimes the things she does makes me laugh at her. Natalie dislikes the way a toaster toasts a bagel, so whenever she wants a toasted bagel she has cook it in the oven. One afternoon she decided she wanted a bagel. Well, she put it in the oven and got distracted. She remembered the bagel a little while later and it was literally flaming in her oven. After getting the flames to stop, she realized the scorched bagel was not going to giver her body nutrition; she threw it away and made a second bagel. As luck would have it, poor Natalie did the exact same thing! On the third try she finally was able to have a snack.
A few weeks later, Natalie was playing flag football with a group of people when she once again made the same mistake twice. During a play she was reaching for one of her opponents’ flags when the flag slipped out of her hand and she got her finger caught. A wise choice perhaps would have been to stop playing for the day, but Natalie is way too competitive to bench herself. Instead a few plays later, using the exact same move with her other hand. She succeeded in fracturing two fingers on two different hands during two plays so exact to the point where the x-rays were identical.
Natalie needed to break two fingers in order to stop playing football and burn two bagels in order to pay attention to what she was doing. Sometimes we're incredibly stubborn to the point where we have to make the same mistakes twice before God is able to get our attention.
What does God have to do to get your attention?
<>< Katie
"As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received." Ephesians 4:1
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