Happy February 14- the day singles stick out like sore thumbs and couples flaunt their relationship.
I'm not bitter.
No, really, I'm not. My self worth is not measured in how many flowers are delivered to my doorstep today. This may be the one day a year when my self esteem is not directly related to what I find in my mailbox.
Valentine's Day shouldn't be about sappy cards, chocolate, and candy hearts (although, those things are nice), it should be about the same thing the other 364 days a year are about: showing love. Why celebrate in one day what God commands us to do every day?
Even though today creates a chasm between the two, couples and singles still have something in common: someone loves them. A spouse, a friend, a parent, a roommate...
A Creator of the Universe? Uh, yeah!
Friends, God loves you. Yes, you. He loves you more than you could ever know. He loves you so much He sacrificed His Son. Christ relinquished His position in the eternal, wonderful heaven, came to earth in a germy manger, and lived a perfect life just to die a criminal's death. Because of that love for you, He didn't stay dead! Yes, for you.
Jesus provided the perfect example of love, not just for February 14 but every day.
My prayer for you today is that you find peace and comfort in the truth that God loves you. May the Holy Spirit fill you with His love and may you radiate that love to others.
Love,
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label chocolate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chocolate. Show all posts
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sunday, October 24, 2010
The Signs of Womanhood
I have a huge Wal-mart list, but I haven't had time to go. Instead, I made a quick stop at the grocery store for the vitals. Three two-gallon jugs of water, a 12 oz bag of milk chocolate chips, and a bottle of Tylenol.
Since you can't go out in public here without seeing someone you know, I ran into one of my professors.
"That makes so much sense," she said after a quick glance at the items in my hand. "On so many levels."
Busted.
I laughed it off. There was no way she'd believe the water was a weekly purchase, the Tylenol because I finally ran out of the nasty store-brand pain reliever I bought in the spring, and the chocolate chips were not for eating.
Well, they were. Sort of.
Last week Kristin posted a microwave recipe for peanut butter cups, and I wanted to try them. So, I did the logical thing. I printed the recipe and glued it in my Writer's Notebook, then saved a digital copy just in case. It was in that moment that I realized I am officially one step closer to adulthood.
I don't cook. Ok, I can make a coveted cheese dip. That's about it. Until now. Now I can make peanut butter cups, too. What more does a person need, right?
<>< Katie
PS: If you're going to try the recipe, don't cut the muffin papers in half (at least I didn't) and let them thaw between the second cooling and eating or be prepared for a little someone (aka my roommate Jennifer) to make a mess of peanut butter.
Since you can't go out in public here without seeing someone you know, I ran into one of my professors.
"That makes so much sense," she said after a quick glance at the items in my hand. "On so many levels."
Busted.
I laughed it off. There was no way she'd believe the water was a weekly purchase, the Tylenol because I finally ran out of the nasty store-brand pain reliever I bought in the spring, and the chocolate chips were not for eating.
Well, they were. Sort of.
Last week Kristin posted a microwave recipe for peanut butter cups, and I wanted to try them. So, I did the logical thing. I printed the recipe and glued it in my Writer's Notebook, then saved a digital copy just in case. It was in that moment that I realized I am officially one step closer to adulthood.
I don't cook. Ok, I can make a coveted cheese dip. That's about it. Until now. Now I can make peanut butter cups, too. What more does a person need, right?
<>< Katie
PS: If you're going to try the recipe, don't cut the muffin papers in half (at least I didn't) and let them thaw between the second cooling and eating or be prepared for a little someone (aka my roommate Jennifer) to make a mess of peanut butter.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Volunteers
Sunday morning Pastor Russ spoke about the "communion of saints" line in the Apostle's Creed. (Baptist readers: please don't condemn me because I go to a creedal church...). One of the things he mentioned was that Christian life is like breathing. Going to church (physically) is breathing in. Going out into the world and being the church is breathing out. You need both. You can't just breathe in and you can't just breathe out. There needs to be a balance between the two. I completely agree.
Later he said something else I'd never really thought about before. He called parents volunteers. He supported that idea by saying they've volunteered their time and gas money to get their children to and from activities. They coordinate carpool, snacks, and game schedules... They're the volunteers that get the least amount of credit. Sunday night I got to see that idea in action.
There's a group of middle school girls currently a part of our confirmation class. As a class they sponsor me through an adopt a college kid ministry. Basically this means they send me packages periodically, I send them cards, and I visit them when I'm in town. I'm in town, so Sunday night I paid them a visit.
In case you've never spent time with eight 7th grade girls: they are crazy. To top it off, this was their end of the year party, so we had a chocolate fountain in class. BIG MESS, BIG MESS!
Yes, there was chocolate everywhere. As we were cleaning it up, I asked the leader how she was going to go about cleaning it. She explained she'd used the same fountain with her son's Sunday School class that morning, and she just let it sit in the sink all afternoon. Here I was thinking about how I never wanted to clean a chocolate fountain and she did it twice... today.
After the girls left, she was telling me some of their stories. Mind you, this is a middle class, primarily-white, suburban church. Well, a lot of the students in her group came from single parent/ divorced homes. Most of them weren't just a "it is what it is" situation but rather there was baggage. A "Mom died six days after she was told she had two months to live" story. A "Dad's got a girlfriend abroad and spends most of his time there but also has primary custody of the kids." The ones that have two parents have heart-breaking stories, too. "Her brother died in the military." "Mom had the primary income, but then she lost her job, so they're living on Dad's part-time salary."
On the surface, these are average middle school girls who enjoy chocolate a bit too much, spend all summer in the swimming pool, and can't wait to go to camp. When you look a little deeper, they've all got stories that will break your heart.
"I'm just trying to make a difference," the leader said. She explained most of them are not in church other than confirmation class, so she struggles to find the balance between fun and teaching about God. "This may be their only opportunity to hear His word; that's a big responsibility on me," she explained, maybe not orally, but I heard it. "I've been trying so hard to reach this one girl, and I just can't seem to get through."
I told her I'd pray for her. And I did. All the way home. Those girls' stories tug on my heart-strings, and that woman's obedience to God's call and willingness to do what's right. She's an everyday, unsung hero. She's the kind of woman I want to be when I grow up, even if it means I have to clean a chocolate fountain twice in one day. As soon as I wrote that sentence, a little voice in my head said, "Why wait?" Why wait to be obedient and willing to volunteer your time, energy, and gas? So I ask you, why wait?
But this blog isn't about you and me. It's about this the volunteering that often goes unnoticed.
Parents, thank you for volunteering your time and making a difference, not just in the lives of your youngsters but also in the lives of their friends. With your kids, you can see your impact. With their friends, it's hard to see the fruits of your labor, but they're ripening. Somewhere.
<>< Katie
Later he said something else I'd never really thought about before. He called parents volunteers. He supported that idea by saying they've volunteered their time and gas money to get their children to and from activities. They coordinate carpool, snacks, and game schedules... They're the volunteers that get the least amount of credit. Sunday night I got to see that idea in action.
There's a group of middle school girls currently a part of our confirmation class. As a class they sponsor me through an adopt a college kid ministry. Basically this means they send me packages periodically, I send them cards, and I visit them when I'm in town. I'm in town, so Sunday night I paid them a visit.
In case you've never spent time with eight 7th grade girls: they are crazy. To top it off, this was their end of the year party, so we had a chocolate fountain in class. BIG MESS, BIG MESS!
Yes, there was chocolate everywhere. As we were cleaning it up, I asked the leader how she was going to go about cleaning it. She explained she'd used the same fountain with her son's Sunday School class that morning, and she just let it sit in the sink all afternoon. Here I was thinking about how I never wanted to clean a chocolate fountain and she did it twice... today.
After the girls left, she was telling me some of their stories. Mind you, this is a middle class, primarily-white, suburban church. Well, a lot of the students in her group came from single parent/ divorced homes. Most of them weren't just a "it is what it is" situation but rather there was baggage. A "Mom died six days after she was told she had two months to live" story. A "Dad's got a girlfriend abroad and spends most of his time there but also has primary custody of the kids." The ones that have two parents have heart-breaking stories, too. "Her brother died in the military." "Mom had the primary income, but then she lost her job, so they're living on Dad's part-time salary."
On the surface, these are average middle school girls who enjoy chocolate a bit too much, spend all summer in the swimming pool, and can't wait to go to camp. When you look a little deeper, they've all got stories that will break your heart.
"I'm just trying to make a difference," the leader said. She explained most of them are not in church other than confirmation class, so she struggles to find the balance between fun and teaching about God. "This may be their only opportunity to hear His word; that's a big responsibility on me," she explained, maybe not orally, but I heard it. "I've been trying so hard to reach this one girl, and I just can't seem to get through."
I told her I'd pray for her. And I did. All the way home. Those girls' stories tug on my heart-strings, and that woman's obedience to God's call and willingness to do what's right. She's an everyday, unsung hero. She's the kind of woman I want to be when I grow up, even if it means I have to clean a chocolate fountain twice in one day. As soon as I wrote that sentence, a little voice in my head said, "Why wait?" Why wait to be obedient and willing to volunteer your time, energy, and gas? So I ask you, why wait?
But this blog isn't about you and me. It's about this the volunteering that often goes unnoticed.
Parents, thank you for volunteering your time and making a difference, not just in the lives of your youngsters but also in the lives of their friends. With your kids, you can see your impact. With their friends, it's hard to see the fruits of your labor, but they're ripening. Somewhere.
<>< Katie
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Jenny the Cow
First off, Hannah hates me because I didn't blog yesterday AND I cut in front of her in the snacks line last night. Sorry, girl, I just needed some chocolate. Will you forgive me? Can I be un-voted off of the island and back into Amber's car?
Anyway.
I've been cranky, irritable, and frustrated this week. I'm sore from ice skating on Saturday; it baffles me the number of people that have never skated on a natural body of water. Irony is that the first time all winter when my hands have actually been warm was while I was ice skating. I'm sick of being freezing cold; maintenance can't fix my air conditioner but the room temperature has peaked at 63, so they gave me a space heater. Oh, and if you are one of those brave souls who gave up chocolate for Lent and suddenly have this overwhelming desire to remove this temptation from your life, I am willing to take one for the team and will not object your sending it to me. :-)
For these reasons, I feel the need to write a blog that will make me smile. We all have those stories that have influenced our life. Perhaps we aren't even characters in the story but it still merits regular retellings. This is one of those for me because it was a classic bedtime story while my sisters and I were growing up. Of course, some creative liberties have been taken through the years but the basis of the story is true. Without further ado, and I'm pretty good at ado-ing, this is "Jenny the Cow" as told to me by my father.
<>< Katie
I was in class just like any other day. The teacher was talking about something, but I don’t remember what since I wasn’t listening anyway. All of the sudden there was a strong rap on the door. The teacher answered to a police officer who asked if I was in that class. Now, I’m not a perfect little angel; I get into my share of trouble but nothing bad enough for the cops to be involved. Plus, I had no idea what I’d done. Silently I followed the officer towards the front door of the school.
Am I being arrested? What the heck? I wondered to myself.
As we crossed over the threshold and into the parking lot, I realized the cause of the commotion. Standing in the middle of the school yard stood my cow, Jenny. Yes, I think Jenny wanted to try out for the soccer team. How did she get here? What was she doing here? Why was she here? I don’t know the answer to any of those questions, but I didn't have time to figure them out either.
Standing a few feet from my beloved Jenny was a police office poised to shoot. I panicked. How do you prevent an officer from shooting your cow without getting shot yourself? I had no idea.
"Don't shoot!" I heard a distant wailing. I looked up towards my house and saw my mother running down the hill flailing her arms. "Momma's here, Jenny, come to Momma."
I was mortified. Surely the entire school was watching from the window. I think a stray cow in the middle of the soccer field warrants a break from useless math. In case having my cow visit school wasn't bad enough, my over-weight screaming mother was not helping the situation. The officer's arms were still extended, finger on the trigger.
"Don't shoot! I'll get her to move! Don't shoot! Jenny, come to Momma, Jenny. Momma's here. Come to Momma, Jenny," my mother's cries continued. I don't understand why she can't sound a bit more grown up, even if she is just talking to the cow. For a brief moment, I almost wished I was back in class, bored to death.
Mom drew nearer to us, the police officer failed to lower his gun, and Jenny refused to move. He wouldn't really shoot Jenny, would he? He can't shoot her, can he?
I didn't know. All I really knew was that my mother was running out of ideas and the cop was growing impatient. In the distance, I could see a yellow truck approaching our brouhaha. Instantly, I recognized it as my dad's. How many people do you know with a big yellow trucks? On second thought, how many people do you know with cows at school? Pa pulled over to the side of the road and barely shifted the truck into park before he hopped out of the cab. The focus shifted from Jenny to Dad.
"Jenny, there's Dada, go to Dada," Mom whined.
Much to our surprise, Jenny did run to Pa. The officer lowered his gun, my mom stopped screaming, and I breathed a sigh of relief. On to our next problem: how are we going to get Jenny home? Luckily, Pa already had that all figured out. He opened the tailgate and Jenny hopped into the truck bed. He drove Mom and Jenny home. Sadly, I was sent back to class.
Anyway.
I've been cranky, irritable, and frustrated this week. I'm sore from ice skating on Saturday; it baffles me the number of people that have never skated on a natural body of water. Irony is that the first time all winter when my hands have actually been warm was while I was ice skating. I'm sick of being freezing cold; maintenance can't fix my air conditioner but the room temperature has peaked at 63, so they gave me a space heater. Oh, and if you are one of those brave souls who gave up chocolate for Lent and suddenly have this overwhelming desire to remove this temptation from your life, I am willing to take one for the team and will not object your sending it to me. :-)
For these reasons, I feel the need to write a blog that will make me smile. We all have those stories that have influenced our life. Perhaps we aren't even characters in the story but it still merits regular retellings. This is one of those for me because it was a classic bedtime story while my sisters and I were growing up. Of course, some creative liberties have been taken through the years but the basis of the story is true. Without further ado, and I'm pretty good at ado-ing, this is "Jenny the Cow" as told to me by my father.
<>< Katie
I was in class just like any other day. The teacher was talking about something, but I don’t remember what since I wasn’t listening anyway. All of the sudden there was a strong rap on the door. The teacher answered to a police officer who asked if I was in that class. Now, I’m not a perfect little angel; I get into my share of trouble but nothing bad enough for the cops to be involved. Plus, I had no idea what I’d done. Silently I followed the officer towards the front door of the school.
Am I being arrested? What the heck? I wondered to myself.
As we crossed over the threshold and into the parking lot, I realized the cause of the commotion. Standing in the middle of the school yard stood my cow, Jenny. Yes, I think Jenny wanted to try out for the soccer team. How did she get here? What was she doing here? Why was she here? I don’t know the answer to any of those questions, but I didn't have time to figure them out either.
Standing a few feet from my beloved Jenny was a police office poised to shoot. I panicked. How do you prevent an officer from shooting your cow without getting shot yourself? I had no idea.
"Don't shoot!" I heard a distant wailing. I looked up towards my house and saw my mother running down the hill flailing her arms. "Momma's here, Jenny, come to Momma."
I was mortified. Surely the entire school was watching from the window. I think a stray cow in the middle of the soccer field warrants a break from useless math. In case having my cow visit school wasn't bad enough, my over-weight screaming mother was not helping the situation. The officer's arms were still extended, finger on the trigger.
"Don't shoot! I'll get her to move! Don't shoot! Jenny, come to Momma, Jenny. Momma's here. Come to Momma, Jenny," my mother's cries continued. I don't understand why she can't sound a bit more grown up, even if she is just talking to the cow. For a brief moment, I almost wished I was back in class, bored to death.
Mom drew nearer to us, the police officer failed to lower his gun, and Jenny refused to move. He wouldn't really shoot Jenny, would he? He can't shoot her, can he?
I didn't know. All I really knew was that my mother was running out of ideas and the cop was growing impatient. In the distance, I could see a yellow truck approaching our brouhaha. Instantly, I recognized it as my dad's. How many people do you know with a big yellow trucks? On second thought, how many people do you know with cows at school? Pa pulled over to the side of the road and barely shifted the truck into park before he hopped out of the cab. The focus shifted from Jenny to Dad.
"Jenny, there's Dada, go to Dada," Mom whined.
Much to our surprise, Jenny did run to Pa. The officer lowered his gun, my mom stopped screaming, and I breathed a sigh of relief. On to our next problem: how are we going to get Jenny home? Luckily, Pa already had that all figured out. He opened the tailgate and Jenny hopped into the truck bed. He drove Mom and Jenny home. Sadly, I was sent back to class.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Obama for Chocolate?
My apologizes, blog friends. Surprisingly, I've been a bit lacking in the "what to say" area.
I was in an informal meeting with my advisor sometime last week and a different professor came in and gave him a piece of chocolate. She announced that it was Obama's favorite kind of candy, and to celebrate her birthday, she was sharing it with the department. My advisor was a big Obama fan, and... well... I voted for McCain-Palin. My advisor told the other professor that I went out partying the night he was elected. The other professor began to open her box of chocolates before I informed her that it wasn't true. She closed the box and said, "Awe, I was going to give you chocolate if it was true."
For a brief moment, I contemplated lying and telling her I did support Obama I just didn't go out partying once he was elected. For a piece of chocolate? She doesn't have any idea that I didn't vote for him and she has no way of seeing my ballot. It's a free piece of chocolate! I ultimately let it go without saying anything, but something about that moment struck me. Would you abandon everything you believe and support for a piece of chocolate?
Maybe lying about who I voted for in order to get a piece of chocolate isn't like I'm abandoning everything I believe, but is it too far fetched? How often does Satan try and feed us lies (delicious, chocolatey lies) in order to get us to turn away from God? At the same time, do we consider hiding Jesus because it's the popular thing to do? Do we conform to the pattern of this world for a simple piece of chocolate?
I have never eaten President Obama's favorite kind of chocolate. I probably never will because I don't have any idea what it is. But I know my heart was true. I did not back down from my beliefs to gain a simple piece of candy. God has better things waiting for the faithful (even if our new president has a good taste in chocolate).
Don't read too far into this (or play devil's advocate) and think I'm calling Obama Satan or something silly like that... Regardless of whether or not I voted for him, Obama is now my president and therefore deserves my prayers. I trust he will lead this country better than I could. I know I won't agree with everything he does, but I will respect him for his decisions (even if I think they're absurd and wrong).
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—His good, pleasing and perfect will." Romans 12:2
I was in an informal meeting with my advisor sometime last week and a different professor came in and gave him a piece of chocolate. She announced that it was Obama's favorite kind of candy, and to celebrate her birthday, she was sharing it with the department. My advisor was a big Obama fan, and... well... I voted for McCain-Palin. My advisor told the other professor that I went out partying the night he was elected. The other professor began to open her box of chocolates before I informed her that it wasn't true. She closed the box and said, "Awe, I was going to give you chocolate if it was true."
For a brief moment, I contemplated lying and telling her I did support Obama I just didn't go out partying once he was elected. For a piece of chocolate? She doesn't have any idea that I didn't vote for him and she has no way of seeing my ballot. It's a free piece of chocolate! I ultimately let it go without saying anything, but something about that moment struck me. Would you abandon everything you believe and support for a piece of chocolate?
Maybe lying about who I voted for in order to get a piece of chocolate isn't like I'm abandoning everything I believe, but is it too far fetched? How often does Satan try and feed us lies (delicious, chocolatey lies) in order to get us to turn away from God? At the same time, do we consider hiding Jesus because it's the popular thing to do? Do we conform to the pattern of this world for a simple piece of chocolate?
I have never eaten President Obama's favorite kind of chocolate. I probably never will because I don't have any idea what it is. But I know my heart was true. I did not back down from my beliefs to gain a simple piece of candy. God has better things waiting for the faithful (even if our new president has a good taste in chocolate).
Don't read too far into this (or play devil's advocate) and think I'm calling Obama Satan or something silly like that... Regardless of whether or not I voted for him, Obama is now my president and therefore deserves my prayers. I trust he will lead this country better than I could. I know I won't agree with everything he does, but I will respect him for his decisions (even if I think they're absurd and wrong).
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—His good, pleasing and perfect will." Romans 12:2
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)