Moral (Ghostwriting Part One)

There's a lot of drama surrounding the authorship of Isaiah. Did Isaiah himself write it or did someone else write it in his name? There are other books of the Bible that have questionable authorship, too. They’re called pseudipigraphal because they’re written in someone else’s tone, style.

To me, it sounds a whole lot like the idea of ghostwriting.

With permission, a ghostwriter takes the thoughts and ideas of an author, puts them on paper in the author’s tone, and signs the author’s name to the article, letter, book, whatever. The thoughts are the author’s; the words are the ghostwriter’s. Some authors have more of a hand in the writing of their work than others.

It’s perfectly legal.

But is it morally right?

Is it right for one person to do the work and someone else get the credit?

I’ve read arguments, Christian and secular, for and against ghostwriting. I have formed my opinion, but before I post it, I want to hear yours.

Let’s hash this out together:

How do you feel about the pseudipigraphal books of the Bible?

As a reader, do you feel cheated to learn the book you read wasn't actually written by the author?

As a ghostwriter, would you feel cheated to see someone else get the credit?

As a ghostwriter, do you want to help authors put into words their concepts, thoughts, ideas?

As a reader, do you want a well-written book or are you ok with less than stellar writing?

Be sure to come back later this week as we continue to unpack the idea of ghostwriting.

<>< Katie

Anyone Can Cook

I had everything for a sandwich out on the counter when I decided I wasn't in the mood for salami. I decided to prove to myself (and the world) that I can cook!

"Anyone can cook," as Gusteau in Ratatouille says.

I have never met Gusteau, as evidenced by his statement that anyone can cook. I think I fall in the category Remy argues, "Anyone can cook but that doesn't mean anyone should!"

I decided on a very basic meal and assembled my ingredients. I was in luck! We had everything.

So I began, step by step to assemble my--never mind, I'm not telling you what I didn't actually make.

It's not that I didn't want lunch. It's not that I didn't how to make lunch. It's not that I couldn't make lunch. No, it was the thoughts and questions rolling around in the back of my head.

How do I know when it's done? When it looks like you'll eat it. But what if it isn't done all of the way? What if I get food poisoning and die? It's not working. This isn't what it's supposed to look like. I did something wrong. This isn't safe.

So I changed what I was making. Bonus points for thinking on my feet, right? Yet the questions and doubts continued.

This doesn't look right. Will I smell it if it starts burning? What if I burn the house down? Where is the fire extinguisher? Is it supposed to do that? I don't think this is right. I'm not eating this.

I gave up. I turned off the stove, poured my epic fail into a garbage bag, and took it out to the street. Salami sandwich it would be.

You better learn to like P, B, and J because that's what you'll be eating for the rest of your life. Your kids will be the one with the mom who can't cook. You better make a lot of money so you can afford to eat out regularly because PBJ and frozen lasagnas are going to get old fast. Gusteau lied.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to smack something in frustration or cry in embarrassment. Maybe both.

The kitchen was littered with the dishes from my lunch fail and I sat at the table pouting, salami sandwich on my plate.

Katie.
Not in the mood, God.
Why are you listening to the enemies lies?
You mean the truths?
They're lies. You can cook.
Do you not smell that? Were you not watching me make a mess?
You are a mess. But a beautiful mess. Do you want to know what you did wrong?
I know what I did wrong: I tried to cook.
You didn't wait. Everything you did--except switching "recipes" in the middle--was correct. But you didn't wait. Cooking takes time. Learning to cook takes time.
If You're going to tell me it's like fishing, I don't want to hear it. Not a fisherman, fisherwoman nor a fisher-of-women. Sorry.
Why are you swallowing the lies? Toss them out like you did that half-cooked meal. Be done with them. All of them.

The Wash Cloth

It had been a good but long 15 hour day.  I left at 8am and returned home at 11pm with only a few hours before I had to get up and do it all over again.

But there were things separating me from that extra soft twin bed with two king size pillows. Namely: a shower.

I showered as fast as I could, sinus headache growing in intensity with every passing minute, but I kept my eyes on the promised land.

I reached absentmindedly for my facial lotion. Welcome cold weather, the phase of the year when my face is at risk of falling off because it's so dry. Lotion would bring me one step closer to dreamland.

But then I stopped.

I had an idea that would at worst be one step further from dreamland (and one step closer to a missing face) and at best relief to my painful head. Idea: to drape a warm wash cloth over my face.

So I did. As hot as I could stand it. It was heavenly!

In that moment, nothing but the warm wash cloth mattered. The rest of me was getting hypothermia as my wet hair dripped down my back.

But I didn't care. That simple hot cloth was the best thing that happened to me in all fifteen hours of my day (sixteen if you count the getting ready hour). I wanted to stay there forever, wash cloth over my face, cold hair dripping onto the floor.

Except I couldn't. So eventually, I bore the separation and continued my bedtime routine.

"Hey, Katie," God spoke but not in an audible voice.

Of course, He would start speaking as I was rushing to bed. Sometimes He's like my family, starting a conversation with me as I'm on my way out the door.

"Yes, Lord," I answered. Something like that.

"Remember how that wash cloth felt?"

"How could I forget?" Ooh! Jesus-like. I answered a question with a question.

"Remember how nothing else mattered and you wanted to stay there forever even thought your toes were cold and those hairs I numbered were matting together as they dripped water molecules down your back and onto the slippery floor?"

"Yes, Lord, and if You say to stay like that forever I totally will! After all, You're God and I'm not, so if you tell me, I'll do it obediently."

"Katie, stay that way forever. But let Me be the warm wash cloth. Bury your face in Me so nothing else matters. Not this world, not the job hunt, not even the fact that your pants don't fit. Let Me be your wash cloth."

"Yes, Lord."

"Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.'" Psalm 91:1-2 NIV

Listen

I woke up with a sore throat.  I had hoped it would get better as the day progressed.  It didn't.  By the middle of the afternoon I sounded like Kermit the frog.

Wonderful.

I thought about not going to small group.  It was a 45 minute drive there at the end of rush hour and a 45 minute drive back at 11pm.  I was already exhausted from making that same trek once that morning.  And I was sick.

Do I go and risk infecting other people with this sudden illness?  Do I stay home and try to fight it?

I'm not a "stay home because I have a cold" person.  I get colds a lot, so I'd miss out on a lot of life if I stayed home every time.

So over to the mansion I drove.  When I got there, I learned half of the other people had colds, too.  Last week we were all healthy; this week we had a germ-sharing party.

A sniffler.  A sneezer.  Kermit.  What a choir!

Out came the guitar to sing some praise and worship songs.

Sometimes my speaking voice "frogs" before my singing voice or vice versa.  It's rare they're both nasty at the same time.  But, then again, I don't usually go from fine to Kermit in one day.

I apologized to the girl sitting next to me and tried to sing.  Yup, nothing.

Time to move my lips and life a joyful noise from my heart...

Time to listen.  Losing your normal voice is like being put in time out.  Sometimes it's just not physically possible to speak.  Other times it hurts.  Or you just don't want to hear yourself.

"I'm worshipping YOU, God," I said in my traditional frog-voice campaign.

Listen, God spoke to my heart.

Is this like Guatemala but without the orange paint? I want to sing.

Listen.  You sang on Sunday.

Thank You that I had a voice to participate in such a wonderful, Spirit-filled praise and worship service on Sunday.  I'm sorry it took losing my voice today to be grateful for something I took for granted yesterday.  Lesson learned.  [pause] Can I have it back now?

<>< Kermit

As the Cat

Sitting down with my lunch at a kitchen table filled with newspapers, I noticed that I was not alone.

Exploring my backyard were three deer.  Two fawns and a doe were enjoying their lunch of plants and apples.

Watching them was peaceful.  They have been added to my list of 1,000 Blessings.  Their brown fur with hints of white spots was a beautiful contrast to the lush green vegetation that hasn't yet admitted that it's fall.

Into our lunch date walked Oscar, the lion-like cat.

Yesterday, Oscar tried to hunt these same deer.  Don't worry, it was through the window.  Not like my ferocious cat had anything on my three deer friends.  As long as no one got hurt, that would be a fun battle to watch.

Instead, I watched Oscar approach the window, waiting for him to see that his prey had returned.  He sat right up against the pane looking off to the left.  I don't what he was looking at, but it wasn't the deer.

He sat right there and didn't see them directly in front of him!  From my seat, I could see both Oscar and the deer in the same line of vision, but Oscar was clueless.  And he's the smarter of our two cats...

I began to wonder why Oscar was missing the deer that he loved yesterday but I could see them clearly.  I drew two possible conclusions.

1. Maybe there's something blocking his view at that perspective (ex: patio furniture).
2. Maybe cats can't see that far.

God spoke.

Not in an audible voice he said, "you're the cat."

"What you see," He explained to my heart, "is not always what I see.  My view goes further and my perspective is clear of obstacles."

"How long, LORD, must I call for help,
but You do not listen?
...
the LORD’s Answer
'Look at the nations and watch—
and be utterly amazed.
For I am going to do something in your days
that you would not believe,
even if you were told.'"
Habakkuk 1:2, 5

God, I don't want to be Oscar missing the deer right in front of my eyes. I want to gaze straight ahead and see Your mighty power, Your mighty plan, and Your mighty love. I am watching and know I will be utterly amazed with what You are doing in my days. When it becomes time for You to tell me, may I believe. Do something astounding.

<>< Katie

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

Falling Asleep While Praying

Last night, I fell asleep while praying.

The night before, I fell asleep while praying.

I don't remember the night before that, but I bet I fell asleep while praying.

Been there?  Done that?

I used to fell bad about it.  I mean, if I were in the middle of the conversation and the person I was talking to fell asleep, I'd be upset, right?

I don't feel bad about it anymore.  In fact, I make it my goal to fall asleep while praying.

I'd much rather fall asleep with my thoughts focused on God than to finish praying and fall asleep worrying about tomorrow.  I love for my day to end in conversation with the Lord.

Try it sometime.  The peace that comes from it is... well, God-given.

<>< Katie
PS: But I don't fall asleep every time I pray...

Bug Bites

"Let's bless the food," Neal said.

"Daddy, will you pray for my bug bites to stop hurting?" asked his five year old daughter.

He nodded and blessed our food, making no mention of her bug bites.

A few hours later, our mission team was sharing about what God has done in our lives since we've returned from Nicaragua.  She raised her hand and again asked that he pray for her bug bites.

Neal kindly put his finger over his mouth signaling for her to be quiet.

Five year olds aren't very good at being quiet.  She tried.  She cuddled with a college student.  She sat in her mother's lap.  She again asked that we pray for her bug bites.

I could not help but admire her persistence.  And her faith! She knew her bug bites were itchy and rather than begging her mom for anti-itch cream, she begged her dad for prayer.

I know all too often we prefer prayer to be the last result.  We don't want to go to God with requests we think too minute to bother an Eternal God with.

First Thessalonians tells us to pray without ceasing.  I'm pretty sure that doesn't mean "only pray after you've tried to fix the problem yourself."  I'm pretty sure that doesn't mean "only pray about important things."  I'm pretty sure pray without ceasing means pray always, always present your requests and concerns to God, hold constant conversation with Him.

Before the night was out, we did pray for her bug bites.  And God didn't think her request petty.

<>< Katie

Worship Around the Campfire

We sat out by the fire literally in the middle of the woods.  No buildings, no platform tents within sight.  The trees opened to the stars illuminating the autumn sky.  The babbling brook down the hill accompanied our singing.  We did a mix of acoustic and a capella worship songs to our God, the Creator of this beautiful moment.

Listening to Mindy's rockstar voice, I'll admit, I got a bit jealous.  I enjoy singing; I do a decent job.  I don't sound like Mindy.  At all.

I watched an eight year old pick and play in the fire.  I'm not sure if it's my history of burns or my natural inclination towards safety but I've never been a fire picker.  I'm barely brave enough to roast a marshmallow.

I watched Kurt rhythmically strum his guitar.  Despite the smoke in his face, his fingers found the frets.  Allyson's slowly teaching me guitar.  But I only know four chords.

A high schooler cuddled with the camp dog.  I've always been more of a cat person, an idea reinforced when I was attacked by dogs a few weeks ago.

A chaperone faithfully kept the fire burning.  Not so big that we all had to scoot back.  Not so small that we needed additional blankets for heat.  Just perfect.

God, I said in my head, You've given Mindy the gift of singing.  She sounds wonderful.  You've given Kurt the gift to play guitar.  It's peaceful.  You've given these other folks bravery and fire-building abilities.  It's so great that we can all be here together amidst Your beautiful creation to enjoy this moment.

Katie, God responded, not in an audible voice, You're jealous that you can't sing like Mindy, play guitar like Kurt, find a cuddle-buddy in a limping, four-legged friend, and build a fire like the one we've got here.  But you know what you can do?  Make twenty s'mores in less than five minutes.  Ready, set, go.

"I'm ready for some chocolate and graham crackers..."
"Me, too."

Chaos.  And I only broke one half of a cracker.

<>< Katie

"Now if the foot should say, 'Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,' it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. And if the ear should say, 'Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,' it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I don’t need you!' And the head cannot say to the feet, 'I don’t need you!' On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it." 1 Corinthians 12:15-27

Can or Can't?

It has been a week of "can" and "can't."

I can finish all of these papers on time.
I can't finish all of these papers on time.

I can find time to go to the store.
I can't find time to go to the store.

I can breathe.
I can't breathe.

I can go to bed.
I can't go to bed.

You get the point.

On Tuesday, Neal asked us to think about the messages we are receiving. What messages are coming from God and what messages are coming from Satan?

Katie: You're the one telling me I can.  He's telling me I can't.
God: That was backwards.
Katie: No, it wasn't.  Satan's tearing me down; You're building me up.
God: Katie, you can't.  But I can.

Just in case you forgot: you can't, but God can.  Take a deep breath as you remember that this week.

<>< Katie

What is Worship?

Saturday I woke up with a headache, cramps, and sore throat.  Some expired Tylenol took care of the first two but the sore throat is here to stay.  Sunday I woke up nauseous with a sore throat.  This is a fun game.  I managed to add another day to my no-puking stretch (2.5 years and counting; my record is 6 years) but by the time I made it to church I had a really good Scooby Doo voice.  Wonderful.  Normally when I get sick I can sing through loosing my voice.  With a hopeful heart I began to sing, "Everyone needs compass-squoak.  A love that's ----- let mercy fa-- on muheee."

God!  I'm trying to praise You here.  I'm worshipping YOU and You're taking away my ability to do that.  Something just doesn't seem right with this picture.  I'm giving You everything I've got.
The more I tried to sing, the worse my voice became (pity the people sitting next to me!) and the more frustrated I became.
Can't this wait until this afternoon?  I just want to sing praises to You.
It was as if God responded, Katie, you don't need a voice to worship Me.
Huh?
You heard Me: you don't need a voice to worship Me.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.  Serve the least of these.  There aren't any least-of-theses around right now.  Yes, I'm listening to our sermon series on compassion.  I know, but right now I'm praising You with what's left of my voice.
Look around you.
On my left was Emma, a first year nursing student who'd previously been sitting by herself.
I'm sitting with Emma instead of sitting in my normal spot!
Good start.  Keep looking.
On my right was Kevin who'd dislocated his shoulder on Thursday.
Kevin can't drive for three to six weeks.  How do you think He got here?
Keep thinking.
Last night after dinner Chris and I went to Dairy Queen to get blizzards buy one get one for a quarter.  The line was literally to the door.  The team manager was having a rough day.  She made small blizzards instead of mediums, so she had to throw them away and start over.  Based on the look on her face, this was one of many things that had gone wrong.  A woman in front of us started chewing this employee out. 

"You've thrown away $30 worth of stuff.  I know you've had a bad day but you cannot let your customers see you like this.  I've worked in retail a LONG TIME and you CANNOT let your customers see you like this.  Did you notice?  They're all standing in line patiently waiting why you throw a fit..."

She went on for a very long time.  I don't understand how that was supposed to be beneficial for the employee.  Both of the women were wrong.  The woman behind us in line looked at the "angry woman" and said, "We all heard that."  I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt thinking maybe she was saying "shut up"... until she got to the front of the line and whispered to her daughter, "Make sure that employee doesn't spit in our blizzards." 

Chris and I both agreed this was "more awkward than 'The Office'" but neither one of us did anything about it.  Why?  We were scared the rest of the line was going to leap down our throats (maybe that would have healed my sore throat).  Back up: we were scared.  I wanted to give the employee a smile or wish her a good day but she never acknowledged my presence.  I would have had to go out of my way to wish this woman a good day and I chickened out.

My intentions were good.
Good intentions don't get you anywhere.  Picking up Kevin and sitting with Emma are good starts but neither one inconvenienced you.  In fact, they both mean you don't have to sit in the pew alone.
I like sitting in the pew by myself!
It's my turn to talk.  Put the towel on, Katie.  Not just when you're at an inner-city church.  Not just when you feel like it or it's convenient to you.  Do it when it benefits My Kingdom.  Clean the bathroom when it's not your turn and do it without complaining.  Do the dishes even though you didn't dirty them.  Give someone a ride to the caf because it's raining; don't see it as a waste of gas.  Take up someone's dishes when you aren't headed that way.  Give up a computer during your 10:00 blog-hour to let someone do homework.  Put the towel on and serve the least of these.  Touch the untouchables.  Worship means so much more than singing.
We've talked about this before.
We have; you needed a reminder today.
Ok, got it.  Can I have my voice back now?Nope.  You know ASL; use those signs.

<>< Katie-Doo

Elizabeth: Between Katie and Adam someone is always sneezing today.
Adam: Nah, I'm always sneezing; it's not just today.
Elizabeth: Well, you're doing it excessively, and I'd like you to stop.

The Pledge

I was already wearing khaki pants when I pulled on the gray polo with my alma mater's name embroidered on it.  I grabbed the navy blue polar fleece pull-over just in case the temperature dropped.  As I was walking out the door, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and couldn't help but laugh.  For years I complained about wearing a uniform to school every day and now here I am, years later, putting it on by choice.  At least it wasn't Friday.  It must be the private school advantage: we know how to dress ourselves in red, white, and blue.

Just for kicks and giggles, I contemplated writing the Honor Code on the top of my test.  "I pledge I will not lie, cheat, or steal.  Nor will I tolerate those who do."  For nine long years "I pledge..." was written at the top of every test I took accompanied by my signature that sometimes included all of the letters to my name.

Now, here I am, years removed from the pledge, the uniform, and the salmon colored bricks, yet they are forcing their way back into my life one collared polo at a time.  Some habits die hard, I guess.  However, it dawned on me today that it's all a lie.  I cheat.  I steal.  I tolerate it from myself and from others.

I am a writer.

I stretch the truth or make it up completely, I steal material from every day conversations, and I tolerate this only because I am a writer; this is what I'm paid to do.  Lying, cheating, and stealing are encouraged.

Eves drop.  Put something in your purse that doesn't exactly belong there (as long as it's only words, Grandma!). Let the tales of others appear in your work.  Don't feel bad about it.  After all, "The Code's more like guidelines than actual rules."

Ok, maybe that's a bit of hyperbole.  That doesn't mean real life is off-limits.  For example, a green laser was repeatedly shot across campus and directly into my eyes apartment this evening.  It gave me a nice headache.  When I write about this, the owner of the green laser pointer will be strangled and his laser buried at the bottom of the lake.  Just sayin'.

Lie, cheat, and steal material in the name of fiction.  Ok, I promise I won't do it while wearing the plaid skirt that makes me look like a Catholic school girl.

<>< Katie

Rushed Prayer

Katie
God
"Aloud"

For some unknown reason my friend Kevin thought it wise to tease me about updating my blog 3 to 4 times a day. First off, I have only updated three times in one day once (ok, maybe twice). Second, you should see some of the stuff I write and don't post! Third, blogging is the cool thing to do not having a blog and abandoning it for a month! Last yet most important, at least I didn't buy whitey tighties at Wal-mart while wearing a pink shirt...

Today's been a long day. I left my apartment 6 hours ago and haven't been back since. After this next meeting, I'll be able to run a back there for maybe an hour, leave for dinner, go back for another hour, and I have three hours of class tonight. It's been a busy day but this was perhaps my favorite fifteen minutes.

12:49
Prof, please let class out. I have to get lunch.

12:51
"Class dismissed."
Thank you! The race begins: you have nine minutes to get to the caf, find lunch, and get to the prayer room. Go!

12:54
Congratulations, you made it in the building. Six minutes. Good luck.
Please swipe cards faster, can't you tell I'm on a time limit here?

12:55
"Hi, Emily. Yes, I can do coffee tomorrow. Hi, Steven. I'm good, and you? Hola, Stephanie. Hey, Jeanie. What happened to your underwear, Quailman? Hi, Brittany. Hi, hi, hi..."
Gosh, darn it! Why do I have to be so friendly? Five minutes and an empty to-go box. Double time, Katie!

12:56
Pizza or rice? Pizza or rice? Who likes milk in a paper cup? Yuck! Do I want grape juice for breakfast and lunch? Well, milk is out, so grape juice it is. Please don't be out of grape juice. Do I want dessert? What do I want for dessert?

12:57
"Have a good day, Katie," David shouted across the caf. I looked up just long enough to wave to my normal lunch pals and give them a faint smile. Oh, how I wish I could stay to listen to Claire interpret David's argument to say married women are ugly. No time for that. Tight schedule.

12:58
Hey, Katie.
"What?" I asked aloud, my tone of voice really said, "In a rush, can't talk now." I was tripping up the back stairs of the chapel spilling grape juice up my straw and all over my face (don't ask me how that happened but it did).
I'll see be here when you get here.
Huh?

12:59
Flick off the shoes, I'm entering Holy Ground. Whew! I can breathe again! I made it: with one minute to spare.

1:01
Why'd you rush? I'm still here. Remember what we talked about in Guatemala about being late?

My campus is currently taking part in a 24/7 prayer campaign where we have someone praying for the campus and the world twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I accidentally signed up for a time during my lunch hour instead of picking a time I was free (like now in the two o'clock hour). I'd encourage you to take some time out of your schedule today, this week and pray for your world. Your campus, your town, your state, your country, your world. It doesn't have to be an hour. You don't have to shove a pizza in your mouth as you pray, "Thank You, God, that I have food." But take a minute to pray today.

With love,
<>< Katie

Chilling Conversation

I wrote one of these awhile ago and everyone begged me to do another one. Well, they're incredibly difficult to write because they're very personal. This was yesterday morning when I returned to me seat following communion. I bowed my head and was hit in the face.
<>< Katie

Katie
God

Oh my gosh it's frigid in here! It's Christmastime; why is the air conditioner still on?
Hey, you're the smart one that sat in the same seat twice in one week. Didn't you learn on Christmas Eve?
I feel like I'm sitting in a wind tunnel!
At least you can feel.
Not helping.
I'm serious. Your friend with Lyme disease's body doesn't control temperature correctly. Yours does.
But I'm always cold. I'm already wearing a sweater and long pants. I can't put much more on.

You have a coat.
Then it won't do me an good when I go outside. Have You noticed it's 16 degrees outside, Mr. I Control the Weather?
I have noticed.
Did You also notice I don't have any gloves?
You have gloves.

No, I don't! They're at home in the dryer because they were germy. What a day to wash my gloves!
That's My point. You have gloves... a plethora of gloves. A red pair in your peacoat, a blue pair that belong in Wonder Jacket but are in the dryer right now, a purple pair for texting, a black pair for skiing... Katie, you even have a pair of gloves you wear around the house.
But my hands are still chapped and cracked. All of those gloves aren't doing me any good right now!
But you have gloves. Remember the mitten tree in the atrium? Those kids are getting their one and only pair of gloves.
The mitten tree! That's a good idea! Maybe I'll borrow a pair for the day.
I can turn up the AC if you'd like.
No, thanks. Heat would be nice right about now.
Not until you realize what you do have... a working body--
Minus the spontaneous bleeding of my hands.
You have gloves, your choice of jackets, and think about all of the miscellaneous items stored in Wonder Jacket.

There aren't any gloves in Wonder Jacket right now, I already looked.
No, they're not home being washed. Not because they were dirty but because you think they're full of germs.
They were!
Do you used the washing machine, which you have.

Having a washing machine isn't preventing me from turning into an ice cube right now. You know those cartoons were people are frozen in solid blocks of ice? That's what going to happen here today.

No, it won't. I'll make sure it doesn't happen, but I want you to forget about being cold and just listen. I know that's hard for you but try. For Me?

Ok... fine...

Conversation

Katie
God

It's such a miserable day today.
Excuse me?
I mean, it's so rainy and cold.
This is the day that I have made.
No offense, but could we please have some sunshine? If the sun doesn't have to be up, I don't have to be up, right?
Wrong.
Why the rain?
I like the rain. We need the rain. Do you see how low the lake is?
We don't want a flood either!
I promise I won't flood the earth again.
Ok, fine. I'm up, but today is a perfect day to crawl up with a good book. Quick, cancel classes.
I give the orders here.
I know, I know, You don't need my advice. But, really, God, why the cold? Today of all days! Do You know what today is?
Do I know? Of course I know. Today was the day I welcome you into my family. Twenty years ago.
You make me sound so old!
Do you really want to talk old with the Eternal God?

Katie, Come This Way

There are certain people in my life that when they address me by name and give me a command, I've learned it's generally a good idea to listen to them. Even if what they're telling me doesn't really make sense, I still try to follow. Normally, their command is from God, whether they realize it or not.

This weekend, I was at a retreat and I was unsure how to get from the cafeteria to where our next meeting was to be held. I wandered over and asked people who should know. We all just had a guess, but Neal pointed about twelve or one o'clock (if we were the center of the clock, it was point to where twelve or one o'clock would be). He explained you go behind the next building and angle that way. He then pulled out the map and explained where we had to go. Ok, got a rough idea of the direction I'm headed, straight that way, dodge the buildings, maybe rent a helicopter.

A little while later, when we were leaving, all of my friends headed towards the door at one o'clock (the direction we were told to go), but Neal headed to nine o'clock. What? Ten minutes earlier he'd pointed straight ahead, said, "Go that way" and now he's telling me to go a different direction. I hesitated awkwardly unsure exactly where to go.

"Katie, come this way," I heard from behind me. Neal was standing there watching me try to decide where to go. I must have had a confused look on my face when I turned around because he quickly explained. "If they go out there, they'll have to weave around on the sidewalk. This way is a straight shot."

Wait a second. You just pointed "north" and now you're telling me going "west" to get "north" is a direction shot? This doesn't make sense. But he's one of those people I described earlier, so I followed.

Well, needless to say Neal was right. Our path was straighter than theirs and we got there sooner. (We also had better conversation along that way, but that's beside the point).

God does the same thing. He gives you a glimpse of where you need to be (go that way, dodge the buildings, maybe rent a helicopter), and then leads you in a totally different direction. Thinking your way is going to be better, you argue and try to blaze your own trail, only to eventually follow and realize He was right all along. (The conversation is better His way, too).

I'm sure Neal would like me to point out that he is not God. He could have very easily led me astray and gotten us lost. However, I have reason to believe that he would have (eventually) gotten us unlost, too. God, on the other hand, will not get you lost, but when you get yourself lost, He's there ready to do an excellent job of getting you unlost.

In Christ,
<>< Katie

"Jehovah said to mankind, 'Where are you?'" Genesis 3:9 (as told by Neal)

Sad day

It's good to be back to having a social life! Today, during dinner, I got a text message from Melissa that I was answering. Brittany and Nathaniel were deep in some other conversation, and Jonathan was watching the news (on mute) across the caf. Bigfoot's body has been found, someone was raped, and a child was abducted. Quite sad!

"Some football player died," Jonathan said nonchalantly.
"Sad day," I said glancing at the tv before turning back to my phone.
"Did you just hear that conversation?" Nathaniel got really excited.
"What?" I inquired, thinking Brittany had just said something I would need to quote (we had about ten one-liners that hour meal...)
"Jonathan just informed us some football player died, you glanced up said, 'Sad day' and kept right on texting. It's like, 'He's dead. Sad. Text,'" he mocked me. I told him I was fully aware of the conversation and knew exactly what I said.

How often are we unaware of what we say? How often are we not paying any attention to those around us. Sure, we may have heard what they said, but do we hear what they don't say?

Someone is your life is screaming for attention. Are you listening with your heart? Try it tomorrow. Strive to hear the unsaid conversation.

In Christ,
<>< Katie

"Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. " Psalm 139:23