A Lenten Promise

It started in November when it was still sporadically warm enough to wear shorts.  We wanted to avoid No-Shave-November to keep our options open.

Enter No-Soda-November.  For the month of November, my suitemates and I gave up soda.  There was a little bit of cheating forgetting but, as a whole, we did well.  Not going to lie, on December first I had root beer mixed with milk.  It sounds gross, but it's delicious.  I don't think I've had any soda since.

In December, Allyson and Jennifer gave up fried foods.  A little bit more failure.  Always justified in some bizarre way or another.

In January, the two gave up eating after eight pm.  By now the other four of us were beginning to realize this habit of giving something up was more about stubbornness than it was health.  More about temporary sacrifice and self control than building better habits.  We started to convince them that exceptions could be made.  "This fresh out of the oven cookie is still part of dinner.  Dessert just wasn't ready yet because we at dinner at 7:30."

In February, the shortest month, Jennifer and Allyson started their hardest mission: no sweets.  No chocolate, no desserts, no mochas, no Valentines candy...  They began to consume potato chips at the speed of light.  I kid you not, Jennifer ate an entire bag of cheddar Lays in one sitting.  Around the middle of February, they went to Taco Bell and declared cinnamon twists chips rather than sweets.  Allyson even poured the remaining cinnamon and sugar into her mouth.  Needless to say, we declared them failures.  For the rest of the month, they hid their sweet-eating from judgmental persons.

They did not give up anything for the month of March.  Ironically, the month in which Lent starts.

Today, Ash Wednesday, a lot of the Christian community around the world is sacrificing something.  However, unlike Jennifer and Allyson, our sacrifice is not out of stubbornness.  Our sacrifice is to honor the One who sacrificed His life on the cross.  Our sacrifice is about growing spiritually closer to our Savior.

Figuring out what to give up for Lent is always a challenge for me.  I try to avoid giving up anything food-related because we'll just be honest: I'm a skinny kid.  Skinny kids and food sacrifices don't sit well with the rest of the world.

Two years ago I gave up facebook... and learned refreshing the page actually helps me think.
Last year I vowed to blog no more frequently than every other day... a habit I have kept.

This year I'm thinking about:
- giving up my car to save on gas... but I only drive the car pool one Sunday morning out of every three
- giving up socks... that was Nikki's idea
- giving up the color purple... I might get in trouble for public indecency.
- giving up my thesis... ooh, I like that idea
- getting more exercise... can you see this skinny kid on a treadmill?
- drinking only milk and water... oh, wait, that's pretty much covers it.
- giving up breathing... what's that?

For Lent this year, I'm going to work on two things:
1 - spending more time in serious prayer, ideally in the form of 20 minutes or more a day in our campus prayer room.
2 - affirming or encouraging at least one person every day, perhaps through the mail or in other Project 7-like ways.

What are you giving up or adding for Lent?

<>< Katie

PS: Guess what?  Today's Ash Wednesday meaning... in 40 days I get to go home for Easter!  (I haven't been home since Christmas).

Saving Lives and Getting to Class Ontime

Last week I donated blood for the second time. My appointment was at 12:15 and, naturally, they were running behind.  Even with my scarlet letter "A" (for "appointment"), 12:30 came and went.  Taylor was sitting near me as I complained about being so close to getting to class on time.  He said he had a 1:15 class, too.  We didn't think we were going to make it.

Ms. Red Cross called for an appointment and I leaped to my feet.  Then she changed her mind and called a walk-in instead.  Taylor got to go instead.  I made a snotty comment about being angry if he made it to class on time and I didn't.

"What time's your class?" a professor sitting nearby asked.
"One fifteen."
He looked at his watch: 12:35.  "You're probably not going to make it."

I said I'd give them five more minutes before I left and came back after class.  The only trouble with that was having to eat again and healthy mid-afternoon snacks don't exist here.

In that five minutes, a man called for the next appointment.  I jumped up and literally ran to the computer station.

"Are we having fun yet?" he asked.

I told him about my class and he gave the clock a skeptical glance.  It was going to be tight!

"Don't pass out on me."

I assured him I wouldn't... hoping I could stay true to that promise.

We sped through the identification questions as fast as we could.  To the point where he almost asked my temperature before taking it, like I was supposed to know it off of the top of my head like my height and weight.

When I gave him my height and weight, he looked away from the computer and met my eye when he repeated it to confirm.  I'm dangerously close to the limit.  I know that.  It's a generic weight limit not accounting for different heights.  Which means I'm technically still over the limit even though I'm five eight and have the body of a microphone stand.  (Shaun Groves said that).  I was prepared to argue that I did not have a problem donating last time.

"Listen, you're very close," said Mr. Red Cross.  "I don't care if you're late to class.  When you're done, you're going to sit at the cookie table for at least ten minutes."

"Yes, sir."  Honestly, if you're going to be put in time out, the cookie table is the place to do it!

"I'd rather you pass out here than on the asphalt outside."

Thanks for that encouragement, buddy!

In the interest of time, he read the questions aloud to me rather than letting me answer them privately.  I think there were only 15 questions that would have made Melissa giggle.  I speak fast, but this man could give me a run for my money!  By the time we got to pulse and blood pressure we were in the middle of a marathon!  Yeah, not exactly what you want when you're having your blood pressure taken.  (Even if he had to inflate the cuff just to keep it on my arm).

“Are you nervous?  Your heart rate’s fast.  Don’t be nervous. I’m pretty good at this,” he said.

I wasn’t really scared nervous.  I was time nervous, anxious, and excited.  I was a big mess of emotions; no wonder my blood pressure was high.

However, having your blood moving fast does come in handy when you’re having a it stolen from your arm.  The actual donation, like everything else that day, was super sonic speed!

"Utto," Mr. Red Cross said.
Yeah, that’s never a good thing to hear when you’ve got an IV in your arm! He tried to fill up the test tube and it wouldn’t fill properly.

“You already took all of my blood,” I teased.

“And I’m going to take a gallon more,” he said.

“Do I get extra cookies for that?”

“You can have as many cookies as you want,” he said.

A few more jokes (“This won’t hurt me a bit.” “Two fingers on the booboo. Yes, that’s the medical term.”) and I was free to go to cookie time-out.
I looked at my watch: 1:02.

God is good! He gave me my ten time-out minutes to eat cookies, inhale water, and be interviewed for the newspaper.  I still made it to class on time!

In my interview, I was asked why I donate blood.  Like my buddy Jesus, I answered her question with a question: why not?

Then I explained–I had been the queen of excuses. I didn’t weigh enough. I had a cold. I left the country.

And once I got over that, got over myself, I took the plunge and tried it. I loved it.  The first time, I kind of felt like I was being rushed through and I was there for a longer amount of time. The second time, I was there for a shorter amount of time but Mr. Red Cross took the time to tease me, answer my questions, and truly care for me.  It made a huge difference!

It’s a simple, financially painless way to give of yourself and make a huge difference. Sure, hurts a bit, makes you look like a druggy who loves Sharpie, and makes you feel a little weird for a few days but with the lives saved, it's worth it.  I’m genuinely disappointed I’m leaving the country before I’m eligible again. But my April 2012 to do list: donate blood.

If you’re eligible to donate, why not?

<>< Katie

Snapshots: Precious, Priceless, Nerdy, Compassionate

Snapshot One: Precious
Neal bent over to zip his daughter's (age 4? 5?) jacket as they walked towards the caf door.  She let him zip it all the way past her chin without protesting.  When he stood, she took the cookie in her hand and tried to put it in her mouth, colliding with the jacket zipper instead.  Twice she pulled her hand back and jabbed the cookie more forcefully into her jacket.  Finally she used her chin to open the zipper just enough to free her mouth and enjoy the caf's mass-produced sugar cookie.

Snapshot Two: Priceless
My friend Emily saw some firemen, in full uniform, building a snowman outside the firehouse.  I'm jealous I didn't get to witness this.

Snapshot Three: Nerdy
Elizabeth's boyfriend Andy came into our apartment with a fanny pack of medical stuff that's his to keep.  Of course, he had to try it out on himself and Elizabeth.  It was hilarious because he's trying to take her blood pressure while she was going out her daily routine, typing papers, and conversing on Skype.
Elizabeth: What was it?
Andy: Good.
Elizabeth: Really?
Andy: Well, I couldn't get the bottom number because you kept moving but the top number was good.
Sometimes Andy and I fight like brother and sister.  I consider it good practice because I don't have any biological brothers.
Katie: Nerdy.
Andy: If saving lives is nerdy, then yes.
Katie: Yes.
Andy: I'll keep that in mind in case you ever need to be saved.
Actually, I own and proudly wear a shirt that reads, "Talk nerdy to me."  Andy designed it.

Snapshot Four: Compassionate
We were driving through town and saw an SUV stalled on the other side of the median.  It had been turning left and died just before it got out of the intersection and into the lane.  One intersection away from Wal-mart, this ranks up there as one of the worst places ever for a car to die.  The passenger jumped out and started pushing on the side of the car.  A few vehicles went around them, and a police officer continued he day obliviously.  One car pulled over, and the male driver jumped out to help.  A few seconds later, a mini van pulled over, and the male driver jumped out to help.  A jeep blocked the lane and intersection behind them with emergency flashers.  Together they got the SUV to the side of the road just after our light turned green again.  There are caring people in this world!

Favorite

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why can't it be?

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

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

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

How does that make you feel?

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

<>< Katie

Wacky Wednesday

Just another day in the life...

Christina (from the back seat of the van): Mom, can I text you a photo of my toe?  It hurts.
Mom (passenger seat): No, I can probably see it just as well from here.

"That's not a llama that's a little girl.  Oh, they put sunglasses on the llama's butt.  That's obscene.  Oh, it was a dog's butt not a llama's butt.  Oh, look it's a little kid riding a bike again.  I saw this kid already.  No, it's a different kid.  Why do none of these kids wear helmets?!  Oh, wait, it is the same kid crashing into the mailbox.  I don't know if it's the same kid or not. THESE KIDS NEED HELMETS!  Woman tossing monkey.  Monkey tossing woman.  Now there's a gorilla on top of a post." - Mom's play-by-play of America's Funniest Home Videos

Christina: There's a cat outside somewhere.
Katie: Oh!  I see it!  It's a bunny.

Christina had just finished telling some "really funny" story and no one laughed.
Christina: OK, well, I guess it was just really funny in my head.
Mom: Well, I hope so because it wasn't really funny in any of our heads.

Laura's in the family room video chatting with her friend Jake who's currently in Louisiana.  I was sitting there as well, and Jake asks for Christina to come downstairs and video chat, too, so we'd all be there.  Laura texts Tina and she responds that she's sleeping.  "Clearly she's not since she's texting," Jake said, picking up his phone.  He then calls Christina.  The two of us in the family room could hear Christina's voice from upstairs... through the computer... through Jake's phone... in Louisiana.

Dad: Why is there one egg on the counter?
Mom: I'm making cookies later.
Dad: Oh, of course, why didn't I think of that?

Katie: Gar!  I don't want to read this manuscript.  I want to write my own manuscript.
Mom: It is a writing internship.
Katie: I'm switching my POV from third--my favorite POV--to first because I think it will work better, but I'm not quite sure how I'm going to do that.
Mom: That's why Cindy keeps all of her choir music.
Huh?

In the middle of a hamburger dinner I almost shot milk out my nose. Everyone looked at me, but I couldn't defend myself since I was at risk of choking... Instead I picked up the mustard and turned it around so they could all see the expiration date: June 4, 2007. I swallowed and we all laughed that the mustard expired before I graduated. (Throughout high school I'd keep track of what expired after I graduated, and I said the scary day would be when the milk expired after I graduated). We threw away that mustard and Mom went to the fridge to get another one. "Oh, good," she said, "now we only have four open mustards!"

Mom: You're writing this down?  For your blog?
Katie: Yeah.
Mom: Great... I'm never going to be able to get a job again.
Katie: No, I blog you as "Para Salin" or "Sarah Palin."
Mom: Oh, ok, instead you're screwing the future of this country instead of just my future.
Katie: You're the weird one.

Laura: Katie, you talk too much!
Katie: Laura, you listen too little!

<>< Katie

Dead Skin

Most embarrassing moment of the week, ready? Along with a promised mission trip story! (Yes, it's long, but it's two stories for the price of one).

On Tuesday, after worship I went to get some snacks. Every week I get whales (goldfish but better); in fact, the snacks folks always know I get whales. Some days I have to ask, but they always have whales even if they're just for me. I'm waiting for the day when there's a cup of whales on the table waiting for me. :-) Last week, they were out of whales and it made me very sad. This week, I was a little over-excited about getting whales...

I galloped to the snacks table, and when I reached across if for an empty cup, I accidental hit some cookies onto the floor. Three valuable cookies fell to their death on the nasty concourse floor. I picked them up right away, and held them in my greasy hand while I talked for a few seconds. Neal picked up the now-empty package and put it under my hand with broken cookies. I took the broken cookies and empty wrappers to the garbage.

"What are you doing with those cookies?" Neal shouted across the concourse to me.
"Throwing them away. Why? You want them?" I asked, realizing that was a dumb question. He's a guy; he's probably going to eat them. I was not going to give him cookies off the floor. Even if the answer was yes, they were going in the garbage.
"Not after they've been mushed in your sweaty hand," he snickered and I pitched them.
"My hand is cleaner than that floor," I informed him.
"Would you bet your salvation on it?" Is my campus minister asking me to bet my salvation on germs?
"No, but God and I both know how often I wash my hands."

Every conversation I have with Neal involves skin cells... I don't talk to anyone else about skin cells, but every time I talk to Neal they come up and he doesn't even know I'm a germophobe. How weird is that? Of course, this conversation morphed to talk about germs, Neal's nurse-wife whose hands bleed every winter because of how often their washed (mine, too), Neal's germophobe son (me, too), and how I once took a shower in Neal dead skin cells.

On our mission trip, Neal sat down next to me and said, "My face is peeling." How do you respond to that? What a great conversation starter!
I said the only logical thing, "Yucky."
"It's not yucky!"
"Well, I don't want your peely skin on me," I told him. What does he proceed to do? Rub his hands over my leg and taunt me with the number of skin cells falling onto me. When he's finished with that, he scoops them up and throws them in my face. Dead Neal cells in my eyes! Yucky!

On Tuesday, he rubbed some more dead skin cells on me, and I told him how hard that was for germophobe me not to freak out. I excepted this confession to result in laughter and more dead skin cells on me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know it bothered you," he said. Wow. I wasn't expecting that.

Throw someone a curve ball today. Apology when they expect you to laugh.

<>< Katie