I saw the ambulance. I was sitting in the front window of the coffee shop when it whizzed by. I zoned out watching it, noticing it was EMS rather than the local rescue team. Didn't mean much.
From the front window of the coffee shop you can see everything that's happening in town. I could see the ambulance was not headed towards the nursing home. It could have been headed towards campus, but I couldn't tell. Didn't mean much.
It did prompt me to think about how we have not lost a student since I started. Sure, students have had seizures, passed out, dislocated shoulders in class but they've all been fine in a few hours or days. We've lost professors, staff members, and family members. But never a student.
I went back to my work.
Not long after that, I saw the same ambulance return in the direction from which it came, sirens still on. I thought about Tweeting about how it's not a good sign when an ambulance returns from a call with its lights and siren.
Despite the town only having one stoplight, despite my roommate working in campus ministries, despite seeing the ambulance, I learned from Twitter that one of my sisters in Christ had passed away.
The world stopped.
I didn't recognize her name, but I knew her face. I definitely knew her face. I've heard her testimony.
It was her birthday.
The night before she'd Tweeted that she was excited for the next day. I'm sure she had no idea how exciting it would be for her. She got to celebrate her earthly birthday with the Lord.
That morning, she'd Tweeted and thanked the Lord for another year of her life. That night, He took her home.
Sniffles and tears were overwhelming at our weekly worship service last night. My roommate had hugged her the morning she went Home. Others had been in her class. We were all grieving.
And it's ok to cry. It's ok to be sad. Jesus was. When His friend Lazarus died, the Bible says Jesus wept.
Yet still there was an element of joy in the air. We knew (and know) that she is with the Lord.
You see, this sister I never had the pleasure to hug, loved the Lord. A lot.
We know that her death is not in vain. We know that she's in the arms of our Father. We know that she would be overjoyed if everyone (if anyone) came to know the Lord through her death.
We celebrated. We praised the Lord. We know that He is good even when life is bad. His timing is perfect even when ours is a little off.
Yes, it's hard. Yes, we thought He was going to do a lot more with her on this earth. Yes, we know that her testimony will continue to inspire, to encourage, and to draw people to Him. It's all she wanted to do with her life and now in her death.
That's what I want my life and death to be about: the glory of the Lord. Today. Tomorrow. Every day until I'm called home. And even then.
If you don't mind, can you take a few seconds right now and pray for us? Pray for her family. Pray for her friends, roommates, and colleagues. Pray for this campus, this town. Thank God that He took one of His children home rather than a student who didn't know Him. Thank Him for His goodness and journeying with us.
But don't pray for her. It's not necessary. She's ok because she's in the arms of the Father. And if she's not in heaven, then we're all in trouble. But I know she is.
And next time you see an ambulance, do me a favor and pray for the patient, the team, and the team meeting him/her. Pray for the family, the friends. Pray that God be glorified as He as been here.
This verse was very important to her. It is now very important to me.
"For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek." Romans 1:16
Today's a gift, friends. It's the most important day of your life. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow isn't promised.
You never know when you're going to be called home. It could be in the middle of class on your 21st birthday.
And I'm ok with that.
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Our Adoption
Adoption is costly. Unfortunately, rescuing a child from poverty is not an easy task. It's costly financially and costly emotionally. But it's a price parents are willing to pay for their child(ren).
Likewise, our adoption was costly. In Ephesians Paul says, "God decided in advance to adopt us into His own family by bringing us to Himself through Jesus Christ. This is what He wanted to do, and it gave Him great pleasure." (Ephesians 1:6 NLT)
The price for our adoptions? Christ's death on the cross. Yet our Heavenly Father (and His Son) were willing to pay that price. More than willing.
For us.
<>< Katie
(Journal entry dated 10-10-11. Posted in honor of National Adoption Month)
Likewise, our adoption was costly. In Ephesians Paul says, "God decided in advance to adopt us into His own family by bringing us to Himself through Jesus Christ. This is what He wanted to do, and it gave Him great pleasure." (Ephesians 1:6 NLT)
The price for our adoptions? Christ's death on the cross. Yet our Heavenly Father (and His Son) were willing to pay that price. More than willing.
For us.
<>< Katie
(Journal entry dated 10-10-11. Posted in honor of National Adoption Month)
Monday, August 15, 2011
Glory in Tragedy
I don't think we could have fit anything else into this weekend had we tried. A pasta dinner for 30 high school tennis girls, a baby shower (with two-week old baby), a graduation/ birthday party, a tennis quad, a family reunion, church, dinner out, and... the wake for a fourteen year old.
Her death was instant. There was no warning. There was nothing that could have been done. It could not have been prevented. Her life could not have been saved. No one is at fault.
Yet a fourteen year old is dead.
In all honesty, I don't know how non-Christians cope with tragedies like this. Even with hope and a loving God, it's hard to bury a fourteen year old who seemed healthy one minute and gone the next.
Is our God not a loving God who cares for His children? I don't just mean Emily. What about her family? Her parents? Her older sister? Her friends whose home she was walking home from? Fifty minutes worth of drivers who drove down that busy street without noticing her unconscious and not breathing on the sidewalk? Her classmates about to enter high school without her?
Tough questions.
But I believe Emily was not alone on that sidewalk. God was with her every step of her walk home; she just arrived at a different Home than would have been expected. Even though her body was kept breathing for two days, Emily was immediately delivered into the loving arms of her Creator.
The same God that cradles their precious daughter, holds tight to Emily's parents giving them the strength to host mourners in their home, the ability to make jokes and even laugh a little as the receiving line weaved through the funeral home and out into the parking lot. He holds their tears, their hands, and their hearts.
He will be glorified, even though this situation our human eyes see as tragic and incomprehensible. That is my prayer.
It’s the only thing I can pray. And I was just a student, nine years ahead of her at the same school.
<>< Katie
Her death was instant. There was no warning. There was nothing that could have been done. It could not have been prevented. Her life could not have been saved. No one is at fault.
Yet a fourteen year old is dead.
In all honesty, I don't know how non-Christians cope with tragedies like this. Even with hope and a loving God, it's hard to bury a fourteen year old who seemed healthy one minute and gone the next.
Is our God not a loving God who cares for His children? I don't just mean Emily. What about her family? Her parents? Her older sister? Her friends whose home she was walking home from? Fifty minutes worth of drivers who drove down that busy street without noticing her unconscious and not breathing on the sidewalk? Her classmates about to enter high school without her?
Tough questions.
But I believe Emily was not alone on that sidewalk. God was with her every step of her walk home; she just arrived at a different Home than would have been expected. Even though her body was kept breathing for two days, Emily was immediately delivered into the loving arms of her Creator.
The same God that cradles their precious daughter, holds tight to Emily's parents giving them the strength to host mourners in their home, the ability to make jokes and even laugh a little as the receiving line weaved through the funeral home and out into the parking lot. He holds their tears, their hands, and their hearts.
He will be glorified, even though this situation our human eyes see as tragic and incomprehensible. That is my prayer.
It’s the only thing I can pray. And I was just a student, nine years ahead of her at the same school.
<>< Katie
Friday, June 24, 2011
Sharing Life
They didn't know I was in town. I knew I couldn't leave without seeing them.
After dinner one evening, I gave them a call. No answer. I called their cell phone. No answer. I called the house phone again. Still no answer.
"What do you want to do?" Laura asked. "Do you want to go over there and check or just wait awhile?"
I hesitated. There are some people in my life that the best (read: only) way to get a hold of them is face-to-face.
"Do you mind if we just run over there?"
She didn't.
We figured they were having Family Time. The phone does not interrupt Family Time but Katie and Laura are welcome to Family Time.
We were wrong.
The phone went unanswered because Ruth was out walking the dog. When we pulled up beside her she gave us a small wave. Her eyes were teary. We parked and ran over to hug her.
"Jesus sent you to me!" She said. Twice.
Her father who, despite being in his 90s, had been doing relatively well had taken a bad turn. She didn't know if he had hours to live or weeks. She didn't know if he'd still me alive in a week when they made the cross-country trip home. She didn't know if she wanted the opportunity to say goodbye or if she would prefer he pass quickly rather than suffer. It had only been a month since her mother went home to heaven.
The three of us walked around the neighborhood hand in hand, tear in tear. Then we sat on the couch together, journeyed back through life, and cried some more. Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we blubbered. Sometimes we sat in silence. We shared life.
We prayed to God. We praised God. We questioned God. We said, "Thy will be done."
Thanks to her sons, we were the hill in a painful rendition of King of the Hill. We were drooled on by the dog. We cleaned up the kitchen.
Laura and I had no idea what to expect when we decided just to go over. But we're so glad we did. God was using us and, at first, we had no idea.
Be intentional. Life is messy: share it with someone. Drop in to check on a friend. Let God provide your shoulder, your hug, your friendship for someone in need. You never know when your smile is the highlight of their day. When your kind word is really the Holy Spirit speaking directly to their heart.
<>< Katie
UPDATE: Earlier this week Ruth sat at her father's bedside and heard him draw his last breath before he went Home to his Father's House. Please take a minute to pray for the family as they are grieving but also rejoicing that he's now healthy and whole.
After dinner one evening, I gave them a call. No answer. I called their cell phone. No answer. I called the house phone again. Still no answer.
"What do you want to do?" Laura asked. "Do you want to go over there and check or just wait awhile?"
I hesitated. There are some people in my life that the best (read: only) way to get a hold of them is face-to-face.
"Do you mind if we just run over there?"
She didn't.
We figured they were having Family Time. The phone does not interrupt Family Time but Katie and Laura are welcome to Family Time.
We were wrong.
The phone went unanswered because Ruth was out walking the dog. When we pulled up beside her she gave us a small wave. Her eyes were teary. We parked and ran over to hug her.
"Jesus sent you to me!" She said. Twice.
Her father who, despite being in his 90s, had been doing relatively well had taken a bad turn. She didn't know if he had hours to live or weeks. She didn't know if he'd still me alive in a week when they made the cross-country trip home. She didn't know if she wanted the opportunity to say goodbye or if she would prefer he pass quickly rather than suffer. It had only been a month since her mother went home to heaven.
The three of us walked around the neighborhood hand in hand, tear in tear. Then we sat on the couch together, journeyed back through life, and cried some more. Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we blubbered. Sometimes we sat in silence. We shared life.
We prayed to God. We praised God. We questioned God. We said, "Thy will be done."
Thanks to her sons, we were the hill in a painful rendition of King of the Hill. We were drooled on by the dog. We cleaned up the kitchen.
Laura and I had no idea what to expect when we decided just to go over. But we're so glad we did. God was using us and, at first, we had no idea.
Be intentional. Life is messy: share it with someone. Drop in to check on a friend. Let God provide your shoulder, your hug, your friendship for someone in need. You never know when your smile is the highlight of their day. When your kind word is really the Holy Spirit speaking directly to their heart.
<>< Katie
UPDATE: Earlier this week Ruth sat at her father's bedside and heard him draw his last breath before he went Home to his Father's House. Please take a minute to pray for the family as they are grieving but also rejoicing that he's now healthy and whole.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Sadness and Joy
A large group gathered together in a dark upper room. The door locked out of fear. No one had bothered to light the lamp. No one wanted to speak. Complete darkness. It was not only a physical surrounding but also an emotional feeling.
Their best friend, their leader... was dead. Three years earlier they'd given up everything to follow Him. This is not what they had expected.
Not even a week earlier He'd been celebrated. He was welcomed as a king. Not forty-eight hours previous they'd enjoyed a meal together. Now He was gone. Everything happened so quickly.
The room was filled with a myriad of emotions: hurt, regret, failure, longing, desperation, depression, darkness, confusion, loneliness, loss... the list goes on. Yet the most prevalent had to be hopelessness.
"How could this have happened?"
"I really didn't see this coming. Did He?"
"Now what?"
"Where do we go from here?"
The incessant number of unanswerable questions plagued them as they sat, paced, and cried.
Silence in a crowd. Darkness in the middle of the day. Loneliness among great friends.
"Peace be with you." A voice rudely interrupts their pensiveness. Who would offer peace on such a dreary day?
Only the One who can bring light into their darkness. Only the One who brings hope to the hopeless. Only the One who was dead but lives again!
Can you imagine the relief of the disciples? Can you imagine the pure joy?
Place yourself in the upper room with the disciples. Kneel before Jesus.
Notice the holes in his feet. Touch the wound in His side. When His nail-scarred hand slides under your chin and lifts gently, don't be ashamed. When your teary eyes meet His compassionate ones, don't look away. Think about all of the power those eyes hold, but now their focus is on you.
"I love you."
Accept the warm embrace from the living Savior and never, ever let go.
Their best friend, their leader... was dead. Three years earlier they'd given up everything to follow Him. This is not what they had expected.
Not even a week earlier He'd been celebrated. He was welcomed as a king. Not forty-eight hours previous they'd enjoyed a meal together. Now He was gone. Everything happened so quickly.
The room was filled with a myriad of emotions: hurt, regret, failure, longing, desperation, depression, darkness, confusion, loneliness, loss... the list goes on. Yet the most prevalent had to be hopelessness.
"How could this have happened?"
"I really didn't see this coming. Did He?"
"Now what?"
"Where do we go from here?"
The incessant number of unanswerable questions plagued them as they sat, paced, and cried.
Silence in a crowd. Darkness in the middle of the day. Loneliness among great friends.
"Peace be with you." A voice rudely interrupts their pensiveness. Who would offer peace on such a dreary day?
Only the One who can bring light into their darkness. Only the One who brings hope to the hopeless. Only the One who was dead but lives again!
Can you imagine the relief of the disciples? Can you imagine the pure joy?
Place yourself in the upper room with the disciples. Kneel before Jesus.
Notice the holes in his feet. Touch the wound in His side. When His nail-scarred hand slides under your chin and lifts gently, don't be ashamed. When your teary eyes meet His compassionate ones, don't look away. Think about all of the power those eyes hold, but now their focus is on you.
"I love you."
Accept the warm embrace from the living Savior and never, ever let go.
Friday, December 3, 2010
A Rapid Turn of Events
Last Friday when we got in the van on our way to Philadelphia, Lori was a bit groggy from her midnight shopping trip. She talked about seeing a man from her church, Mark. His pregnant wife Beth was two days overdue at the time. Obviously she couldn't go shopping, so she sent him out with a huge list of items to get Black Friday shopping.
"Wouldn't it be funny if he went home ready to take a nice long nap and she went into labor?" Lori said.
God thought it would be funny, too. By the time we were in the Wells Fargo Center enjoying our intense hockey experience, Beth had gone into labor.
After the game, we got back in the van and Mr. Steve said, "God said we can come to Him in the good and in the bad. Today we need to go before Him in the bad."
I thought he was referring to the recent devastating Flyers' loss in the third round of the shoot out.
No, Beth had delivered the baby and there were complications. We didn't have a lot of information. Neither did Beth. But the baby had been transferred to a different hospital, and the prayer chain notified.
So pray we did. Right there in the middle of a traffic jam in Philadelphia. We said we wanted healing for Mark and Beth's youngster. We didn't even know if it was a girl or a boy. We didn't know what was wrong. But we knew God knew. We knew God cared. We knew God could heal the baby, if it was His will.
It was His will. But He healed the baby in the way we weren't hoping for. By the time we made it home after a cheese steak, Mark and Beth's son was being held safely in the arms of his Heavenly Father.
Do me a favor and take a minute to pray for Mark and Beth and other families that have lost children. I cannot fathom such a joyous occasion turning so devastating so quickly.
Do me another favor and let me know how I can best pray for you.
Thanks, friends.
<>< Katie
"Wouldn't it be funny if he went home ready to take a nice long nap and she went into labor?" Lori said.
God thought it would be funny, too. By the time we were in the Wells Fargo Center enjoying our intense hockey experience, Beth had gone into labor.
After the game, we got back in the van and Mr. Steve said, "God said we can come to Him in the good and in the bad. Today we need to go before Him in the bad."
I thought he was referring to the recent devastating Flyers' loss in the third round of the shoot out.
No, Beth had delivered the baby and there were complications. We didn't have a lot of information. Neither did Beth. But the baby had been transferred to a different hospital, and the prayer chain notified.
So pray we did. Right there in the middle of a traffic jam in Philadelphia. We said we wanted healing for Mark and Beth's youngster. We didn't even know if it was a girl or a boy. We didn't know what was wrong. But we knew God knew. We knew God cared. We knew God could heal the baby, if it was His will.
It was His will. But He healed the baby in the way we weren't hoping for. By the time we made it home after a cheese steak, Mark and Beth's son was being held safely in the arms of his Heavenly Father.
Do me a favor and take a minute to pray for Mark and Beth and other families that have lost children. I cannot fathom such a joyous occasion turning so devastating so quickly.
Do me another favor and let me know how I can best pray for you.
Thanks, friends.
<>< Katie
Saturday, November 20, 2010
A Beer with the Boys
The weekend before Thanksgiving has always been reserved for deer hunting. My dad would go up to my grandparents' house, kickback, relax, and hunt. Long before any sane person would even consider leaving the depths of their plush, warm bed, Dad and Boppy would be donning their layers and blaze orange to head into the woods.
They always hoped for a nice layer of fresh snow as they hunted the same land year after year. The tree line and a corn field belonged to our goodfriends Herb and Arnie, two brothers in their 80s who lived independently in neighboring homes.
Sometime after the sun came up, our two men would trudge into Herb's kitchen where the fridge was full of Miller. Not because Herb drank beer but because Dad and Boppy drank beer. Arnie would come over and the four would sit around solving the world's problems.
As everyone grew older, hunting became harder and harder. The time in the woods was shorter and the time in Herb's kitchen longer. "Deer hunting" became a pretense for a good time with old friends. It has been years since we've had any venison.
The day I started college I got a phone call saying Arnie passed away. This was eight months after the contemplation of terminating life support, the planning of the funeral, and the Christmas Miracle. That year Dad and Boppy BYOB-ed it to Herb's room at the nursing home.
Herb passed away on New Year's Eve that same year. The only time I've ever been to the gravesite was when we almost froze to death in the sub-zero temperatures and wild winds ripping off the surrounding barren fields.
Even though the will brouhaha had not yet been settled, Dad and Boppy hunted Herb and Arnie's land that year. But it was too hard. Instead, they took a drive to the cemetery in the middle of nowhere. The one that only has two remaining plots, graciously given to my grandparents to use sometime in the distant future.
With the headstones protecting them from the wind, two grown men wearing blaze orange sat on a nice layer of snow to have a beer with the boys.
They always hoped for a nice layer of fresh snow as they hunted the same land year after year. The tree line and a corn field belonged to our goodfriends Herb and Arnie, two brothers in their 80s who lived independently in neighboring homes.
Sometime after the sun came up, our two men would trudge into Herb's kitchen where the fridge was full of Miller. Not because Herb drank beer but because Dad and Boppy drank beer. Arnie would come over and the four would sit around solving the world's problems.
As everyone grew older, hunting became harder and harder. The time in the woods was shorter and the time in Herb's kitchen longer. "Deer hunting" became a pretense for a good time with old friends. It has been years since we've had any venison.
The day I started college I got a phone call saying Arnie passed away. This was eight months after the contemplation of terminating life support, the planning of the funeral, and the Christmas Miracle. That year Dad and Boppy BYOB-ed it to Herb's room at the nursing home.
Herb passed away on New Year's Eve that same year. The only time I've ever been to the gravesite was when we almost froze to death in the sub-zero temperatures and wild winds ripping off the surrounding barren fields.
Even though the will brouhaha had not yet been settled, Dad and Boppy hunted Herb and Arnie's land that year. But it was too hard. Instead, they took a drive to the cemetery in the middle of nowhere. The one that only has two remaining plots, graciously given to my grandparents to use sometime in the distant future.
With the headstones protecting them from the wind, two grown men wearing blaze orange sat on a nice layer of snow to have a beer with the boys.
Friday, September 17, 2010
"Are there any prayer praises?"
It seems all of the long-term prayer requests in our Sunday school group had changes for the worse this week. The eleven year old fighting adult cancer lost her battle. The two year old they thought was finally on the uphill slope was given less than a year to live. A discouraged soldier. Continued pain for several younger women with chronic illnesses. More relationship problems from a daughter.
"Feel free to share praises, guys," Matt said.
On cue, the door opened and in walked a young family. Husband and wife with their newborn. She was still pregnant when I came back to school a month ago. We pulled out extra chairs for them and they got to sit front row center. The father reached over, grabbed the leg of his wife's chair, pulled it closer to himself, and put his arm around her. I had this sudden overwhelming urge to be that woman. Someday.
We added this family to our list of praises. The general energy of the room lifted upon seeing their tired faces. We began to thank God. We had to do some searching, but we found reasons to be thankful.
What are you thankful for today? Don't be upset if you have to search. Were you healthy enough to get out of bed? Do you have internet access to read this? A roof over your head? Food to eat? Clothes on your back?
Even if you say "no" to all of those things, you can say "yes" to this: you have a God who loves you. Let that be what you are thankful for today. It is enough because His grace is enough.
With love,
<>< Katie
"Feel free to share praises, guys," Matt said.
On cue, the door opened and in walked a young family. Husband and wife with their newborn. She was still pregnant when I came back to school a month ago. We pulled out extra chairs for them and they got to sit front row center. The father reached over, grabbed the leg of his wife's chair, pulled it closer to himself, and put his arm around her. I had this sudden overwhelming urge to be that woman. Someday.
We added this family to our list of praises. The general energy of the room lifted upon seeing their tired faces. We began to thank God. We had to do some searching, but we found reasons to be thankful.
What are you thankful for today? Don't be upset if you have to search. Were you healthy enough to get out of bed? Do you have internet access to read this? A roof over your head? Food to eat? Clothes on your back?
Even if you say "no" to all of those things, you can say "yes" to this: you have a God who loves you. Let that be what you are thankful for today. It is enough because His grace is enough.
With love,
<>< Katie
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Life Ain't All Rosy
If I count up the number of meals I've eaten in the last two weeks, it would not divide out to be three a day. If I added the number of hours of sleep I've gotten, it would not be anywhere near eight-hours a night. If I blogged every God moment I've had in the last two weeks, my blog would be updated infinitely more often than anyone would read it (that is assuming people actually read it as is). All of those missed meals and lack of sleep were worth being the hands and feet of Christ.
Except today I write with a heavy heart. Within four hours of returning home, I was hit with four different life-altering scenarios.
1. A professor, emailing me for a different reason, shared that one of her close friends is dying of cancer. Why the professor felt the need to share this, I may never know, but it took the smile from my tired face as my heart broke for her.
2. My mom has a self-diagnosed broken toe. That's not pretty. She's hobbling around with only one shoe on. Maybe not life-altering, but we drink our milk and have few broken bones, so it's a big deal.
3. One of my pastors and his wife were in a serious car accident. Both are in their seventies and were admitted to the hospital. It's my understanding that they have since been released with only lacerations and contusions; no broken bones or major injuries. Alleluia!
4. A close family friend had breast cancer surgery while we were gone. It has not metastasized but she has a long road ahead of her. The oldest of their four children just graduated high school this June.
We were still living in the old house when I noticed four names scribbled in the margin of a piece of paper on the table. It was my first experience with some people that would become important in my life over the next eleven years (and counting). We added a few more names to the group until we had a party of fifteen.
I think it's safe to say we've spent a lot of time together. From the water ski show to snow skiing. From pool parties and bonfires to trips to the lake. It was Christina who pushed Uncle Steve into our pool in his nice golf uniform. When Laura earned herself an ambulance ride, Christina and I were sent to their house at 6am. When I went to college, they all came over the night before to say goodbye.
The day we got home from the NYG, Mom said she was taking them dinner. Instantly I wondered who died. Great-grandma? Grandma? Not grandpa, he was just flipping around in a moon bounce a month ago. No one died. Sue had breast cancer surgery. What? She too was in the moon bounce a month ago.
On Friday, we went to a baseball game in the skybox, a perk of my dad's job and a trip that's been planned for months. I wondered what to say. Would cancer be the topic of conversation all night? Would we brush it under the rug like it hadn't happened?
I'm not so much into baseball, so I love when we have the box because it means I can curl up on the couch with a plate of mozzarella sticks and a good book. From my couch, I can observe. I saw seven of the nine kids (one was MIA; one was me) sitting in the front row laughing and teasing each other. I saw the three women in the middle row talking about anything and everything. I saw the three men--all wearing black shirts, khaki shorts, and no shoes--turn a baseball game into a betting game. I did not see the peanuts launched over shoulders in my general direction until they collided with my face. Thanks.
I saw the concern. The genuine, "Let us know if you need anything." I also saw the smiles. Together this group of friends would push through. For this next season of life we will laugh, cry, and pray together. We can acknowledge the elephant in the room without constantly staring at it.
Our team won the baseball game that night, but I cannot wait until the day when I say our family won the battle. Maybe we'll celebrate with some brownie soup.
Until then, will you join us in prayer?
Thank you,
<>< Katie
Except today I write with a heavy heart. Within four hours of returning home, I was hit with four different life-altering scenarios.
1. A professor, emailing me for a different reason, shared that one of her close friends is dying of cancer. Why the professor felt the need to share this, I may never know, but it took the smile from my tired face as my heart broke for her.
2. My mom has a self-diagnosed broken toe. That's not pretty. She's hobbling around with only one shoe on. Maybe not life-altering, but we drink our milk and have few broken bones, so it's a big deal.
3. One of my pastors and his wife were in a serious car accident. Both are in their seventies and were admitted to the hospital. It's my understanding that they have since been released with only lacerations and contusions; no broken bones or major injuries. Alleluia!
4. A close family friend had breast cancer surgery while we were gone. It has not metastasized but she has a long road ahead of her. The oldest of their four children just graduated high school this June.
We were still living in the old house when I noticed four names scribbled in the margin of a piece of paper on the table. It was my first experience with some people that would become important in my life over the next eleven years (and counting). We added a few more names to the group until we had a party of fifteen.
I think it's safe to say we've spent a lot of time together. From the water ski show to snow skiing. From pool parties and bonfires to trips to the lake. It was Christina who pushed Uncle Steve into our pool in his nice golf uniform. When Laura earned herself an ambulance ride, Christina and I were sent to their house at 6am. When I went to college, they all came over the night before to say goodbye.
The day we got home from the NYG, Mom said she was taking them dinner. Instantly I wondered who died. Great-grandma? Grandma? Not grandpa, he was just flipping around in a moon bounce a month ago. No one died. Sue had breast cancer surgery. What? She too was in the moon bounce a month ago.
On Friday, we went to a baseball game in the skybox, a perk of my dad's job and a trip that's been planned for months. I wondered what to say. Would cancer be the topic of conversation all night? Would we brush it under the rug like it hadn't happened?
I'm not so much into baseball, so I love when we have the box because it means I can curl up on the couch with a plate of mozzarella sticks and a good book. From my couch, I can observe. I saw seven of the nine kids (one was MIA; one was me) sitting in the front row laughing and teasing each other. I saw the three women in the middle row talking about anything and everything. I saw the three men--all wearing black shirts, khaki shorts, and no shoes--turn a baseball game into a betting game. I did not see the peanuts launched over shoulders in my general direction until they collided with my face. Thanks.
I saw the concern. The genuine, "Let us know if you need anything." I also saw the smiles. Together this group of friends would push through. For this next season of life we will laugh, cry, and pray together. We can acknowledge the elephant in the room without constantly staring at it.
Our team won the baseball game that night, but I cannot wait until the day when I say our family won the battle. Maybe we'll celebrate with some brownie soup.
Until then, will you join us in prayer?
Thank you,
<>< Katie
Monday, July 26, 2010
ASL Pride
Part of my new optimism ploy for the last eleven months or so has been to catch people doing things right. If I'm going to do it for my "real life" friends, I feel the need to exhibit the same courtesy to my virtual friends. As an ASL minor, I cannot let this story slip by uncelebrated. Please take a moment and realize not everyone in the hearing and medical worlds are the evil deaf-haters that our professors make us out to be. There are exceptions. Please got take a few minutes and read it. Thank you, Jim. Well done. <>< Katie
National Youth Gathering Post One: a YAV at the NYG in NOLA
NYG Post Two: The Savior, The Seat Belt, The Superdome
For the last week, I've been in New Orleans at the LCMS National Youth Gathering. Basically, 25,000 teens from around the country (and world) gather to worship God. As a volunteer, it was my job be enthusiastic, loud and crazy, and cheerful. For a pessimistic introvert, that's not easy. On top of the fact that I knew a grand total of one person at the event. One. Everyone else was greeting friends they hadn't seen in months or years and I was sitting there going, "Yeah, I haven't seen you ever. My name is Katie; what's yours?" Not going to lie, I was jealous and homesick (for my college friends).
My first night in NOLA, they split us up into groups of about 20 to 30 people that we would get to know over the next few days. We shared our name, hometown, and one safety item we brought with us. The conversation had kind of moved on, but it wasn't anything deep or serious (yet). One girl got the attention of our group.
"Just so you all know, I'm completely deaf. If you could please face towards me when you're talking, it'll help me read your lips." Her voice was excellent. I never would have known she could not hear had she not said something.
A little adrenaline rush started inside of me. I wanted to know if she signed. Ten minutes later, we were in a circle more conducive to conversation, and I threw out a simple, "Do you sign?" with Casey's favorite Question Finger. I got a yes. PAH! My little adrenaline rush turned into a bigger adrenaline rush, and I'm amazed I didn't tangle myself into a literal knot. It had been two months since I'd done any serious signing, so I was a little rusty. But it didn't matter.
She was drinking out of her water bottle with her left hand as she watched me. Her eyes lit up. She didn't say, "Cool" or "Neat" or anything. No, she said "Wonderful." I babbled some more and then she took a turn talking about how so many people in the world are clueless about Deaf culture. With the rest of our group staring rather rudely, she and I talked for a few minutes. I learned she, too, knew no one at the NYG.
We weren't glued to the hip, but I made a point to know where she was at most times. I began to imagine what it had been like for her to be trying to lip read everything. A lot of times, she'd just give up and read her book instead of listening (or watching). Once or twice she asked me what someone had said and I signed it back to her.
I don't know how she felt about encountering someone else who signed, but to me it was a sign from God that my week was going to be ok. He was there with me. There I was feeling sorry for myself about not knowing anyong and God sent me someone in a smiliar predicament.
Her honesty in admitting her deafness broke the ice for my group. By the end of the 45-minute Get to Know You time, most of us were in tears. Every person sitting in that circle had a story that would break your heart. Financial challenges that meant it was only by the grace of God that he was able to attend the Gathering. A girl that was signed up to attend the 2007 Gathering but found herself in the hospital instead. A boy who was trying to quit smoking asked us to throw away his cigarettes to remove the tempation that week. A friend of a 2007 participant who has since gone Home to Heaven.
Wow.
When the adult coordinator came by to give us a five-minute warning, our group was locked together in a hug. In less than three hours we transformed from strangers trying to learn names ("When in doubt, guess Katie") to the family of Christ crying together. I love it!
National Youth Gathering Post One: a YAV at the NYG in NOLA
NYG Post Two: The Savior, The Seat Belt, The Superdome
For the last week, I've been in New Orleans at the LCMS National Youth Gathering. Basically, 25,000 teens from around the country (and world) gather to worship God. As a volunteer, it was my job be enthusiastic, loud and crazy, and cheerful. For a pessimistic introvert, that's not easy. On top of the fact that I knew a grand total of one person at the event. One. Everyone else was greeting friends they hadn't seen in months or years and I was sitting there going, "Yeah, I haven't seen you ever. My name is Katie; what's yours?" Not going to lie, I was jealous and homesick (for my college friends).
My first night in NOLA, they split us up into groups of about 20 to 30 people that we would get to know over the next few days. We shared our name, hometown, and one safety item we brought with us. The conversation had kind of moved on, but it wasn't anything deep or serious (yet). One girl got the attention of our group.
"Just so you all know, I'm completely deaf. If you could please face towards me when you're talking, it'll help me read your lips." Her voice was excellent. I never would have known she could not hear had she not said something.
A little adrenaline rush started inside of me. I wanted to know if she signed. Ten minutes later, we were in a circle more conducive to conversation, and I threw out a simple, "Do you sign?" with Casey's favorite Question Finger. I got a yes. PAH! My little adrenaline rush turned into a bigger adrenaline rush, and I'm amazed I didn't tangle myself into a literal knot. It had been two months since I'd done any serious signing, so I was a little rusty. But it didn't matter.
She was drinking out of her water bottle with her left hand as she watched me. Her eyes lit up. She didn't say, "Cool" or "Neat" or anything. No, she said "Wonderful." I babbled some more and then she took a turn talking about how so many people in the world are clueless about Deaf culture. With the rest of our group staring rather rudely, she and I talked for a few minutes. I learned she, too, knew no one at the NYG.
We weren't glued to the hip, but I made a point to know where she was at most times. I began to imagine what it had been like for her to be trying to lip read everything. A lot of times, she'd just give up and read her book instead of listening (or watching). Once or twice she asked me what someone had said and I signed it back to her.
I don't know how she felt about encountering someone else who signed, but to me it was a sign from God that my week was going to be ok. He was there with me. There I was feeling sorry for myself about not knowing anyong and God sent me someone in a smiliar predicament.
Her honesty in admitting her deafness broke the ice for my group. By the end of the 45-minute Get to Know You time, most of us were in tears. Every person sitting in that circle had a story that would break your heart. Financial challenges that meant it was only by the grace of God that he was able to attend the Gathering. A girl that was signed up to attend the 2007 Gathering but found herself in the hospital instead. A boy who was trying to quit smoking asked us to throw away his cigarettes to remove the tempation that week. A friend of a 2007 participant who has since gone Home to Heaven.
Wow.
When the adult coordinator came by to give us a five-minute warning, our group was locked together in a hug. In less than three hours we transformed from strangers trying to learn names ("When in doubt, guess Katie") to the family of Christ crying together. I love it!
Friday, July 9, 2010
Who am I?
Sometimes I fluctuate like a pendulum between "God is awesome and everyone needs to know!" and "who am I to expect people to listen when I proclaim His name?" Sometimes I hit both in a matter of minutes. What's great is that He can use both ends of the spectrum.
I was having a "Who am I" moment the other day. Who am I to share the Gospel? Why should people listen to me? What story has God given me? The only times I've gone to bed hungry where the days when I didn't like what was served for dinner. I've never lost my job. I've never been ripped from the jaws of death. I've never overcome a serious addiction. I've never...
Then like He always does, God smacked me in the face as He began to remind me of all of the things He has done in my life. I've had a seven year old Guatemalan boy fall in love with me. I've been in a car-totalling accident and walked away without a scratch. I've been able to make a difference in the lives of teens at home and at school. I've personally handed a bag of food to someone who will live off of it for the next month. I've (been told I) energized someone who didn't know if he could muster up the energy to do the job correctly himself.
You think I did any of that on my own?
Maybe I don't remember a specific day when I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior. Maybe I didn't overcome a life-changing obstacle to obtain the faith I now proclaim. That doesn't mean I don't have a testimony. Testimony is God's people speaking out about what He has done. He has given me a story to tell. Who am I not to tell it?
Being used and telling my story,
<>< Katie
I was having a "Who am I" moment the other day. Who am I to share the Gospel? Why should people listen to me? What story has God given me? The only times I've gone to bed hungry where the days when I didn't like what was served for dinner. I've never lost my job. I've never been ripped from the jaws of death. I've never overcome a serious addiction. I've never...
Then like He always does, God smacked me in the face as He began to remind me of all of the things He has done in my life. I've had a seven year old Guatemalan boy fall in love with me. I've been in a car-totalling accident and walked away without a scratch. I've been able to make a difference in the lives of teens at home and at school. I've personally handed a bag of food to someone who will live off of it for the next month. I've (been told I) energized someone who didn't know if he could muster up the energy to do the job correctly himself.
You think I did any of that on my own?
Maybe I don't remember a specific day when I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior. Maybe I didn't overcome a life-changing obstacle to obtain the faith I now proclaim. That doesn't mean I don't have a testimony. Testimony is God's people speaking out about what He has done. He has given me a story to tell. Who am I not to tell it?
Being used and telling my story,
<>< Katie
Monday, June 7, 2010
Godspeed and Good Luck
"One Sunday afternoon in June, you'll walk across a stage and I'll hand you a diploma" the headmaster of our school told us for years. For me, that one Sunday afternoon in June came three years ago. For Laura, it was yesterday.
At my graduation, tears welled up in my eyes but not until I sat down, diploma in hand. I kept a smile, and they never leaked out, but my family in the front row knew exactly what was happening.
For Laura's graduation, the tears appeared as soon as I walked into the gym where I recognized the set and the colored lines on the floor underneath it all. Again, I kept a smile and the water in my eyes but it was like someone hit me upside the head with emotion all of the sudden.
We took our seats in the back row and I fought to regain my composure. Before this one, every graduation we have purchased front row tickets at an auction. This year, my parents were competing with the wealthiest family in our town. She owns a company that probably affects your everyday life. He owns a professional sports team. There was no possible way Dad was winning those tickets. Instead, we took our seats in the back. At first we were worried about photos, but then I pointed to the end of our row: Uncle Greg. Tucked safely under his arm was the expensive camera of this professional photographer. We'd have photos from Laura's one Sunday afternoon in June, that's for sure.
The ceremony began with the graduates lining the aisle to applaud the faculty as they progressed into the seats that faced the audience. The graduates double back and sit in front of the faculty. At the end of the ceremony, the faculty progress out first, lining the aisle to applaud the newest batch of alumni. It's a special moment and a powerful tradition.
A more powerful moment and special tradition is that parents who are on the board or staff of the school are given the opportunity to call their graduate's name. For Laura and I, this meant we received our high school diplomas directly from the hand of our father. For Dad, this means he writes our names on his hand, so he doesn't forget what he's going to say (and then hopes he doesn't sweat it off). A friend's father took a photo of me hugging my father on the stage. It's a photo I cherish. I tried to do the same for Laura and was successful, but it's less than perfect quality.
An equally important photo to me is one of me in my robe with all four of my grandparents standing beside me. Sure, Boppy's sticking out his tongue (he refuses smile for photos, isn't that right, Boppy?), and Grandma's looking the wrong direction. But it's still the five of us, healthy and happy. Even though it's been three years since that one Sunday afternoon in June, that's still my desktop photo on my computer. I was too busy talking to Brian (my favorite advisor) to know if Laura got that same photo, but even if she didn't: we're still some of the lucky ones. Lucky enough to have our parents still married. Lucky enough to have four living grandparents. Lucky enough to have our aunts, uncles, and cousins take time out of their busy schedules to sit through a two-hour graduation ceremony celebrating our achievement. Lucky and blessed beyond belief.
As I looked around at the rest of Laura's graduating class, I realized not everyone was so lucky. Some of them come from broken homes, incomplete homes. One of her classmates lost an older brother a few years ago. Two classmates who graduated from a different school, lost their older brother. The class as a whole hasn't been so lucky either. In eight grade, they lost one of their own to leukemia. Two years ago, a classmate committed suicide.
For some, one Sunday afternoon in June is a day that never comes. For some, it is an end, a goal achieved. For some, it is expected. Either way, it is a milestone and everyone who meets it deserves a pat on the back. A sad ending to the book of high school but a great beginning of the future. For Laura and I, that has meant a move to a small, out-of-state college. For others, it means something else. It is s time to be celebrated (but tears are expected). Godspeed and good luck.
Well done, graduates!
<>< Katie
PS: I kind of rambled today... sorry. Thanks for reading!
At my graduation, tears welled up in my eyes but not until I sat down, diploma in hand. I kept a smile, and they never leaked out, but my family in the front row knew exactly what was happening.
For Laura's graduation, the tears appeared as soon as I walked into the gym where I recognized the set and the colored lines on the floor underneath it all. Again, I kept a smile and the water in my eyes but it was like someone hit me upside the head with emotion all of the sudden.
We took our seats in the back row and I fought to regain my composure. Before this one, every graduation we have purchased front row tickets at an auction. This year, my parents were competing with the wealthiest family in our town. She owns a company that probably affects your everyday life. He owns a professional sports team. There was no possible way Dad was winning those tickets. Instead, we took our seats in the back. At first we were worried about photos, but then I pointed to the end of our row: Uncle Greg. Tucked safely under his arm was the expensive camera of this professional photographer. We'd have photos from Laura's one Sunday afternoon in June, that's for sure.
The ceremony began with the graduates lining the aisle to applaud the faculty as they progressed into the seats that faced the audience. The graduates double back and sit in front of the faculty. At the end of the ceremony, the faculty progress out first, lining the aisle to applaud the newest batch of alumni. It's a special moment and a powerful tradition.
A more powerful moment and special tradition is that parents who are on the board or staff of the school are given the opportunity to call their graduate's name. For Laura and I, this meant we received our high school diplomas directly from the hand of our father. For Dad, this means he writes our names on his hand, so he doesn't forget what he's going to say (and then hopes he doesn't sweat it off). A friend's father took a photo of me hugging my father on the stage. It's a photo I cherish. I tried to do the same for Laura and was successful, but it's less than perfect quality.
An equally important photo to me is one of me in my robe with all four of my grandparents standing beside me. Sure, Boppy's sticking out his tongue (he refuses smile for photos, isn't that right, Boppy?), and Grandma's looking the wrong direction. But it's still the five of us, healthy and happy. Even though it's been three years since that one Sunday afternoon in June, that's still my desktop photo on my computer. I was too busy talking to Brian (my favorite advisor) to know if Laura got that same photo, but even if she didn't: we're still some of the lucky ones. Lucky enough to have our parents still married. Lucky enough to have four living grandparents. Lucky enough to have our aunts, uncles, and cousins take time out of their busy schedules to sit through a two-hour graduation ceremony celebrating our achievement. Lucky and blessed beyond belief.
As I looked around at the rest of Laura's graduating class, I realized not everyone was so lucky. Some of them come from broken homes, incomplete homes. One of her classmates lost an older brother a few years ago. Two classmates who graduated from a different school, lost their older brother. The class as a whole hasn't been so lucky either. In eight grade, they lost one of their own to leukemia. Two years ago, a classmate committed suicide.
For some, one Sunday afternoon in June is a day that never comes. For some, it is an end, a goal achieved. For some, it is expected. Either way, it is a milestone and everyone who meets it deserves a pat on the back. A sad ending to the book of high school but a great beginning of the future. For Laura and I, that has meant a move to a small, out-of-state college. For others, it means something else. It is s time to be celebrated (but tears are expected). Godspeed and good luck.
Well done, graduates!
<>< Katie
PS: I kind of rambled today... sorry. Thanks for reading!
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Movie Review: Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium
It's not a big secret: I collect quotes. Silly quotes, serious quote, life-changing quotes, awkward quotes, words of wisdom, and down right ridiculous... They're written everywhere: in the middle of notes of class, on post-it notes littering my room, in the margins of books, in my email, on my hand, on my blog... They really should all be in my Writer's Notebook, but they aren't. Instead I have them all saved in a powerpoint attached with photos for your (my?) viewing pleasure. Well, "had" might be a better choice of words; the powerpoint disappeared with my thumb drive. I've come up with many of them like "the plotline of Acts looks like an EKG" (you would, Natalie) and "I wish my name ended in an 'A'" (Melissa). Unfortunately, some other quotes have been lost forever. To combat this tragic loss, I am slowly rebuilding my quotes collection. Here is the latest addition:
"I've been introduced many times in my life and that was the most... recent." - Mark
"All stories, even our favorites, must come to an end. This allows for new stories to begin."
The other day Andy, Elizabeth, and I (all of us at least 20) popped in Mr. Magorium and were completely enthralled. Sure, the movie is aimed at kids but it's great for parents, too. It's shallow enough for a child to play but deep enough for an elephant to drown (a professor once said that about the Gospel of John).
Basic plot summary: legendary owner of a magical toy store dies and his heir has to decide if she wants to continue the tradition or close up shop.
Except it's a whole lot deeper than that. This movie includes themes like peacefully accepting death, making the most life, and beliving in oneself. Honestly, a movie that begins with a great quote about stories can hardly be bad. "All stories, even our favorites, must come to an end. This allows for new stories to begin." Wow.
I don't give a lot of movie recommendations, but I highly recommend you go watch this movie.
<>< Katie
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
A Letter to You
Class prompt: Spend one hour right now responding to a letter you received from a friend who is struggling with the Christian faith. For the next hour, I cried, I prayed, I scribbled, and I erased. Ultimately, I didn't write this; God did. I am the pen; He is the writer. I tried to edit the grammar mistakes without recrafting sentences I don't like.
Feel free to put your name in when it says, "Friend."
In Christ,
<>< Katie
Dear Friend,
It saddens me to hear about your struggles regarding faith. First of all, I would like you to understand that I am praying for you as you go through this challenging time.
God adores you, Friend. Psalm 139 talks about how He knit you together before you were born. He's chosen you to be His creation, formed to be exactly who He wants you to be. Here's the kicker: He's not done yet. He's still working on you because you're a work in progress. He hasn't given up on you, so I'd encourage you not to give up on Him.
In your letter you talked about how to know God is real. You're right, it's hard when you can't run in to Him at Wal-mart. Not in a physical way, at least. However, just because you can't see and touch Him doesn't mean He isn't there. Personally, I find that to be the cool part: He's always there, even when I can't hear and feel Him. Sometimes He likes to be silent. I like to imagine He's watching and observing and just enjoying being with you. He's not gone. He hasn't moved at all, actually.
You mentioned one of the hardest parts about God is the whole prayer thing. You're right, sometimes it is like you're talking to wall. You talk and pray and pour over your words unsure what to say. Don't give up before you say anything at all. It's just like talking. Nothing special. No fancy words needed. In fact, you can completely eliminate all of the "thees," "thous," and "shalls," if you want. I mean, if you really love those kinds of words go ahead and keep going with them. My suggestion is a simple prayer Bob Lenz taught us back in 2004. Remember? "God, help. Amen." Simple. Yet profound. I also love the Lord's Prayer and it can be found in Matthew 6.
On Friday I was reminded of something cool. Christianity is potentially the only religion that offers forgiveness. Sure, you messed up. So have I. God knows our mess-ups. That's terrifying, right? I know. But it's also cool. Cool because He knows everything we've done but He still loves us. He's still forgiven us, still accepted us, still died for us. That's the beauty of grace and mercy. Mercy is God not giving us what we deserve (death because we've messed up). Grace is God giving us what we don't deserve (life, namely eternal life). My friend Ron explained it to me once like this: say you're outside playing and you get all muddy before running through the house and making a huge mess. Mercy is your mom not getting mad and punishing you. Grace is when she hands you a plate of cookies even though you made a big mess. She still loves you. God loves you through your skrew-ups and your questions.
Questions are good, my friend. Questions help us know people are thinking. Never be afraid to ask questions. The challenge is that sometimes we ask questions and don't get answers we want or worse don't get any answers at all.
Silence stings.
I've been there. Sitting in the silence waiting, wondering. However, I am learning to enjoy the silence. Learning to realize I don't need answers to all of my questions. If I knew everything about God then there would no longer be the need for faith. "Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1). We all memorized that verse in confirmation class way back in the day.
Back when we studied baptism, communion, the ten commandments, confirmation, etc. All of the things that you find challenging now. I suppose 8th grade as a long time ago. Have you been asking unanswered questions since then?
I will confess, I have. They're not all unanswered, of course, but a lot of them are still unanswered. Especially the "why" questions I don't anticipate those answers on this side of heaven. In fact, many of them I've written down and set aside as if to say, "I'm not dwelling on this anymore."
I've got to head to class and I want to get this in the mail before the post office closes. Can we get together to chat in person? I've love to hear more of your thoughts, questions, and uncertainties.
Until then, realize God loves you so much that He sent His Son to die for you. Have you ever had anyone die for you? What about Someone who died for you but didn't stay dead? Someone who knows your anxious thoughts and desires to soothe your fears? Someone who cares a lot about you.
Have you ever watched an engaged father play with his young child? Whether they play baseball or ride bikes or paint the house or just plain be together. The joy you see between the two of them sharing life together. That's the joy God wants in sharing life with you.
He loves you, Friend. With an immeasurable love that is beyond what we can fathom.
In the words of Max Lucado, "God thinks you're great."
And I do, too.
Love,
Katie
Feel free to put your name in when it says, "Friend."
In Christ,
<>< Katie
Dear Friend,
It saddens me to hear about your struggles regarding faith. First of all, I would like you to understand that I am praying for you as you go through this challenging time.
God adores you, Friend. Psalm 139 talks about how He knit you together before you were born. He's chosen you to be His creation, formed to be exactly who He wants you to be. Here's the kicker: He's not done yet. He's still working on you because you're a work in progress. He hasn't given up on you, so I'd encourage you not to give up on Him.
In your letter you talked about how to know God is real. You're right, it's hard when you can't run in to Him at Wal-mart. Not in a physical way, at least. However, just because you can't see and touch Him doesn't mean He isn't there. Personally, I find that to be the cool part: He's always there, even when I can't hear and feel Him. Sometimes He likes to be silent. I like to imagine He's watching and observing and just enjoying being with you. He's not gone. He hasn't moved at all, actually.
You mentioned one of the hardest parts about God is the whole prayer thing. You're right, sometimes it is like you're talking to wall. You talk and pray and pour over your words unsure what to say. Don't give up before you say anything at all. It's just like talking. Nothing special. No fancy words needed. In fact, you can completely eliminate all of the "thees," "thous," and "shalls," if you want. I mean, if you really love those kinds of words go ahead and keep going with them. My suggestion is a simple prayer Bob Lenz taught us back in 2004. Remember? "God, help. Amen." Simple. Yet profound. I also love the Lord's Prayer and it can be found in Matthew 6.
On Friday I was reminded of something cool. Christianity is potentially the only religion that offers forgiveness. Sure, you messed up. So have I. God knows our mess-ups. That's terrifying, right? I know. But it's also cool. Cool because He knows everything we've done but He still loves us. He's still forgiven us, still accepted us, still died for us. That's the beauty of grace and mercy. Mercy is God not giving us what we deserve (death because we've messed up). Grace is God giving us what we don't deserve (life, namely eternal life). My friend Ron explained it to me once like this: say you're outside playing and you get all muddy before running through the house and making a huge mess. Mercy is your mom not getting mad and punishing you. Grace is when she hands you a plate of cookies even though you made a big mess. She still loves you. God loves you through your skrew-ups and your questions.
Questions are good, my friend. Questions help us know people are thinking. Never be afraid to ask questions. The challenge is that sometimes we ask questions and don't get answers we want or worse don't get any answers at all.
Silence stings.
I've been there. Sitting in the silence waiting, wondering. However, I am learning to enjoy the silence. Learning to realize I don't need answers to all of my questions. If I knew everything about God then there would no longer be the need for faith. "Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1). We all memorized that verse in confirmation class way back in the day.
Back when we studied baptism, communion, the ten commandments, confirmation, etc. All of the things that you find challenging now. I suppose 8th grade as a long time ago. Have you been asking unanswered questions since then?
I will confess, I have. They're not all unanswered, of course, but a lot of them are still unanswered. Especially the "why" questions I don't anticipate those answers on this side of heaven. In fact, many of them I've written down and set aside as if to say, "I'm not dwelling on this anymore."
I've got to head to class and I want to get this in the mail before the post office closes. Can we get together to chat in person? I've love to hear more of your thoughts, questions, and uncertainties.
Until then, realize God loves you so much that He sent His Son to die for you. Have you ever had anyone die for you? What about Someone who died for you but didn't stay dead? Someone who knows your anxious thoughts and desires to soothe your fears? Someone who cares a lot about you.
Have you ever watched an engaged father play with his young child? Whether they play baseball or ride bikes or paint the house or just plain be together. The joy you see between the two of them sharing life together. That's the joy God wants in sharing life with you.
He loves you, Friend. With an immeasurable love that is beyond what we can fathom.
In the words of Max Lucado, "God thinks you're great."
And I do, too.
Love,
Katie
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Is it too late?
In high school, I remember a friend of mine sharing how she'd gotten a ride home from someone who had admitted a fear of dying. When my friend shared this, with our prayer circle, the adult leader was excited for her. "How perfect!" He exclaimed, "What an amazing opportunity to share the Gospel. How did you respond?" The truth is, my friend didn't respond. She fell silent and let the other person talk.
Well, today--probably 5 or 6 years later--I was talking to this friend again and this incident came up. She admitted it was something she had always regretted, so she stopped regretting and did something about it. She decided she would send the other girl a facebook message regarding their conversation in the car 6 years ago. Well, days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and she hadn't sent the message yet. It was as if God told her, "Stop putting this off! Stop putting Me off!" That very night (at 1 am) she wrote a facebook message explaining how we don't need to be fearful of dying because Jesus died for us. She said she doesn't remember what she said, meaning she didn't write it; God did.
I'd be taking creative liberties if I said the girl confessed her sins, accepted Jesus that second, and died the next day. No, instead my friend has heard nothing. And she doesn't expect to, but the funny thing is that she's ok with that.
It's only ok to accept silence after you've done what God has asked you to do. Don't be silent until then. Don't spend 5 or 6 years regretting being silent. Do something about it. Do it now.
<>< Katie
Well, today--probably 5 or 6 years later--I was talking to this friend again and this incident came up. She admitted it was something she had always regretted, so she stopped regretting and did something about it. She decided she would send the other girl a facebook message regarding their conversation in the car 6 years ago. Well, days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and she hadn't sent the message yet. It was as if God told her, "Stop putting this off! Stop putting Me off!" That very night (at 1 am) she wrote a facebook message explaining how we don't need to be fearful of dying because Jesus died for us. She said she doesn't remember what she said, meaning she didn't write it; God did.
I'd be taking creative liberties if I said the girl confessed her sins, accepted Jesus that second, and died the next day. No, instead my friend has heard nothing. And she doesn't expect to, but the funny thing is that she's ok with that.
It's only ok to accept silence after you've done what God has asked you to do. Don't be silent until then. Don't spend 5 or 6 years regretting being silent. Do something about it. Do it now.
<>< Katie
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Beautiful Scars
I feel like I've blogged about this before, but God put it on my heart again today, so I figured I'd write about it again. A reminder can't hurt, right?
There are two kinds of people in this world: people who hate their scars and people who love them. I'm one of the hate kind. I'm among the ones who try and hide their physical scars with make-up, clothing, and jewelry. They try and do anything to not have their scars be seen.
Jesus is part of the other kind. He loves to sit in the middle of a crowd and tell the story about why His hands having gaping holes. Explain why He's got a gash in His side. He'll tell anyone who will listen about the dents in His head. He'll tell them about His tragic death.
But was it tragic? What He loves to tell is how those gaping holes saved us from sin. That gash fulfilled prophesies helping to prove He is the Messiah. Those dents are of shame and ridicule. Shame, ridicule, and death that we deserved.
Sure, you've heard it a million times. You've read the book and seen the movie. But sit down and let Him tell you the story one-on-one. Listen to Him tell you what He did for you. It's an amazing story of love that needs to be told over, and over, and over again.
Don't forget about Jesus' beautiful scars. How and why they got there.
<>< Katie
There are two kinds of people in this world: people who hate their scars and people who love them. I'm one of the hate kind. I'm among the ones who try and hide their physical scars with make-up, clothing, and jewelry. They try and do anything to not have their scars be seen.
Jesus is part of the other kind. He loves to sit in the middle of a crowd and tell the story about why His hands having gaping holes. Explain why He's got a gash in His side. He'll tell anyone who will listen about the dents in His head. He'll tell them about His tragic death.
But was it tragic? What He loves to tell is how those gaping holes saved us from sin. That gash fulfilled prophesies helping to prove He is the Messiah. Those dents are of shame and ridicule. Shame, ridicule, and death that we deserved.
Sure, you've heard it a million times. You've read the book and seen the movie. But sit down and let Him tell you the story one-on-one. Listen to Him tell you what He did for you. It's an amazing story of love that needs to be told over, and over, and over again.
Don't forget about Jesus' beautiful scars. How and why they got there.
<>< Katie
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Heaven
Pastor Mike said this in church on Sunday:
"We spend a lot more time praying to keep people out of heaven than we do for people to find heaven."
It's true. We spend a lot more time praying that earthly lives are spared instead of eternal lives granted.
Think about it.
<>< Katie
"We spend a lot more time praying to keep people out of heaven than we do for people to find heaven."
It's true. We spend a lot more time praying that earthly lives are spared instead of eternal lives granted.
Think about it.
<>< Katie
Friday, November 28, 2008
Beer with the Boys
Every year, the weekend before Thanksgiving, my dad goes up to my grandparents' house. He and my grandpa deer hunt throughout the weekend before my dad comes home again, works a few days, and we all go back to my grandparents' for the holiday.
When this tradition started, they were serious about getting deer. The year was a let down if they didn't get at least two nice-sized deer. I remember years when they were worried about exceeding the limit of two deer per man. Well, it's now been several years since they've gotten a deer.
In recent years, they'd get up at the crack of dawn, go hunting for a short bit, and spend the rest of the day sitting in a friend's kitchen solving the world's problems over some beer. The fellowship of the four of them turned into a bigger deal than the hunting itself. The hunting was a pretence to go sit in a tree in Herb and Arnie's yard, watch the sunrise, then sit in Herb's kitchen for the next several hours.
Well, it's now been a couple of years since Herb and Arnie were both living at home. My first day of college Arnie passed away. This past New Years' Eve, Herb passed away as well. Even though my dad and grandpa can still hunt on the land the used to be Herb and Arnie's, it was just too hard.
Dad and Grandpa went out and started the morning in a normal fashion, but it came to a quick end. Instead of continuing the hunt or returning home, they took a six pack of beer and went to the cemetery. This isn't the first time they've broken a few laws to have some beer with the boys.
When this tradition started, they were serious about getting deer. The year was a let down if they didn't get at least two nice-sized deer. I remember years when they were worried about exceeding the limit of two deer per man. Well, it's now been several years since they've gotten a deer.
In recent years, they'd get up at the crack of dawn, go hunting for a short bit, and spend the rest of the day sitting in a friend's kitchen solving the world's problems over some beer. The fellowship of the four of them turned into a bigger deal than the hunting itself. The hunting was a pretence to go sit in a tree in Herb and Arnie's yard, watch the sunrise, then sit in Herb's kitchen for the next several hours.
Well, it's now been a couple of years since Herb and Arnie were both living at home. My first day of college Arnie passed away. This past New Years' Eve, Herb passed away as well. Even though my dad and grandpa can still hunt on the land the used to be Herb and Arnie's, it was just too hard.
Dad and Grandpa went out and started the morning in a normal fashion, but it came to a quick end. Instead of continuing the hunt or returning home, they took a six pack of beer and went to the cemetery. This isn't the first time they've broken a few laws to have some beer with the boys.
<><>
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Welcome to Heaven
Wednesday is National Cut Schools' Grass Day. All schools' grass must be cut every Wednesday. The idiot with the lawn mower who woke me up at the crack of dawn on Monday has missed such memo. However, by cutting the grass, he eliminated the ambulance tracks from Friday. We lost one of our own, and the suddenness of it all has really ripped apart those who knew him. Prayers would be much appreciated for his wife, family, and department.
Thanks!
<>< Katie
"In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you." John 14:2
Thanks!
<>< Katie
"In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you." John 14:2
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Tragedy for Steven Curtis Chapman's family
Steven Curtis Chapman's youngest daughter, Maria, was killed in a traffic accident in her driveway last night. See http://stevencurtischapman.com/.
The Chapman family had celebrating Emily's engagement.
They had been celebrating Caleb's high school graduation.
And now they're planning a funeral for their five year old.
In 1999, Steven wrote "With Hope" for a different five year old who died in a tragic traffic accident.
"This is not at all
How we thought it was supposed to be.
We had to many plans for you.
We had so many dreams.
And now you've gone away,
And left us with the memories of your smile.
And nothing we can say,
And nothing we can do,
Can take away the pain,
the pain of losing you, but...
"We can cry with hope.
We can say good-bye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end, oh no.
And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope
(There's a place by God's grace)
There's a place where we'll see your face again.
We'll see your face again.
And never have I known
Anything so hard to understand.
And never have I questioned more,
The wisdom of God's plan.
But through the cloud of tears,
I see the Father's smile and say well done.
And I imagine you
Where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
'Cause now you're home
And now you're Free...
We have this hope as an anchor
'Cause we believe that everything
God promised us is true
We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with home."
Prayers!
<>< Katie
"Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in Him." 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14
The Chapman family had celebrating Emily's engagement.
They had been celebrating Caleb's high school graduation.
And now they're planning a funeral for their five year old.
In 1999, Steven wrote "With Hope" for a different five year old who died in a tragic traffic accident.
"This is not at all
How we thought it was supposed to be.
We had to many plans for you.
We had so many dreams.
And now you've gone away,
And left us with the memories of your smile.
And nothing we can say,
And nothing we can do,
Can take away the pain,
the pain of losing you, but...
"We can cry with hope.
We can say good-bye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end, oh no.
And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope
(There's a place by God's grace)
There's a place where we'll see your face again.
We'll see your face again.
And never have I known
Anything so hard to understand.
And never have I questioned more,
The wisdom of God's plan.
But through the cloud of tears,
I see the Father's smile and say well done.
And I imagine you
Where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
'Cause now you're home
And now you're Free...
We have this hope as an anchor
'Cause we believe that everything
God promised us is true
We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with home."
Prayers!
<>< Katie
"Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in Him." 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14
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