The conversation went something like this:
Katie: I'm really struggling in writing the family relationships in this piece.
Joe: Will you write a guest post on how to write family relationships?
In case you missed it, I talked about fudge yesterday in my guest post at The Write Practice yesterday.
Check it out. Let's hear about your family. If I could have included a free fudge sample, I would have.
Enjoy!
<>< Katie
"I am sure that some people are born to write as trees are born to bear leaves. For these, writing is a necessary mode of their own development." - C. S. Lewis
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Life Without Music
Earlier this week I had coffee with a delightful woman whose family does not listen to much music. My understanding is that it's a sound issue where they can't handle the volume level. They went to a concert and had to leave because the sound stimulation was too much.
I tried to envision what my life would be like without music. I almost always have music playing. If it's not on, there's probably a song running through my head. Concerts are my family's bonding activity.
We've gone to the same multi-day Christian music festival for nine years. Our record is six Mark Schultz concerts in one calendar year. We sit around quoting "As Is" by Peder Eide as if "Samson was a long-haired, arrogant womanizer" is a perfectly logical thing to say in conversation.
If it weren't for music, we'd probably have to watch movies or take up karate like normal people.
When I talk about Lifest, I tell the silly stories: the standing ovation earned by a water bottle, the mud so bad our van had to be pushed into the parking lot, using my lawn chair as an umbrella, etc.
But I think about it, I think about worshipping with Phillips, Craig, and Dean as the rain gently fell on my face. I think about kneeling on fist-sized gravel to stretch my arms up to my Abba Father like a child wanting to be held. I remember Peter Furler (when he was in Newsboys) talking about God's perfect timing only to have a nearby train interrupt his sentence.
Can I worship without music?
I love how the Lord gets my attention through songs I've heard a million times. I get a taste of heaven when strangers unite as a family to sing praises to our Father. I didn't perform "My Savior, My God" in ASL in front of a crowded room of Nicaraguan believers; I worshipped my Savior, my God with my hands.
Through music may be one of my favorite ways to worship, but it's certainly not the only way.
To affirm or encourage someone, that's worship. To serve and love on someone, that's worship. To hug someone, to squeeze a shoulder as you pass, to look someone in the eye. Worship. To genuinely ask how someone's doing, to sit down and share life over a cup of coffee, to bring lunch to an under-employed freelance writer. Worship. To dance, to play ping pong, to sign, to make copies, etc. they can all be worship. (My thoughts on this have been heavily influenced by TASTE Worship--check it out).
In Guatemala, there was a day I was "forbidden" to sing and sign. I worshipped that day. I removed flecks of orange paint from a brush and bucket, and it was worshipful.
Can I worship with music?
Last summer, I remember running through the park arguing with God about being twenty minutes late to a forty-minute show. He brought to my attention that I was not approaching the concert with the right heart.
It wasn't the first time.
How often do I attend a concert just to add another artist to my repertoire? How often do I absent-mindedly sing along without realizing what I'm saying?
These questions hurt because I am ashamed of their answers.
Even at Christian concerts, my heart is not always in the right place. I've sung along, I've waved my arms, I've screamed at the top of my lungs, and I hate to confess it has not always been for the Lord.
It happens under a rain-free sky. It happens in a crowded, dark auditorium. It happens in my church on Sunday mornings. It happens to me more often than I care to admit.
I voluntarily took a day this week and turned the music off. I washed dishes in silence. I drove across town in the quiet. I worked without any accompaniment.
It was weird and awkward at first but then it became peaceful.
That's worship.
Weird and awkward at first. Uncomfortable and strange. But then peaceful, wonderful, and necessary.
Whether you're a person who loves to literally feel the beat of the drums or just prefers white noise in the background, take some time this week to worship with the radio off.
Let me know how it works for you.
<>< Katie
I tried to envision what my life would be like without music. I almost always have music playing. If it's not on, there's probably a song running through my head. Concerts are my family's bonding activity.
We've gone to the same multi-day Christian music festival for nine years. Our record is six Mark Schultz concerts in one calendar year. We sit around quoting "As Is" by Peder Eide as if "Samson was a long-haired, arrogant womanizer" is a perfectly logical thing to say in conversation.
If it weren't for music, we'd probably have to watch movies or take up karate like normal people.
When I talk about Lifest, I tell the silly stories: the standing ovation earned by a water bottle, the mud so bad our van had to be pushed into the parking lot, using my lawn chair as an umbrella, etc.
But I think about it, I think about worshipping with Phillips, Craig, and Dean as the rain gently fell on my face. I think about kneeling on fist-sized gravel to stretch my arms up to my Abba Father like a child wanting to be held. I remember Peter Furler (when he was in Newsboys) talking about God's perfect timing only to have a nearby train interrupt his sentence.
Can I worship without music?
I love how the Lord gets my attention through songs I've heard a million times. I get a taste of heaven when strangers unite as a family to sing praises to our Father. I didn't perform "My Savior, My God" in ASL in front of a crowded room of Nicaraguan believers; I worshipped my Savior, my God with my hands.
Through music may be one of my favorite ways to worship, but it's certainly not the only way.
To affirm or encourage someone, that's worship. To serve and love on someone, that's worship. To hug someone, to squeeze a shoulder as you pass, to look someone in the eye. Worship. To genuinely ask how someone's doing, to sit down and share life over a cup of coffee, to bring lunch to an under-employed freelance writer. Worship. To dance, to play ping pong, to sign, to make copies, etc. they can all be worship. (My thoughts on this have been heavily influenced by TASTE Worship--check it out).
In Guatemala, there was a day I was "forbidden" to sing and sign. I worshipped that day. I removed flecks of orange paint from a brush and bucket, and it was worshipful.
Can I worship with music?
Last summer, I remember running through the park arguing with God about being twenty minutes late to a forty-minute show. He brought to my attention that I was not approaching the concert with the right heart.
It wasn't the first time.
How often do I attend a concert just to add another artist to my repertoire? How often do I absent-mindedly sing along without realizing what I'm saying?
These questions hurt because I am ashamed of their answers.
Even at Christian concerts, my heart is not always in the right place. I've sung along, I've waved my arms, I've screamed at the top of my lungs, and I hate to confess it has not always been for the Lord.
It happens under a rain-free sky. It happens in a crowded, dark auditorium. It happens in my church on Sunday mornings. It happens to me more often than I care to admit.
I voluntarily took a day this week and turned the music off. I washed dishes in silence. I drove across town in the quiet. I worked without any accompaniment.
It was weird and awkward at first but then it became peaceful.
That's worship.
Weird and awkward at first. Uncomfortable and strange. But then peaceful, wonderful, and necessary.
Whether you're a person who loves to literally feel the beat of the drums or just prefers white noise in the background, take some time this week to worship with the radio off.
Let me know how it works for you.
<>< Katie
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Wednesday, January 18, 2012
For His Glory No Matter What
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
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
Saturday, December 17, 2011
An Inspirational Gift Idea
They wanted to watch Glee. I didn't have any good distractions.
My suitemates used to love watching Glee. It was not unusual to find twenty people in our apartment squished around the TV on Thursday night. One roommate even wrote her undergrad thesis on Glee.
My family watches Glee too and honestly I just can't stand the show. All of the adults act like children and makes me cranky.
Last night I was too comfortable in the family room with my notebook to move when they turned on the Christmas episode. So I half-watched it and half-wrote (and half-talked but that's apparently three halves).
For maybe the first time ever, I actually enjoyed it! I'm not itching to watch it again, but I don't regret the first time.
On national television the real Christmas story was read! My Jesus was called Lord and Savior!
On national television characters that are often selfish and immature realize that the reason for the season is not for gift giving. Instead, they seize opportunities to give back.
They serve at a homeless shelter, they ring the Salvation Army bells, and they give African pigs as gifts for Christmas.
Rather than the earrings she wanted, Finn gave Rachel a pig in Africa that will get fattened up all year long and then serve as food for an entire family. Rachel rejects the gift at first but then recognizes the beauty of it and names it Barbara after her inspiration grandmother.
I just checked the Compassion gift catalog, there's a pig you can give for Christmas! If that pig gives birth to about 16 piglets a year, that family will have a lifetime of income! Name it after your own inspirational grandmother.
That or an African drought survival kit.
A cow.
A "Survive to Age 5" kit.
Really, go check it out.
Give a gift in memory of someone inspirational. Give it to someone inspirational (aren't those people always the hardest to buy for?). Be inspirational and ask your relatives to give you a goat, chickens, and a blankets for Christmas.
Thank you for making a difference!
<>< Katie
PS: Grandma, I circled the safe and sanitary bathroom. But I won't name it.
My suitemates used to love watching Glee. It was not unusual to find twenty people in our apartment squished around the TV on Thursday night. One roommate even wrote her undergrad thesis on Glee.
My family watches Glee too and honestly I just can't stand the show. All of the adults act like children and makes me cranky.
Last night I was too comfortable in the family room with my notebook to move when they turned on the Christmas episode. So I half-watched it and half-wrote (and half-talked but that's apparently three halves).
For maybe the first time ever, I actually enjoyed it! I'm not itching to watch it again, but I don't regret the first time.
On national television the real Christmas story was read! My Jesus was called Lord and Savior!
On national television characters that are often selfish and immature realize that the reason for the season is not for gift giving. Instead, they seize opportunities to give back.
They serve at a homeless shelter, they ring the Salvation Army bells, and they give African pigs as gifts for Christmas.
Rather than the earrings she wanted, Finn gave Rachel a pig in Africa that will get fattened up all year long and then serve as food for an entire family. Rachel rejects the gift at first but then recognizes the beauty of it and names it Barbara after her inspiration grandmother.
I just checked the Compassion gift catalog, there's a pig you can give for Christmas! If that pig gives birth to about 16 piglets a year, that family will have a lifetime of income! Name it after your own inspirational grandmother.
That or an African drought survival kit.
A cow.
A "Survive to Age 5" kit.
Really, go check it out.
Give a gift in memory of someone inspirational. Give it to someone inspirational (aren't those people always the hardest to buy for?). Be inspirational and ask your relatives to give you a goat, chickens, and a blankets for Christmas.
Thank you for making a difference!
<>< Katie
PS: Grandma, I circled the safe and sanitary bathroom. But I won't name it.
Friday, August 26, 2011
That's What Family Does
I was talking through some of my feelings and challenges on the phone with my friend Stacy. Basically, I melted on her. I don't understand why God has asked (forced) me to leave home to move across the country home. Among other things, she reminded me that my friends, though 900 miles away, are still here for me.
Next time I was bored and lonely, I picked up the phone.
It has been so good to hear the voices of the people I love so much. Sometimes we talk about our days, sometimes about superfluous things, and sometimes our conversations go deeper. Sometimes there is silence on the phone, just like there is in face to face conversation. But neither of us hang up.
Over the phone you can't have a sleepover with two twenty-somethings in a twin bed, you can't have children fall out of the laundry shoot, and you can't have a spontaneous dance party in the living room... but you can remember and laugh about them.
Over Skype, there are still quotes for Wacky Wednesday, still crazy facial expressions, and still people falling off the bed.
As I sat down to dinner alone, I plugged in my new Peder Eide Rescue CD. The first time I heard "That's What Family Does," I figured it would need some time to grow on me. It only took one more listening and it had grown! It had me almost in tears. (Though, I will admit: that's pretty easy these days).
"That's What Family Does" by Peder Eide
There are times when life is tough
and a yes to God is not enough.
When the hill is steep,
the summit high.
You wonder why.
You've lost your spark, your fight, your song
now wrong seems right
and right seems wrong.
Look around and see
the face of family
and lean into the love.
Lift each other up,
cheer each other on.
We do it all because
that's what family does.
The table's set
and the food is hot
reminding you what you've forgot
the warmth of home,
and a fragrant grace,
a holy place.
And all of us
can hardly wait
to hold you close
and celebrate.
Look around and see
the face of family
and lean into the love.
Lift each other up,
cheer each other on.
We do it all because
that's what family does.
They say out there that no one cares and you are all alone.
Seems they may be alone, well, we claim you as our own.
My spark, fight, and song are missing in action...
I can't physically look around and see... but I can see the face of family in my phone bill and my Skype's "Recent" log. I can lean into the love even if that means no hugs.
Though it's not ideal, I'm lovin' it!
<>< Katie
Next time I was bored and lonely, I picked up the phone.
It has been so good to hear the voices of the people I love so much. Sometimes we talk about our days, sometimes about superfluous things, and sometimes our conversations go deeper. Sometimes there is silence on the phone, just like there is in face to face conversation. But neither of us hang up.
Over the phone you can't have a sleepover with two twenty-somethings in a twin bed, you can't have children fall out of the laundry shoot, and you can't have a spontaneous dance party in the living room... but you can remember and laugh about them.
Over Skype, there are still quotes for Wacky Wednesday, still crazy facial expressions, and still people falling off the bed.
As I sat down to dinner alone, I plugged in my new Peder Eide Rescue CD. The first time I heard "That's What Family Does," I figured it would need some time to grow on me. It only took one more listening and it had grown! It had me almost in tears. (Though, I will admit: that's pretty easy these days).
"That's What Family Does" by Peder Eide
There are times when life is tough
and a yes to God is not enough.
When the hill is steep,
the summit high.
You wonder why.
You've lost your spark, your fight, your song
now wrong seems right
and right seems wrong.
Look around and see
the face of family
and lean into the love.
Lift each other up,
cheer each other on.
We do it all because
that's what family does.
The table's set
and the food is hot
reminding you what you've forgot
the warmth of home,
and a fragrant grace,
a holy place.
And all of us
can hardly wait
to hold you close
and celebrate.
Look around and see
the face of family
and lean into the love.
Lift each other up,
cheer each other on.
We do it all because
that's what family does.
They say out there that no one cares and you are all alone.
Seems they may be alone, well, we claim you as our own.
My spark, fight, and song are missing in action...
I can't physically look around and see... but I can see the face of family in my phone bill and my Skype's "Recent" log. I can lean into the love even if that means no hugs.
Though it's not ideal, I'm lovin' it!
<>< Katie
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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
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Monday, August 1, 2011
Foreigner
Hi friends! I know I said I probably wouldn't blog here while I am in China... but I just can't help it. God's been teaching me some cool things and I want to share them. You can also keep up with Amber's and my adventure in China at: TheChinaAdventures.blogspot.com
I think I used to always interpret that as being rejected no more, being accepted into God's family. But having spent a week and a half in an area of China where the only Americans we see are the six members of our own team, I know what it means to be a foreigner.
To be a foreigner means to be pointed at, stared at, and watched. To struggle to communicate, to fumble with money, and question every item your chopsticks put into your mouth.
To be a member of the family means you have a bed, a place at the table, you understand the language, you eat the food, and you're included. There's no longer a need to impress, on either side, because, congratulations, you're in! The need to stare is gone because you're together as one family.
I will always be a foreigner in China but even here among my brothers and sisters in Christ, we are a family! Amen.
<>< Katie
PS: This post was sent via email because blogs, like many other things, are blocked in China. Any grave errors will be corrected upon my return to the States next week.
Ephesians 2:19 has a whole new meaning now after being in China for a week and a half. The verse says, "So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God" (ESV).
I think I used to always interpret that as being rejected no more, being accepted into God's family. But having spent a week and a half in an area of China where the only Americans we see are the six members of our own team, I know what it means to be a foreigner.
To be a foreigner means to be pointed at, stared at, and watched. To struggle to communicate, to fumble with money, and question every item your chopsticks put into your mouth.
To be a member of the family means you have a bed, a place at the table, you understand the language, you eat the food, and you're included. There's no longer a need to impress, on either side, because, congratulations, you're in! The need to stare is gone because you're together as one family.
I will always be a foreigner in China but even here among my brothers and sisters in Christ, we are a family! Amen.
<>< Katie
PS: This post was sent via email because blogs, like many other things, are blocked in China. Any grave errors will be corrected upon my return to the States next week.
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Monday, June 27, 2011
As The Deer
During our family's annual birthday celebration my grandpa was telling a story about an interaction he and Grandma had with a deer while they were on vacation.
Apparently they were driving down a woodsy neighborhood road and there were some women walking down the street towards the car. In between their car and the women was a deer. The deer was focused on the pedestrians, so Grandpa slowed down and approached it as slowly and quietly as they could.
The car got right up next to the deer before the deer took its eyes from the women and noticed Grandpa and Grandma. Of course, then it took off running.
I can't help but wonder how often we are that deer. We are the deer focused on what's ahead, the women walking towards us, rather than noticing what's going on around us.
I am that deer. I'm focused on my future career, job opportunities, and the next step rather than focusing on the here and now. I'm concerned about what I'm going to be doing when I get back from China rather than focusing on what I'll be doing while in China.
Are you the deer? Are you looking at what you'll be doing this weekend rather than what you're doing today? Are you expecting something when God's working in a different way?
Oh, deer,
<>< Katie
Apparently they were driving down a woodsy neighborhood road and there were some women walking down the street towards the car. In between their car and the women was a deer. The deer was focused on the pedestrians, so Grandpa slowed down and approached it as slowly and quietly as they could.
The car got right up next to the deer before the deer took its eyes from the women and noticed Grandpa and Grandma. Of course, then it took off running.
I can't help but wonder how often we are that deer. We are the deer focused on what's ahead, the women walking towards us, rather than noticing what's going on around us.
I am that deer. I'm focused on my future career, job opportunities, and the next step rather than focusing on the here and now. I'm concerned about what I'm going to be doing when I get back from China rather than focusing on what I'll be doing while in China.
Are you the deer? Are you looking at what you'll be doing this weekend rather than what you're doing today? Are you expecting something when God's working in a different way?
Oh, deer,
<>< 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.
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Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Home
Last week I made my first trip to Baptist Country as an alumna. When we pulled into town, it didn't feel like I had been gone a month. It felt like we had just gone to Elizabeth's for the weekend.
Very little has changed.
A few trees have blown down, the construction projects have progressed, and there are not nearly as many cars in the parking lot.
So much has changed.
My ID card no longer lets me into buildings, my mailbox is boarded up, and I am not returning in the fall. Yet still it feels like home.
It was years ago when I first referred to that little town as "home." If I flew to The Homeland, I said I was flying home. If I flew to Baptist Country, I said I was flying home. The lines between "home" and "school" were so blurry that I gave up on what to call each place and declared travel days "Airplane Day," no matter which direction I was going.
What is home?
Is home my parents' house? Is home the college town where I went couch-surfing last week? What exactly is home?
I wish I posted everything I've drafted because in February I wrote a post entitled "Redefining Family." It claimed "family" was my five suitemates, my ten-person ministry team, and my lunch buddies. Sometimes family has little to do with blood relation.
Home is where your family is.
I'm having a hard time deciding where "home" is because my family is in The Homeland, my family is in Baptist Country, my family is in Nicaragua, in Guatemala... Does that make home all of those places as well?
In the same way that The Homeland will always be "home" because my family is here, Baptist Country will always be "home" because my family is there, too.
Beauty and the Beast taught me "home is where the heart is." If that's true, then I'm heartbroken. In Baptist Country, I want to be in The Homeland. While in The Homeland, I yearn for Baptist Country. I don't think this is necessarily a bad problem to have, but I am not a fan. For four years my life has been split by 900 miles, a chasm that is not closing anytime soon.
Until God sends me somewhere else, home will have to be my parents' house. No more trying to outsmart amazon.com to get packages delivered to my P.O. box. No more loitering in the caf. No more spontaneous trips to Wal-mart even though we don't need anything. No more "Katie, party of twelve, your table is ready."
As I struggle to define such a basic four-letter word, I must also remember that in the grand scheme of things, none of these places are "home." They are all temporary dwellings prior to an eternal home. I honestly believe that someday there will be no sixteen-hour drives and no time change because there will be no time at all. There will be a day when tears won't roll, hearts won't break, and pain won't hurt. All of God's children will be home, constantly singing praises to Him, for He deserves it.
That, my friends, will be Home.
<>< Katie
Very little has changed.
A few trees have blown down, the construction projects have progressed, and there are not nearly as many cars in the parking lot.
So much has changed.
My ID card no longer lets me into buildings, my mailbox is boarded up, and I am not returning in the fall. Yet still it feels like home.
It was years ago when I first referred to that little town as "home." If I flew to The Homeland, I said I was flying home. If I flew to Baptist Country, I said I was flying home. The lines between "home" and "school" were so blurry that I gave up on what to call each place and declared travel days "Airplane Day," no matter which direction I was going.
What is home?
Is home my parents' house? Is home the college town where I went couch-surfing last week? What exactly is home?
I wish I posted everything I've drafted because in February I wrote a post entitled "Redefining Family." It claimed "family" was my five suitemates, my ten-person ministry team, and my lunch buddies. Sometimes family has little to do with blood relation.
Home is where your family is.
I'm having a hard time deciding where "home" is because my family is in The Homeland, my family is in Baptist Country, my family is in Nicaragua, in Guatemala... Does that make home all of those places as well?
In the same way that The Homeland will always be "home" because my family is here, Baptist Country will always be "home" because my family is there, too.
Beauty and the Beast taught me "home is where the heart is." If that's true, then I'm heartbroken. In Baptist Country, I want to be in The Homeland. While in The Homeland, I yearn for Baptist Country. I don't think this is necessarily a bad problem to have, but I am not a fan. For four years my life has been split by 900 miles, a chasm that is not closing anytime soon.
Until God sends me somewhere else, home will have to be my parents' house. No more trying to outsmart amazon.com to get packages delivered to my P.O. box. No more loitering in the caf. No more spontaneous trips to Wal-mart even though we don't need anything. No more "Katie, party of twelve, your table is ready."
As I struggle to define such a basic four-letter word, I must also remember that in the grand scheme of things, none of these places are "home." They are all temporary dwellings prior to an eternal home. I honestly believe that someday there will be no sixteen-hour drives and no time change because there will be no time at all. There will be a day when tears won't roll, hearts won't break, and pain won't hurt. All of God's children will be home, constantly singing praises to Him, for He deserves it.
That, my friends, will be Home.
<>< Katie
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Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Stench
I am very slowly getting over a cold that has stolen my sense of smell for almost the last week. I didn't really miss smells because the most prevalent smell in our home is a repercussion of the weird food our dog has to eat.
Unfortunately, my sense of smell is returning and I too now groan when the dog lets one rip.
Or when someone starts the stove. Or when Dad gargles and then gives me a hug. Or when my sister uses too much perfume.
Suddenly every smell is suffocating. Anything with a scent makes me gag.
Isn't that life with the Holy Spirit? Sometimes you don't realize what you're missing until you have it. And then once the Holy Spirit begins to change your life, everything you once did makes you gag.
Of course, eventually smells will go back to being a normal part of my day (I can't wait!) and not overwhelming.
As we continue our faith journey, we grow more content with whatever our "normal" has become. Those things that once repulsed us are accepted now. We blaze through things that once made us pause and reflect.
Stop! Pay attention to what you're doing!
Breathe in the beautiful scent of life and exhale the rancid stench of sin.
<>< Katie
Unfortunately, my sense of smell is returning and I too now groan when the dog lets one rip.
Or when someone starts the stove. Or when Dad gargles and then gives me a hug. Or when my sister uses too much perfume.
Suddenly every smell is suffocating. Anything with a scent makes me gag.
Isn't that life with the Holy Spirit? Sometimes you don't realize what you're missing until you have it. And then once the Holy Spirit begins to change your life, everything you once did makes you gag.
Of course, eventually smells will go back to being a normal part of my day (I can't wait!) and not overwhelming.
As we continue our faith journey, we grow more content with whatever our "normal" has become. Those things that once repulsed us are accepted now. We blaze through things that once made us pause and reflect.
Stop! Pay attention to what you're doing!
Breathe in the beautiful scent of life and exhale the rancid stench of sin.
<>< Katie
Monday, April 11, 2011
A Saved Catholic?
"I don't know if you can be Catholic and be saved... I'm still figuring that out," cried one of my Catholic friends during our team worship night in Nicaragua.
When she first made the statement, my defenses went up. I'm not Catholic, but I have a lot of friends and family who are Catholics. Of course you can be Catholic and be saved.
Throughout the rest of the week, God let me see the plight that literally brought her to tears before us in a moment of transparency.
We walked into Central American cathedrals and my heart broke due to the distorted Jesus so many people have been taught.
The man huddled in the corner fervently praying to the painting of a deceased bishop.
The woman filling the offering box with Cordobas as if she could buy forgiveness.
The crowds ritually progressing through the streets holding a crucifix high in the air.
Jesus still on the cross.
As we walked through those decorated cathedrals, I found myself praying for the lost within the sanctuary. I wanted to stay and minister there rather than be a tourist.
It wasn't the label "Catholic" that bothered me. It was the un-biblically based Jesus. The Jesus represented is not the Jesus I know. That's what broke my heart. The desire to earn forgiveness and eternal life doesn't take into account for grace and mercy. The lack of understanding that Jesus is accessible to each and everyone of us, made me sad.
I'm not bashing Catholicism, I promise. I'm bashing the missing of Jesus that we are all guilty of. We get caught up in talking about homosexuality, abortion, and divorce rather than showing and teaching the love Jesus was adamant about.
We can call ourselves Christians and not know Christ. Worship can be a weekly event we attend out of habit not a lifestyle we lead.
Yes, you can be Catholic and be saved. But going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than going to the race track makes you a race car driver... going to a ballet makes you a ballerina...
The Christ I know is more than a character in a big book. He's more than a man who did some really nice things.
He's God and man. He lived by example, practiced what He preached, and gave the ultimate sacrifice. And He calls us to do the same.
Do you agree?
Then show it. Not in my comments section but today on the road, in the classroom, in the cafeteria, and at the store. Let's redefine Christianity.
It starts with me.
<>< Katie
When she first made the statement, my defenses went up. I'm not Catholic, but I have a lot of friends and family who are Catholics. Of course you can be Catholic and be saved.
Throughout the rest of the week, God let me see the plight that literally brought her to tears before us in a moment of transparency.
We walked into Central American cathedrals and my heart broke due to the distorted Jesus so many people have been taught.
The man huddled in the corner fervently praying to the painting of a deceased bishop.
The woman filling the offering box with Cordobas as if she could buy forgiveness.
The crowds ritually progressing through the streets holding a crucifix high in the air.
Jesus still on the cross.
As we walked through those decorated cathedrals, I found myself praying for the lost within the sanctuary. I wanted to stay and minister there rather than be a tourist.
It wasn't the label "Catholic" that bothered me. It was the un-biblically based Jesus. The Jesus represented is not the Jesus I know. That's what broke my heart. The desire to earn forgiveness and eternal life doesn't take into account for grace and mercy. The lack of understanding that Jesus is accessible to each and everyone of us, made me sad.
I'm not bashing Catholicism, I promise. I'm bashing the missing of Jesus that we are all guilty of. We get caught up in talking about homosexuality, abortion, and divorce rather than showing and teaching the love Jesus was adamant about.
We can call ourselves Christians and not know Christ. Worship can be a weekly event we attend out of habit not a lifestyle we lead.
Yes, you can be Catholic and be saved. But going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than going to the race track makes you a race car driver... going to a ballet makes you a ballerina...
The Christ I know is more than a character in a big book. He's more than a man who did some really nice things.
He's God and man. He lived by example, practiced what He preached, and gave the ultimate sacrifice. And He calls us to do the same.
Do you agree?
Then show it. Not in my comments section but today on the road, in the classroom, in the cafeteria, and at the store. Let's redefine Christianity.
It starts with me.
<>< Katie
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Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Great Things
I was thinking about next year and how I don't have any idea where I'm headed in May. I've sent MFA applications to five schools around the country. The closest to home is six hours away. The closest to here is five hours away. Of all five schools, the one with the closest family friends is three hours, my friend Rebecca's extended family.
I began to think about Rebecca's little sister Kaitlyn who's finally on the uphill climb in her horrific battle with Lyme Disease. She has miraculously regained mobility but remains hyper-sensitive to touch, sound, light, smells, etc. She's made huge steps (no pun intended) but has a long way to go.
Katie: God, You've given her such a great testimony of spiritual strength through physical weakness. You're going to do such great things with Kait! I'm so excited to see it!
God: Actually, Katie, I'm not going to wait until she's healed to do great things with her. I'm doing great things with her right now. I'm using her as she is, where she is.
I began to think about how God can and is doing the same things in each of our lives. He's not waiting until we're healed, until we're in a middle-of-nowhere grad school, until we're all put together.
He is using us right now, where we are, as we are.
Being used,
<>< Katie
PS: For more about Kaitlyn's story, check out her caringbridge. You do have to register for the site but it's open to anyone with a (free) CaringBridge account.
I began to think about Rebecca's little sister Kaitlyn who's finally on the uphill climb in her horrific battle with Lyme Disease. She has miraculously regained mobility but remains hyper-sensitive to touch, sound, light, smells, etc. She's made huge steps (no pun intended) but has a long way to go.
Katie: God, You've given her such a great testimony of spiritual strength through physical weakness. You're going to do such great things with Kait! I'm so excited to see it!
God: Actually, Katie, I'm not going to wait until she's healed to do great things with her. I'm doing great things with her right now. I'm using her as she is, where she is.
I began to think about how God can and is doing the same things in each of our lives. He's not waiting until we're healed, until we're in a middle-of-nowhere grad school, until we're all put together.
He is using us right now, where we are, as we are.
Being used,
<>< Katie
PS: For more about Kaitlyn's story, check out her caringbridge. You do have to register for the site but it's open to anyone with a (free) CaringBridge account.
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Friday, February 4, 2011
Hypocrite
Nikki asked me to write a very transparent short piece about on campus interactions with non-Christians. She wanted me to write those things that I'd never say out loud to anyone. A bunch of us had similar assignments that would be recorded as sound clips over videos of campus.
As I pondered this assignment, I was immediately drawn to the Great Divide that is the cafeteria salad bar. Our school has a long-standing joke that the salad bar divides the campus: Christian, non-athletes on one side; non-Christian, athletes on the other. Of course, there are exceptions, but this is the stereotype.
They sat an empty seat between each of them so that their legs in athletic shorts or sweatpants could be spread apart. They were so buff they could have swallowed me whole if they had wanted to.
The head of the man right in front of me blocked my view of the speaker. The speaker who looks like the stereotypical Jesus and has my same haircut. Instead of marveling at these things, I was stuck staring at this guy's backwards baseball cap with our mascot on it. Our mascot that looks like he's sharting.
He wasn't the only one. Someone near me, potentially one of the four athletes who could swallow me whole, let one rip. I didn't hear it. I just smelled it. Check your shorts, dude!
My dad's the king of SBDs. I grew up surrounded by rancid rear-end smells. If I have to breathe in through my mouth, it's bad! It was bad!
For the next hour I watched Mr. Swallow Me Whole. He had his Bible with him. After flipping to the scripture passage for the night, he handed it to his friend two seats over. Then he pulled out his "assorted electronic device" and read along with the Jesus-twin speaker. He removed his hat when we prayed. He pulled the "Statue of Liberty" and sang along. He even gave an "Amen!"
You hypocrite!
You talk about destroying the salad bar divide and you build a brick wall between you and the seat in front of you! All because you're scared. Scared that such a large man might have a heart for Christ. Scared that your brother might swallow you whole. Scared that God hears both of your prayers. Katie, that's ridiculous.
Mr. Swallow Me Whole, it was a joy to worship behind you last week. Thank you for not biting off my head when I realized I was a hypocrite. Let's do it again sometime. But maybe I'll bring some air freshener.
<>< Katie
As I pondered this assignment, I was immediately drawn to the Great Divide that is the cafeteria salad bar. Our school has a long-standing joke that the salad bar divides the campus: Christian, non-athletes on one side; non-Christian, athletes on the other. Of course, there are exceptions, but this is the stereotype.
Sometimes I forget there are non-Christians here, too. But then I walk on the wrong side of the salad bar to get some yogurt. Instantly I feel judged and unwelcome. Like I'm supposed to be perfect because I love Jesus. I'm supposed to always love, always care, and always be willing to help.
"I'm not perfect," I want to shout. Like that's an excuse. An excuse to exhibit un-Christ-like behavior. An excuse to be inconsiderate. An excuse to judge.The night the video played and my northern accent ran through the full auditorium I realized that we divide ourselves even there at worship. I had accidentally chosen a seat behind four boys who... well, aren't from my side of the salad bar.
It's not them, it's me who's doing the judging. I shoot evil glares when I see someone struggling in class. I avoid non-Christians like they have some kind of contagious disease I'm going to catch just from looking them in the eye.
Some of my close family members aren't Christians; they're not poisonous. I hug, love, and serve them. Why can't I do the same for my peers?
They sat an empty seat between each of them so that their legs in athletic shorts or sweatpants could be spread apart. They were so buff they could have swallowed me whole if they had wanted to.
The head of the man right in front of me blocked my view of the speaker. The speaker who looks like the stereotypical Jesus and has my same haircut. Instead of marveling at these things, I was stuck staring at this guy's backwards baseball cap with our mascot on it. Our mascot that looks like he's sharting.
He wasn't the only one. Someone near me, potentially one of the four athletes who could swallow me whole, let one rip. I didn't hear it. I just smelled it. Check your shorts, dude!
My dad's the king of SBDs. I grew up surrounded by rancid rear-end smells. If I have to breathe in through my mouth, it's bad! It was bad!
"Some of my family members are not Christians. I hug, love, and serve them. Why can't I do the same for my peers?"You hypocrite!
For the next hour I watched Mr. Swallow Me Whole. He had his Bible with him. After flipping to the scripture passage for the night, he handed it to his friend two seats over. Then he pulled out his "assorted electronic device" and read along with the Jesus-twin speaker. He removed his hat when we prayed. He pulled the "Statue of Liberty" and sang along. He even gave an "Amen!"
You hypocrite!
You talk about destroying the salad bar divide and you build a brick wall between you and the seat in front of you! All because you're scared. Scared that such a large man might have a heart for Christ. Scared that your brother might swallow you whole. Scared that God hears both of your prayers. Katie, that's ridiculous.
Mr. Swallow Me Whole, it was a joy to worship behind you last week. Thank you for not biting off my head when I realized I was a hypocrite. Let's do it again sometime. But maybe I'll bring some air freshener.
<>< Katie
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Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Relational Obsession
Allyson, Amy, and I were sitting in the food court zoning when Allyson turned to me.
"The world is so obsessed with relationships!"
Her comment caught me off guard.
"You know," she continued, "like if you're single you're told you're not worth anything. And if you're in a relationship it's the best thing that has ever happened to you. I bet that's a way satan uses to distract us from God's love!"
Woah! That was way too deep for my hazy brain. As I regained full consciousness and began to process her words, I decided she is absolutely right!
I'm single. But a disgusting amount of time is spent wondering and day dreaming about my future husband and family. I spend a lot more time yearning for what I can't have rather than embracing the unfailing love that was graciously given to me.
Allyson wasn't done. "And if that one relationship is the best thing that ever happened to you, what about all of your other relationships? Don't they matter?"
Recently the loss of a close friendship has left me mourning and dejected. But what about all of the other flourishing relationships in my life? Don't they count for anything?
Sure they do. But they aren't the one completing relationship. The one we girls think a man can fill. The one, truthfully, only God can fill.
Allyson's thoughts were spurred by a music video I wasn't watching. I looked up at the end to see a mother and father playing with their two sons by splashing each other in the ocean and jumping on the bed. It was really sweet.
I hope to one day have that. But until then, can I embrace the love of God given to me? When I do have my own family, will I still put my joy and hope in Christ?
Right now, I honestly don't know if I can answer yes to both of those questions. Maybe that's why I'm single. There are still a lot of things for me to learn before someone else can walk into my life.
<>< Katie
"The world is so obsessed with relationships!"
Her comment caught me off guard.
"You know," she continued, "like if you're single you're told you're not worth anything. And if you're in a relationship it's the best thing that has ever happened to you. I bet that's a way satan uses to distract us from God's love!"
Woah! That was way too deep for my hazy brain. As I regained full consciousness and began to process her words, I decided she is absolutely right!
I'm single. But a disgusting amount of time is spent wondering and day dreaming about my future husband and family. I spend a lot more time yearning for what I can't have rather than embracing the unfailing love that was graciously given to me.
Allyson wasn't done. "And if that one relationship is the best thing that ever happened to you, what about all of your other relationships? Don't they matter?"
Recently the loss of a close friendship has left me mourning and dejected. But what about all of the other flourishing relationships in my life? Don't they count for anything?
Sure they do. But they aren't the one completing relationship. The one we girls think a man can fill. The one, truthfully, only God can fill.
Allyson's thoughts were spurred by a music video I wasn't watching. I looked up at the end to see a mother and father playing with their two sons by splashing each other in the ocean and jumping on the bed. It was really sweet.
I hope to one day have that. But until then, can I embrace the love of God given to me? When I do have my own family, will I still put my joy and hope in Christ?
Right now, I honestly don't know if I can answer yes to both of those questions. Maybe that's why I'm single. There are still a lot of things for me to learn before someone else can walk into my life.
<>< Katie
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Thursday, January 13, 2011
"Even for Red Wings"
My family's big into Nashville Predators hockey, even though we don't live in Tennessee. We get Center Ice just so we can watch Preds games live on FS Tennessee.
Our Tivo catches most games, and we watch them later. It's a whole lot easier than trying to arrange our schedule around a distant hockey team. It also means we get to fast forward through the commercials.
Earlier this week, we caught game live. Meaning we got to watch Nashville's local commercials. Like our local commercials here, some we can quote, some make us laugh, and some are lame.
There was a commercial I've seen before for Vanderbilt University Medical Center. I tried to find it on YouTube, but, of course, when you want a commercial you can't find it; when you don't want it it's everywhere.
The commercial features four different healthcare professionals vowing to do what you would expect of them.
An orthopedist vowing to fix broken bones. A nurse promising to use her wisdom and compassion.
Again, things you would expect. Maybe not always received but expected.
The remarkable thing is the promise to do this "even for Black Hawks, even for Red Wings, regardless of Western Conference standing."
This is a Nashville hockey commercials. The Nashville Predators HATE the Detroit Red Wings. But the Vandy nurse promises to provide compassionate care even to Red Wings.
What if we vowed the same thing?
I don't mean we all promise to fix the Red Wings' broken bones unless, of course, we are the ones lucky enough to break them. Kidding.
What if we re-wrote the commercials to put in things we're expected to do even when confronted by people or situations we don't particularly like. Mine might look like this:
I will be patient... even when I'm on a tight schedule.
I will be joyful... even when I have a headache.
I will love... even non-Christians.
What would yours look like?
<>< Katie
Our Tivo catches most games, and we watch them later. It's a whole lot easier than trying to arrange our schedule around a distant hockey team. It also means we get to fast forward through the commercials.
Earlier this week, we caught game live. Meaning we got to watch Nashville's local commercials. Like our local commercials here, some we can quote, some make us laugh, and some are lame.
There was a commercial I've seen before for Vanderbilt University Medical Center. I tried to find it on YouTube, but, of course, when you want a commercial you can't find it; when you don't want it it's everywhere.
The commercial features four different healthcare professionals vowing to do what you would expect of them.
An orthopedist vowing to fix broken bones. A nurse promising to use her wisdom and compassion.
Again, things you would expect. Maybe not always received but expected.
The remarkable thing is the promise to do this "even for Black Hawks, even for Red Wings, regardless of Western Conference standing."
This is a Nashville hockey commercials. The Nashville Predators HATE the Detroit Red Wings. But the Vandy nurse promises to provide compassionate care even to Red Wings.
What if we vowed the same thing?
I don't mean we all promise to fix the Red Wings' broken bones unless, of course, we are the ones lucky enough to break them. Kidding.
What if we re-wrote the commercials to put in things we're expected to do even when confronted by people or situations we don't particularly like. Mine might look like this:
I will be patient... even when I'm on a tight schedule.
I will be joyful... even when I have a headache.
I will love... even non-Christians.
What would yours look like?
<>< Katie
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Friday, January 7, 2011
Wacky Wednesday- Friday Edition
Christina: Will it go on your blog?
Katie: You betcha.
Mom: On Wacky Wednesday?
Katie: Yup. I haven't had a Wacky Wednesday in awhile.
Mom: What?! You've been with your family! How could you NOT have a Wacky Wednesday?
Katie: I have plenty of quotes for a Wacky Wednesday, but I haven't written one.
Christina: Have a Friday Edition of Wacky Wednesday.
Mom: On Thursday!
Katie: It seems only appropriate since I have no idea what day of the week it is anyway.
Mom: Ooooh! I'm a trash compactor and I can vacuum seal the bag!
Dad: How did I get in this family?
Auntie Gwennie: Better question: how do I get out?
Katie: We're lost... outside (without the car)... in Minnesota... in January! All because Mom wanted seafood... in Minnesota... in January! It might be August before I warm up!
Mom: Then we can go to Denise and Greg's, and Greg can do the photo shoot in his... jammies.
Laura: As long as he doesn't sleep naked.
Auntie Gwennie: Doesn't iron give you energy or something?
Uncle Bill: Tina, you've taken anatomy. Is that true?
Christina: Well, we studied iodine.
Mom [making white frosting]: There's something green in here. Oh, and red. Who put jimmies in my frosting?
Katie: Jimmy! Get out of the frosting!
Laura: Jimmy want to go in the frosting for a swim.
Katie: No, Jimmy licks the frosting.
Mom: Grandpa!
[Grandpa Jim taught my sisters and me to steal frosting from a cake without anyone noticing]
Dad: What's wrong? Why are you up so early?
Katie: It's ten-thirty, eleven-thirty to my body.
Dad: That's it.
Aunt Denise: Gail! You can't give him a present just because it says his name!
Mom: It says his name, just in the wrong spot!
Dad: Get naked and give me twenty.
Uncle Jay: I am not getting naked in front of you! And I'm not giving you twenty bucks either for that matter.
Mom: I will not put the Advent candles on Christina's birthday cake!
Katie: Ok, Daddy, I'm ready! I'm even wearing Grandma's long underwear. Where'd you go?
Dad: I'm hiding!
Mom: Do you want a poker stick to get the Christmas lights all the way up there?
Dad: I don't need a poker stick. I have Katie!
I was startled out of dream world by Laura's shouting.
Laura: That's ok; she loves me!
Without opening my eyes I knew--much to my dismay--that I was the she.
Katie: No she doesn't!
That wasn't going to stop her. When my bedroom door flew open, I threw my pillow over my face. There was no way to avoid whatever I was about to be the victim of, but my pillow would protect my face as I prayed for the best. Laura crawled on top of me in bed. Between the two of us, we make a normal-sized person, but that doesn't mean I like to be on the bottom of our person.
Laura: Katie, give me a hhhhhhhhug!
Mom [to Dad]: Do not pants your daughter!
Laura: Mom, I saw an animal outside.
Mom: What kind of animal was it?
Laura: Um... a giant white gerbil with a raw tail.
Mom: An opossum.
Man at Quiznos: Chips?
Mom: No, thanks.
Man: Beer, bourbon, scotch?
Mom: Oooh! Scotch, please.
Ben: Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Ax. Sorry in advance for drinking all of your milk.
He and three friends (the one other male among them being lactose intolerant) were here thirty-six hours, and they drank three gallons of milk.
Christina: Katie, what are you going to do when you're married?
Katie: Have kids.
Christina: And make them empty the dishwasher? Even your one year old? Does he have to empty the dishwasher?
Katie: It's a she.
Christina: And your three month old? Does she have to empty the dishwasher, too?
Katie: Yeah, he gets the plates up to the top shelf without needing any help. Wait a second! Why do I have a one year old and a three month old? Oh boy!
Mom: Adoption.
Christina: Your husband was married before. Katie got a used one!
Katie: You betcha.
Mom: On Wacky Wednesday?
Katie: Yup. I haven't had a Wacky Wednesday in awhile.
Mom: What?! You've been with your family! How could you NOT have a Wacky Wednesday?
Katie: I have plenty of quotes for a Wacky Wednesday, but I haven't written one.
Christina: Have a Friday Edition of Wacky Wednesday.
Mom: On Thursday!
Katie: It seems only appropriate since I have no idea what day of the week it is anyway.
Mom: Ooooh! I'm a trash compactor and I can vacuum seal the bag!
Dad: How did I get in this family?
Auntie Gwennie: Better question: how do I get out?
Katie: We're lost... outside (without the car)... in Minnesota... in January! All because Mom wanted seafood... in Minnesota... in January! It might be August before I warm up!
Mom: Then we can go to Denise and Greg's, and Greg can do the photo shoot in his... jammies.
Laura: As long as he doesn't sleep naked.
Auntie Gwennie: Doesn't iron give you energy or something?
Uncle Bill: Tina, you've taken anatomy. Is that true?
Christina: Well, we studied iodine.
Mom [making white frosting]: There's something green in here. Oh, and red. Who put jimmies in my frosting?
Katie: Jimmy! Get out of the frosting!
Laura: Jimmy want to go in the frosting for a swim.
Katie: No, Jimmy licks the frosting.
Mom: Grandpa!
[Grandpa Jim taught my sisters and me to steal frosting from a cake without anyone noticing]
Dad: What's wrong? Why are you up so early?
Katie: It's ten-thirty, eleven-thirty to my body.
Dad: That's it.
Aunt Denise: Gail! You can't give him a present just because it says his name!
Mom: It says his name, just in the wrong spot!
Dad: Get naked and give me twenty.
Uncle Jay: I am not getting naked in front of you! And I'm not giving you twenty bucks either for that matter.
Mom: I will not put the Advent candles on Christina's birthday cake!
Katie: Ok, Daddy, I'm ready! I'm even wearing Grandma's long underwear. Where'd you go?
Dad: I'm hiding!
Mom: Do you want a poker stick to get the Christmas lights all the way up there?
Dad: I don't need a poker stick. I have Katie!
I was startled out of dream world by Laura's shouting.
Laura: That's ok; she loves me!
Without opening my eyes I knew--much to my dismay--that I was the she.
Katie: No she doesn't!
That wasn't going to stop her. When my bedroom door flew open, I threw my pillow over my face. There was no way to avoid whatever I was about to be the victim of, but my pillow would protect my face as I prayed for the best. Laura crawled on top of me in bed. Between the two of us, we make a normal-sized person, but that doesn't mean I like to be on the bottom of our person.
Laura: Katie, give me a hhhhhhhhug!
Mom [to Dad]: Do not pants your daughter!
Laura: Mom, I saw an animal outside.
Mom: What kind of animal was it?
Laura: Um... a giant white gerbil with a raw tail.
Mom: An opossum.
Man at Quiznos: Chips?
Mom: No, thanks.
Man: Beer, bourbon, scotch?
Mom: Oooh! Scotch, please.
Ben: Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Ax. Sorry in advance for drinking all of your milk.
He and three friends (the one other male among them being lactose intolerant) were here thirty-six hours, and they drank three gallons of milk.
Christina: Katie, what are you going to do when you're married?
Katie: Have kids.
Christina: And make them empty the dishwasher? Even your one year old? Does he have to empty the dishwasher?
Katie: It's a she.
Christina: And your three month old? Does she have to empty the dishwasher, too?
Katie: Yeah, he gets the plates up to the top shelf without needing any help. Wait a second! Why do I have a one year old and a three month old? Oh boy!
Mom: Adoption.
Christina: Your husband was married before. Katie got a used one!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
"And Then I Found Five Dollars"
Since I've been home, I've told a lot of stories around our dinner table. When I finally pause to breathe at the end of each story, Christina has looked at me and said, "And then did you find five dollars?"
Every time she's said it, I've boiled with anger and frustration. The desire to rip off her head has increased with every smart alec comment that could be translated to, "That pointless story was a waste of my time."
I think that may be why Max Lucado's A Love Worth Giving has resonated so well with me, the queen of pointless stories.
In the chapter "Your Kindness Quotient," Max talks about Christ wanting to hear your story. The example used is the woman with the bleeding problem whose story is found sandwiched in Mark 5.
Basically she's been sick for years and years. She was out of money, and everyone told her to be out of hope. But she wasn't. She had the faith to believe Jesus could heal her, so she went to find Him.
Of course, He was busy. The daughter of a city leader (Jairus) was dying, and Jesus was on His way to perform a miraculous healing. This woman didn't want to take up Jesus's time, so she slid behind Him in the crowd and touched the hem of His robe.
Instantly she was healed and ready to go on her way. Jesus wasn't going to let her get off that easily.
"Who touched me?" He demanded.
Can you imagine the disciples' response? "We're in the middle of a crowd and You wonder who touched You? A million people! That guy there, this woman over here, but I was the one who stepped on Your foot. Sorry. Come on; let's go!"
Christ was adamant, and the woman timidly came forward. If it was me, I'd be ashamed of the ruckus I'd caused. Maybe she was, but she was also healed.
Max writes, "A girl was dying, people were pressing, the disciples were questioning, but Jesus... Jesus was listening. Listening to the whole story. He didn't have to. The healing would have been enough. Enough for her. Enough for the crowd. But not enough for Him. Jesus wanted to do more than heal her body. He wanted to hear her story--all of it. The whole story" (26).
It blows my mind that we have a Savior who is willing to hear every story we tell. He's not even disappointed when they're long and pointless. He'll never ask if we found five dollars. If the story is important to us, it is important to Him.
I saw a prime example of this years ago at a concert meet and greet crowd. A little girl came up and cut me in the blob of a line. Of course, at the time I was annoyed but years later I'm glad to have witnessed such a beautiful moment.
The artist, Peder Eide, leaned over to be at her height, put his arm around her, and held his head next to hers in order to hear her over the crowd. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I knew it was intense because every once in a while Peder would draw back to make eye contact with her. As her story drew to a close, he started gently asking her questions. The crowd pressing for his attention no longer mattered; he wanted to know more about this little girl.
When she was done and he was done asking questions, Peder looked her in the eye and said, "Thank you for telling me that. I'll be praying for you."
Christ's waiting for you to tell Him the whole story. The crowd of people lobbying for His attention vanishes when He's got His arm around you listening to your story. He's willing to sit there and talk with you for as long as you want. He'll stay until your story is complete, even if it's long and boring. He'll ask questions and carefully listen to the answers. When you're done, He'll say, "Thank you for telling Me that. I'm sure it wasn't easy."
Sit and talk. Let Him be your Audience of One.
The non-monetary amount you find will be worth a whole lot more than five dollars.
<>< Katie
Every time she's said it, I've boiled with anger and frustration. The desire to rip off her head has increased with every smart alec comment that could be translated to, "That pointless story was a waste of my time."
I think that may be why Max Lucado's A Love Worth Giving has resonated so well with me, the queen of pointless stories.
In the chapter "Your Kindness Quotient," Max talks about Christ wanting to hear your story. The example used is the woman with the bleeding problem whose story is found sandwiched in Mark 5.
Basically she's been sick for years and years. She was out of money, and everyone told her to be out of hope. But she wasn't. She had the faith to believe Jesus could heal her, so she went to find Him.
Of course, He was busy. The daughter of a city leader (Jairus) was dying, and Jesus was on His way to perform a miraculous healing. This woman didn't want to take up Jesus's time, so she slid behind Him in the crowd and touched the hem of His robe.
Instantly she was healed and ready to go on her way. Jesus wasn't going to let her get off that easily.
"Who touched me?" He demanded.
Can you imagine the disciples' response? "We're in the middle of a crowd and You wonder who touched You? A million people! That guy there, this woman over here, but I was the one who stepped on Your foot. Sorry. Come on; let's go!"
Christ was adamant, and the woman timidly came forward. If it was me, I'd be ashamed of the ruckus I'd caused. Maybe she was, but she was also healed.
Max writes, "A girl was dying, people were pressing, the disciples were questioning, but Jesus... Jesus was listening. Listening to the whole story. He didn't have to. The healing would have been enough. Enough for her. Enough for the crowd. But not enough for Him. Jesus wanted to do more than heal her body. He wanted to hear her story--all of it. The whole story" (26).
It blows my mind that we have a Savior who is willing to hear every story we tell. He's not even disappointed when they're long and pointless. He'll never ask if we found five dollars. If the story is important to us, it is important to Him.
I saw a prime example of this years ago at a concert meet and greet crowd. A little girl came up and cut me in the blob of a line. Of course, at the time I was annoyed but years later I'm glad to have witnessed such a beautiful moment.
The artist, Peder Eide, leaned over to be at her height, put his arm around her, and held his head next to hers in order to hear her over the crowd. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I knew it was intense because every once in a while Peder would draw back to make eye contact with her. As her story drew to a close, he started gently asking her questions. The crowd pressing for his attention no longer mattered; he wanted to know more about this little girl.
When she was done and he was done asking questions, Peder looked her in the eye and said, "Thank you for telling me that. I'll be praying for you."
Christ's waiting for you to tell Him the whole story. The crowd of people lobbying for His attention vanishes when He's got His arm around you listening to your story. He's willing to sit there and talk with you for as long as you want. He'll stay until your story is complete, even if it's long and boring. He'll ask questions and carefully listen to the answers. When you're done, He'll say, "Thank you for telling Me that. I'm sure it wasn't easy."
Sit and talk. Let Him be your Audience of One.
The non-monetary amount you find will be worth a whole lot more than five dollars.
<>< Katie
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Saturday, January 1, 2011
Dear 2011
Dear 2011,
The ball has dropped. My school friends have all welcomed you with open arms. They say your first five minutes are great!
But I'm stuck in the past. It's still 2010 here. My pomegranate martini has yet to be concocted. We're having our pizza dinner in my grandparents' kitchen as we wade out the last hour. We smell like bowling alley. It's tradition.
Yet I can't help but wonder, where will I be next year? What will you bring me, 2011? An apartment or must I hang that new Christmas wreath on my bedroom door? A job? More school? A pair of lips to find mine at midnight?
One this is certain: you bring change. "The other home" will no longer be a three-bedroom apartment with five of my favorite girls. Will "the real home" still be the purple bedroom I outgrew years ago?
I saw a poster on clearance at Hobby Lobby that read:
We're ringing in a year of change. We're trust falling into the arms of God.
May you, 2011, draw us all closer to Him. Always.
Be nice to us 2011.
We come with fear; you bring the unknown.
We come with trust; you bring His grace.
We bring ourselves; you let Him do marvelous things with all that we are.
Sincerely,
(I would say, "Love," but I don't know you yet, but I could love you if I knew you)
Katie
and the rest of the Ax Family
The ball has dropped. My school friends have all welcomed you with open arms. They say your first five minutes are great!
But I'm stuck in the past. It's still 2010 here. My pomegranate martini has yet to be concocted. We're having our pizza dinner in my grandparents' kitchen as we wade out the last hour. We smell like bowling alley. It's tradition.
Yet I can't help but wonder, where will I be next year? What will you bring me, 2011? An apartment or must I hang that new Christmas wreath on my bedroom door? A job? More school? A pair of lips to find mine at midnight?
One this is certain: you bring change. "The other home" will no longer be a three-bedroom apartment with five of my favorite girls. Will "the real home" still be the purple bedroom I outgrew years ago?
I saw a poster on clearance at Hobby Lobby that read:
Change: It's not only inevitable; it's vital to survival.I should have bought it.
We're ringing in a year of change. We're trust falling into the arms of God.
May you, 2011, draw us all closer to Him. Always.
Be nice to us 2011.
We come with fear; you bring the unknown.
We come with trust; you bring His grace.
We bring ourselves; you let Him do marvelous things with all that we are.
Sincerely,
(I would say, "Love," but I don't know you yet, but I could love you if I knew you)
Katie
and the rest of the Ax Family
Monday, December 20, 2010
"You are Faithful"
Some families watch movies. Some families have a game night. My family goes to concerts. It's our bonding activity.
But you know who I really want to hear that from? God.
I want God to put His arm around me and say, “Katie, you are faithful.”
I think it's safe to say we are professional concert go-ers. We are armed with CDs to have signed and even bring our own Sharpies. We consider our seats good ones if we can see the performer's teeth. We know all the words and sing along, even if not invited. We've had artists talk to us from the stage, tease us in the Meet & Greet line, and remember us from concert to concert.
The other night, we went to a Peder Eide concert. Peder has recognized me before, but I was out of context so I wasn't sure if he'd recognize me again. At one point during the show, I was looking at the screen and he was looking at me. When I looked back, we made eye contact and he gave me an "I see you" look.
After the show, we made our way through the crowd and towards Peder. When it was my turn, he greeted me with a hug and said, “It’s good to see you, Katie.”
He remembered my name! If I ever gave him my name, it was six months ago in a very different atmosphere. Maybe he found eight seconds to facebook stalk me. I don’t know, but he knew my name! We could have walked away right then and I would have been happy.
But we didn’t. When he signed my CD, while teasing me about being old school for bringing a CD from 1999, he signed his name, wrote my name (which he spelled correctly), and then thought for a minute. Eventually he wrote, “You are faithful.”
Ok, Peder Eide addressing me by name and calling me faithful. That’s cool!
I want God to put His arm around me and say, “Katie, you are faithful.”
I don’t want my faith to be limited to Christian concerts and blog posts. I want my faith to be a daily experience. I want to always seek God more. I don’t want the smile on my face to be fake. I want to be filled with joy—even when I have a headache, even when I’m stressed, even when the world seems to be against me.
Through it all, may I live faithfully to the Lord. After all, He's the one that gave me my name.
<>< Katie
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