(Not) Getting Murdered

No matter how many times David said, "We're not going to get murdered," I was still scared.

He was my navigator telling me to drive two miles down a dirt road in the dark.

It was kind of like driving on ice in that I didn't exactly have complete control of the car. And it was kind of like terrifying in that we were smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Did I mention it was nighttime and we were alone? Well, except for the truck following us, driven by the murderer.

For two miles, the conversation essentially went:
Katie: We're gonna die.
David: No, we're not.
Katie: We're gonna get murdered.
David: We're not gonna get murdered.

Yet still I kept driving.

I trust David, and I trusted he wasn't really leading me down a dangerous path.

If I trusted David, how could I be so fearful?

Well, I was in a very scary situation: I was driving down a dirt road with my brights on but not in complete control of the car, in the middle of nowhere to a house where I've never been, at night, with a guy who is older, bigger, and wiser than I am, and we were being followed. Maybe not the smartest decision of my life.

In ASL, the words for FEAR and TRUST are opposites. You can't sign them both at the same time (I tried). Fear and trust cannot co-exist.

Yet still they did in my car.

Still they do in my life.

I'm in a scary situation. After four long years I graduated with a degree that lacks a defined job at the end. I'm working as a freelance writer and not making enough to pay for food.

But if I say I trust the Lord, how can I be so fearful?

I am not the driver and not the navigator in this life. I'm just a passenger letting the Lord take this car wherever He desires.

But that doesn't mean I'm doing it quietly. I'm crying, I'm protesting, I'm convinced I'm gonna die. I have dug my heels into the ground, literally shouted naughty words at the Lord, and nearly punched someone in frustration.

That isn't trust. That's protesting. That's complaining.

God and I have this conversation regularly:
Katie: This is scary.
God: Just trust Me.
Katie: I want to but I can't. I'm scared.
God: I love you perfectly. Please, just trust Me.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot merge fear and trust. Something's got to give.

On Saturday, I surrendered to trust David, let go of the fear, and kept driving.

The dirt road did eventually end. Surprise: we didn't get murdered! The truck following us was driven by Cody who, turns out, is not a murderer. (Well, if he is, he's a very bad one since he didn't seize a perfect opportunity).

The road forked and BOOM there was a house with lights on, the door open, and the host and hostess inviting us in.

Daily surrender to trust the Lord doesn't mean this bumpy path of unemployment is going to end. God doesn't promise a smooth journey. He does promise that He'll journey with us.

So far, He has.

Life ain't great. But still every morning the sun rises (proof enough of God's faithfulness), I'm still breathing and, eventually, I can pull myself from the five layers of blankets. Some days come with more self-confidence than others but each day a new chance to proclaim His faithfulness even in the desert.

I protested with David but kept going. I'm protesting the Lord but still stepping forwards in obedience.

What's scary about obedience is the lack of control and the lack of knowing where you're going.

The house David, Cody, and I arrived at was home to a family who welcomed us with open arms, fed us a delicious dinner, and let us raid their game room.

This is less than half of their game collection.

Worth it.

If we continue in obedience, God promises that some day we will arrive Home to His open arms.

Luckily, we don't have to wait until then. In every step we can cling to His perfect love. In obedience and even in failure, He's RIGHT THERE.

That is hope enough to keep on truckin'.

Putting one foot in front of the other and taking each day one step at a time,
<>< Katie

Dear 2012

Dear 2012,

This year we welcome your arrival with New York. No waiting in the past to see how your first hour turns out before we take the leap.

But it's ok. I'm ready to welcome you, 2012. I think.

Your sister 2011's report card reads, "Not living up to potential."

She brought the change she promised but not the good kind.

Throughout 2011, the word I kept returning to was: faithful. Would I be faithful to the Lord even when life was less kind? Would God be true to the promise of His faithfulness?

Faithful.

Crossing into your realms, 2012, is an action of fear. An action of trust. A myriad of feelings. A juxtaposition of emotion. I am concerned about what you will bring.

Yet still I dare to hope. You bring with you new opportunities, renewed passions, and uncontainable excitement. While you may not look exactly like I would hope or anticipate, I step into you with confidence.

Hope.

That's what I feel when I look to you, 2012. I hope for many of the same things as last year: a job, a boy, a future. But, above all, I hope for the Lord. I hope to seek and to see Him in the good, the bad, and the ugly. Through tears of joy and tears of pain, I want to gaze into the eyes of my Abba Father.

I hope to dwell in the shelter of the Most High, to rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I hope to be calmed with His love and be delighted with His songs.

I hope. In Him.

And that is enough.

"Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in Him!'" Lamentations 3:21-24 NLT

With hope,
<>< Katie

The Cup

Something crunches beneath my tires as I parallel park outside of a Christian bookstore. Coming around to pay the meter, I see the crunching came from what used to be a coffee cup that is now smashed to smithereens. Clearly, I was not the first one to run it over.

"You alone hold my broken cup."

I can't help but smile at the irony of the moment. Over coffee a few days before, I had a conversation about (among other things) parking meters, Christian books, and cracked cups.

"You alone hold my broken cup. My heart's so dusty and dry."

Two days earlier I stood in the audience and listened to singer/songwriter Peder Eide talk about cracked cups.

We all have cups. God pours out love, affirmation, encouragement intending to fill our cup until it overflows. Yet fear, abandonment, rejection, etc. have cracked our cups. Some cracks are bigger than others yet still the goodness of God leaks out and the cup never overflows. This is not what God intended.

"I'll ache 'til You make me whole."

As an audience, we extended our hand-cups into the air, handing them to our Abba Father like a small child hands a broken object to a parent. Individually we identified a specific crack and asked Him to fix it.

"Abba, this belongs to You."

I had just spent the last hour closely examining the multiple cracks in my cup. The cracks that are causing fast leaks and those that are slower. The causes of the cracks and the repercussions of them. The need for the Lord to repair the cracks and fill my cup.

"Abba, this belongs to You. This belongs to You, Abba Father."

Mending takes time, especially when your cup has been run over... twice.  Especially when the cause of the cracks lead to multiple, "Oh, Honey"s.  Yet when you, when I, lift our broken cups before the Lord, He graciously repairs them and pours into them until they are overflowing.  He fills them until it's not the former cracks or even the cup itself that can be seen but rather His love pouring over the edges.

"I thirst for You, Jesus, fill me up!"

<>< Katie

Lyrics from "Make Me Whole" and "Abba, I Belong to You" by Peder Eide.

A Real Person

Eight twenty-somethings sat squished around a card table. It has become a Monday night tradition.

Although I sit among them with minimal elbow space, I feel far away. Six of them are in graduate school together taking the conversation to a level where I spend more time trying to find the verb in the sentence than actually comprehending it. The other two have jobs. Real jobs, careers. They make money, own homes, and cook real meals.

There I am. Lost among friends. It's not their fault. Does that mean it's my fault?

My fault I didn't get into grad school? My fault I don't have a job? My fault I'm stuck in limbo? My fault that sometimes I wear work clothes just so I can feel like a real person?

Even putting those words on paper... er... the screen seems ridiculous. But it's very real. Real enough to bring tears to my eyes... again.

Let's just be real: job searching sucks. (Although, I have a new appreciation for rejection letter because it means the company loves you enough to tell you they don't want you rather than just letting you guess).

People always ask me what I'm called to do, if I feel led to a certain job or company, etc. What the heck does that even mean?

I am called to do the same thing every one else is called to do: to love and serve the Lord wherever He puts us.

For six of my Monday dinner buddies that means serving Him through divinity school. For the other two, it means honoring Him in their respective careers.

For me, it means trusting in the unknown. It means looking hopefully towards the future (whatever that is) but also finding a way to enjoy today. It means adding "free Monday dinner and enjoyable socialization time" to my list of 1,000 gifts.  It means knowing this time in between isn't a wasteland. It means trusting that I haven't been deserted in this desert.

It means sometimes I get to write mopey posts because, in order to be a real person, I need to be real about my struggles and fears. I don't have it all together. I don't know what I'm going to be if I grow up. I don't know what tomorrow looks like.

But I do know One who will accompany me tomorrow.

Because He is faithful.

"Yet still I dare to hope when I remember this: the faithful love of the Lord never ends. His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness. His mercies begin a new each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritence' therefore I will hope in Him." Lamentations 3:21-24

Keeping it real,
<>< Katie

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

Futbol Confusion

This is an old note I wrote after attending a US vs. Costa Rica soccer game in Costa Rica.  It was scarier than going to a Flyers game in Philly.  But we all lived to tell the tale.
<>< Katie

I went to a football game today. Except there was no pig skin. No quarterback. The players actually used their feet. I was shocked!

On the way to the game we saw a brawl. Everyone on the bus was yelling, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" And when the two men fell, I screamed, "Let's see some blood on that ice!"

On the street outside the stadium, the bus of American soccer players was warmly welcomed by police on horseback and one-finger waves from the crowd.

When we arrived at the game, we had a pat-down search where they confiscated cosas commencing with the letter "C": cameras, cell phones, chap-stick, and coins. I found this behavior quite strange.

I was surprised they hadn't closed the roof due to the impending rain, but the rain held off and the roof remained open.

Our seats were prefect to watch the players fly and see the quaffle at all times. Although we were definitely within hitting range from the bludgers. Who are those little insects down there walking along the grass?

We sang two national anthems. When the second started, I smiled and said, "Oh, Canada" before searching in vain to find their flag.

The game began, and the ball was kicked high into the air. "Get up! Get up! Get outta here! Gone!" As it rose, I yelled, "Fore!" for safety. Once it hit the net, I said, "Let!" When it went over, I knew there would be a five-minute major penalty for Delay of Game. Luckily, I had kept my eyes on it the whole time and was in no danger of being hit (by anything except those bloody bludgers). Eventually, the ball returned magically from the stands. That's not supposed to happen; it was your team that did it!

The ball was definitely touched more than three times. Once it crossed the entire court and the ref failed to call icing. Another time the player took it over-and-back, and my Fang Fingers were ready! During a tough call, I don't know why they didn't consult the experts in Toronto to review the play again. They didn't even take a TV time-out. The play clock continued while they exchanged yellow Christmas cards.

Shots on goal were few and far between. The goalie even ventured far from his net to retrieve the ball, but I screamed at him, "Get back in your net, Vokoun!" When the ball went in the gutter, I offered to give them a second serve, but I was benched. One man patted the top of his head, clearly needing to tie his shoe, but the play-clock never stopped. Although, the one and only intermission was cut short by five minutes.

In the last two minutes, we should have pulled our goalie. At the end, the red, white, and blue was victorious. After all, the lowest score wins, and they had three while we only had one!

I went to a football game today. I prefer to call it soccer, but either way I understand all of the rules.

For His Glory

I've been looking for God moments in my own life and I haven't been smacked in the face with any. However, I've recently heard three "Yay, God" stories. None of them are mine, but they give me goose bumps every time I tell them. Feel free to add your own!  God is good. <>< Katie

1. A female friend of mine attends a public university. She and one of her female friends were at a party in a dorm, when they needed some fresh air. The two of them stepped outside alone and were approached by two men. Naturally, these girls got nervous about the situation and began to pray for their safety. The men introduced themselves as Christians on campus who walk around and ask how to best pray for their classmates.

2. Another college student friend needed to go home for an event. She had intended to go home in the morning but made a spontaneous decision to travel home the night before instead. That night she went to bed around midnight; her grandfather was still up watching tv. At three in the morning, she woke up suddenly and could not fall back to sleep. She decided to get up to get a drink of water and noticed the living room light was still on. She went in and found her grandfather asleep on the floor. She woke up her mom and told her to tell him to go to bed. Grandpa was responsive but not really coherent, so they woke up Grandma. Grandma said that wasn't normal and at four in the morning they called 911. Grandpa had gone into diabetic shock and if God hadn't woken up my friend at 3am, her grandfather would have died.

3. Wife made "a big oops" regarding the family's finances. A bill hadn't been paid correctly and the correction ended up to be a huge sum of money that needed to be paid now. This left the family with less than $15 for a food budget to last a little over a week.  Husband said he would scrounge up whatever he could find for a week, not a big deal. Wife, on the other hand, is pregnant and therefore needed substantial food. He told her to keep eating normally, everything would turn out alright, God would take care of them. They had no idea how, but they stepped out on faith that He would provide. They didn't tell anyone about their hardship. That week, a woman came up to Husband while he was at work. She said, "You and your family have been such a blessing to me. I want to show my appreciation." She handed him a grocery bag. Inside were a dozen eggs, a jar of homemade jam, and a loaf of homemade bread.  God provided.

I have been rejected

As part of my English major, I have to take a Communications class.  Someone please explain that one to me.  All I know is I would much rather write about donating blood or girls tumbling from walls than yesterday's bank robbery on 15th and Main St.

My optimistic attitude about this class quickly moved to dislike.  I even mentioned it to one of my English professors.
Professor: You know, you could have taken Poetry Writing instead of Communications Class.
Katie: I know, but I thought this would have been the lesser of the two evils.
Professor: You would have had more fun in the other evil.

Well, I think out of boredom, some of very clever lines have flowed through my fingers in this class.  And let me tell you, they're not about the hit-and-run that happened around 10pm last night...

The professor handed us a speech asked us to write an article about it, and said, "You're going to like this one."  I'm not sure if it was out of spite for the professor or spite for the class, but I was determined for prove him wrong.  It was pretty easy.  This was a Steve Jobs speech, and I'm a Windows girl.  The irony is that this post was written from a Mac.

With a Shaun Groves post about fear pulled up as an incentive to finish the assignment, I began to read the speech.  Naturally, I did everything my English background told me to do: critique, analyze, examine.  Well, that's apparently a big no-no for journalism, but I didn't really care.  I figured I would turn the filter on later.

Somewhere around the middle of the speech, I moved from loathing the assignment to tolerating it.  Although I did not agree with all of the theology, Jobs was making good points.

"I had been rejected, but I was still in love," he said.
Jobs was talking about being fired from his own company, but I think that's a line that can be applied to a plethora of different aspects of life.

"I had been rejected, but I was still in love."

For me, the application that shines through most clearly is in writing.  I submitted a piece that I thought was a sure-thing, but it was rejected.  That's a hard pill to swallow, especially for someone who can't swallow pills.

"I had been rejected, but I was still in love."

I was rejected, but I still love to write.  Just like Jobs continued to pursue a dream that eventually turned into the development of Pixar and NeXT, I am continuing to pursue a dream.  Who knows where it will turn out. 

This is what I do know: God gave me a passion for writing.  It is one of my strengths.  There is no way that He isn't going to use it for His glory.  I am willing to suffer through every Communications class required for my English major just to see that come to fruition.

<>< Katie

a YAV at the NYG in NOLA

Every three years the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod hosts a National Youth Gathering (NYG) where, you guessed it, youth from all over the nation gather together.  I was lucky enough to attend the gatherings in Orlando in 2004 and 2007.  This year it was in New Orleans (NOLA) and my role was a little bit different than in the past.  Instead of participating this year, I had the opportunity to serve as a Young Adult Volunteer (YAV, pronounced like "yam" but with a "v") and quite literally be the hands and feet of the gathering and, more importantly, of Christ.

What does this mean?

A. It means I got to wear the same orange shirt every day for a week.  One night they made a joke about the stench around NOLA and blamed it on Orange Nation (the YAVs) and Yellow Nation because they were both only given a single shirt for the entire Gathering.  They joke continued to say a portion of that night's offering was going to buying air fresheners for us to wear around our necks.  Yummy.  It also means I got a green backpack that, combined with the shirt, made us all look like pumpkins.  And I got a gold VIP bracelet that let me go just about anywhere I wanted (or needed) to go.

Read: Long days, short nights, and sore feet.

B. At 7am every morning I was headed into the community to serve and help rebuild in the wake of Katrina.  Vegetation removal, landscaping development, etc.  They let me be in charge of a bus.  One day I almost left a group in the bayou.  The next day a different group left me at the woods.  The first day I was actually able to give away my Bible to a New Orleanian!

Read: Physically exhausting; spiritually exhilarating.

C. At 7pm, I was wearing the same orange shirt with a pretty yellow vest as I tried to make sure no one was trampled as they invaded the Superdome.  Basically that meant I was the first one trampled.  I'm 5'8" and 120 lbs.  There's not much I can do to slow down 25,000 excited teens except to be a speed bump.  I don't know if you're familiar with the Superdome, but what is considered the first floor is filled with dangerous catwalks that I had to stand next to for five hours every day.  Sure, there's a railing but it's was almost exactly at the top of my hips.  Since my body naturally bends there, it would not have been hard to push me to a nice soft landing on concrete a floor below.  I will admit, there were some people I would have preferred they knocked me to my death than forced me to deal with them...
Read: Crowd control = Fear.  Lotta fear.  It is only by the grace of God that I survived.

Welcome to the National Youth Gathering, the place where all of those rules your mother taught you do not apply. Talking to strangers is encouraged (hugs welcome). Running, dancing, and jumping in the concourse are totally acceptable. Oh, and no indoor voices. Buckle up and get ready for a wild ride.
I'll be honest, it's hard to be friendly, fun, and flexible when you're working eleven to twelve hours a day and sleeping five to six hours a night.  It's hard to be spiritually fed while you're worried about making sure you're physically fed.  However, hard is not synonymous with impossible.

Even though the trip was last week, free time was sparse.  Instead of updating you while I was there, I'll use the next week or so to tell some of the great stories from my trip to New Orleans.
<>< Katie

Bloody Hell

Disclaimer One: Sometimes these God moments are great when God and I are talking about them... but they don't seem as great when I write them down.
Disclaimer Two: The title of this post may only be read aloud in a British accent, particularly one that belongs to Rupert Grint, aka Ron Weasley.

The other day I got brown Sharpie on my finger where the fingernail meets finger. I apparently haven't washed my hands enough (no peanut gallery comments, please) because it hasn't come off yet. Every time it catches my eye, I think I'm bleeding.  Naturally, I stop what I'm doing to further investigate.  It's not normal to be bleeding.

A few years ago, my aunt and I were putting something into a Ziploc bag (shells? rocks? wild flowers? I don't know) when I noticed some blood on the bag.

"Are you bleeding?" I asked.
"No, you are," she told me.

I'd say most people are pretty quick to tell each other when they're bleeding. If you have something stuck in your teeth or a booger hanging from your nose, they're not as quick to let you know but your real friends will still do it. What about if you're messed up spiritually?

I'll be honest: you're bleeding, I'll tell you. You've got food in your teeth, no big deal. Your zipper's down, chances are I'll let you know. If you're messing up spiritually, I'm not so quick to jump in.

First of all, I'm far from perfect: who am I to correct someone else? I've got more than my share of battles of my own, thank you. Frankly, I think that's an excellent excuse. Until something inside of me remembers I am quick to exhibit physical common courtesy but a little more slow to offer spiritual common courtesy.

But where do you draw the line between spiritual common courtesy and bashing someone upside the head with a Bible? (Side note: my mom physically did that to my sister once... it was an accident). Does it matter? An open zipper, a stray piece of food, and a little bit of blood is hardly life and death. Spiritually, it's eternal life or not. The stakes are bigger and the risk less willing to be taken. Why is that?  The only answer I have is fear. 

Most people consider faith to be a matter of opinion.  Hey, guys, Jesus didn't say, "Follow whomever you like."  He said, "Follow Me."

Does that mean I'm going to stand on a street corner with a megaphone?  No.  Does it mean I'm going to reconsider before I let another witnessing opportunity pass?  Does it mean I'm going to try to be more obedient to that nudge from the Holy Spirit?  Does that mean when people ask what I'm doing next year instead of saying, "I don't know" I'm going to say, "I'll be wherever the Lord leads"?  You betcha.

Will you join me in doing the same?  Consider this my telling you that there is a piece of broccoli hanging from your spiritual braces.

<>< Katie

Wrong Number

It's Friday morning (ok, early afternoon).  I'm sitting in the den blogging with my feet above the desktop keyboard to where I have to reach around my knees to type.  No one else understands how I do it but to me it's surprisingly comfortable.  My sister Laura's in the kitchen eating breakfast, something I should do any minute.  The house phone rings.  Yes, we have a landline.  I pick up the waterproof yellow phone in front of me to check the caller-id.  I don't recognize it, so I set the phone down.  Since I only live here part-time no one calls me on this number.  Even when I lived here full-time every single phone conversation went something like this:
Katie: Hello?
Caller: Hey, Sarah, it's Somebody Random who just keeps talking until I have to cut her off.
Katie: This isn't Sarah.  Hold on, let me find her for you.
Caller: Oh, sorry, Laura.
Katie: Not Laura either.
Caller: Wow!  Christina you sound so grown up.
Katie: Keep guessing.
Caller: Freddy?
Yeah.  I don't answer the phone anymore because apparently I sound like a man...  Besides, if it's not for me, why answer the phone?  To take a message?  We have this cool machine that does that for us.

I hear Laura in the kitchen also pick up the phone and check the caller-id.  She must recognize the name because she answers the phone.
Laura: Hello?
Woman: Who is this?!
Laura: Laura.
Woman: Oh. Sorry. Wrong number.  Bye.
Laura: Bye.

She hangs up and bursts out laughing.  "The woman spazzed when a female answers the phone!  It was so funny."

After chastising her for saying her name to a stranger (In my mind the appropriate answer is, "You called me; who is this?") we had a good laugh at this stranger's wrong number.  Maybe it's because I'm a writer that I want to know what her thoughts were when Laura answered the phone.  Was she calling home to check on a husband she suspects is cheating?  Was she expecting a young child to answer (or not answer) the phone?  Is she just a freak-out lady?

We laugh, and I return to my blogging.

<>< Katie

Deep thoughts from Bejeweled Blitz

I am officially addicted to Bejeweled Blitz again.  It's a facebook game my mom introduced me to over Christmas break.  I intentionally never downloaded it onto my page because I knew I'd get addicted.  Instead, I was forced to play on hers meaning I needed her to log me in.  Yes, my mother was my enabler.  Over spring break, I discovered her password and no longer needed her assistance to Blitz.  However, I still had some self-control since it wasn't on my page.  As soon as the semester was over, I downloaded the stupid game to my page and have been playing daily since.

If you're not familiar with this addicting game, an 8 by 8 box fills with jewels.  You've got a minute to flip them around one at a time to make lines of three jewels that are the same color.  Once three of the same color are together, they disappear.  If you get four, three disappear and the fourth turns into a flaming jewel.  Line the flaming jewel up with two more and all of the surrounding jewels explode.  There are other features, too, but I want to focus on the flaming jewel.

Since you've only got a minute, I'm always planning a few moves ahead of where I'm flipping.  Sometimes that means a flaming jewel appears and my moves disappear before I get there.  Of course, you get points for this in the game, but sometimes it's annoying.  Sometimes there are so many explosions you kind of sit there staring at the screen like, "When is it my turn to play?"

As I'm wasting hours one minute at a time I'm thinking about life.  A year from now I'll graduate college and I have no idea what I'm doing next.  That terrifies me.  Three years of college down and I still don't know what I want to do with the rest of my life.  Ok, well, I want to write, but what's the career path for that?  I haven't figured that out yet.  Right now I don't even know if I'm going to grad school (where?  to study what?) or going right into the workforce (in this economy?  doing what?).  I'm not tied to any part of the country but there are two states I call home.  I don't have any idea what I'm doing after I graduate, but as this year progresses I'll make plans for my future.  I'm a planner; this is what I do.

Maybe, like the jewels, my plans will explode and something else will replace them.  A lot of times, when the jewels change, better moves appear.  As my plans explode and change, maybe better opportunities will surface. 

I hate all of these unknowns and unexpected changes.  However, I realize I am not alone.  There's a whole facebook support group for those of us facing Blitz addictions.  And there's countless college students pensive about their futures.

I think Nikki said it best a few weeks ago when she said, "I'd just love for God to send me my MASH in the mail and be done with it."  Unfortunately, that letter hasn't come yet, so here I am still pondering and wondering as I flip jewels around and waste my life one minute at a time.

More so than normal, this post was written for my own mulling more than it was for anyone else.  If you were able to follow it and learned something, wonderful!  If not, I'm sorry you wasted your time.  Oh, and please don't tell me I have a year to figure out what I'm doing with the rest of my life.  I might smack you.  Fair warning.

<>< Katie

Rock Climbing

It's Pastor Russ's birthday today, so that means it's time to tell me favorite Pastor Russ story.  OK, so I have a lot of favorite Pastor Russ stories and quotes ("Don't be naked; it's dumb to be naked; wear clothes in the shower"), but this is the best that's not a "you had to be there" story.  I've told it a million times, and I've blogged it before.  (Side note: that blog was the first time I ever got a comment.  Thanks, Drums!)  It's one of those stories I'll be telling for the rest of my life, so I don't feel bad about telling it again.  If you've heard it before (or read it before), enjoy it again.

While I was in high school my youth group took a day trip to an indoor rocking climbing course.  Most of the climbs were set up on an auto belay system so anyone could do them.  Belayer and climber both clip in and they're good to go.  The belayer is even clipped to the ground just in case the heavier climber slips.  This is great for light-weight belayers like me who are at risk for flying into the air when their climber takes a misstep.  It's really inconvenient for both of you to be dangling in the air; trust me.

Anyway, this particular day I'd done most of the easier climbs and decided I wanted more of a challenge.  Eyeing up a climb in the corner, I opted to try it.  I vaguely remembered climbing this one years earlier as a younger child and I didn't make it all the way up.  I wanted to go for it again and this time make it to the ceiling.  There was one problem: this climb was challenging enough that it wasn't an auto belay for your average amateur belayer.  I needed to find someone certified to correctly tie in my harness and belay for me.  Lucky for me, Pastor Russ, one of our chaperones, was ready and willing to do that.

Trying to make conversation instead of standing there awkwardly while he tied in my harness, I was teasing that since he tied me in he was responsible for my falling and breaking a leg.  I said, "Now, if I fall, it's your fault."

He smiled and said, "If you fall, it's not my fault, but I'll catch you."

I wasn't really scared to try this climb but that was incredibly reassuring.

Isn't that was Jesus says to us on a regular basis: "If you fall, it's not my fault, but I'll catch you."  It's not His fault that we've messed up, but we've done it and He's here to clean up the mess.  It's not His fault when we stumble; it's His hand with the firm grasp on our arm to catch us.

"If you fall, it's not my fault, but I'll catch you."
Let Him whispered that truth into your life today.

By the way, after slipping a few times, I did make it to the top of that climb, but I couldn't have done it on my own.

<>< Katie

BANG

With a good-book in my hand, I was curled up in the coziness of my bed with two blankets, a comforter, and Mom's homemade quilt (don't get me started on our air conditioning situation...). I was confident, safe, amused, and lost deep within a another world when suddenly I was rudely ripped back to reality.

I don't know which I heard first: the banging or the screaming. My mind went wild.

Someone just fired gunshots in my living room, I panicked, imaging the worst case scenario. My suitemates are out there bleeding to death, the thoughts continued as I contemplated the best way down from my loft: climb or leap. What if the gun-man is still out there?

Wait a second, that didn't sound like gun-fire, I noted. This isn't inner-city Chicago; this is the middle of nowhere. Way too creative, Miss Writer. I began to think of more plausible ideas. The guys on first floor felt their snow-ball pelting a few weeks ago was inadequate and we've become their target once again? Bottle rockets? Fire crackers?

"Gosh, I love the smell of sulfur," Nikki moaned; Allyson and Jo still screaming incomprehensible words.

Once I realized we weren't all going to die and my heart stopped pounding, I turned back to my book and instantly could felt my face turn red. The book in my hands? Fearless by Max Lucado. The Chapter? "Worst-Case Scenario." Yup. Maybe I should start reading that chapter again.

<>< Katie

Dreamer

My sister sent me a message that said, "Look, it's you!" Along with the link to an article about a man who screams bizarre statements while sleeping.

Yes, I do talk in my sleep. However, unlike the man in the article, I don't have a wife (or husband or roommate) to write down my weird night-time quotes. While I do record the dreams I remember in the morning, I will not be putting a tape recorder in my bedroom at night. Instead, I'll be forever doomed to remember my classic line, "NO, DADDY, I DON'T WANNA WEAR THOSE PANTS!"

I've got a wide variety of dreams. Some of them very creative like the dream about turning into a shoe (that's going to become a short story for class). Sometimes they make me nervous. The dream about taking a long fall off of a pier and into a field of cat tails made me nervous because I sleep on the top bunk... But I was relieved to wake up still in bed! I have learned that if I'm having a nightmare/ super weird dream, I'm probably cold. Well, I'm almost always cold no matter how many layers I wear and our air conditioned apartment isn't helping. Thus, I've had a lot of weird dreams lately.

I firmly believe God still speaks through dreams and the other night he caught my attention again.

The other night I had this dream where my "uncle" had gone blind. At first we were all fed up with his new loss of sight because he was running everywhere without a real care. However, eventually we accepted it.

When I woke up, I thought some more about it. Just because he lost his sight doesn't mean he was living his life in fear. If I lost my sight, I'd be scared to move, but he was flying everywhere, not afraid to fall. Without sight, he had no fear.

Without sight of Gods' plans, do you have fear? Are you willing to fall? Are you willing to fail? Are you willing to be lifted up again?

"For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control."
2 Timothy 5:7 (emphasis mine)

<>< Katie

Crash Boom Bash

"I'll give you a ride back to your apartment," Jessica offered as we walked out of practice tonight. Then she added only half-jokingly, "If you don't mind riding with me."

I could have walked back to my apartment, in fact I seriously considered it. However, the dangers of riding with Jess seemed less than the dangers of walking across campus alone in the dark.

As I got in her new car, I thought back to that warm October day. I remember getting in her car that morning and thinking, If we crash, these color guard flags are going to cause some serious internal damage. We did and they didn't.

This past October, Jessica and I were headed to an academic event when we blew a tire by running off the road to avoid getting hit head-on by a line of Dodge Rams. God sent us some of our classmates to change the tire. We were going to get to our destination and get a new tire since we were in the middle of nowhere and were headed towards a bigger city.

In this brouhaha our GPS got messed up. It was telling us to get on the freeway, get off at the next exit, get back on the freeway going the other direction, get off at the next exit and on and on and on. Since we were driving on a spare tire, we didn't think it was wise to be on the freeway at all but neither of us knew an alternative route. Well, it wasn't long before we needed more than just a new tire.

We pulled over in a vacant parking lot to adjust the GPS. Destination reset, directions make sense, knew where we're going, put the GPS down, and continued our journey. Not a mile later we t-boned a Dodge Ram.

Afterwards I didn't talk about the accident much because, well, there's no nice way to say, "Jess and I totaled her car yesterday." Besides, the conversation was always more or less the same.

"Oh my gosh, are you ok?"

I'm fine. Yes, I'm a bit sore, we totaled a car for heaven sake, but I've been more sore from tennis practice. No ambulance ride. No ER. No nothing. No, that answer isn't going to change if you call back in two hours.

"Were you scared?"

First off, what kind of question is that? Who crashes a car and isn't scared? Me apparently. I watched the truck stop at the stop sign, cross oncoming traffic, cross the left lane, appear directly in front of our car. The only few seconds I cannot physically see were us making contact, the airbag deploying, and the trunk spinning. It would have been logical for me to close my eyes, after all there was an airbag colliding with my face (not to mention the truck colliding with our car). Even though I can't see those few seconds, I can hear the crunching of mental. With confidence I could tell EMS that my head was not responsible for the cracked windshield on the passenger side.

"Does the other driver have insurance?"

Can you drive a car without insurance? He admitted it was his fault and apologized. He said he never saw us but did stop at the stop sign. I know this to be true. I watched him do it.

Although it's not something I'm happy we experienced, we've both learned a lot from this day.

First off, we are thankful for flat tires. Since we were driving with the spare tire, we were driving slowly, ten to fifteen miles under the speed limit. It's not hard to notice that if we had been driving the speed limit, the hood of our car could have easily gotten stuck under the truck. That's would have made for an entirely different outcome.

Secondly, it is a miracle that we had no injuries. The car took the brunt of the impact. Besides the dashboard, the only thing inside that was broken was Jess's GPS. (Which was already not in proper working order). Both of us were offered medical care. Jess opted for on-site evaluation, and I turned it down. For days I wondered if this was something I was going to regret, but I don't because I was not injured. In all honesty, I'm kind of disappointed we totaled a car and the only bruise on my body was from where I'd gotten body-slammed into the counter the week before. We are incredibly thankful for God's arms of protection surrounding us.

God provided us with compassionate people all the way through the day. From the other students who helped us change the tire to the woman who stopped to make sure we had a phone to call 911 to the bikers who waited with us until emergency personnel arrived to the emergency personnel themselves. Even the other driver was nice. There's no way I can ever thank everyone that helped us. I thought to thank some on the scene but some I didn't and that is one thing I regret from that day.

The other thing I regret is not being more of a backseat driver. I had been watching the truck the whole time. Jessica said she'd never heard me, "Jess, are you watching that truck? He doesn't see us. Jess! Truck!" I'd already been a backseat driver that day (as always), so I was trying not to be obnoxious. I was not screaming. Except for the millisecond as we were about to make contact when I doubted myself, I knew the whole time that he was not going to make it across the road before we both tried to be in the same place at the same time. I've resolved myself to forever be a backseat driver because I'd rather be annoying than be in a crushed car.

There are a zillion reasons why this accident didn't make sense:

- Periodically throughout our journey, Jess had been texting or talking on her cell phone. Texting/talking and driving has always bothered me. The irony is that she was not messing with her phone when we crashed.

- We should have never been on that road at all in our journey. If the GPS hadn't been messed up we would not have gotten off the freeway. If we would not have done the safe thing and pulled over in the parking lot, we would not have had to travel back down the road to get back to the freeway.

- If those first trucks and their ATVs had not made Jessica so nervous, we would not have swerved so far off the road that we hit the curb and popped her tire, so we could have been to our destination on time.

- If...

If, ands, and buts aside, we had an accident. That's exactly what this is: an accident. Except not to God. God doesn't have accidents; He may be the only one to know why it happened. But it did happen, and God is good. All the time.

Just because God is good doesn't mean our day was good. I mean, we got up on a Saturday to leave campus at 8am on what should have been a 55 minute drive only to return to campus at noon (the time I normally wake up on Saturdays) having never made it to our destination.

No, we did not get credit for the academic event we tried to attend. When I told the professor we tried to go and got into a car accident she looked me in the eye and essentially said, "Bummer." That irked me. If someone tells you they totaled a car trying to go to your event: do NOT under any circumstances say, "Bummer!" Even an, "I'm sorry" would have been nice... and necessary.

I've really struggled with this blog. Writing about the accident isn't hard; telling people about it is. However, I've really felt God's give me a story to tell, and I've been disobedient by keeping it to myself. I wrote this post a week ago and have revised/ rewritten it several times since then. Except I haven't posted it. I put it in my "next time I don't have something to say" collection of blogs. Face it, I always have something to say. I couldn't figure out why I was being so selfish and keeping this story silent.

Last night, I figured it out. Worshipping three rows in front of me was Jessica, my driver. Whether we like it or not, she and I will always have a bond because we crashed a car together.

Sitting in front of her was a different girl, also named Jessica. This other Jessica was in a car accident when she was in high school. A horrific accident where people died. She almost did, too. I'd known this for years but never really knew her story. Seeing her today helped me realize why I was being shy about sharing my story. The night before we crashed, Jessica told me about her car accident. She should not have lived! We talked about how God has healed her, physically and emotionally.

It clicked tonight seeing her for the first time in months. She was in a car accident and almost died, and God has used her story. I was in a car accident and walked away without a scratch; God can and will use my story, too.

I will not be silent any more!

<><>

PS. If you read this all the way through you deserve a hug because it's the Microsoft Word equivalent of three pages (without the photo). I'm sorry. Honestly, I tried to keep the details minimal. If I included everything I wanted to this post could have easily been fifteen pages. Ask me if you want more information because I'll freely give it. :-) Thanks for reading!

Peaceful

In my living room right now is a huge poster my small group made last semester listing everything we fear. Some of them are irrational fears like mice, wet paper, spiders, germs (ok, that was mine), fire (that's mine, too)... However, some of them legitimate, colossal fears like dying young, unintentionally pushing people away from God, accidentally killing a patient, rejection, failure, car accidents,not having what we need, running out of time, etc.

Since we've made that poster, I've come to realize that a lot of these fears control my life. I am slowly learning to let them go. Our current Sunday School study entitled "Fearless: Imagine A Life Without Fear" is helping a lot.

Today we discussed the fear of running out. What? We listed things we can run out of: gas, time, energy, and even hope. I didn't think this really applied to me until I was standing in Wal-mart an hour later with a case of water in my arms. I still had a two-gallon of water in my apartment (not to mention tap water but I think it tastes gross and has black floating things it in) but there I was buying more water. Unintentionally, I always ration my water, especially when I'm driving. I always leave one last schluck in the bottle until I arrive wherever I'm going. What if I get really thirsty before I get to my destination? What if I start hacking up a lung and don't have any water?

The fear of running out.

Worry. That's the root of this fear. Being concerned about something without considering God's involvement. Honestly, I don't think God's going to let me choke to death on air before I arrive unless that's His plan for me. Maybe it is. I don't know, but I can't spend my time worrying about it.

Matt showed us a variety of other ways to deal with our fears:
1. Pray first- 1 Peter 5:7, first means before anything else
2. Easy now- Psalm 37:7, take it to Jesus and be specific
3. Act on it- treat it like mosquito that lands on your arm.
4. Compile a worry list- look at them again next week. How many were really as big of a deal as you though?
5. Evaluate- do you see any themes appearing?
6. Focus on today- Hebrews 4:16, one day at a time
7. Unleash a worry army- let others share in your concerns and pray with you
8. Let God be enough- Matthew 6:32-33, even if you run out of everything else, He is there
That spells out:
P.E.A.C.E.F.U.L.

Be peaceful instead of worrying.
Go to God instead of being consumed by fear, even if you can't form a complete sentence. It happens. "God. Scared. Help!" will work.

"I will fear not evil." - Psalm 23:4b

Go in peace and serve the Lord,
<>< Katie

Fear

Today was my least favorite day of the semester: Syllabus Day because it means I'm stressed. Yesterday was my favorite day of the semester: Spring Retreat. Of course, why not save the best day for the worst day and blog about them in reverse?

Yesterday we did a lot of introspective stuff and spend a lot of time talking about being transparent and revealing ourselves to each other.

One question we had to answer: What keeps you from sharing?

The most common responses was fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of failure. Fear of humiliation. Fear of vulnerability. And on and on. Fear.

Do we run our lives based off of fear? Why do let fear control us when the only One whose opinion matters has already made up His mind? I've blogged about this before. Just once or twice. :-)

God loves you. Never forget that!

I love you, too,

<><>

Use Me

I think I over-estimated my number of readers... does anyone actually read these blogs?

Last week Monday, my friend Jessica was concerned about the lack volunteers for VBS. We all concurred that God would provide.

On Wednesday, I went out to lunch with a mutual friend Emily to discuss high school ministry and in the four parking stalls between her car and mine, she somehow convinced me to see if Jessica still needed help for VBS. I knew God would provide for Jessica, but I never expected that I would be the one He provided. In reality, God dropped people from the sky for her, and the fall didn't hurt. God and I had a good laugh all the way home.
"Use me," I said, "but obviously You don't need my permission to do that. Yet I still give it."

Well, a week later I have survived my first VBS ever! There are a plethora of children's songs running on shuffle in my head... where they have been for the last week. Yet the effects of VBS go a whole lot deeper than musical hallucinations.

Last night, I drove past a dead opossum on the road. I chuckled when I contemplated pulling over, putting my hand on it, and saying, "God gives up life!" (And I half expected a loud "Fear not!" to follow).

This afternoon, my VBS kids were running back towards church and I said, "Let's use our walking feet." Imagine my surprise when every single one of them slowed down and began to walk! I was still talking, and one of them turned around and said, "SHHH!!" to me! I forgot, walking feet go with quiet mouths and listening ears! It only took a week for them to learn and less time than that to forget, but it feels good to be shhh-ed by a four year old.

One of my VBS friends loved the firefly he made on Monday. Every day he asked if he could take it home, and everyday the answer was, "You may take it home on Friday." Everyday he told me, "This is my firefly. It reminds me that God is with us! FEAR NOT!" Some lessons do actually stick.

Max Lucado recommends taking a walk with a child every day to see life from their point of view. Well, every day this week I got to see God through the eyes of a four year old, and let me just tell you: He is good!

Learning to Listen,
<>< Katie

Can't I Just...

My friend Danny updated his blog the other day with a post about how it's much easier to minister to people from the other side of the radio, podium, or cyberworld, than it is to sit down with people in person. I'd have to agree.

God has this tendency to make us a bit uncomfortable.

This year I became a small group leader for a wonderful group of girls. God literally shoved me out of my comfort zone and forced me to put down the pen and use my voice instead. Now, I have no problem talking. I love it, actually. But there are so many reasons I didn't want to talk in front of people: what if I tell them something that's not of God, what if I talk too fast (quite possible since apparently I'm "Telemundo in English"), what if I sound stupid, what if they don't understand what I'm trying to say. What if I make a fool of myself?

Well, I have made a fool of myself. (Although I'm not the one that thought she was really smart when she realized you had to be a Jew to be Jewish). :-D It happens. Just goes to show I'm human. But guess, what: God still loves me no matter how silly I sound (or look).

Like I've told my small group girls: I'd much rather write about God and how amazing He is because that's easy. He doesn't want me to only thank because it's easy. He's thrown my way out of my comfort zone, but He hasn't left me there.

Do we see a trend? How many times now have a blogged about God pushing me out of my comfort zone but not leaving me there? You'd think I'd have learned by now...

<>< Katie

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love that is in Jesus Christ our Lord." Romans 8:38-39