Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

What Does Your Twitter Say About You?

A friend asked for my help with his Twitter. He gave me his password, told me he trusts me, and left the country. True story.

I logged in on my phone, did what he asked me to do (and only what he asked me to do), and moved on with my day.

A few hours later, I was scrolling down Twitter and realized this was not my feed. In case there was ever a question, I am not following Sesame Street, REI, and the Minnesota Vikings on Twitter.

Before switching back to  my own Twitter, I took a gander along his home page, curious about what I would find. It seemed really intimate and stalker-ish. I mean, your Twitter feed is personal to you; no one else is following exactly the same people that you are. What did my friend see when he logged on to Twitter? What was he filling his brain with privately?

Nothing I found surprised me. Amused: Yes. Surprised: Nope. Every person and business that caught my eye fit his personality, his hobbies, his passions, and how he presents himself. According to his Twitter feed, he is who he says he is.

I switched back to my own Twitter and wondered about who I have chosen to follow.

Does my feed say that I am who I am?
Does it represent my passions, my hobbies, and my favorite things?
How often does tasteless language appear on my homepage?
What am I putting into my mind?

Of course, this doesn't only apply to Twitter.

What are you feeding yourself?

Through your Twitter, the blogs you read, the tv you watch, the people you spend time with, the books you read, etc.

If you can tell a lot about a person from what he or she posts on Twitter, then what am I showing? Goodness knows I share a lot.

As I shared last week, a sister in Christ when home to heaven unexpectedly. The world has leapt all over the fact that her final Tweet was a prayer of thanksgiving for another year of life.

We Christians can't help but smile at God's sense of humor and omniscience.

The secular world uses it as a warning that if you Tweet-pray, God might kill you.

Sorry. I hope my last Tweet is a prayer, a scripture, or a powerful song lyric. After I'm gone, I'd much rather everyone see my faith than whatever silly thing my roommates said or the cat did.

Take some conscious time today to objectively pay attention to the following things:

1. What are you seeing? Reading? Inhaling?
2 .What are you posting? Saying? Exhaling?

Are they consistent? Are they consistent in who you are and the Jesus you represent?

<>< Katie

PS: If you see something questionable in my life or on my feed, I trust that you'd be kind enough to call me out on it.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Reverse Trick or Treat

It was a few days after Halloween and I was driving across the country.

Sixteen hours. Alone.

I was constantly searching for cheap(er) gas, only stopping at fast food restaurants where I had coupons, and paying half of my life savings to the state of West Virginia in tolls.

I got cranky fast. At two dollars a pop, those tolls were adding up fast. It cost me more to drive through West Virginia than I spent on food, by the way. 

But then I got an idea.

At the next toll booth, I pleasantly greeted the man. What an awful job he has. I handed him a five dollar bill.  He gave me my change. I took it and extended my hand with a Baby Ruth in it.

"Happy Halloween," I said. He laughed. Not a chuckle, not a smirk, not a courteous "that was a joke attempt that wasn't really funny." No, a full-belly laugh.

The gate went up, I wished him a good day and drove off.  Maybe his day really was good. After all, he had a fun size Baby Ruth to munch on until the next driver came.

But my day was good. I had "miles to go before I sleep and miles to go before I sleep" but I also had his laughter bottled up in my memory.

All it took was a piece of candy and a smile. It didn't hurt me a bit.

I've heard it said it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile. The huge bag of Trick or Treat candy was sitting in my passenger seat just waiting, begging to be eaten (maybe that's why I spent so little on food). I don't even like Baby Ruth.  But from this guy's laugh, he does.

Make a difference today. It doesn't hurt much. Laughter overrides cranky.

<>< Katie

Monday, December 27, 2010

Marathon Christmas

I grew up thinking this was normal.  I grew up thinking a lot of things were normal, myths my roommates have quickly dispelled.  You mean everyone doesn't have four Christmas trees and a 30-hour Christmas?  I supposed now you're going to tell me everyone has more than three cousins, too, right?

Christmas Eve
3:00pm- "Get in the car now!"

4:00pm- We start Christmas where all Christmases should begin: in church.  We pass the bulletin from one end of the pew to the other, share notes, and split a half a piece of gum thirteen ways.  You think I'm kidding.

6:00pm- "And WHY are you snow blowing in your Christmas suit?"
All thirteen of my maternal side of the family is gathered in my aunt and uncle's kitchen.  We're munching on meatballs, shrimp, and the world famous cheese dip.  We need something in the stomachs as we begin a long night of alcohol consumption.

7:00pm- "Maybe we should open presents." 
"Yes, that bow is beautiful on your head." 
"What kind of tape did you use?  It's impossible to rip!"

8:00pm- Grandpa and Grandma get a fifteen minute head start (we even use the microwave timer) to light candles and turn on lights before the entire party mobilizes to Grandpa and Grandma's house.  We open presents first from my grandparents and second from my aunt and uncle from out of town.

9:00pm- Grandpa and Grandma serve us pizza subs on paper plates just to have some substance during our night of grazing.  "Sure, I'd love some blackberry wine."

10:00pm- My family's turn for the fifteen minute head start.  There are advantages and disadvantages to being the last house in the round-robin.  The biggest disadvantage is that the hair and makeup need remedial help before the photograph in front of the tree.

11:00pm- "Who wants to be Santa?"

12:00am- Grandpa and Grandma decide it's time to go home.

1:00am- "Someone has to eat my food!"

2:00am- We karate chop the remaining family out of here, clean up the kitchen, and set up for the morning.  Time for bed!

For the next four to six hours visions of sugar plums dance in our heads while Santa flies over head.

Christmas Day
8am- "Santa's been here!"

9am-  The family gift exchange and Santa presents are opened on Christmas morning.  Dad gets coal.  And the grille to go with it.  Mom cries when she opens the puzzle photo collage of my sisters and me growing up.  My flannel jeans from Cabela's miraculously fit!  "Dad, I got you a six pack of beer just because I can.  No, I don't want one." 

10am- "Get in the car!  We're late!"

11am- "Are we there yet?"

12pm- Growing up, my family was always the last to arrive at my paternal grandparents' house.  Some traditions die hard.  Christmas dinner will be served at two.  I regret not eating more than a banana for breakfast and dive into the chips, fudge, and pie on the kitchen table.

1pm- I'm in a photo war with Travel Buddy, my uncle who's a professional photographer.  I take literally 178 photos.
2pm- The Charlie Brown Tree. 
Every year my grandparents go to the tree farm and find the most ridiculous tree in the $5 bin.  It's too thick to put ornaments on it.  It's so thin you can see through it.  It has two tops.  They then barter until the owner lets them buy the tree for $3.  They give him a $2 tip.  This year the tree branches needed to be transplanted, so they got it for $2 with a $1 tip.  Remember, the camera adds ten pounds.
3:00pm- "This restaurant is only open twice a year, so you'd better dig in!"
Thanksgiving dinner is remarkably similar to Christmas dinner.  The main difference is that the men are actually allowed to sit in the dining room with the women rather than being banished to the kitchen.  We pass rolls by overhand tossing, make the misbehaving adults sit at the children's table, and, heaven forbid, we forget the olives.

5:00pm- Photo shoot! 
Each family.  "At least pretend like you like each other."  All the girls.  All the boys.  "Stop that!"  Three generations.  "Where'd Grandpa go now?"  All the granddaughters.  All eleven of us.  The stray people we picked up on the street.  All dogs.  "Ok, my camera's memory card is full."

6:00pm- "Yes, I'd like a brandy old fashion, please.  We're going to be here for awhile."
Commence the longest present opening extravaganza in the history of present openings.  Grandma hands the first present to Tina.  Tina opens it, throws the wrapping paper on the floor, and examines it for fifteen and a half seconds before she must stand to pick and hand out the next present.  If she surpasses her allotted fifteen and a half seconds, the entire crowd shouts, "PICK A PRESENT!"

7:00pm- Fifteen minute intermission to fill the glasses and empty the bladder.

7:15pm- "Pick a present!"

8:00pm- "PICK A PRESENT!"
Every year Grandma and Grandpa give each of their four grandkids a gold ornament engraved with our names, the year, and "Love, Gma & Gpa."  After twenty-some years, Wal-mart stopped making the ornaments, so Grandma had to get creative.  This year she bought some silver ones from Target and engraved them herself.

9:00pm- "Pick a present" brouhaha is finally over after three hours of present opening!  Grandma and the four granddaughters sit in the heaps of wrapping paper for the annual photo.  Grandma boasts that she is 71 and can still get down on the floor.  We help her up.

10:00pm- Grandma asks who brought the iPod for the traditional Christmas Day dancing in the kitchen.  No one has music; no one has the energy to dance.  The men are Wii bowling in the kitchen.  Grandpa's winning.  "That's an awful nice purple dress you've got there, Jim," Greg says, and the crowd rolls.  Grandpa's using my Mii.

11:00pm- The food comes back out for those who are hungry.  I eat some cherry pie, little smokies, sweet potatoes, and fudge.  In that order.  "Shhhhh!  Someone may be sleeping."

12:00am- That someone should be me.  But we're having too much fun retelling old stories, hacking up lungs, and laughing hysterically.

1:00am- That someone is me.  It's the only night of the year when I can sleep with socks on because of the heat problems in the old farmhouse.  Yet I sleep with a smile on my face.  Another great Christmas!
I love hearing about Christmas traditions.  What are yours?

<>< Katie

Friday, October 29, 2010

Self-Serve Ice Cream

When it comes to upper body strength, I'm a weakling.  Lift this heavy item?  No, thanks.  Do a pull up?  Yeah, right.  When you're a weakling, you need tricks.  You wedge your hip against the ice cream cooler and pull, with two hands if necessary.

Most days, that works.  Yesterday not so much.  I've scooped myself a lot of ice cream over the last three plus years, and I will say this was honestly the hardest I've ever seen the ice cream.  After five minutes of struggling I still didn't even have a spoonful.

"It's really hard today.  We just put in the new buckets," said the male voice behind me.  "Do you want me to give it a try?"

Out of breath, I turned and surrendered my scoop... to our executive chef.

You know those people who are always smiling and have a kind word?  I call them "Radiators" because they radiate love, grace, and compassion.  Our executive chef is one of them.

He took the scoop and half-disappeared into the cooler.  He came up for a breath and gave me an "Oh my gosh!" look before diving in for a second go.

The executive chef stopped what he was doing (probably refilling the dessert tray, explaining to Nikki the science behind why the alfredo sauce looks like gravy, or making something delicious at the end of the salad bar) to serve me from the self-serve ice cream.  I did nothing to deserve his help but he saw a need and sought to satisfy it.

Ladies and gentlemen, that's is exactly what God calls us to do.  Stop what we're doing and offer to help.  See needs, no matter how big or how small, and satisfy them.  To serve one another, even if that means putting our other responsibilities on hold.

Thank you, Mr. Executive Chef, for the reminder.  And for the ice cream.

<>< Katie

Monday, October 25, 2010

The Painful Smile

Allyson and I were joking around when suddenly she stopped smiling and gripped the top of her head. The night before she'd gone to the ER for a head injury and came home five hours later with the hiccups. She explained that being hit on the head with a color guard flag made smiling a painful experience. Allyson smiles a lot, and to be able to not do it is... well... painful.

I can relate. I'm not really sure what I did but for two days freshman year it hurt to laugh. For two days I had a huge smile but I refused to laugh. You don't realize how often you laugh until you can't.

The world is not a fun place when smiles and laughter cause pain. It's miserable. Smiles and laughter are things God created for good and instead they were being used for evil.

How often does that happen? All too often.

Money, food, entertainment, and a million other things have been created for God's glory only to be tragically transformed by human wickedness. Instead of looking to others with love and self-sacrifice, we hoard for personal gain. Instead of honoring Him in what we watch, how we spend our money, and the words we use, we are frivolous and careless.

God created sex. (gasp!) It was a gift to man and woman to enjoy within the confines of marriage. Too often it's used in other scenarios making it less special. Less sacred. Less about God Himself.

God created me for a special purpose. Too often I disregard His plan and pursue my own. My words are full of hatred and grumpiness rather than compassion and grace. (gasp, again!)

No wonder the world is miserable. We're misusing His creation. The things He created for good we are using for evil. Of course it's causing pain. Our pain and His.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, let's reclaim the smile. The laughter. The finances. The sex. The entertainment. The word choice. Let's reclaim what it means to be a Christian by showing His love.

<>< Katie

Friday, September 17, 2010

"Are there any prayer praises?"

It seems all of the long-term prayer requests in our Sunday school group had changes for the worse this week.  The eleven year old fighting adult cancer lost her battle.  The two year old they thought was finally on the uphill slope was given less than a year to live.  A discouraged soldier.  Continued pain for several younger women with chronic illnesses.  More relationship problems from a daughter.

"Feel free to share praises, guys," Matt said.

On cue, the door opened and in walked a young family.  Husband and wife with their newborn.  She was still pregnant when I came back to school a month ago.  We pulled out extra chairs for them and they got to sit front row center.  The father reached over, grabbed the leg of his wife's chair, pulled it closer to himself, and put his arm around her.  I had this sudden overwhelming urge to be that woman.  Someday.

We added this family to our list of praises.  The general energy of the room lifted upon seeing their tired faces.  We began to thank God.  We had to do some searching, but we found reasons to be thankful.

What are you thankful for today?  Don't be upset if you have to search.  Were you healthy enough to get out of bed?  Do you have internet access to read this?  A roof over your head?  Food to eat?  Clothes on your back?

Even if you say "no" to all of those things, you can say "yes" to this: you have a God who loves you.  Let that be what you are thankful for today.  It is enough because His grace is enough.

With love,
<>< Katie

Friday, July 9, 2010

Who am I?

Sometimes I fluctuate like a pendulum between "God is awesome and everyone needs to know!" and "who am I to expect people to listen when I proclaim His name?"  Sometimes I hit both in a matter of minutes.  What's great is that He can use both ends of the spectrum.

I was having a "Who am I" moment the other day.  Who am I to share the Gospel?  Why should people listen to me?  What story has God given me?  The only times I've gone to bed hungry where the days when I didn't like what was served for dinner. I've never lost my job.  I've never been ripped from the jaws of death.  I've never overcome a serious addiction.  I've never...

Then like He always does, God smacked me in the face as He began to remind me of all of the things He has done in my life.  I've had a seven year old Guatemalan boy fall in love with me.  I've been in a car-totalling accident and walked away without a scratch.  I've been able to make a difference in the lives of teens at home and at school.  I've personally handed a bag of food to someone who will live off of it for the next month.  I've (been told I) energized someone who didn't know if he could muster up the energy to do the job correctly himself.

You think I did any of that on my own?

Maybe I don't remember a specific day when I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior.  Maybe I didn't overcome a life-changing obstacle to obtain the faith I now proclaim.  That doesn't mean I don't have a testimony.  Testimony is God's people speaking out about what He has done.  He has given me a story to tell.  Who am I not to tell it?

Being used and telling my story,
<>< Katie

Monday, June 28, 2010

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

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Tall and thin isn't great

I normally try to keep the blog a complain-free zone.  Today you're going to have to excuse me while I throw a temper tantrum.

"Oh my gosh, you are soooo skinny!"
Every single one of us have said it at some point in time.  Please, let's every single one of us erase this sentence from our vocabulary.  As well-meaning as it may be, it is often not well-received.

1. You wouldn't walk up to someone who's overweight and say, "Oh my gosh, you are sooooo fat."  Would you?

2. A lot of times it's followed up with a concern--either verbally or mentally--about how much the "stick" eats.  I understand and appreciate the concern.  Eating disorders are a problem in today's society, absolutely.  But do you really think your question about how much he/she eats is really the best way to approach the (suspected) problem?  I have a close friend who has strugged with an eating disorder.  She says comments, even complements, on her weight now are well-meaning but they make her cringe.  She hates words like "healthy" and "well" because of the connotations they have, even if those connotations are ones she's put on them.

As someone who has always been skinny, the question about what I eat is down right obnoxious and, frankly, borderline rude.  If you want to know about my eating habits, watch me devour a steak dinner.  It was delicious the first time.  There is no possible way I'd like to taste it a second.

3. "Try finding pants that fit." 
That's usually my response to people who feel the need to give me this counter-productive complement.  I've written many a blog-rant from fitting rooms as I'm choking back tears of frustrations.  It happened again today.  Before we left on our shopping excursion, Laura, Mom, and I took measurements.  My waist?  Yup, ended in a .5.  Hips?  --.75.  Inseam?  --.25.  It's no wonder clothes don't fit me!  We arrived at the store, and I picked out a pair of jeans one .5 larger than my measured waist.  They were great... if I were going for a muffin-top look.  I searched for pants one size bigger (which is really two sizes since all of the pants were even numbered).  Perfect, if I wanted to store a book in the back of my pants.  Mom miraculously was able to find the odd number, the middle size.  Too small in the front; too big in the back.  Just my luck!  Discouraged, we left, and I realized I have one alternative to this constant fight: nudist colony.

Please, I beg you, just leave the weight subject alone. If you must make a complement about a physical aspect of a girl's body, pick her hair, her eyes, her smile.  Tell her she's beautiful but don't use her weight to justify your opinion.

Thanks for letting me vent.  I'd love to hear your thoughts, if you agree or if you think I'm crazy.

<>< Katie

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Baptist Easter

I was nervous about my first Easter in Baptist Country.  Come to find out, it was just me being a pessimist.  Big surprise.  I was wrong.  My Easter was very good!  Even if no one responded when I called, "He is risen!"

Sometimes when you live in a dorm room you forget what it's like to live in a house.  You forget what it's like to not be able to swipe your card and get a (maybe) hot meal but instead have a fully stocked pantry.
Lunch on Friday was a challenge.  I can't really call it "lunch."  A more accurate term may be: the massive amounts of bizarre food consumed around mid-day.  It was Good Friday, so I couldn't eat meat and I don't eat Ramen (so many college students live on Ramen noodles that it's my goal to graduate without eating them), Elizabeth can't cook anything except mac & cheese and there wasn't any, Jennifer only wanted cereal, and Emily only likes food that begins with the letter "c" and won't eat food that begins with "p."  Thus our lunch dilemma.  We ate: Ramen (not me), rice and cinnamon, cereal, cantaloupe, applesauce, pudding, and string cheese.  Don't tell Mrs. Mary.  :-)

When you live in a house you have to remember that the blurry red lights across the bedroom aren't just there to be annoying but to someone they reveal the time in the middle of the night...
Something you may not know about me: I am a bad bed partner.  I talk, I kick, I really hate sleeping on the top bunk without a safety bar because, well, I use the whole bed and sometimes more.  When I learned Elizabeth and I were going to be sharing a double bed for five nights I was scared... for her sake.  Even if I only kicked her once every night that would still leave five painful bruises on her legs.  As it turns out, I never kicked her but instead I took an elbow to the face in the middle of the night.  Thanks, friend.  She said it's because I stole the covers.  I told her if she would have asked nicely I would have given them back but nooooo she had to get violent on me.  :-)

In a home, everything has a place and the only thing out of place is Bananagrams, the most frequently played game in the house.
When I close my eyes to go to sleep at night, I see Bananagrams letters.  I'm kind of experiencing withdrawals being back on campus.  It's a word game kind of like Scrabble but better; we played for hours every day.  This is marvelous for word-lovers like me.  Not so great for the weird math-lovers like my future roommate Jennifer or friend Chris.  No one is still quite sure how Andy was able to play Bananagrams with one hand and look up spellings in the dictionary with the other.  Either way his "n comes after m" got really annoying... If you can't use a word in a sentence, define it, or spell it then you can't use it!

When you live on campus sometimes you forget driving can actually be faster than walking...
Since I wasn't home for Easter, some traditions had to be broken... like sitting in a dark closet for three hours on Friday afternoon to commemorate Jesus' time on the cross.  One tradition I refused to sacrifice was the Good Friday Service of Darkness.  It's an incredibly powerful service for Jesus reflecting on the seven things He said from the cross.  I forced Chris, Andy, and Elizabeth into funeral clothes and to the Lutheran church down the road (not to be confused with the funeral home).  We were teasing about the five cars outside and all of us leaving wearing black; people were going to start calling asking who died.  Jesus did.  Well, we walked into church and the first person we saw was wearing bright green scrubs.  Another person was wearing an Easter bonnet.  And there we were all dressed in black... So maybe this Lutheran church is a bit different than mine.  My three Baptist friends were good sports about it, though.

When you live in a house you forget that in some places of the world there are commitments before 8am.
Including Elizabeth and her two sisters, Andy, and me there were five of us fighting for one bathroom.  We were really expecting this to be a huge problem Easter morning, but it actually wasn't too bad!  For the first time in years we made it to the Sonrise service on time!  I'd never been to a Sonrise service, so it was a cool experience to stand in the parking lot and put flowers on the cross.  It a beautiful tradition and it works in Baptist Country, but it wouldn't work in place where a white Easter is feasible.

When you live in a house you have real dishes and nice china, too.
This Easter was the first holiday without my family.  I handled it a lot better than I anticipated... until Mrs. Mary asked me to set the table and handed me a set of plates.  The china pattern was the exact same as my mom's.  Our also rarely-used good china was being placed around a rarely used dining room table 900 miles away where, according to an earlier text from my sister, a place had been set for me.  I think I'm going to be late...

All in all, my Easter was great!

Care for some quotes for good measure?
Emily: What's the lowest note you can sing?
Andy: Um... I think a seven.
Emily: Will you do it?

Andy walks in carrying a heap of blankets
Elizabeth: What's that?
Andy: My gardening utensils.

Jennifer: Will you hold my Nerds? And don't tell me I am what I eat!

Elizabeth: I feel like a limp noodle!

Andy: Emily, can I put this pig in your speed bump?

<>< Katie

Monday, January 25, 2010

Rushed Prayer

Katie
God
"Aloud"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With love,
<>< Katie

Thursday, July 31, 2008

So many memories, so many miles

Four blogs in three days. I must be sick. Actually, I am. :-)

My best friend Mary came over last night. I got home from work and had a splitting headache (remember, the sick part?) and wasn't thrilled about having to play hostess. I kind of vegged around the house and did nothing until about 8:30pm when my phone rang. Without looking at it or talking to her all day, I knew it was Mary, and I knew it was because of the construction. I answered the phone,
"The bridge is out. Sorry, I forgot to tell you."

When she got here, my headache kind of disappeared, and we played games all night long. Cribbage, Life, Scattergories, Stratego, Rack-O, etc. All classic Mary and Katie games. Surprisingly, this time we actually played by the rules and didn't make up our own rules. We've played Cribbage where if you don't want to throw into the crib you don't have to. If you don't like the letter rolled in Scattergories, you can roll again (ok, we did do that a few times, but, come on, how many pizza toppings, diseases, and Biblical women start with "K"?) Although, we still did some of our quirky traditions like naming our kids in Life as they came along...

I've known Mary since I was two. It's fun to hang out with someone like that who knows you soooooo well. We've teased that we aren't allowed to speak at each others' weddings because too many embarrassing stories will come out. Like the flair on facebook says, "We'd better stay friends forever because if we become enemies, we'll have too much blackmail." Even though Mary and I no longer have any common friends, experiences, or hobbies, we can still hold a multi-hour conversation. It's not one-sided. It's not "Oh, you weren't there for that." It's not "Do you know this person?". It's not awkward when the conversation finishes. A few minutes of silence is fine before the next conversation starts itself.

That's how things should be with Jesus. He shouldn't be awkward to talk to. He's always been there. He knows all of the same people. It should be an easy conversation. When the conversation ends, the silence of just being together should be nice before the next conversation begins.

When Mary got hungry while she was here, she didn't ask if I had any food. She'd help herself to the pantry and find food I didn't even know we had. If she wanted something to drink, she found a glass and filled it with ice. Let Jesus raid your pantry. Allow Him to fill your cup! "Have a Mary heart in a Martha world". Sorry, that was bad. See Luke 10. (Did that link really work? That'd make me uber happy if it did!)

After spending twenty-four hours with Mary, I would have expected myself to be sleep deprived. Shocking we were in bed, lights out, talking put on hold by 1 am. It's appalling because we normally try to stay up all night! Even though I got enough sleep, I have no voice. Too much talking (again, remember the sick part?). People here need to learn ASL because I hate not being able to communicate effectively. :-)

<>< Katie

"[Martha] had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. " Luke 10:39

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

I think we're gonna die!

I know, two blogs in one day WHAT? Well, you see, today is a very monumental day in our house, and I was not aware of it until five minutes ago.

In early July, my mom started a new diet that involves controlling what she's eating, how much she's eating, and when she's eating it. It's caused some major changes in our house. For example, it's 7:30pm, and we haven't eaten dinner yet because she can't eat for another 30 minutes. We're also had some pretty interesting food around here lately. The muffins aren't too bad once you get over the burnt-brown coloring, the crunchiness from carrot chunks, and fresh pineapple mush in them. We affectionately call her bread "Wood Chip Bread" because it seriously looks like mulch. Needless to say, I'm pretty excited to return to my college-diet of daily pizza.

My dad is taking another stand and attempting to save the environment. That's not to say he won't blow four cans of Raid in five minutes. Rather he's avoiding watering the grass and turning on the air conditioning. As a result, it's almost August and we haven't turned our air conditioner on all summer. It's ok because all of us (except Dad... how ironic is that?) like the breeze from having the windows open. I leave for school in two weeks and today, for the first day all summer, we turned on our sprinklers.

Mom's going organic.
Dad's going green.
We're going to die!

In Christ,
<><>

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." Genesis 1:1