Waiting

Let me tell you something you probably already know: waiting stinks.

Waiting for your oil to be changed, waiting in line at the grocery store, waiting for the bus.

Waiting for a company to post an opening, waiting for a manager to want you on her team, waiting for the phone to ring.

Waiting for someone on the other side of the world to say, "I've never met you but I love you."

As of when I'm writing this, there are 407 Compassion children who have been waiting, waiting, waiting for more than 180 days for a sponsor. That's six months or longer.

Where were you 180 days ago? That would have been September 2, 2011.

A forgettable day, perhaps? Too long ago to remember?

Not for Walson. One-hundred-and-eighty-three days ago Walson was at a Compassion Child Development Center in Haiti signing up to be a sponsored child. Walson has spent the last 183 days waiting for a sponsor.


Sponsor Walson here
His child ID number: HA8150328

On the Compassion website, the children that have been waiting for more than 180 days are marked with a heart.

It seems only appropriate.

When you're waiting, you need someone to love you and love on your. With every day of waiting, hope seems to dwindle.

Two-hundred-and-ninety-five days ago I walked across a stage and received the most important piece of paper of my life so far. Having spent almost 300 days unemployed/underemployed, I understand waiting. It's miserable.

There are things I can do (am doing) to bring my wait to an end. I can pray, pray, cry, and pray. I can network, I can apply for jobs, I can make cold-calls.

When you're waiting for a sponsor, there's not much you can do but wait and pray.

I've been waiting in hope.

These children are waiting for hope.

For fresh water. For medical care. For education. For someone to say, "I believe in you."

These 407 children waiting for sponsors want to be wanted. They need to be wanted. They deserve to be wanted, to be cared for, to be loved.

During my days of waiting, I've had so many great friends pray for me, offer suggestions, and pull me into their arms as I cry again. They've loved, encouraged, and held me. I appreciate every single one of them! (Yes, even the job suggestions that don't fit my skill set).

This is my plea: do the same for a child.

In turn, you're doing it for me.

The words "Thank you!" don't seem sufficient. If you decide to sponsor a longest waiting child (which I hope you do!) Compassion will give you a scrapbook for you to use to keep your letters, photos, et al.

What are you waiting for?
<>< Katie

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.

Thankful

It's hard.

It's hard to be thankful when you don't know when your next paycheck is coming (or from where). It's hard to be thankful when your best friends are 900 miles away. It's hard to be thankful when your office is the most central location of your parents' home, when your internal clock has no idea what time of the year it is, or when you don't have any idea what your calendar will look like even a month from now. It's hard to be thankful; it's easy to host a pity party.

Every once in awhile, I let the tears roll. They're good. They're healthy. But once they come, they're hard to stop.

Like Job, I speak bluntly and harshly to the Lord. While it's nice to get those feelings out on paper, it doesn't usually solve much. (Did I just say that out loud?) I still don't know what's next. I'm still playing pin the tail on the donkey.

And still even here, I have a lot to be thankful for. Did I not wake up this morning breathing and refreshed? When I rolled over and put my feet on the floor, did they not stay there and hold my weight? (No peanut gallery comments, please). Was there not toothpaste in the tube, toilet paper on the roll, and soap in the dispenser? Is there food in the pantry and hot water in the shower? Do I have a jacket, shoes, and gasoline?

Have I not people who love and care about me? People who encourage me and pour into me? Scripture tucked away in my heart? Is the Lord not in this limbo, this barren desert, this hideous time in between?

Life is hard. Yet still there is so much to be thankful for even if they're the small, simple things we tend to take for granted. Even if it's the tears and the angry words. Even if it's the promise, "I will be with you always to the very end of the age" (See Matthew 28).

Even if nothing else goes correctly, that one reason alone is enough to bring thanksgiving to my lips again and again.

<>< Katie

Quality Time

As my week back home in Baptist Country was drawing to a close, I pondered who I had gotten to see for a substantial amount of time and who I wanted to spend more time with.

The friends I am closest to, naturally, fit into the "I want more time!" category. But I began to wonder, how much more time did I want? If life and other obligations were no object, how much time would be sufficient with them?

Forever.

I wanted to stay in their apartment forever.  I wanted to sit in their offices and chat days away.  I wanted to never ever leave again.

Of course, an infinite amount of time with my friends would be fun.

But I decided that's what kind of relationship I want with the Lord. I want to lock myself in the prayer room and never come out. I want to sit at His feet and never move. I want to rest on the chest of my Abba Father.

Forever.

<>< Katie

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

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

Edit Friends

Facebook has this feature near the log-out button: Edit Friends.

How often do we want to edit our friends?

I'd like you to not laugh like that, you to not laugh at that, and you to laugh.
I'd like you to have more compassion, you to stand up for your beliefs, and you to smile.

It's easy to look at others and find faults we desire to edit away and change.

It's harder to look at ourselves and say, "I don't like this about me.  Let's edit that fault."

Yet that is exactly what God does to each of us.  He edits us, His friends, to make us more like Him.

Some edits are simple like moving a comma or turning a neutral face into a smiling one.  Some much more involved.  Ideas that need to be rethought, lifestyles that need to be revised, and plans that need to be removed.

I like editing papers.  I don't always like having my papers edited.

I like critiquing others' personalities and finding their faults.  I don't like having my own pointed out.

But it's necessary.  My grammar's not perfect and neither is my life.

Sometimes softly and other times more sternly, yet always lovingly, God edits us to be more like Him.

"And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image." 2 Corinthians 3:18b NLT

After all, we were created in His image.

<>< Katie

Reply

I have a good friend who is very bad with email.  He admits it, and I'd say that to his face.  Usually if I get a response, it's a week later and brief.

That's a big if.  Normally, I don't get a reply.  Sometimes I wonder if I really sent the email or if I only dreamt I did.  I've considered attaching a "read receipt" so I know when he's gotten it and read it.

Except last week I was talking to him and he made a reference to something I'd said in an email.

"You do actually read my emails," I exclaimed in shock.

He assured me he does.  He reads all of them even if he doesn't respond.

Ladies and gentlemen, that's God.  He reads all of our knee-mail (sorry, that was bad).  God hears our prayers even if we don't hear His response.  In his book Too Busy Not to Pray, Bill Hybels points out that God only speaks when He has something to say.

Sometimes that quality drives me nuts.  But I take comfort in that fact that He has heard my cries.

As a writer who thrives on feedback, this silence is especially difficult.  But it's necessary.  If it weren't, God wouldn't put me through it.

So, even know I know responses will be few and far between, I will continue to email my friend.  Even know I know I may get an answer of silence, I will continue to pray to the Lord.

<>< Katie

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

Life-Long Friendships

My dad's birthday was earlier this month, so while everyone else was out, I had the job of answering our home phone.  I don't usually pay any attention to the home phone because no one calls me there.  But this particular day I did and what I saw was an area code from Baptist Country.

Even though I knew the call wasn't for me, I got excited.  Talking on the phone to someone in that state made me feel closer to my college friends.  It was the wife of one of my dad's college buddies calling to wish Dad a happy birthday.

A few hours later we received another call from Baptist Country.  This time it was the husband of the woman who called earlier.  I answered the phone and passed it on to the Birthday Boy.

Even though he went into the other room, I could still hear their bantering, the inside jokes and stories that never get old, and the gut-busting laughter.  I couldn't help but smile.  Even though their relationship has been mostly limited to an annual dinner (thanks to having a daughter in the area... wait, that was me) and birthday phone calls, my dad and Mark still have a friendship.

That brought me an amazing amount of encouragement to know that even when we're not seeing each other every day, my college friends and I can still joke around, retell stories, and (yes, even) sass each other.  While the miles between us will change, our friendship will remain the same.

<>< Katie

PS: College friends who thought they were finally free of me and my sassy, sanitary self... so sorry!

Trust, Even in the Desert

Let's be honest for a minute: some days I don't want to read my Bible, don't want to pray, don't want to spend time with the Lord.

It was one of those days.  Even though I wasn't tired, I was ready to call it a night.  I just didn't feel like doing a devotion.

Grudgingly I threw my Bible on my bed and flipped to where I was reading in Nehemiah.  Chapter 9.  The same chapter the pastor used in his sermon on Sunday.  The same chapter we'd read in small group.  In two days I had gone from oblivious to practically an expert on Nehemiah 9; I didn't want to read it yet again.  I figured I'd skim it quickly and go to bed.  Wrong.

Here's what you need to know: my favorite Bible is held together by purple duct tape.  If you drop it, a tree of papers will fall out.  The margins notes are numerous.  It's in such rough shape that I rarely take it out of my room.  But it's in that Bible where all of my sermon notes have been transferred... since sixth grade.

I flipped to Nehemiah 9 and lo and behold sometime in the last ten years (excluding this past Sunday), I heard a sermon on Nehemiah 9.  It was at our student worship service a few years back.  It wasn't my favorite guest speaker and based on the date and when that would have fallen in the semester, I debated even going that night.  I'm glad I did.

In Nehemiah 9, the wall around Jerusalem has already been rebuilt.  The people have literally wept upon hearing (and understanding) the Law they have not kept.  Now they're confessing their sins and reminding God of how He's been faithful to them through the exodus, the desert, and into the promised land.

It's an exercise I have been encouraged to use myself.  Since we're being honest, post-college life is a bit (ok, a lot) like a desert.  My days are filled with job searching and rejections.  My support system in 900 miles away.  I have to constantly remind myself of God's faithfulness.  But, as He did not abandon the Israelites many thousand years ago, God has not abandoned me here.

Have I abandoned Him?  Not quite.  But some days I do my devotion grudgingly; I grit my teeth while praying.

The notes in my margins around Nehemiah 9 say:

How far ahead could they see?
1. Not very far due to the pillar
2. As far as they needed to see

"You're not ready for the Promised Land if you can't trust Him in the dessert."

Hum.

Nehemiah 9:21 says, "For forty years You sustained them in the desert; they lacked nothing, their clothes did not wear out nor did their feet become swollen."

I could make a list of things I lack here in the desert of unemployment.  But in Matthew 6, Jesus prays for daily bread not daily steak.  I have clothes sticking to on my back, I have a roof and ceiling fan over my head, and I have dinner on my plate.  It's definitely not ideal but it's satisfactory, at least for today.

And still, here I am annoyed that God said, "Not now" to graduate school, disappointed that my ideal job has not been dropped into my lap, and sad visiting my closest friends requires an airplane ticket.

How far ahead can I see?  Not very far.  But just far enough.  Not as far as I would like to see but just as far as God is willing to let me see... for now.  As difficult as it is to remember, He sees beyond the pillar.  He knows what comes next.  As I need to see it, He will reveal it to me.  Until then, will I trust Him in the desert?

God, I want to trust You in this desert.  But it's hard.  I am not ready for the Promised Land. Without Your grace and love, I will never be ready.  Prepare me for what lies ahead beyond my vision but not beyond Yours.  Let me focus on You and the pillar You have provided to lead me both by day and night.  I don't have to enjoy this desert, but I want to be found faithful through it.  Thank You for not abandoning me here.  I love You.  Amen.

<>< Katie

The Climb

"It's not very, how do you say?  Es-steep," said our host-pastor, Manolo.

Famous last words.

From my first step off the bus I knew the hike up the mountain would be challenging for my out-of-shape self.  Manolo said it would take 45 minutes, but I didn't dare time it.

I followed in line behind some mountain runners... I don't run on flat ground much less up a mountain.  It was not long before, I was incredibly out of breath and I could feel my heart pound in about 87 different places.  It was so bad someone asked me if I have asthma.

Those in front of me kept going but I could not keep up no matter how hard I tried.  I gave everything and it wasn't enough.  Finally, I paused to rest.

Neal: Hey, Katie.
I didn't even have the breath to respond; I turned my head towards him.
Neal: That's where we're going.
He pointed above our heads to the rock.
 

Neal: Does that encourage you or discourage you?
Katie: I know it's supposed to encourage me, but, honestly, it's really discouraging.

I had no idea how far I'd come but it seemed shorter than I had left to go.  That was discouraging!

As the runners disappeared from my view, I found the strength to continue.  I'm not a quitter.  I knew it would eventually be worth the pain.  And I had been promised communion at the top of the mountain.

A Nicaraguan youth with our group offered to carry my bag.  I let him (that bilingual Word of the Lord is heavy!), and he disappeared up the mountain.

Katie: There goes my water.
Neal: I have some.
Katey: We can share mine.

I felt so cared for and loved.  I was getting up that mountain, my friends were going to make sure of it!

Neal would pop back down and again, but Katey and I walked together the rest of the way up the mountain. She accepted my pace, and we stopped frequently to enjoy the views (ok, and catch my breath). It was no longer a race to the top but about enjoying the journey. Slowly I began to enjoy my trek rather than only continuing for the communion at the end.

Tortoise-style Katey and I continued towards the top... Slow and steady. Eventually we heard laughter and shouts from nearby.  Even though we'd lost the rest of our group, they had to be nearby.  We rounded the corner and there they were.

We'd made it!  We had reached our destination!  The handiwork of our Creator was ours to enjoy!

From the top, we could see for miles, kilometers, actually.  It was breath-taking!  When everyone made it to the top (believe me or not, Katey and I weren't last) we took a group photo.  Best team photo ever!  Then we took a seat and listened to Manolo teach while we watched the Master Painter paint us a beautiful sunset!

Afterwards, we were given the assurance of the forgiveness of sins through the body and blood of Jesus Christ.  We then sang "Revelation Song" a capella.  Breath-taking!

The wind was blowing and the sun going down, taking the temperature with it.  Even with the goose bumps on my arms, I didn't care much. 

Now in the dark, we began our journey down the mountain, under the barbed wire, and around the rocks.  Except we hadn't planned to be hiking in the dark, so we didn't have enough flashlights for everyone.  New version of walk by faith and not by sight!

We walked slowly, getting split up as we went.  We prayed for safety.  Cold rain began to fall.

Hiking down a mountain in the dark, shivering, and it's raining.  Sounds awful, right? 

"Well, it'll be a story to tell when we get back," I said.  Honestly, I thought it was wonderful.  Maybe I'm biased because I was one of the lucky ones with a flashlight.

Sherry began a rendition of "The Wheels on the Bus."  That turned into "The Hokey Pokey" which became "I'm in the Lord's Army" and "Father Abraham."  (Those are Baptist songs... I don't really know them either).  We were having so much fun singing and slipping.

Eventually our group got separated, and I walked alone with my flashlight.  Under my breath I continued to sing.

I love You, Lord,
and I lift my voice
to worship You.
Oh my soul, rejoice.
Take joy, my King,
in what You hear.
May it be a
sweet, sweet sound
in Your ear.

Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father, God.

Worthy is the
Lamb who was slain
Holy, Holy is He.
Sing a new song
to Him to sits on
heaven's mercy seat.
Holy, Holy, Holy
is the Lord God Almighty
who was and is and is to come.
With all creation I sing
praise to the King of Kings.
You are my everything,
and I will adore You.

Just me and Jesus time.  Somehow amidst the literally rocky ground, the cold breeze of night, the gentle rainfall, and the tiredness of my body, I found the strength to praise Him.

The climb down was considerably better than the trek up because I had a goal.  It wasn't the top of the mountain.  It wasn't even the bus at the bottom.  It was to spend time in the presence of the One who formed every mountain, placed every rock, and grew every leaf.

The same One who put me there was worthy of all of my praise.

When we made it to the bus, those who were already there cheered for the newcomers.  I smiled.  We did it.  Not by our own strength or power. God's hand of protection guided us up and down.

Take a minute to praise Him today.  Amidst the barbed wire, the rocky ground, and the wind.  As you share the heavy load and water with friends, thank Him for the friendship.  As you see flowers, sunsets, and raindrops realized He formed you, too. Enjoy the hike up; it's not a race.  Enjoy the stumble down; it's ok to fall.

<>< Katie

PS: No one was hurt in the making of this blog.  (Except maybe a spider).

Life Box

One of my friend's art expressions class had to fill a box with items to represent them.  Any kind of box/container was accepted.  One student used a guitar case; my friend used a shoe box.  The then had to present the items in their box, explaining its representation, and talking about themselves for ten minutes.

In telling us about this project, I asked my friend what she put in her box.

"A guitar pick because I'm learning guitar.  A flip flop because I'm from the beach.  Pictures of my family and my best friends.  A puzzle piece because I love puzzles.  My favorite scarf because fashion is really important to me..."

She went on for a long time trying to remember all of the items in her box.

"Oh, and I put in a Book of Common Prayer because I couldn't put in a Bible," she said.

"Why couldn't you put in a Bible?"  I figured maybe it was a class rule.

"It didn't fit."

I continued to listen patiently but inside my heart was breaking.  We all pack our life box and realize God doesn't "fit" into the plan we've created.  We take everything out, rearrange a little bit, and realize everything's not going to fit.  Some thing's going to have to go.  But what?  We're attached to everything.  Letting go of anything is a painful part of life.  But, unfortunately, it's necessary.  Sometimes God asks us to say good bye to hobbies, relationships, locations, traditions...

The question is: are you building your life box around Him or are you trying to fit Him in at the last second?

<>< Katie
PS: What would you put in your life box?
Mine: my Bible, my iPod (we'll pretend I have a working one), my Writer's Notebook, my purple Nalgene, my phone, some hand sanitizer (of course), lotion, the ring and cross necklace I wear daily, a glassblown cup, a scrapbook, and my passport (for journeys past and present), and a book to read all in a Louis M. Martini wine box to represent my cultural heritage.

Light Your World

It was somewhere between 11:30pm and midnight.  I turned off the light and began the stringray shuffle towards my bed.  About 3/4 of the way there I stopped, contemplating a Lambeau Leap into bed just to entertain Jennifer.  Jennifer!  I turned around and shuffled back towards the blinking light switch.  As soon as I hit it, my roommate Jennifer and I doubled over in laughter.

Well, I doubled over; she almost fell out of bed.  It wasn't really that funny, but we laughed until our stomachs hurt.  Everything's funnier in the middle of the night, right?

She had been reading when I walked in from the bathroom, turned off the light, and headed to bed. 
Here's the kicker: I totally knew she was reading and turned out the light without thinking anything of it! 
Here's the second kicker: She didn't say anything!

I guess you had to be there.  We laughed until we couldn't breathe.  That could be hazardous to your health.

You know what else could be hazardous to your health?  Absent-mindedly going through life.  Turning off the light before you get into bed despite the fact that your roommate is reading.  Making it your goal to get from Point A to Point B as fast as you can without noticing the people you pass on your way.  Every day counting down until the next day when you can sleep in.

I consider myself pretty observant and friendly.  I noticed Jen was reading.  I wave to snowplow drivers.  I address people by name when I pass them on campus.

But get me in the caf and I am in a zone!  Sure, I'll talk if I'm in line, but most people tell me they saw me in the caf but I looked like I was in a hurry, so they didn't say hi.  In the caf, sometimes I don't acknowledge people until they call my name.  Clueless. 

What if we took the time to notice the other people in the caf?  Instead of just seeing bodies in between us and the milk, what if we saw the faces of God's children?  What if we actually payed attention to what we were doing rather than doing it half-heartedly or rush?

What if we left the light on for someone?
What if we cared?

<>< Katie

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:

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

Healed By His Wounds

Last week I got unjustifiably angry at my close friend "Keely."  It was silly really.  It all boiled down to me being jealous... and hurt.

Something happened in the living room and instead of addressing it like an adult, I pouted in my room and text-vented to Amber.  I got so worked up that I was crying.  Silently.  Even in the same room, my roommate was unaware that I was having one of the most intense text conversations of my life.

For the next several days I held a grudge against Keely.  That's when the suitemates began to notice. 
"You've been extra sensitive lately, Katie."
"Katie and Keely have to sit on opposite sides of the room because they might rip off each others' head."

The two of us agreed to tone down our playful sassing for awhile and make sure we're showing love.  Through carefully planned words (and some not-so-carefully planned ones) I acknowledged why I had been so sensitive.  When it all boiled down to it, my anger had nothing to do with Keely.  Yet she had been the recipient of my frustration, jealousy, and anger.

She accepted my apology, which she said was unnecessary.  She hadn't considered my feelings about the situation.  We both decided to be more careful and move forward.

I got to take communion this week (a rare event in Baptist Country).  In confessing my sin to my Lord, the first situation that popped into my head was the situation with Keely.  I again asked for forgiveness and for those hurt feelings to be removed.  I wanted to be healed of the whole situation.

I almost cried again when Keely served me the bread.
"Body of Christ, given for you."

Forgiveness.  Given to me. 

"But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed." Isaiah 53:5 (emphasis mine)

Be healed in His wounds today, friends.
 
<>< Katie

Craving Attention

With the Wiimote in her right hand the nunchaku in her left, she aimed for the television ready to shoot her archery arrow.  As she prepared to complete her shot, she was interrupted by a flying monkey.  Also known as her little brother.

When their mother told him to stop, he made her his next victim.  She was sitting on the floor, and he began a game of king of the hill.  I could see it was only a matter of time before my little buddy earned himself a time-out.

"Hey, Buddy, I've got a question for you," I said from the other side of the room.

"Did you hear that?  Katie has a question for you," his mom echoed, giving me the "thanks" smile.

The six year old ran around the coffee table and leaped into my arms.  There wasn't time to wonder if I was going to catch him or not.  I did and in a matter of seconds I had him in a headlock.

Katie: First question, how old are you?
Buddy: Six.
Katie: Second question, how do you like being upside-down?

I flipped him over, and he giggled and giggled and giggled.  I pulled him onto my knees.  My next move was going to be a "walk in the woods" where my knees become a horse galloping and suddenly the rider drops in a hole.  But it wasn't necessary.  When I pulled him back up and onto my knees, he sat peacefully for almost five minutes.  I was shocked.  The kid who mere minutes earlier bouncing off the walls was relaxed on my lap.

He had been looking for attention, and I gave it to him.  That's all he wanted.  He didn't want to cause trouble, he wanted someone to pay attention to him.

Don't we do the same thing?  We run around searching for attention in everything we can find.  More often than not, the wrong things.

When we focus our attention on God, He gives us what we need.  He catches us and holds us to His chest.  Sure, life isn't perfect in His arms.  Sometimes we even get flipped on our heads.  But He's still there, with His arms held firmly around us.  His constant love engulfing us. 

When Buddy was on my lap, the adult conversation around me no longer mattered.  He had my undivided attention.  When we're talking to God, we are given His undivided attention.  How cool is that?  To know the Creator of the universe is listening to you? 

Talk to Him, my friends.  Seek His attention.  Cuddle in His lap.  You won't regret it.

<>< Katie

Wait

The middle school girl across the dinner table from me was lost gazing into space.  Her friend said she was deep in thought.  Naturally, I asked what she was thinking about.  Again her friend provided the answer: boys.  She has a boyfriend but there's another guy she likes.  I've never been there, but I still realize that's a difficult position.

"You know that one thing all guys want?"  the girl asked.

I nodded, carefully choosing words as we embarked into dangerous territory.  "If he does not respect you, then he is not worth your time," I said.

She nodded and told me about her purity commitment.

"One day you will find a man who respects you as a woman," I continued.  "One who will honor your commitment and your relationship with God.  Maybe he'll even share in them.  You will find a man who treats you right.  Do not settle for anything less."

She nodded.

There was no point in continuing my sermon.  It was something she already knew but needed to hear again.  Likewise, I needed to say it again.

Interdigiting

"Let a child take you for a week every week." - Max Lucado

My Baptist Church had a (dry) tailgate before my college's Homecoming football game. Amber wanted to take little Abby to the parade. I figured my six year old boyfriend would enjoy it, too.

Several weeks ago it came out that this busy six year old has three girlfriends. I asked if I could be number four. His father applauded him for working the college girls. He was too embarrassed to look at me all day. I think that means yes.

I knew getting him to go to the parade with me was a long shot but it was worth a try. At his father's insistence, he came. The four of us walked (ok, Amber carried Abby) to what we thought was the parade route only to discover we were on the wrong side of the soccer field. Even at their slowest speed my long legs move twice as fast as this six year old's little legs. I didn't want him to get lost in the crowd. I also realized he'd still a bit uncomfortable with me. I kept a close eye on him and my hand at a level where he could grab it if he so desired.

The closer we got to the parade, the closer he got to me. When we stopped, he reached up and took my hand. He then reached up with his other hand and grabbed hold. We watched the parade together, my right hand held captive in both of his.

I was no longer jealous of Amber with the toddler. I had a six year old comfortable enough to grab my hand with both hands. Maybe he was afraid the animals on the floats were going to jump off. Maybe he was afraid I was going to wander off and leave him. Maybe he was lost but he knew I wasn't; I knew where his parents were. All the way back, he held me hand with one hand and stuck so close I had to step around him to move. I didn't mind.

Is that how we should be with God? Our inclination, especially at first, is to wander nearby God. As we walk, we realize He knows where we're going. And we don't. We step closer and closer to Him. We link hands and let Him show us the way. He leads; we follow closely and (sometimes) obediently.

When my "boyfriend" had my hand, my face had a smile. I loved walking hand in hand with him. I wanted to introduce him to everyone we passed, I steered him clear of hot grilles, I returned him safely to his parents. If I can feel that much joy from walking with a six year old who may or may not claim to be my boyfriend (my vote is on not), how much more joy does God feel when we walk with Him? God takes pride in calling us His children. He does not steer us clear of all trials and turbulence but He does walk with us all of the way. With His shield of protect, nothing happens to us without His knowledge. That's more than I could promise my "boyfriend."

<>< Katie

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.