Sarchi, Land of Broken People

Sarchi, Costa Rica, will forever be ingrained in my brain as the "Land of Broken People."

In the one afternoon we spent their, we saw more physically disabled people than I have seen in my entire life. He's wearing an eye patch, she's missing a leg, and that is not what a bandaged arm is supposed to look like.

I really wish I could say I did something noble like praying over the ailing or dispensing Advil or something.

I didn't.

I gawked and laughed at jokes about what must be in the water. It ashames me now. But to this day, anytime I see people with physical handicaps or disabilities, I remember Sarchi, land of broken people.

Could we not all be considered to be from Sarchi? Are we not all broken people?

Wounded physically, maybe but more likely wounded emotionally. Broken hearted.

Ironically, one of the two friends who visited Sarchi with me, the one who made the joke about the water, is responsible for breaking my heart. Intentionally or unintentionally doesn't matter. It happened.

Broken people.

I am growing to love broken people. It's in their vulnerability, when they share their brokenness, that God's glory shines most brightly. We can't all be perfect people. Let me rephrase that, none of us are perfect people.

Just admit it: you are broken. It's hard to say, but I am broken. I don't have it all together. I don't spend time with the Lord like I should. I snap when I should be courteous. I miss blog days when I have committed to blogging every other day. I try to exalt myself sometimes even at the expense of someone else. I even, gasp, cry.

I hate being broken. I want my body to do what I tell it to do. I want my emotions in check all the time. I want my heart guarded and unbroken. But trying to heal myself only turns into a more-contorted broken arm. More damage than good.

Yet I choose to sit at the feet of the Great Physician and let Him, in His time, bind up my wounds, replace my broken heart, and mend my soul. It is only then that I begin to heal. Maybe more slowly than I would like; maybe not perfect in the world's sense but perfect in God's sense.

And it gives me a story to tell. A story that boasts my weakness and His greatness.

I understand now, the older song that says, "Brokenness, it's what I long for. Brokenness, it's what I need."

I am broken.
I am Sarchian.

<>< Katie

Broken Hearted

I had never before seen The Heart Skit when our campus minister Neal gave us the thirty second plotline.  Three or four of us volunteered to be the protagonist, but Jessica chose me.  I kept quiet while they discussed who would be the man to break my heart.  They unanimously decided on Neal.  After making sure no one else wanted the part, Neal agreed.  Due to time constraints, the final cast was not able to practice together.

That night, the magnitude of the skit hit me.
1. I was going to have my heart broken on stage in a silent skit.  Can you say: FACIAL EXPRESSIONS?
2. I was going to have to flirt with my married campus minister.

I prayed for emotional strength and thought about boundaries.

During church the following morning, Neal and I took opposite sides of the stage.  In my hands I held a paper heart.  Neal's object was to romance me until I gave him my heart.  We made eye contact and showed embarrassment.  He waved; I giggled.  He took a deep breath and stepped closer to me.  I looked away and made the same move.  He put his arm around me; I leaned into him.  He reached out for my heart, and I pulled away.  He hugged me, I hesitated before surrendering the heart.  We both smiled from ear to ear.  He took my hand and paraded me around.  He pointed into the distance, I looked, and he planted a kiss on my cheek.  I blushed.

Was NOT expecting that.

From the side of the stage came another girl.  His attention shifted.  I tried to pull him back but he pulled away.  From behind, I wrapped both of my arms around his waist; he dragged me across the stage.  Using his foot, he pushed me off.  I stumbled backwards, regained my balance, and ran at him, jumping for my heart.  He pointed to the heart, pointed to me, pointed back to the heart, and got a devious look.

He took his hand off the other girl long enough to rip my heart to pieces and throw them on the ground.

I fell to the ground with my broken heart.

A friend walked by, picked up a piece of my heart, looked at it, dropped it, stomped on it, and walked away.

Two friends came and tried to help me piece it together.  When they let go, my heart fell apart again.

I sat on my knees trying to put my heart back together like a puzzle.  It didn't work.

Brett knelt at my side.  He put one hand on my back and a Bible in my lap.  His eyes dripping compassion, he pointed up, crossed his arms over his chest, and pointed to me.  I turned away.  He tapped me and pointed to the Bible.  I pushed him away.

Alone I sat, cupping the pieces of my heart to my chest.  It wasn't working.  I sat them down and turned my interest to the Bible Brett gave me.  I hesitated, closed the broken heart into the Bible, sat back, and prayed.  I waited until the camera flashes stopped.  I opened the Bible and tucked in the Psalms was a brand new heart!

Praise the LORD! For it is good to sing praises to our God; for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting...He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:1, 3

I love the image of being healed in Christ represented in this skit.  But I think it's oversimplified. 

Heart breaks are very real; being healed is a long, slow, painful process.  I've been there.  Five times last week and my share of times in weeks and months previous.

Our hearts are not the only ones that get broken.  We are often cast in Neal's role doing the heart breaking every time something we find more attractive or interesting comes along.  God's heart breaks every time we turn away from Him.

Every time, ladies, we're infatuated with a guy rather than with Him.
Every time we put our focus in something else.
Every time we doubt, fail to trust, are too hard on ourselves.
Every time we cry, God's tears outnumber ours.

Take a moment right now and tell Him how much you love Him.  Let Him love you back.  Let Him heal your heart.

With love,
<>< Katie

Great Things

I was thinking about next year and how I don't have any idea where I'm headed in May.  I've sent MFA applications to five schools around the country.  The closest to home is six hours away.  The closest to here is five hours away.  Of all five schools, the one with the closest family friends is three hours, my friend Rebecca's extended family.

I began to think about Rebecca's little sister Kaitlyn who's finally on the uphill climb in her horrific battle with Lyme Disease.  She has miraculously regained mobility but remains hyper-sensitive to touch, sound, light, smells, etc.  She's made huge steps (no pun intended) but has a long way to go.

Katie: God, You've given her such a great testimony of spiritual strength through physical weakness.  You're going to do such great things with Kait!  I'm so excited to see it!
God: Actually, Katie, I'm not going to wait until she's healed to do great things with her.  I'm doing great things with her right now.  I'm using her as she is, where she is.

I began to think about how God can and is doing the same things in each of our lives.  He's not waiting until we're healed, until we're in a middle-of-nowhere grad school, until we're all put together.

He is using us right now, where we are, as we are.

Being used,
<>< Katie

PS: For more about Kaitlyn's story, check out her caringbridge.  You do have to register for the site but it's open to anyone with a (free) CaringBridge account.

A Rapid Turn of Events

Last Friday when we got in the van on our way to Philadelphia, Lori was a bit groggy from her midnight shopping trip.  She talked about seeing a man from her church, Mark.  His pregnant wife Beth was two days overdue at the time.  Obviously she couldn't go shopping, so she sent him out with a huge list of items to get Black Friday shopping.

"Wouldn't it be funny if he went home ready to take a nice long nap and she went into labor?" Lori said.

God thought it would be funny, too.  By the time we were in the Wells Fargo Center enjoying our intense hockey experience, Beth had gone into labor.

After the game, we got back in the van and Mr. Steve said, "God said we can come to Him in the good and in the bad.  Today we need to go before Him in the bad."

I thought he was referring to the recent devastating Flyers' loss in the third round of the shoot out.

No, Beth had delivered the baby and there were complications.  We didn't have a lot of information.  Neither did Beth.  But the baby had been transferred to a different hospital, and the prayer chain notified.

So pray we did.  Right there in the middle of a traffic jam in Philadelphia.  We said we wanted healing for Mark and Beth's youngster.  We didn't even know if it was a girl or a boy.  We didn't know what was wrong.  But we knew God knew.  We knew God cared. We knew God could heal the baby, if it was His will.

It was His will.  But He healed the baby in the way we weren't hoping for.  By the time we made it home after a cheese steak, Mark and Beth's son was being held safely in the arms of his Heavenly Father.

Do me a favor and take a minute to pray for Mark and Beth and other families that have lost children.  I cannot fathom such a joyous occasion turning so devastating so quickly.

Do me another favor and let me know how I can best pray for you.

Thanks, friends.

<>< Katie

God's Bandaid

I'm starting to feel like Natalie: within ten seconds of me being out of bed this morning God spoke to me. To make it better: it was something kinda science-y. (Or at least body-related). haha

This morning I went to put my contacts in and there was this huge scab right above my eyebrow. It was at least a centimeter in diameter. Yesterday I kept randomly finding blood on my finger but not that much blood and it was nowhere else but this one finger, so I don't have a clue how off the sudden I had this big scab in the middle of my FACE! I have no idea where it came from, but it didn't matter: it need to go away before my final at 8am. I had two choices:
1. Pick it off
2. Attempt to cover it up with makeup.

The first seemed easier, so I started picking off ... God's band aid. Here God was healing some obscure blemish on my face and I was doing everything I could to work against Him.

How often does God start working on something in our lives, we think He's doing it wrong and it's ugly, so we do everything in our power to change it. Sometimes we try to cover it up. Other times we try and undo everything He's doing. Either way: we think He's wrong and we're right. After all, could He have any idea what having a huge bloody scab on my face could do to my entire day? Of course He knows, but He knows the healing will make it all worth it in the end.

Sorry, that was a bit more graphic than I'm sure you wanted, but come on: was it anything we don't do? At least I was in my room and not in the bathroom! (Right, Natalie? :-))

<>< Katie

"Look at the nations and watch—and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told. " Habakkuk 1:5