Glory in Tragedy

I don't think we could have fit anything else into this weekend had we tried.  A pasta dinner for 30 high school tennis girls, a baby shower (with two-week old baby), a graduation/ birthday party, a tennis quad, a family reunion, church, dinner out, and... the wake for a fourteen year old.

Her death was instant. There was no warning. There was nothing that could have been done.  It could not have been prevented.  Her life could not have been saved.  No one is at fault.

Yet a fourteen year old is dead.

In all honesty, I don't know how non-Christians cope with tragedies like this.  Even with hope and a loving God, it's hard to bury a fourteen year old who seemed healthy one minute and gone the next.

Is our God not a loving God who cares for His children? I don't just mean Emily. What about her family? Her parents? Her older sister? Her friends whose home she was walking home from? Fifty minutes worth of drivers who drove down that busy street without noticing her unconscious and not breathing on the sidewalk? Her classmates about to enter high school without her?

Tough questions.

But I believe Emily was not alone on that sidewalk. God was with her every step of her walk home; she just arrived at a different Home than would have been expected. Even though her body was kept breathing for two days, Emily was immediately delivered into the loving arms of her Creator.

The same God that cradles their precious daughter, holds tight to Emily's parents giving them the strength to host mourners in their home, the ability to make jokes and even laugh a little as the receiving line weaved through the funeral home and out into the parking lot. He holds their tears, their hands, and their hearts.

He will be glorified, even though this situation our human eyes see as tragic and incomprehensible. That is my prayer.

It’s the only thing I can pray.  And I was just a student, nine years ahead of her at the same school.

<>< Katie

Perfect Timing

As my days on campus are winding down, I'm using every minute of them to be with friends.  (As I'm sure you noticed with my lack of participation in social media outlets).

Our Suite Day ended earlier than anticipated, so I texted Stacy and asked if she wanted to play tennis.  I had about a little over an hour before I needed to be ready for dinner.

She said sure, so we headed to the courts.

There was a storm brewing on the horizon, and we had the perfect spot to watch it roll in.  Based on how often Stacy glanced up at the sky, I could tell she was nervous about this impending storm.

I'm from the Midwest.  I figured we would play until the wind picked up, it started raining, or we saw lightning.

The darker the sky got, the more often we glanced towards it.  In the distance, we could see the rain coming down.  Stacy asked me if I was a daredevil.  I'm not, but I do love watching storms roll in.

We hurried to get stray balls, wasted no time before a serve, and hit as frequently as we could.

Finally Stacy said it would have to be the last rally.

No rain, no wind, no lightning.

I disagreed but complied.  I knew she was more concerned for my safety than her own.  I knew that if something happened to me, she'd somehow contort it to where she, as the adult, was responsible.

In the two minutes it takes to drive back to my apartment, the wind picked up tremendously.  As we entered the breezeway of my building, the first few rain drops fell.

We got back quite literally at the perfect time.

If it hadn't been for Stacy having my best interests at heart, I would have kept playing.  I would have gotten wet.  I would have blown away.  I would have gotten struck by lightning.

If it weren't for God having my best interests at heart, I would not be where I am.  I would keep playing, I would blow away, I would get hurt.

Sometimes obedience is hard.  Ok, a lot of times obedience is hard.  We'd rather risk it and wait the impending storm.

But I fully believe that God has our best interests at heart.  If it is His will, He'll protect us from danger, even if He waits until the last moment to do it.

Even though we may not agree, the best thing we can do is comply to His will.

<>< 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

The Ultimate Valentine

Happy February 14- the day singles stick out like sore thumbs and couples flaunt their relationship.

I'm not bitter.

No, really, I'm not.  My self worth is not measured in how many flowers are delivered to my doorstep today.  This may be the one day a year when my self esteem is not directly related to what I find in my mailbox. 

Valentine's Day shouldn't be about sappy cards, chocolate, and candy hearts (although, those things are nice), it should be about the same thing the other 364 days a year are about: showing love.  Why celebrate in one day what God commands us to do every day?

Even though today creates a chasm between the two, couples and singles still have something in common: someone loves them.  A spouse, a friend, a parent, a roommate...

A Creator of the Universe?  Uh, yeah!

Friends, God loves you.  Yes, you.  He loves you more than you could ever know.  He loves you so much He sacrificed His Son.  Christ relinquished His position in the eternal, wonderful heaven, came to earth in a germy manger, and lived a perfect life just to die a criminal's death.  Because of that love for you, He didn't stay dead!  Yes, for you.

Jesus provided the perfect example of love, not just for February 14 but every day.

My prayer for you today is that you find peace and comfort in the truth that God loves you.  May the Holy Spirit fill you with His love and may you radiate that love to others.

Love,
<>< Katie

Saving Lives and Getting to Class Ontime

Last week I donated blood for the second time. My appointment was at 12:15 and, naturally, they were running behind.  Even with my scarlet letter "A" (for "appointment"), 12:30 came and went.  Taylor was sitting near me as I complained about being so close to getting to class on time.  He said he had a 1:15 class, too.  We didn't think we were going to make it.

Ms. Red Cross called for an appointment and I leaped to my feet.  Then she changed her mind and called a walk-in instead.  Taylor got to go instead.  I made a snotty comment about being angry if he made it to class on time and I didn't.

"What time's your class?" a professor sitting nearby asked.
"One fifteen."
He looked at his watch: 12:35.  "You're probably not going to make it."

I said I'd give them five more minutes before I left and came back after class.  The only trouble with that was having to eat again and healthy mid-afternoon snacks don't exist here.

In that five minutes, a man called for the next appointment.  I jumped up and literally ran to the computer station.

"Are we having fun yet?" he asked.

I told him about my class and he gave the clock a skeptical glance.  It was going to be tight!

"Don't pass out on me."

I assured him I wouldn't... hoping I could stay true to that promise.

We sped through the identification questions as fast as we could.  To the point where he almost asked my temperature before taking it, like I was supposed to know it off of the top of my head like my height and weight.

When I gave him my height and weight, he looked away from the computer and met my eye when he repeated it to confirm.  I'm dangerously close to the limit.  I know that.  It's a generic weight limit not accounting for different heights.  Which means I'm technically still over the limit even though I'm five eight and have the body of a microphone stand.  (Shaun Groves said that).  I was prepared to argue that I did not have a problem donating last time.

"Listen, you're very close," said Mr. Red Cross.  "I don't care if you're late to class.  When you're done, you're going to sit at the cookie table for at least ten minutes."

"Yes, sir."  Honestly, if you're going to be put in time out, the cookie table is the place to do it!

"I'd rather you pass out here than on the asphalt outside."

Thanks for that encouragement, buddy!

In the interest of time, he read the questions aloud to me rather than letting me answer them privately.  I think there were only 15 questions that would have made Melissa giggle.  I speak fast, but this man could give me a run for my money!  By the time we got to pulse and blood pressure we were in the middle of a marathon!  Yeah, not exactly what you want when you're having your blood pressure taken.  (Even if he had to inflate the cuff just to keep it on my arm).

“Are you nervous?  Your heart rate’s fast.  Don’t be nervous. I’m pretty good at this,” he said.

I wasn’t really scared nervous.  I was time nervous, anxious, and excited.  I was a big mess of emotions; no wonder my blood pressure was high.

However, having your blood moving fast does come in handy when you’re having a it stolen from your arm.  The actual donation, like everything else that day, was super sonic speed!

"Utto," Mr. Red Cross said.
Yeah, that’s never a good thing to hear when you’ve got an IV in your arm! He tried to fill up the test tube and it wouldn’t fill properly.

“You already took all of my blood,” I teased.

“And I’m going to take a gallon more,” he said.

“Do I get extra cookies for that?”

“You can have as many cookies as you want,” he said.

A few more jokes (“This won’t hurt me a bit.” “Two fingers on the booboo. Yes, that’s the medical term.”) and I was free to go to cookie time-out.
I looked at my watch: 1:02.

God is good! He gave me my ten time-out minutes to eat cookies, inhale water, and be interviewed for the newspaper.  I still made it to class on time!

In my interview, I was asked why I donate blood.  Like my buddy Jesus, I answered her question with a question: why not?

Then I explained–I had been the queen of excuses. I didn’t weigh enough. I had a cold. I left the country.

And once I got over that, got over myself, I took the plunge and tried it. I loved it.  The first time, I kind of felt like I was being rushed through and I was there for a longer amount of time. The second time, I was there for a shorter amount of time but Mr. Red Cross took the time to tease me, answer my questions, and truly care for me.  It made a huge difference!

It’s a simple, financially painless way to give of yourself and make a huge difference. Sure, hurts a bit, makes you look like a druggy who loves Sharpie, and makes you feel a little weird for a few days but with the lives saved, it's worth it.  I’m genuinely disappointed I’m leaving the country before I’m eligible again. But my April 2012 to do list: donate blood.

If you’re eligible to donate, why not?

<>< Katie

Jesus Does the Dishes

On Saturday I was doing my devotion when I ran across this verse,

"Blind Pharisee!  First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside will be clean." (Matthew 23:26)

That's our Savior who's not making much sense.  Big surprise, right?

I thought about the passage briefly before concluding I will continue to wash both the inside and the outside of my dishes.

They are really talking about dishes.  Or are they?

The previous verse says,

"You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence" (Matthew 23:25b).

What if they aren't really talking about dishes?  What if Jesus is calling us to be the cup and the dish?

All too often we try to change our outwards appearance.  Put on some make-up.  Pick a different shirt.  Act more kindly to that person.  Serve this person.  Surely that makes us a better Christian, right?

According to what Jesus said right here, wrong.

We can do all of the "nice things" on the outside and make us look like good Christians but until our heart is changed it's all futile.  I do not believing having your heart changed is a one-time deal.  Boom you're done and you know everything there is to know.  No.

Having your heart changed is a lifetime process.  Rid yourself of some greed here.  Pride there.  Put in some joy take out some hatred.  A process.  Just like washing dishes.  And just like washing dishes, as soon as you think you're done, you find one more.  One more problem area that needs to be dealt with.  One more outburst of anger you weren't expecting.  One more nudge from Christ saying, "Hey, you forgot about this.  That's not of me."

What I believe Jesus is saying in the verse is if He changes your heart, if He cleans your inside, your outsides will follow.  Change in the inside, the desire, and the outside, the action, will change too.

It makes me think of the song, "Change me from the inside out, Lord."

Feel free to join me in making this your prayer for today.

Change me from the inside out, Lord.

<>< Katie

GIGATT

My heart was not in the right place last night.  It was one of those days where all of the little things add up and get to you until the smallest thing causes a waterfall.  Someone asks you what's wrong and you can't come up a reason worth crying.

Sure, your unreliable internet spent more time in the "cannot connect" phase than the "connected" phase, but that's not worth crying over.  Your laundry was disrespected in the community laundry room, but that's a perk of college life.  Today's caf food and your stomach are having an argument, but it will work itself out eventually.  A playful sass from your suitemates crossed the invisible line, but that's all (supposedly) backed with love.  And you ran out of blaze orange notecards before you were done making notes.  But none of those seem to justify the tears.

"Can't one thing just go right please, Lord," I said out loud, much to the chagrin of my sleeping roommate.

I walked into the bathroom to take out my contacts before they were permanently glued to my watery eyes.  A drying shirt slung over the shower curtain caught my eye.  Big white letters on a black shirt.

GIGATT

It was as if Andy's bouncy ball hit me in the face.

God is Good.

All The Time

Thanks.  I needed that.

I bought this Peder Eide shirt to wear on days where things aren't going too well just so people ask me what my shirt says.  Telling them, "God is good all the time" is a great reminder for myself, too.

GIGATT, friends, ATTGIG,
<>< Katie

Make a Difference

The following is a story requested by Wess Stafford of Compassion International requesting people tell stories about a time when an adult encouraged you as a child.  A moment that has stayed with you.  It is part of the push to get adults to make a difference in childrens' lives.  See the whole story here.

During my junior year in high school, I ran for a position that required a certain number of support signatures before I could even get my name on the ballot.

Approaching me for another reason, my adviser (who now lets me call him by his first name) saw the petition in my hand. He grabbed it from me and reached to his breast pocket for a pen.

“Can I sign this?” he offered.

I was taken aback. We were told a signature would require a polite, well-timed request followed by a semi-brief interview. Brian asked me if he could sign my paper not vice versa.

“I’m not even going to ask you those silly questions. I know your heart is always in the right place.”

Woah!

If I wasn’t caught off guard before, I was then.

“Your heart is always in the right place.”

Always?

I might have chosen “sometimes,” “periodically,” or “occasionally.” Yeah, those would definitely be more accurate. But no, he said “always.”

“Your heart is always in the right place.”

While I still don’t quite believe that statement, it was wonderful encouragement at that time and has been an excellent challenge since then.

I would love to hear your stories about some encouragement you received from an adult!  Little moments matter, especially to little people.

<>< Katie

BANG

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

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

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

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

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

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

<>< Katie

"I know your heart"

Today is Brian's birthday. Brian was my advisor for three years, but he did more than over see my grades. He fed me (homemade popcorn, doughnuts, etc.), supported me, prayed for me, prayed with me, stuck Bible verse in my locker, and let me hide in his office when the day didn't go well.

I remember one day in high school, I needed to collect 15 signatures to support me in running for an office. A mixture of those signatures had to be students of varying ages as well as teachers. I hated working up the courage to ask teachers to sign my paper. It's not that I didn't think they would, it's that I didn't want to ask.

One day, Brian came up to me and wanted to buy a candy bar I was selling as a fundraiser. I put down the piece of paper awaiting signatures and went to get Brian his candy bar. He yanked the sheet off the table and started pulling out a pen.

"Can I sign this?" he asked. Of course, I wasn't going to say no. Normally teachers were supposed to ask students about why they wanted to hold this title, what were their qualifications, could they be objective, etc. The awful interrogating questions that drive me nuts. Here, Brian had not only not asked me the annoying questions but offered to sign my sheet without me having to ask. He then added, "I'm not going to waste my time with the questions. I know your heart is always in the right place."

He walked away with his candy bar, and I walked away with my signature, yet my brain was mulling over so much more.

"I know your heart is always in the right place," his words echoed in my mind.

Was that true? Is my heart always in the right place? Of course not. But apparently it was in the right place often enough to convince them. Ever since then, his words still echo in my mind.

How many people know your heart? Are you being open enough and honest enough with people for them to know your inner-thoughts? Are you allowing them to see your true self? At the same time, is your heart true? Do you strive to make sure it's always in the right place (isn't that something we can all work on)?

Happy birthday, Brian!

In Christ,
<>< Katie

"Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousand rivers of oil? Shall I offer my firstborn for my transgressions, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:7-8