Spring

I don't know if it's my favorite season, but I sure love spring. After a long, harsh winter there are few things more wonderful than seeing the first buds on the trees, the first grass-cutting, the first Chaco-wearing days of the year.

Spring is a fresh start. It's a beautiful taste of hope. It's a reminder of God's promise that He will make all things new.

I had a harsh life-winter that began in May. When I say "this summer," I generally mean the time between graduation in May and when I moved back to Baptist Country in January. "This summer" is synonymous with "life winter"--the harsh season that makes you wonder if spring will ever come again.

I grew up on the Great Lakes region. We start getting snow around Thanksgiving and it doesn't usually stop until March. A white Christmas is expected. A white Easter is not unusual. After being buried in white nastiness for five months out of the year, you do begin to truly wonder if you'll ever be able to leave your house without a parka, ear muffins, and gloves. You dream about days when your first appointment of the day is not with the snow blower. You stop praying for snow days after spring break.

Harsh winters make spring all the more enjoyable. Suddenly the temperature reaches 50 and people are outside in shorts and t-shirts. The smell of spring makes everyone crave hamburgers. People realize walking to the mailbox will not result in frostbite.

Spring.

Hope.

Around here, the same time when the temperature soared to above freezing, I went inside to a new job. I'm still a freelance writer but this job involves showing up for work four or five days a week. I don't love my alarm going off every morning, but I do love my job. We laugh, we tease, we eat Reese's peanut butter cups with smiley faces.

The work is within my qualifications, the pay more than I was making before, the people great, and the company ideal.

Spring.

Hope.

I declared 2012 the year of hope, and by February I was pretty sure I had used up my annual quota.

Then the flowers started to bud, the snowmen began to melt, and the temperature rose. Hope was restored.

What is spring bringing for you?

<>< Katie

What More Do You Want

"What more do you want from God?" Neal asked the congregation. We all came from very different backgrounds united only in the Lord.

"¿Qué más quiere de Dios?" Manolo translated.

I didn't need to wait for the translation before I began making a mental list of things I wanted from God. All selfish things, too. I was in Nicaragua and still had an out-standing balance on my trip. I had applied to five graduate schools and was still hoping for acceptances. I was hoping to head to China in the summer and was waiting for those pieces to fall into place.

"He's already give you Jesus." Neal's words slapped my list-making face. I needed to hear them again.

"Él ya te dio Jesús."

What more can I want from God when He's already give me the best He can: His Son. He's already given me all that I need, and it's called grace. He's engraved my name on the palm of His hand, and I'm asking for money.  He's given me purpose, hope, and a future and there I sat in an uncomfortable Nicaraguan folding chair asking for more.

I felt naked, like my selfish, dirty list had been broadcast by the broken LCD projector. In a way, they were. They were available for One to know.

I like to think God chuckled when He watched me frantically try to erase them, delete them, unthink them.

I gave up on my list that day. I took peace in Abba giving me His Son. What more could I ever need or dare to want?

Days like today it's easy to start making a list again. I want this job interview to go well. I want to see her joy and her smile on this earth once again. I want reassurance that God truly is good and in control.

I want everyone to know the hope we all have in Jesus. Jesús. 耶稣.

I want all of God's children to know how loved they are by their Father. I want them to know forgiveness as intimately as I do. To know they don't need any more than that.

Abba, use me to reach Your people. May my life show Your love today and every day. In the States and across the world. When things go well and when dreams aren't achieved. Lord, let my love for You be contagious. When people see me may they have no choice but to love You more. Draw them into Your loving arms, Lord. May they know that no matter what life brings, Jesus is enough. Our greatest need has been satisfied. Thank You for Jesus. Teach me to remember that He is enough, always more than enough.

This is my prayer. My hope. My desire.

<>< Katie

For His Glory No Matter What

I saw the ambulance. I was sitting in the front window of the coffee shop when it whizzed by. I zoned out watching it, noticing it was EMS rather than the local rescue team. Didn't mean much.

From the front window of the coffee shop you can see everything that's happening in town. I could see the ambulance was not headed towards the nursing home. It could have been headed towards campus, but I couldn't tell. Didn't mean much.

It did prompt me to think about how we have not lost a student since I started. Sure, students have had seizures, passed out, dislocated shoulders in class but they've all been fine in a few hours or days. We've lost professors, staff members, and family members. But never a student.

I went back to my work.

Not long after that, I saw the same ambulance return in the direction from which it came, sirens still on. I thought about Tweeting about how it's not a good sign when an ambulance returns from a call with its lights and siren.

Despite the town only having one stoplight, despite my roommate working in campus ministries, despite seeing the ambulance, I learned from Twitter that one of my sisters in Christ had passed away.

The world stopped.

I didn't recognize her name, but I knew her face. I definitely knew her face. I've heard her testimony.

It was her birthday.

The night before she'd Tweeted that she was excited for the next day. I'm sure she had no idea how exciting it would be for her. She got to celebrate her earthly birthday with the Lord.

That morning, she'd Tweeted and thanked the Lord for another year of her life. That night, He took her home.

Sniffles and tears were overwhelming at our weekly worship service last night. My roommate had hugged her the morning she went Home. Others had been in her class. We were all grieving.

And it's ok to cry. It's ok to be sad. Jesus was. When His friend Lazarus died, the Bible says Jesus wept.

Yet still there was an element of joy in the air. We knew (and know) that she is with the Lord.

You see, this sister I never had the pleasure to hug, loved the Lord. A lot.

We know that her death is not in vain. We know that she's in the arms of our Father. We know that she would be overjoyed if everyone (if anyone) came to know the Lord through her death.

We celebrated. We praised the Lord. We know that He is good even when life is bad. His timing is perfect even when ours is a little off.

Yes, it's hard. Yes, we thought He was going to do a lot more with her on this earth. Yes, we know that her testimony will continue to inspire, to encourage, and to draw people to Him. It's all she wanted to do with her life and now in her death.

That's what I want my life and death to be about: the glory of the Lord. Today. Tomorrow. Every day until I'm called home. And even then.

If you don't mind, can you take a few seconds right now and pray for us? Pray for her family. Pray for her friends, roommates, and colleagues. Pray for this campus, this town. Thank God that He took one of His children home rather than a student who didn't know Him. Thank Him for His goodness and journeying with us.

But don't pray for her. It's not necessary. She's ok because she's in the arms of the Father. And if she's not in heaven, then we're all in trouble. But I know she is.

And next time you see an ambulance, do me a favor and pray for the patient, the team, and the team meeting him/her. Pray for the family, the friends. Pray that God be glorified as He as been here.

This verse was very important to her. It is now very important to me.

"For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek." Romans 1:16

Today's a gift, friends. It's the most important day of your life. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow isn't promised.

You never know when you're going to be called home. It could be in the middle of class on your 21st birthday.

And I'm ok with that.

<>< Katie

May Day

May 28.

According to my daily devotional, that's today's date.  Grace for the Moment: A 365-Day Journaling Devotional by Max Lucado was a graduation gift from my suitemate Amy's parents. So the day after graduation I began reading it. I continued once a day until I went on vacation and the book was too bulky for my carry-on bag.

Instead I decided I would read it daily when I was at home (at my parents' house). Thus, it did not go to China with me, it did not accompany me on my month-long networking trip in October, and it did not come on our Axelson Family Unplugged trip over New Years.

Knowing this, it was very sad to watch the bookmark move closer and closer to the center of the book. Every day was another devotion, another page turned and in that another day in limbo, another morning greeting unemployment, another reminder that my life was not what I expected.

Well, today is not May 28. I have packed as many of my personal belongings as I could fit in the backseat and trunk of my car. Dad and I are driving across the country, back to the town where I moved away from when the calendar really read May.

Hope.

It's been a lot of days between real May and fake May. No, I'm not going to count them (English major). It's been a lot of tears cried, a lot of harsh prayers, a lot of mopey blog posts.

But today, May 28 to some, January 13 to others, the world starts fresh.

I hit 1,000 on my list of blessings. I am moving out of my parents' house. I am returning to the land I love. This is a new beginning.

I don't know what that means. It may mean that in three months I return to limbo. It may mean that I work at Starbucks for the rest of my life. It may mean that I convince myself to be a student again. I don't know.

But God does.

And I'm willing to trust that. I'm willing to cling to the promise that He has not let abandoned me nor will He ever. I'm willing to hope, willing to dream, and willing to not know what the future holds.

Hope. It's good. Just like God.

Hope. It's necessary. Just like God.

"Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer." Romans 12:12

<>< Katie

Dear 2012

Dear 2012,

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

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

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

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

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

Faithful.

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

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

Hope.

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

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

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

I hope. In Him.

And that is enough.

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

With hope,
<>< Katie

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Sometime just prior to Halloween I heard my first Christmas carol of the season. It flipped a switch inside of me and I was ready for Christmas.

Of course, my gifts weren't purchased and I was pleasantly surprised to feel 40 degree days rather than the 4 below I was expecting, but all through November I waited anxiously for the snow and for the rest of the world to be ready to play Christmas songs.

Yet now it's the night before Christmas, the tree is decorated, the gifts are wrapped, the last of the cookies are in the oven, and the snow gently falling. But I am ready to put on the brakes.

Christmas isn't the most wonderful time of the year when you're unemployed. Rather, it's a brutal reminder of your lack of income, your need to pinch every penny, and your wreath decorating your parents' home rather than your apartment.

Giving up isn't an option, but hope is fleeting. Still I pray "Thy will be done" and "Send me." Still I have a nice collection of rejection letters.

I don't mean to be all doom and gloom, but, honestly, singing "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" is lying through my two front teeth.

I try not to linger too long in this world of overwhelming pessimism. Life is hard right now, and I'm sick of repeating myself about my failing job search. I'm well beyond ready to talk about something else.

So let's talk about some other people whose world may have also seemed overwhelmingly pessimistic.

Mary. She's pregnant and engaged but her fiancé isn't the father. I bet she got sick of trying to explain that.

Joseph. Someone else impregnated his betrothed. Well, isn't that a sticky situation?

Herod. Some baby is lobbying for his throne (or so he thinks).

The inn keeper. The "No vacancy" sign is illuminated yet still there's a very, very pregnant woman and her man on the front porch.

The sheep, oxen, and other stable animals. Um, hello, there's a baby in their breakfast bowl.

Jesus. God Himself is being shoved into the skin of an infant. Ouch.

The Christmas story is not exactly what the Jews were expecting. Nope, rewind. Christmas was absolutely nothing like what the Jews have been anticipating, the hope-filled stories they've been passing down for generations.

A king was supposed to come to rescue them. Fallen cities would be restored, a temple would be rebuilt, death would be destroyed, and peace truly would exist on earth.

The long-awaited Messiah... a baby. It didn't make sense.
Emmanuel--God with us---is sleeping in a dirty cow trough.

Yup, definitely not the most wonderful time of the year.

I'm so glad Mary, Joseph, Jesus, the shepherds, et al. didn't call it quits, didn't tell God how to do His job. Even in these less than ideal conditions, hope shone brighter than the star illuminating the sky.

Like the shepherds, I am willing to drop everything and sing praises to the One who deserves them.

Like the inn keeper, I offer all of what I have, even if it doesn't seem like much.

Like Joseph, I desire to be obedient even when it looks very different than I expected.

Like Mary, I want to be faithful to what God has asked of me

Like Jesus, I seek to do what needs to be done no matter how uncomfortable, how agonizing it may be.

And, unlike Herod, I am not going to take matters into my own hands.

Maybe the most wonderful time of the year doesn't mean a walking in a winter wonderland.

Maybe it means hope and anticipation for something new. It means finding peace and comfort in God's promise never to abandon us. It means joy even in life's less than comfortable moments. It means resting in the loving arms of the Father.

The most wonderful time of the year is any moment when you remember that Christ truly is Emmanuel, God with us, both now and forevermore.

Amen.

Why Not Today?

"You need a new phone."

I've been told that regularly for the last two years. They're right: I do need a new phone. When I started college the question was always, "Is that the new model?" Now that I've graduated, same phone in pocket, the question has become "When do you get an upgrade?"

They want me to make the leap into the twenty-first century and go from a dumb phone that only texts and calls to a smart phone that does everything except brush your teeth for you.

"With as much time as you spend on Facebook and Twitter, you're going to love it!"

That's what they all say. And they're probably right. I wish I could Tweet on the go, always had my email at my fingertips, and my text message inbox didn't remain at 98 percent full. The upgrade won't break my budget and the thirty dollars a month data plan is feasible.

Weeks of second-guessing and questioning led up to the moment when I signed the check. Knowing full well what I was doing, I handed it to Brent. He handed me a receipt.

Smile* was mine.

My check was not for thirty dollars. It was for thirty-eight. If I could feasibly pay thirty dollars a month just to have the internet with me wherever I went, how could I not spend thirty-eight dollars a month making sure a child had food?

For years I have been the primary letter writer for Maria, our family's sponsored child in Columbia. That means the misunderstanding about us having fourteen grandchildren... yeah, I'm culpable.

I knew someday I'd sponsor a child through Compassion. The question that ragged on my heart was: Why is that someday not today? I was out of excuses.

For a dollar and twenty-five cents a day, I can provide Smile with food. That's not even the cost of one cup of coffee. That's one small fries from McDonald's.

Let's be real: I don't have a lot of money. But I have enough. I'm not worrying about going hungry. Smile is.

Katie: God, why are you providing for me but not for Your children in third world countries? Is food not a necessity?
God: I am providing. Katie, I am providing you.

It's going to be a sacrifice. I want (borderline need) a new phone, but it's going to have to wait.

There's a little girl in El Salvador who needs an education. She needs medical care. She needs hope, esperanza. She needs to know someone cares. That someone is an unemployed hispanohablante in the US. That Someone is her Heavenly Father.

Why not today?
<>< Katie

*not her real name

PS: This is my story of how God led me to child sponsorship through Compassion. It might be reckless to commit to $38/month with no income. But I know the Lord and saw His hand in this decision long before I signed the check. I trust He will provide, and I've seen Him do so already. If that means I have to eat peanut butter and jelly for a week (I hate pbj) so Smile can eat rice and beans, so be it.

What Would You Write?

Write what you know.

That's what writers are always told. I'm not good at following that advice. I always seem to start writing stories that I have no authority to write, horrors I can barely imagine.

What do I know? I know what it's like to go to a college prep school. I know what it's like to live with seven other girls in a four-bedroom apartment. I know what it's like to attend fifteen concerts by the same artist.

What I know is boring, at least to me.

Who wants to read a fictional work based on the reality of being an unemployed recent grad? Not me, that's for sure.

But it got me thinking: if I were the author who got my fictional character into this mess, how would I get her out?

Would I turn one of her cold-calling strangers turn into a job offer? (In this economy?)

Would I send a knight in shining armor to whisk her away to marital bliss? (That sounds pleasant, cheesy, and unrealistic)

Would I have her blog discovered and novel picked up by Huge Name Publishing House and it become a best seller? (I'm just dreaming all possibilities here)

Would I send her to graduate school, the international mission field, or a homeless shelter?

Would I make her sulk and wait? Wonder and hope? Would I teach her about trust and obedience?

I am not the Author of this life. And I guess that's a good thing since none of these options seem good and viable at the moment.

I am the protagonist in this lifestory, trusting the Author's plan. Unlike me, He doesn't change His mind, He doesn't kill characters for plot excitement, and He definitely doesn't abandon half-finished stories. 

And that, my friends, brings me hope.

<>< Katie

Esperanza

Ann Voskamp wrote this beautiful blog post entitled "When You Are in Desperate Need of Hope" contrasting an Ecuadorian girl named Lidia waiting for a sponsor through Compassion and the joy of finally getting one.  She wrote about being picked by hope.

Esperanza, she sprinkles in.  The word hope, coming from the verb esperar.

Esperar, the Spanish verb for to hope.

Esperar, the Spanish verb for to wait.

I remember learning esperar, struggling to spell it and struggling to remember both of its meanings.  They seemed like a weird combination.

Then "Esperanza" became the name belonging to the protagonist of my thesis. (The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros) Daily I wrote about Esperanza and her multicultural struggling. I know all about Esperanza's struggle with her name: too many letters, sadness, waiting.

Yet today, "esperar" is hope and, in it, waiting.

To hope for something means you're waiting for it. Nine years after first learning the word, the light bulb clicked.

I remember some of my current favorite verses:

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

What if I took it upon myself to translate that word differently?  (If it makes you feel better, I looked it up in Hebrew: yachal, it also has the connotation of "waiting" that the word "hope" loses in English).

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

The same promise. A new spin.

Hopeful yet waiting.
Hopeful in His; waiting on (and in) Him.

That's what I want. Nothing else.

<>< 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

God of THIS City

A few years ago, my university sent a mission team to San Diego, California.  In their post-trip sharing they said they sang and prayed the song, "God of This City" over San Diego.  Ever since then, that song has been reserved in my head for that city.

Then it was everywhere.

I heard it in the car, at home, and in concerts.  I couldn't escape it, and it always made me think of the San Diego mission team.

Then the pastor at my Baptist church announced that we would be beginning a sermon series focusing on reaching those in our immediate community.  For the next six weeks, we would sing and pray "God of This City" over our city every week in worship.

Beautiful in theory, but the song was becoming overplayed and meaningless.  To me.

Fast forward a few months.  I'm on my way home from a wonderful coffee talk during which we mulled over and discussed some quite serious problems in my Lutheran church.

As I pull into the garage, I tune in to the song on the radio.

"God of This City" by Chris Tomlin

You're the God of this City.
You're the King of these people.
You're the Lord of this nation.
You are.

You're the Light in this darkness.
You're the Hope to the hopeless.
You're the Peace to the restless.
You are.

There is no one like our God.
There is no one like our God.

For greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this city.
Greater thing have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this city.

Greater things have yet to come,
and greater things are still to be done in this city
Greater things have yet to come,
And greater things are still to be done here

There is no one like our God.
There is no one like You, God.

Will you take a minute right now and pray this over my church? My city? Your church? Your city?

Thanks!

Greater things have yet to come and greater things are still to be done here. I believe that.

<>< Katie

Yet I still dare to HOPE

Well, the semester is winding down and the to-do list is still long.  I have things to say but no time to process them into a way that is coherent.  My apologies.  All of my coherent thoughts are going towards my thesis which is one page at a time progressing into something worth turning in.  With that said, here's a scripture I've been reading and rereading a lot lately.

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

I hope all is well with you, cyber friends. 
I'll have a longer, more coherent post for you on Wednesday or Thursday.

Please let me know how I can best pray for you!
<>< Katie

Sadness and Joy

A large group gathered together in a dark upper room. The door locked out of fear. No one had bothered to light the lamp. No one wanted to speak. Complete darkness. It was not only a physical surrounding but also an emotional feeling.

Their best friend, their leader... was dead. Three years earlier they'd given up everything to follow Him.  This is not what they had expected.

Not even a week earlier He'd been celebrated. He was welcomed as a king. Not forty-eight hours previous they'd enjoyed a meal together. Now He was gone. Everything happened so quickly.

The room was filled with a myriad of emotions: hurt, regret, failure, longing, desperation, depression, darkness, confusion, loneliness, loss... the list goes on. Yet the most prevalent had to be hopelessness.

"How could this have happened?"

"I really didn't see this coming. Did He?"

"Now what?"

"Where do we go from here?"

The incessant number of unanswerable questions plagued them as they sat, paced, and cried.

Silence in a crowd. Darkness in the middle of the day. Loneliness among great friends.

"Peace be with you." A voice rudely interrupts their pensiveness. Who would offer peace on such a dreary day?

Only the One who can bring light into their darkness.  Only the One who brings hope to the hopeless.  Only the One who was dead but lives again!

Can you imagine the relief of the disciples?  Can you imagine the pure joy?

Place yourself in the upper room with the disciples.  Kneel before Jesus.

Notice the holes in his feet.  Touch the wound in His side.  When His nail-scarred hand slides under your chin and lifts gently, don't be ashamed. When your teary eyes meet His compassionate ones, don't look away. Think about all of the power those eyes hold, but now their focus is on you.

"I love you."

Accept the warm embrace from the living Savior and never, ever let go.

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

Faith, Hope, Joy, Love

Christmas is finally here!  School is on a hiatus while people become cooking maniacs and wrapping machines.

The traditions rooted deeply except I don't really think Mary and Joseph sat around staring at dead trees and eating candy out of their socks.

I bet they were exhausted from traveling and discouraged by the lack of places to stay.  Then Mary gave birth in the most unsanitary place ever; oh, yeah, and her fiance isn't the father.  Now all of the animals want to know where they're supposed to be eating for the next several days because there are some unexpected visitors.  Shepherds are being visited by terrifying angels, and magi come bearing expensive gifts--one of which was a burial spice.  I think most modern parents would be offended if someone gave them embalming fluid at a baby shower.  Just saying.

Big mess! Big message!

God became man.  The creator of the universe shoved Himself into a little baby's body.  Prophesies and promises fulfilled.  Christ, our Lord, born to die for our redemption.

About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his own ancestral hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David's town, for the census. As a descendant of David, he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiancée, who was pregnant.


While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in a manger, because there was no room in the hostel.
There were sheepherders camping in the neighborhood. They had set night watches over their sheep. Suddenly, God's angel stood among them and God's glory blazed around them. They were terrified. The angel said, "Don't be afraid. I'm here to announce a great and joyful event that is meant for everybody, worldwide: A Savior has just been born in David's town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master. This is what you're to look for: a baby wrapped in a blanket and lying in a manger."

At once the angel was joined by a huge angelic choir singing God's praises:

Glory to God in the heavenly heights,
Peace to all men and women on earth who please him.

As the angel choir withdrew into heaven, the sheepherders talked it over. "Let's get over to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see for ourselves what God has revealed to us." They left, running, and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. Seeing was believing. They told everyone they met what the angels had said about this child. All who heard the sheepherders were impressed.

Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they'd been told!

(Luke 2:1-20 MSG)

It's a story of real people having the FAITH to do what God called them to do--even if it was uncomfortable.

It's a story of the HOPE given to the world in the form of a baby.

It's a story about JOY bundled into an unusual package.

It's a story about the LOVE my Savior has for me. The LOVE He has for you.

Merry Christmas!  Have a blessed day, my friends!
<>< Katie

Peace

I walked away from my desk and something white on my chair caught my eye.  At first I thought it was a piece of paper, but when I picked it up I instantly recognized it as one of the words from our fridge.  We have those "create-a-sentence" words stuck all over our fridge.  With three English majors living here I thought they'd get used more but they really don't.  For a long time our fridge has read:

Jesus drinks wine.  Amen.
Cry when you give blood.
Sister rejoice and embrace hope.
One red fish.

I chuckled to myself as I picked up the magnet pondering how on earth it got to my desk chair, but then I read it: PEACE.  I wanted to pocket it rather than returning it to the fridge.

At the end of the semester, peace is in short supply and high demand.  Even though I still have another year, every day is a day closer to graduation and I have no idea what I'm going after that.  Every wedding invitation I receive in the mail leaves me pensive about my own someday.  That all is if I live through the rest of this semester.  Two more weeks of papers, presentations, and finals before a 16-hour drive home that makes me leap back into my homelife at full speed.  Will I be healthy by then or is this not a cold?  What internship will I be doing this summer?  How will that go?  Will my horse with the Kentucky Derby?

Big questions + little questions = lots of questions

But ultimately, it doesn't matter.  It doesn't matter who put the peace piece on my desk either because it was a God-send and I needed it.

Peace,
<>< Katie

Happy birthday, Rebecca

"How's your family?"  I asked Rebecca over dinner a few months back.  I already knew the answer thanks to the sporadic caringbridge updates, but it would have been ruder of me not to ask.

"They're having a grand time in their little tiny apartment," she told me, her Pennsylvania accent not nearly as thick as her mother's.  Mrs. Karen and I used to tease about the desire to sit for hours and listen to the other talk just to hear our different accents.  Mine's not as strong as it used to be, a repercussion of living in the south nine months out of the year, but it's still there to be a frequent source of mocking.  Rebecca's accent has faded, too, I noticed as she went on to tell me about her family of five (plus two dogs) living in a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment with a hyper-sensitive (no light, sound, touch, etc.) sister battling Lyme disease.  If Rebecca wanted to talk Lyme, I was more than willing to discuss it with her, but a year and a half after diagnosis who really wants to keep repeating the horrors of the debilitating disease?  That's what caringbridge is for.  Dinners are for reminiscing with old friends, and that's exactly what we did.  We retold our favorite stories about growing up together, the three years we were neighbors.

"Remember when we had a four-bedroom cardboard house in your basement?"
"The one we used seven rolls of duct tape to build? Yes!"

It's so funny to hear the different memories we both share in addition to the ones the other has forgotten.  Sometimes I think these stories are better than the ones we both remember.  I'd forgotten about the time we "flew" into her basement by climbing through the window.  She'd forgotten about our "synchronized swimming routine" in my pool.  Of course, neither one of us has forgotten the "pump up the new born baby," the restaurant in her basement, or playing hide and go seek.  One set of parents would laid down some rules and the other would obey them.  Even grandparents knew we had to be home for dinner at 5:30, and after dinner we could play again until the neighborhood lights came on.  Those were the rules and we accepted them.

When sharing my testimony I always say Rebecca was placed in my life to provide me when a friend during the challenges of middle school.  Really, I believe that to be true but I also believe Rebecca and her family were placed in my life to show me what it's like to live as a Christian.  To show me selflessness, hope, discipline, and love.  Even now, when I get emails about their medical fight, every update ends with a scripture, hope-filled song lyrics, or a prayer.

Living in different parts of the country now (between the two of us, we could claim residency in six different states) makes it hard to get together and share life on a regular basis.  Prior to our dinner last month, it had been three years since I'd seen her.  Even though I wasn't feeling well enough to actually enjoy eating dinner, I thoroughly enjoyed our dinner conversation.  We picked up exactly where we left off, as friends and sisters in Christ.

All this to say, happy birthday, Rebecca; thank you for the joy, hope, and love you've brought into my life.  One day I will watch you play basketball; I hope it's in a WMBA game.

<>< Katie

Holy Saturday

Holy Saturday.
Quite possibly the darkest day of the year. Jesus is dead.  Imagine the hopelessness the disciples felt today.  Can we relate?

For the disciples, today was even more depressing than a Lutheran being stuck in Baptist Country over Easter.  It was even more desperate than being rejected after seeking a job for two years.  Darker than abandoning high school graduation party preparations to plan the funeral of a five year old.  Can imagine what the disciples felt today?

A large group gathered together in a dark upper room.  The door locked out of fear.  No one had bothered to light the lamp.  No one wanted to speak.  Complete darkness.  It was not only a physical surrounding but also an emotional feeling.  Their best friend, their leader... was dead.  Not even a week earlier He'd been celebrated.  He was welcomed as a king.  Not even forty-eight hours previous they'd enjoyed a meal together.  Now He was gone.  Everything happened so quickly.

The room was filled with a myriad of emotions: hurt, regret, failure, longing, desperation, depression, darkness, confusion, loneliness, loss... the list goes on.  Yet the most prevalent had to be hopelessness.

"Where do we go from here?"  They must have asked.  If not aloud, then in their minds and in their hearts.
"How could this have happened?"
"I really didn't see this coming.  Did He?"
"Now what?"
The incessant number of unanswerable questions plagued them as they sat, paced, and cried.

Silence in a crowd.  Darkness in the middle of the day.  Loneliness among great friends.

Maybe we've been there.  Unlike the disciples, we know the rest of the story.  Unlike the disciples, we have hope.

"Peace be with you."  A voice rudely interrupts their ponderings.  Who would offer peace on such a dreary day?

Every head lifted.  Every eye turned.  They saw Jesus.  Their sins collided with their Savior and their Savior won.  Think about the first time you ever saw Him.  Think about your first encounter with the Christ.  Rope yourself in that moment.  Resurrect the relief.  Recall the purity.  Summon forth the passion.  Can you remember?  Do yourself a favor and place yourself in the upper room with the disciples.  Kneel before Jesus.

Run your fingers over His feet.  Place your hand in His pierced side.  When His nail-scarred hand slides under your chin and lifts gently, don't flee.  When your teary eyes meet His compassionate ones, don't look away.  Look in to those eyes, those same eyes that melted the gates of hell, sent the demons scurrying, and Satan running.  Look at them as they look at you.  Accept the warm embrace from the living Savior and never, ever let go.

Note: the final to paragraphs are modified from Max Lucado's Six Hours On Friday.

Brrrrr

Disclaimer: I don't think all of my reading audience will be able to fully grasp this blog. It's not that it's difficult to comprehend but rather if you haven't spent the better part of three (or sometimes four) months with single-digit temperatures and your brown grass is completely hidden by multiple inches (or feet) of snow, you might not fully be able to grasp this concept. However, I encourage you to try and fully understand the idea of cabin fever.

"I'm cold."
A quick glance around my room will make it obvious that I've said this once or twice before. The space heater, the (literally) seven layers on my bed, and the polar fleece blanket stored right next to my desk for easy access are clear give-aways to my latest refrain.

"I'm cold."
Except today it's different. Today it isn't a "When did I move to Antarctica?" cold. Rather, today was an "It's too early and chilly to open the windows but I'm doing it anyway because it's wonderful!" cold.

There's nothing like a warm day in the middle of a harsh winter. The warm day brings hope. It brings the reminder than someday this frigid winter will pass and spring will come.

Life is like that, too. Glimmers of hope amidst dark days. Reminders of why we crawl out of bed. Can you find your warm day?

It doesn't have to be life-shattering. In fact, in the dead of winter, a 50 degree day feels warm enough to take off your jacket and don your shorts. Sure, six months from now it won't feel phenomenal but six months from now isn't when you'll need hope of spring. It's right now that you need hope of spring and therefore 50 is simply blissful!

Find your warm day today!

<>< Katie

Lost: Thumb (Drive)

You know those songs you haven't heard in five or ten years? The ones that you forgot about? The ones that when they reappear become your favorite all over again? That's where this Relient K song fits into my life. I heard it earlier in the semester when Keith and friends sang it at chapel. I fell in love with it all over again and began singing it almost constantly! I don't have it on a CD and I can't find it online, but I make Andy serenade me every time I see him. Much to Amy's chagrin, he taught me to sing it myself.

"Technically I didn't teach her to sing it. She was singing it already. I just taught her to sing it correctly. Would you rather I let her sing it incorrectly next time?"

Never underestimate my Jesus. You're telling me that there's no hope; I'm tellin' you you're wrong. Never underestimate my Jesus. When the world around you crumbles: He will be strong; He will be strong.

Well, I was very grateful for his teaching me correctly because on Wednesday I lost my thumb drive (jump drive, flash drive, life, pick your term of choice). Like I've already mentioned, I eat computers so it wasn't a big surprise when my beloved blue side kicked walked out of my life. However, that doesn't make it fair or pleasant.

You're telling me that there's no hope; I'm telling you you're wrong.

Right. Hope is not gone. My thumb drive is gone. Along with it the latest drafts of my novel, my completed powerpoint for Monday's class presentation, my resume, my collection of crazy quotes, and I don't want to know what else. Of course, my first instinct was to blog about my catastrophic loss. I couldn't. Thanks, Lent. My life is missing and I can't even use my favorite coping mechanism! Yesterday was not a pleasant day.

Never under estimate my Jesus.

I'm a creature of habit. I use the same bathroom stall, I aim for the same computer in the lab, I sit in the same section of caf, so retracing my steps isn't hard. Especially since I can narrow it down to two hours from when I had it last to when I noticed it was missing. Retracing my steps was easy: computer lab (yes, I ejected it), copy room, three different professors' offices, bathroom, and the caf. That's it. The professors haven't seen it, the secretaries haven't seen it, the police haven't seen it, the caf woman hasn't seen it. No one has seen it. It's vanished into the dark abyss!

"Maybe you flushed it," Elizabeth suggested. That doesn't help.

When the world around you crumbles: He will be strong; He will be strong.

"CARL! Why are his hands gone?!" Screamed the llama in the disturbing video Andy and Dr. Z showed me on Tuesday. Well, my hands are gone; just my thumb. Drive. Most things I lost can be replaced with an earlier version... except the quotes list. Sure, it's just for fun but gosh can it make me laugh. I could use a laugh right now.

<>< Katie

PS: If you see a blue, rubbery thumb drive that says, "Katie" when you plug it in: it's mine. Yes, the one that almost never leaves my computer