I didn't do it intentionally. Honest!
Things like Christmas, family vacation, pre-planned blogposts, and a sore arm had gotten in the way. All of the sudden it had been... well, way too long.
It hadn't felt like it had been a long time otherwise I would have taken care of it long before I flopped down on a king size log bed with a purple pen and my Writer's Notebook.
Yup, I was rusty. It hurt. And I silently cursed myself for smacking my forearm on whatever I was clumsy enough to crash into.
But I loved it.
It felt so good to be back, to be doing something I loved. It was a deep breath of rich air. It was calming and refreshing.
I pushed through the pain of the pen's movement across the page. I slowly shook the dust from the dictionary stored in my corner of my brain. I smiled as I saw the influence of other writers and as the piece took a different direction than I anticipated.
It was good. It was home.
Home is watching my fingers bleed purple ink.
Home is the opening chords of a familiar song.
Home is digging into the Word when you've gotten busy, lazy, and unintentional.
Home is freedom and fresh air. Comfort, love, and uncontainable joy.
Home is sleeping between your own sheets after a long vacation. Home is hugs waiting for you at the door and milk in the fridge.
While the physical location of home is changing once again, the emotional feeling of home follows me wherever I go.
For this I am grateful.
I am also grateful for grace. For hobbies, no, for ways of life, that return after having been abandoned.
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label hurt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hurt. Show all posts
Friday, January 6, 2012
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Remember Brazil
A few months ago I was felling extremely discouraged. I had gotten a gut-wrenching rejection for a job I was passionate about at my own alma mater. I was hosting a pity party.
In the midst of my tears, God whispered, "Remember, Brazil."
Last fall, I applied for a mission trip to Brazil. I researched the city, borrowed a Portuguese Bible, began fund raising, and prayed for our trip.
All of the sudden, our team's planning came to a screeching hault.
Airline tickets and a Brazilian Visa put a stop to our trip. It might be an understatement to say our team was extremely discouraged. Truth be told, I cried at the team meeting when we decided Brazil would not come to fruition.
Several team members jumped ship and pursued other mission opportunities. No one blamed them. Those of us who remained spent some time not knowing if we were going to even have a trip. Never did the thought of changing trips cross my mind. Never did the thought of not having a trip sink in.
God opened up another opportunity, and on short notice we began to prepare for different destination: Nicaragua.
One student who had not expressed interest in Brazil, applied to go to Nicaragua. She wanted to practice her Spanish. I have no doubt she was supposed to be on our trip.
Of all of us, she came home the most changed. Even others noticed something different about her. If we had gone to Brazil, this change would not have happened. Today, her re-birth through baptism, would not have happened. We went to Nicaragua for her.
We went to Nicaragua for Stephanie, our Nicaraguan interpreter. After only a few days of traveling with us, Stephanie noticed something was different. She recognized the Holy Spirit in us and wanted to be filled in the same way. Right then and there she began a relationship with our Lord and Savior. If we had been in Brazil, God would not have used us to reach Stephanie.
God rearranged our entire trip for those two daughters. He changed the plans of thirty plus people in order to change the lives of two.
It's not every day that God rearranges plans for His glory.
Or is it?
A spilled cup of coffee gets you out of the house late to avoid a major traffic jam.
A rejection letter keeps you from a company going bankrupt.
A malfunctioning alarm clock kept you from being in the Twin Towers when they were hit.
God changes our plans for His glory.
Anytime I start to forget: I remember Brazil.
<>< Katie
PS: Everyone has a 9-11-01 story. Mine is of a selfish seventh grader who just didn't want to be in class. For a heart-piercing story, check out the blog of Meg Cabot, author of The Princess Diaries. My heart and prayers are with those affected by the tragedy. We will never forget.
In the midst of my tears, God whispered, "Remember, Brazil."
Last fall, I applied for a mission trip to Brazil. I researched the city, borrowed a Portuguese Bible, began fund raising, and prayed for our trip.
All of the sudden, our team's planning came to a screeching hault.
Airline tickets and a Brazilian Visa put a stop to our trip. It might be an understatement to say our team was extremely discouraged. Truth be told, I cried at the team meeting when we decided Brazil would not come to fruition.
Several team members jumped ship and pursued other mission opportunities. No one blamed them. Those of us who remained spent some time not knowing if we were going to even have a trip. Never did the thought of changing trips cross my mind. Never did the thought of not having a trip sink in.
God opened up another opportunity, and on short notice we began to prepare for different destination: Nicaragua.
One student who had not expressed interest in Brazil, applied to go to Nicaragua. She wanted to practice her Spanish. I have no doubt she was supposed to be on our trip.
Of all of us, she came home the most changed. Even others noticed something different about her. If we had gone to Brazil, this change would not have happened. Today, her re-birth through baptism, would not have happened. We went to Nicaragua for her.
We went to Nicaragua for Stephanie, our Nicaraguan interpreter. After only a few days of traveling with us, Stephanie noticed something was different. She recognized the Holy Spirit in us and wanted to be filled in the same way. Right then and there she began a relationship with our Lord and Savior. If we had been in Brazil, God would not have used us to reach Stephanie.
God rearranged our entire trip for those two daughters. He changed the plans of thirty plus people in order to change the lives of two.
It's not every day that God rearranges plans for His glory.
Or is it?
A spilled cup of coffee gets you out of the house late to avoid a major traffic jam.
A rejection letter keeps you from a company going bankrupt.
A malfunctioning alarm clock kept you from being in the Twin Towers when they were hit.
God changes our plans for His glory.
Anytime I start to forget: I remember Brazil.
<>< Katie
PS: Everyone has a 9-11-01 story. Mine is of a selfish seventh grader who just didn't want to be in class. For a heart-piercing story, check out the blog of Meg Cabot, author of The Princess Diaries. My heart and prayers are with those affected by the tragedy. We will never forget.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
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
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
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Ten Steps
What did you do thirteen days ago? At some point during the day did you walk to your living room and sit down on the couch? For the first time in two years, so did my friend Kaitlyn.
In October 2007, Kaitlyn was sent home from school sick. At first they thought she had the flu, but she got worse rather than better, and no one knew why. Her hyper-sensitivity to sound, touch, smell, light, etc. left her to sit in a dark room all day watching tv and the lowest possible volume level. Her family read the subtitles because the tv was too quiet to hear.
In April 2008, she lost the ability to walk. That June she was finally diagnosed with Lyme Disease and multiple co-infections. Her family of five (plus two dogs) packed up their lives, left their 3,800 square foot house, and moved 800 miles to a two-bedroom apartment.
Over the last few years they have faithfully walked through a battle that I cannot fathom. The air conditioner, the act of cooking dinner, and even the gurling of the fridge are painfully loud to her. Hugs are out of the question. She's been treated almost daily at same clinic since 2008 and the doctor and nurses have never seen her face because she wears a towel over her head to block the light.
The week before the Steelers (this family's football team of choice) won the Superbowl, Kaitlyn independently walked ten steps, something medicine could not explain. That ability was lost again but the hope it provided was remarkable. She's now learning to walk again, and less than two weeks ago she got to sit in the living room for the first time since they've lived there.
This week, on September 29, Kaitlyn turns sixteen. What did you do for your sixteenth birthday? Not sit around in a dark apartment or go to a clinic with a towel over your head, right?
For her 14th birthday, their apartment was flooded with cards.
For her 15th, we were asked to fast and petition the Lord, the Great Physician, for her healing.
This year, her family has asked that we find a way to make her 16th birthday memorable.
What they want everyone to do is something sweet or uplifting. Something out of the ordinary. They suggested volunteering at a soup kitchen, making a meal for someone, visiting hospice, writing to a solider, volunteering at a dog shelter... Bless someone on her behalf. In Kaitlyn's honor and for God's glory.
I would love for you to participate with us. If you do, please comment on this post or send me an email with what was done and where it was, your state if you're within the US or your country (since I know there are some international lurkers!). What they're going to do is collect these stories and bind them into a keepsake book for Kaitlyn.
“Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:15-18
As for what I did, well, you'll have to come back on Friday.
<>< Katie
PS: For more information, visit her caringbridge. You do have to register for the site but it's free and open to everyone.
In October 2007, Kaitlyn was sent home from school sick. At first they thought she had the flu, but she got worse rather than better, and no one knew why. Her hyper-sensitivity to sound, touch, smell, light, etc. left her to sit in a dark room all day watching tv and the lowest possible volume level. Her family read the subtitles because the tv was too quiet to hear.
In April 2008, she lost the ability to walk. That June she was finally diagnosed with Lyme Disease and multiple co-infections. Her family of five (plus two dogs) packed up their lives, left their 3,800 square foot house, and moved 800 miles to a two-bedroom apartment.
Over the last few years they have faithfully walked through a battle that I cannot fathom. The air conditioner, the act of cooking dinner, and even the gurling of the fridge are painfully loud to her. Hugs are out of the question. She's been treated almost daily at same clinic since 2008 and the doctor and nurses have never seen her face because she wears a towel over her head to block the light.
The week before the Steelers (this family's football team of choice) won the Superbowl, Kaitlyn independently walked ten steps, something medicine could not explain. That ability was lost again but the hope it provided was remarkable. She's now learning to walk again, and less than two weeks ago she got to sit in the living room for the first time since they've lived there.
This week, on September 29, Kaitlyn turns sixteen. What did you do for your sixteenth birthday? Not sit around in a dark apartment or go to a clinic with a towel over your head, right?
For her 14th birthday, their apartment was flooded with cards.
For her 15th, we were asked to fast and petition the Lord, the Great Physician, for her healing.
This year, her family has asked that we find a way to make her 16th birthday memorable.
What they want everyone to do is something sweet or uplifting. Something out of the ordinary. They suggested volunteering at a soup kitchen, making a meal for someone, visiting hospice, writing to a solider, volunteering at a dog shelter... Bless someone on her behalf. In Kaitlyn's honor and for God's glory.
I would love for you to participate with us. If you do, please comment on this post or send me an email with what was done and where it was, your state if you're within the US or your country (since I know there are some international lurkers!). What they're going to do is collect these stories and bind them into a keepsake book for Kaitlyn.
“Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:15-18
As for what I did, well, you'll have to come back on Friday.
<>< Katie
PS: For more information, visit her caringbridge. You do have to register for the site but it's free and open to everyone.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Hurt
If I could summarize this past week in one word I'd say: hurt.
In the last few days I've been bizarrely injured multiple times. With a few of them I've had to seriously contemplate if professional medical attention would have been inappropriate. It seemed every time I put my First Aid kit away it needs to come out again a few hours later. I've always been the "girl with the Band-Aids" and now I'm "the girl who needs the Band-Aids." It's annoying, but what is more annoying is that not all hurts are physical.
Emotional wounds are harder to treat. Neosporin and Band-Aids don't cover it (no pun intended). You think they're healing and suddenly you're gushing tears again.
At (adult) Sunday School I shared the prayer request that I keep getting hurt physically and emotionally, and I am sick of reaching for Band-Aids.
Our Sunday School teacher Matt smiled. He said he could write his own name next to that request every day. He said many others could do the same.
When Matt prayed, he thanked God for the rain pounding on the roof. He said it was healing rain sent to cleanse and heal those of us who have hurts like I mentioned. Later, he asked God to relieve our (my) physical, emotional, and spiritual hurts.
My first thought was defensive. "I didn't say I was hurt spiritually." As Matt prayed, God prodded gently.
"Yes, you are."
I can put a Band-Aid over my scratches to cover them up. I don't have to see their nastiness and neither does anyone else. Why am I still putting man's Band-Aid over God's band-aid (a scab)?
Emotional wounds don't need Band-Aids; they're covered in a different way. They're hidden deep within me as if that'll make them go away. The other day Luci said, "Katie, you're like a box. I keep trying to open you, and I can't." That hurt. But it was true.
Is God saying that to me too? "Katie, I'm here ready to open you, ready to heal you. I'm ready and you won't let Me."
Just like physical wounds need to be cleaned, so do emotional and, more importantly, spiritual wounds. Boy, does it hurt! But it's vital.
<>< Katie
"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." Romans 5:3-5
In the last few days I've been bizarrely injured multiple times. With a few of them I've had to seriously contemplate if professional medical attention would have been inappropriate. It seemed every time I put my First Aid kit away it needs to come out again a few hours later. I've always been the "girl with the Band-Aids" and now I'm "the girl who needs the Band-Aids." It's annoying, but what is more annoying is that not all hurts are physical.
Emotional wounds are harder to treat. Neosporin and Band-Aids don't cover it (no pun intended). You think they're healing and suddenly you're gushing tears again.
At (adult) Sunday School I shared the prayer request that I keep getting hurt physically and emotionally, and I am sick of reaching for Band-Aids.
Our Sunday School teacher Matt smiled. He said he could write his own name next to that request every day. He said many others could do the same.
When Matt prayed, he thanked God for the rain pounding on the roof. He said it was healing rain sent to cleanse and heal those of us who have hurts like I mentioned. Later, he asked God to relieve our (my) physical, emotional, and spiritual hurts.
My first thought was defensive. "I didn't say I was hurt spiritually." As Matt prayed, God prodded gently.
"Yes, you are."
I can put a Band-Aid over my scratches to cover them up. I don't have to see their nastiness and neither does anyone else. Why am I still putting man's Band-Aid over God's band-aid (a scab)?
Emotional wounds don't need Band-Aids; they're covered in a different way. They're hidden deep within me as if that'll make them go away. The other day Luci said, "Katie, you're like a box. I keep trying to open you, and I can't." That hurt. But it was true.
Is God saying that to me too? "Katie, I'm here ready to open you, ready to heal you. I'm ready and you won't let Me."
Just like physical wounds need to be cleaned, so do emotional and, more importantly, spiritual wounds. Boy, does it hurt! But it's vital.
<>< Katie
"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." Romans 5:3-5
Friday, January 29, 2010
Crash Boom Bash
"I'll give you a ride back to your apartment," Jessica offered as we walked out of practice tonight. Then she added only half-jokingly, "If you don't mind riding with me."
I could have walked back to my apartment, in fact I seriously considered it. However, the dangers of riding with Jess seemed less than the dangers of walking across campus alone in the dark.
As I got in her new car, I thought back to that warm October day. I remember getting in her car that morning and thinking, If we crash, these color guard flags are going to cause some serious internal damage. We did and they didn't.
This past October, Jessica and I were headed to an academic event when we blew a tire by running off the road to avoid getting hit head-on by a line of Dodge Rams. God sent us some of our classmates to change the tire. We were going to get to our destination and get a new tire since we were in the middle of nowhere and were headed towards a bigger city.
In this brouhaha our GPS got messed up. It was telling us to get on the freeway, get off at the next exit, get back on the freeway going the other direction, get off at the next exit and on and on and on. Since we were driving on a spare tire, we didn't think it was wise to be on the freeway at all but neither of us knew an alternative route. Well, it wasn't long before we needed more than just a new tire.
We pulled over in a vacant parking lot to adjust the GPS. Destination reset, directions make sense, knew where we're going, put the GPS down, and continued our journey. Not a mile later we t-boned a Dodge Ram.
Afterwards I didn't talk about the accident much because, well, there's no nice way to say, "Jess and I totaled her car yesterday." Besides, the conversation was always more or less the same.
"Oh my gosh, are you ok?"
I'm fine. Yes, I'm a bit sore, we totaled a car for heaven sake, but I've been more sore from tennis practice. No ambulance ride. No ER. No nothing. No, that answer isn't going to change if you call back in two hours.
"Were you scared?"
First off, what kind of question is that? Who crashes a car and isn't scared? Me apparently. I watched the truck stop at the stop sign, cross oncoming traffic, cross the left lane, appear directly in front of our car. The only few seconds I cannot physically see were us making contact, the airbag deploying, and the trunk spinning. It would have been logical for me to close my eyes, after all there was an airbag colliding with my face (not to mention the truck colliding with our car). Even though I can't see those few seconds, I can hear the crunching of mental. With confidence I could tell EMS that my head was not responsible for the cracked windshield on the passenger side."Does the other driver have insurance?"
Can you drive a car without insurance? He admitted it was his fault and apologized. He said he never saw us but did stop at the stop sign. I know this to be true. I watched him do it.
Although it's not something I'm happy we experienced, we've both learned a lot from this day.
First off, we are thankful for flat tires. Since we were driving with the spare tire, we were driving slowly, ten to fifteen miles under the speed limit. It's not hard to notice that if we had been driving the speed limit, the hood of our car could have easily gotten stuck under the truck. That's would have made for an entirely different outcome. 
Secondly, it is a miracle that we had no injuries. The car took the brunt of the impact. Besides the dashboard, the only thing inside that was broken was Jess's GPS. (Which was already not in proper working order). Both of us were offered medical care. Jess opted for on-site evaluation, and I turned it down. For days I wondered if this was something I was going to regret, but I don't because I was not injured. In all honesty, I'm kind of disappointed we totaled a car and the only bruise on my body was from where I'd gotten body-slammed into the counter the week before. We are incredibly thankful for God's arms of protection surrounding us.
God provided us with compassionate people all the way through the day. From the other students who helped us change the tire to the woman who stopped to make sure we had a phone to call 911 to the bikers who waited with us until emergency personnel arrived to the emergency personnel themselves. Even the other driver was nice. There's no way I can ever thank everyone that helped us. I thought to thank some on the scene but some I didn't and that is one thing I regret from that day.
The other thing I regret is not being more of a backseat driver. I had been watching the truck the whole time. Jessica said she'd never heard me, "Jess, are you watching that truck? He doesn't see us. Jess! Truck!" I'd already been a backseat driver that day (as always), so I was trying not to be obnoxious. I was not screaming. Except for the millisecond as we were about to make contact when I doubted myself, I knew the whole time that he was not going to make it across the road before we both tried to be in the same place at the same time. I've resolved myself to forever be a backseat driver because I'd rather be annoying than be in a crushed car.
There are a zillion reasons why this accident didn't make sense:
- Periodically throughout our journey, Jess had been texting or talking on her cell phone. Texting/talking and driving has always bothered me. The irony is that she was not messing with her phone when we crashed.
- We should have never been on that road at all in our journey. If the GPS hadn't been messed up we would not have gotten off the freeway. If we would not have done the safe thing and pulled over in the parking lot, we would not have had to travel back down the road to get back to the freeway.
- If those first trucks and their ATVs had not made Jessica so nervous, we would not have swerved so far off the road that we hit the curb and popped her tire, so we could have been to our destination on time.
- If...
If, ands, and buts aside, we had an accident. That's exactly what this is: an accident. Except not to God. God doesn't have accidents; He may be the only one to know why it happened. But it did happen, and God is good. All the time.
Just because God is good doesn't mean our day was good. I mean, we got up on a Saturday to leave campus at 8am on what should have been a 55 minute drive only to return to campus at noon (the time I normally wake up on Saturdays) having never made it to our destination.
No, we did not get credit for the academic event we tried to attend. When I told the professor we tried to go and got into a car accident she looked me in the eye and essentially said, "Bummer." That irked me. If someone tells you they totaled a car trying to go to your event: do NOT under any circumstances say, "Bummer!" Even an, "I'm sorry" would have been nice... and necessary.
I've really struggled with this blog. Writing about the accident isn't hard; telling people about it is. However, I've really felt God's give me a story to tell, and I've been disobedient by keeping it to myself. I wrote this post a week ago and have revised/ rewritten it several times since then. Except I haven't posted it. I put it in my "next time I don't have something to say" collection of blogs. Face it, I always have something to say. I couldn't figure out why I was being so selfish and keeping this story silent.
Last night, I figured it out. Worshipping three rows in front of me was Jessica, my driver. Whether we like it or not, she and I will always have a bond because we crashed a car together.
Sitting in front of her was a different girl, also named Jessica. This other Jessica was in a car accident when she was in high school. A horrific accident where people died. She almost did, too. I'd known this for years but never really knew her story. Seeing her today helped me realize why I was being shy about sharing my story. The night before we crashed, Jessica told me about her car accident. She should not have lived! We talked about how God has healed her, physically and emotionally.
It clicked tonight seeing her for the first time in months. She was in a car accident and almost died, and God has used her story. I was in a car accident and walked away without a scratch; God can and will use my story, too.
I will not be silent any more!
<><>
PS. If you read this all the way through you deserve a hug because it's the Microsoft Word equivalent of three pages (without the photo). I'm sorry. Honestly, I tried to keep the details minimal. If I included everything I wanted to this post could have easily been fifteen pages. Ask me if you want more information because I'll freely give it. :-) Thanks for reading!
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Prayer
Last night I went to practice expecting to be learning a new song. Well, Queen Emily is drained right now, so she didn't have time to write a new song. Instead, the thirty of us girls spend the next hour drafting signs for "Let the Waters Rise" by Mikechair.
It was a song I hadn't heard before but I do enjoy it. These are the lyrics we were trying to convey:
Don’t know where to begin
It's like my world's caving in
And I try but I can't control my fear
Where do I go from here
Sometimes it's so hard to pray
When You feel so far away
but I am willing to go where You want me to
God I Trust You
There's a raging sea
Right in front of me
Wants to pull me in
Bring me to my knees
So let the waters rise
If You want them to
I will follow You
I will follow You
I will swim in the deep
Cuz you’ll be next to me
You’re in the eye of the storm and the calm of the sea
Your never out of reach
God You know where I’ve been
And You were there with me then
You were faithful before You’ll be faithful again
I’m holding Your hand
There's a raging sea
Right in front of me
Wants to pull me in
Bring me to my knees
God Your love is enough
You will pull me through
I’m holding onto You
God Your love is enough
I will follow You
I will follow You
The trick with ASL that it's not translated verbatim from English to sign. There is a lot of room for interpretation and with these songs we account for what God is saying to us through those lyrics at that very moment. This means that our gloss (ASL words) were all over the board. It seems each group focused in on a different stanza of the song, each group had a different line that really spoke to them. While I firmly believe that 30 girls is too many to be writing any one thing, it was very interesting to hear the different ideas.
As our hour drew to a close, the Queen asked for prayer. She asked if anyone else had prayer requests and I was shocked as hands flew up all over the room. It's the second week of the semester who on earth has that many prayer requests already? I hate to imply that some prayer requests are more important than others because God hears them all, but these weren't "I'm stressed" or "I want it to snow" prayer requests. These were heart-wrenching requests that will bring even the strongest of people to their knees. Requests like, "tuition was due last week and I haven't payed yet because my dad lost his job," "I was in the ER yesterday and might need heart surgery," "my uncle was in Haiti when the earthquake happened," "my mom's got a bad disease and there's nothing they can do," and "I can't tell you anything but just saying the word 'unspoken' makes me cry." Before we prayed, there were at least four different people crying and by the time we were done, I don't know if there was a dry eye in the mirror room.
For the last hour we'd spend laughing and pouring our hearts into a song. It's no wonder we all focused on different things because different things are plaguing our lives right now. Go read the lyrics again.
Ladies and gentlemen, our family of faith is hurting. Family prayers for each other. Will you join us in prayer? Not just for these girls that are so important to me but for our family all around the world.
Let me know how I can prayer for you more specifically.
Con Amor,
<>< Katie
It was a song I hadn't heard before but I do enjoy it. These are the lyrics we were trying to convey:
Don’t know where to begin
It's like my world's caving in
And I try but I can't control my fear
Where do I go from here
Sometimes it's so hard to pray
When You feel so far away
but I am willing to go where You want me to
God I Trust You
There's a raging sea
Right in front of me
Wants to pull me in
Bring me to my knees
So let the waters rise
If You want them to
I will follow You
I will follow You
I will swim in the deep
Cuz you’ll be next to me
You’re in the eye of the storm and the calm of the sea
Your never out of reach
God You know where I’ve been
And You were there with me then
You were faithful before You’ll be faithful again
I’m holding Your hand
There's a raging sea
Right in front of me
Wants to pull me in
Bring me to my knees
God Your love is enough
You will pull me through
I’m holding onto You
God Your love is enough
I will follow You
I will follow You
The trick with ASL that it's not translated verbatim from English to sign. There is a lot of room for interpretation and with these songs we account for what God is saying to us through those lyrics at that very moment. This means that our gloss (ASL words) were all over the board. It seems each group focused in on a different stanza of the song, each group had a different line that really spoke to them. While I firmly believe that 30 girls is too many to be writing any one thing, it was very interesting to hear the different ideas.
As our hour drew to a close, the Queen asked for prayer. She asked if anyone else had prayer requests and I was shocked as hands flew up all over the room. It's the second week of the semester who on earth has that many prayer requests already? I hate to imply that some prayer requests are more important than others because God hears them all, but these weren't "I'm stressed" or "I want it to snow" prayer requests. These were heart-wrenching requests that will bring even the strongest of people to their knees. Requests like, "tuition was due last week and I haven't payed yet because my dad lost his job," "I was in the ER yesterday and might need heart surgery," "my uncle was in Haiti when the earthquake happened," "my mom's got a bad disease and there's nothing they can do," and "I can't tell you anything but just saying the word 'unspoken' makes me cry." Before we prayed, there were at least four different people crying and by the time we were done, I don't know if there was a dry eye in the mirror room.
For the last hour we'd spend laughing and pouring our hearts into a song. It's no wonder we all focused on different things because different things are plaguing our lives right now. Go read the lyrics again.
"Don’t know where to begin/It's like my world's caving in/And I try but I can't control my fear/Where do I go from here/Sometimes it's so hard to pray /When You feel so far away/ but I am willing to go where/ You want me to /God I Trust You /There's a raging sea Right in front of me /Wants to pull me in /Bring me to my knees /So let the waters rise /If You want them to/ I will follow You /I will swim in the deep /Cuz you’ll be next to me /You’re in the eye of the storm and the calm of the sea /Your never out of reach /God You know where I’ve been/ And You were there with me then /You were faithful before /You’ll be faithful again/ I’m holding Your hand."
Ladies and gentlemen, our family of faith is hurting. Family prayers for each other. Will you join us in prayer? Not just for these girls that are so important to me but for our family all around the world.
Let me know how I can prayer for you more specifically.
Con Amor,
<>< Katie
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