Luch With Christ

My phone alarm rang: luch with Christ.

Yeah, that was really supposed to read "Lunch with Christa." Someone must have been in a hurry.

Yet that someone can't help but laugh at the irony. "Luchar" is a Spanish verb which means "to fight." While "Luch" isn't actually a word, it's similar enough.

Fight with Christ: 12:10.

As much as I hate to admit it, I fight with Christ.  And it's more than just at 12:10.

<>< Katie
In other news, Happy Reformation Day!

And Happy Deep-Breath Day... NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow and I'm participating for the first time. The idea is that you write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November. So, I apologize if I'm more sparse on your dashboard, but "every word on your blog is one less word in your novel" (I forget who said that, but it wasn't me).

Also, I'm thinking about making some changes on my blog in the future, and I would love to hear your feedback.  What do you want to see more of?  Less of?  What haven't I done that you'd like to see?  What do you never want to see again?  You can post your feedback in the comments or email me at KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com.  I promise, I won't hate you for being honest (at least not forever).

Anyone Can Cook

I had everything for a sandwich out on the counter when I decided I wasn't in the mood for salami. I decided to prove to myself (and the world) that I can cook!

"Anyone can cook," as Gusteau in Ratatouille says.

I have never met Gusteau, as evidenced by his statement that anyone can cook. I think I fall in the category Remy argues, "Anyone can cook but that doesn't mean anyone should!"

I decided on a very basic meal and assembled my ingredients. I was in luck! We had everything.

So I began, step by step to assemble my--never mind, I'm not telling you what I didn't actually make.

It's not that I didn't want lunch. It's not that I didn't how to make lunch. It's not that I couldn't make lunch. No, it was the thoughts and questions rolling around in the back of my head.

How do I know when it's done? When it looks like you'll eat it. But what if it isn't done all of the way? What if I get food poisoning and die? It's not working. This isn't what it's supposed to look like. I did something wrong. This isn't safe.

So I changed what I was making. Bonus points for thinking on my feet, right? Yet the questions and doubts continued.

This doesn't look right. Will I smell it if it starts burning? What if I burn the house down? Where is the fire extinguisher? Is it supposed to do that? I don't think this is right. I'm not eating this.

I gave up. I turned off the stove, poured my epic fail into a garbage bag, and took it out to the street. Salami sandwich it would be.

You better learn to like P, B, and J because that's what you'll be eating for the rest of your life. Your kids will be the one with the mom who can't cook. You better make a lot of money so you can afford to eat out regularly because PBJ and frozen lasagnas are going to get old fast. Gusteau lied.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to smack something in frustration or cry in embarrassment. Maybe both.

The kitchen was littered with the dishes from my lunch fail and I sat at the table pouting, salami sandwich on my plate.

Katie.
Not in the mood, God.
Why are you listening to the enemies lies?
You mean the truths?
They're lies. You can cook.
Do you not smell that? Were you not watching me make a mess?
You are a mess. But a beautiful mess. Do you want to know what you did wrong?
I know what I did wrong: I tried to cook.
You didn't wait. Everything you did--except switching "recipes" in the middle--was correct. But you didn't wait. Cooking takes time. Learning to cook takes time.
If You're going to tell me it's like fishing, I don't want to hear it. Not a fisherman, fisherwoman nor a fisher-of-women. Sorry.
Why are you swallowing the lies? Toss them out like you did that half-cooked meal. Be done with them. All of them.

As the Cat

Sitting down with my lunch at a kitchen table filled with newspapers, I noticed that I was not alone.

Exploring my backyard were three deer.  Two fawns and a doe were enjoying their lunch of plants and apples.

Watching them was peaceful.  They have been added to my list of 1,000 Blessings.  Their brown fur with hints of white spots was a beautiful contrast to the lush green vegetation that hasn't yet admitted that it's fall.

Into our lunch date walked Oscar, the lion-like cat.

Yesterday, Oscar tried to hunt these same deer.  Don't worry, it was through the window.  Not like my ferocious cat had anything on my three deer friends.  As long as no one got hurt, that would be a fun battle to watch.

Instead, I watched Oscar approach the window, waiting for him to see that his prey had returned.  He sat right up against the pane looking off to the left.  I don't what he was looking at, but it wasn't the deer.

He sat right there and didn't see them directly in front of him!  From my seat, I could see both Oscar and the deer in the same line of vision, but Oscar was clueless.  And he's the smarter of our two cats...

I began to wonder why Oscar was missing the deer that he loved yesterday but I could see them clearly.  I drew two possible conclusions.

1. Maybe there's something blocking his view at that perspective (ex: patio furniture).
2. Maybe cats can't see that far.

God spoke.

Not in an audible voice he said, "you're the cat."

"What you see," He explained to my heart, "is not always what I see.  My view goes further and my perspective is clear of obstacles."

"How long, LORD, must I call for help,
but You do not listen?
...
the LORD’s Answer
'Look at the nations and watch—
and be utterly amazed.
For I am going to do something in your days
that you would not believe,
even if you were told.'"
Habakkuk 1:2, 5

God, I don't want to be Oscar missing the deer right in front of my eyes. I want to gaze straight ahead and see Your mighty power, Your mighty plan, and Your mighty love. I am watching and know I will be utterly amazed with what You are doing in my days. When it becomes time for You to tell me, may I believe. Do something astounding.

<>< Katie

Fear of Rejection

I've always struggled with fear of rejection.  Part of it comes from eight long years of middle and high school feeling like an outcast.

But overcoming the fear of rejection is more than having a place saved for you at the lunch table.  More than hearing the words, "Katie, we'd love for you to live in our apartment."  More than, "Will you go to the dance with me?"

It also involves a graduate school saying, "We see potential in her and want to grow her."  It's an employer saying, "We want her on our team!"  It's someone, anyone, saying "I believe in you."

Fear of rejection is still very real in my life, even if my name is shouted joyously when I enter the caf.  It still has a bigger hold than I'd care to admit, a bigger hold than I thought it did six months ago.

But in Christ I've found someone who says, "I believe in you."  I've found acceptance.  And it comes from the Creator of the Universe.  What more can one want?

Maybe I don't know what comes after China, but I am slowly learning to say, "It's going to be alright."  And do you know why?

Because God IS good.  ALL the time.

Even when it's hard to believe.  Even when you get seven rejections in five months.  Even when the world says, "She's not good enough."  Even when you're alone at the lunch table.

The House that Pukes Kids

There is a local family that invites Amber and me over for lunch on a regular basis.  Sunday dinner is a gathering of three generations, approximately thirteen people, in a house near the church.  We know this family so well that we don't even knock before walking it.

Rather than briefing first-timer Kevin on the chaos he was about to encounter, we spent the ride there discussing some of our best pranks.  Those we've pulled and those that have been pulled on us.  The appropriate and the inappropriate.  The hilarious and the flops.

When we got there, we pulled the conversation to a temporary halt (primarily because I was telling alcohol-related stories and those are frowned upon in Baptist Country).  Amber pulled open the back door and I followed her in.  Behind me I heard a thud.

Kevin said as he was about to step inside the house, an eleven year old girl tumbled onto the ground from inside the wall.  She was quickly followed by her three year old cousin wrapped in one of Granddaddy's dress shirts.  They both laughed hysterically when Kevin jumped.

Amber and I were thoroughly amused but we knew there was still one missing.  I walked back and looked into the hole in the wall.  Sure enough, there was my six year old "boyfriend" with a pair of boxers on his head.

I guess the original plan had been to lure the three of us into the bathroom, together, and scare us by popping out of the top of the laundry shoot.  Well, that wasn't good enough.  Instead, they rolled out the side of it.

It definitely goes on the list of best pranks!

<>< Katie

Disclaimer: No one was hurt in the making of this blog.  The laundry shoot is like a built-in cabinet basket that opens in the laundry room on the other side of the wall.  The author claims no responsibility for any injuries that result from attempting similar pranks.

Lunch with a Stranger

It was a little after 1, and I had somewhere to be at 1:30 and lunch to eat first when I flew into the caf.  I got my food and had resolved myself to sit alone, something I actually enjoy doing periodically.  I still don't know how I saw her since she was behind me, around the corner, and hidden by the crowd, but I did.  She, too, was sitting alone.  I walked up and slid my tray onto the table.

"Can I sit here?"

She had food in her mouth but nodded, and I told her I'd be right back.  I dropped my bag, left my tray, and went to get my milk.  I came back, sat down, prayed the Common Table Prayer, and asked her name.  Marta.  I recognized it from working check-in that morning.  She was a transfer student; it was her first day on campus.  I asked how it was going.

As she talked, slowly the tears welled in her eyes.  They matched the ones I had been sporting earlier.  Sometime between my golf-cart ride to McDonalds with Megan after check-in and this lunch, I discovered the job I had last year was no longer available to me.  It was a complicated situation, and I was the victim of the system.  I was confused.  Upset.  Frustrated.  Livid.  I cried.  I called my dad.  I cried again.  I had a plan: talk to my boss, but I couldn't do that until I knew I was not going to melt in his office.

With a compassionate smile, I asked Marta how many times she had gotten lost that day.  Lots.  She'd lost her map.  She laughed.  I laughed.  She cried.  I cared.  By the end of lunch, I had gotten her two new maps.  Each had her apartment building circled, the building where her nursing classes would be circled, and a big huge "F" over the building where the food was.  What more does a person need, right?  I walked her to where she needed to go, and we said goodbye.

I visited my favorite coffee shop to email my hippy boss.  My internet's still spotty.  "We have a problem," the email said.  "When are you going to be in your office?"

Almost instantly he responded, "I'm here now; come on over."

I did.  When I walked in, he asked how I was.  I said I was cranky.  He didn't understand: worms were burrowing and he'd just gotten his iTouch to work after two years; how could I be cranky?  Then I told him what happened to my job.  He became distressed and no longer cared about the worms.  He called his boss who called her boss who promised to work on the mess for me.  The hippy told me it was just a matter of faith that the situation would work itself out.  It was weird.

At dinner, I saw Marta again.  I asked if the rest of her day had improved.  She said it had.  She even had a new friend!  I was so excited for her I "woooh-who-ed" right there in the middle of the caf.  I had intended to sit with them, but we got separated in the mob.

It's been four days since I've seen Marta.  My job situation has been rectified.  My boss's boss's boss, who has a big important title, made some phone calls, got me my job back, and earned himself a hand-written thank you card.  I can only hope Marta has memorized her maps, made more than one friend, and is enjoying herself.

I think we both needed each other at that lunch.  It was a simple exchange, a breach of the comfort zone, and a world gained.  God's way to remind us that He is Jehovah-Jirah, the Lord provider.

<>< Katie

Baptist Easter

I was nervous about my first Easter in Baptist Country.  Come to find out, it was just me being a pessimist.  Big surprise.  I was wrong.  My Easter was very good!  Even if no one responded when I called, "He is risen!"

Sometimes when you live in a dorm room you forget what it's like to live in a house.  You forget what it's like to not be able to swipe your card and get a (maybe) hot meal but instead have a fully stocked pantry.
Lunch on Friday was a challenge.  I can't really call it "lunch."  A more accurate term may be: the massive amounts of bizarre food consumed around mid-day.  It was Good Friday, so I couldn't eat meat and I don't eat Ramen (so many college students live on Ramen noodles that it's my goal to graduate without eating them), Elizabeth can't cook anything except mac & cheese and there wasn't any, Jennifer only wanted cereal, and Emily only likes food that begins with the letter "c" and won't eat food that begins with "p."  Thus our lunch dilemma.  We ate: Ramen (not me), rice and cinnamon, cereal, cantaloupe, applesauce, pudding, and string cheese.  Don't tell Mrs. Mary.  :-)

When you live in a house you have to remember that the blurry red lights across the bedroom aren't just there to be annoying but to someone they reveal the time in the middle of the night...
Something you may not know about me: I am a bad bed partner.  I talk, I kick, I really hate sleeping on the top bunk without a safety bar because, well, I use the whole bed and sometimes more.  When I learned Elizabeth and I were going to be sharing a double bed for five nights I was scared... for her sake.  Even if I only kicked her once every night that would still leave five painful bruises on her legs.  As it turns out, I never kicked her but instead I took an elbow to the face in the middle of the night.  Thanks, friend.  She said it's because I stole the covers.  I told her if she would have asked nicely I would have given them back but nooooo she had to get violent on me.  :-)

In a home, everything has a place and the only thing out of place is Bananagrams, the most frequently played game in the house.
When I close my eyes to go to sleep at night, I see Bananagrams letters.  I'm kind of experiencing withdrawals being back on campus.  It's a word game kind of like Scrabble but better; we played for hours every day.  This is marvelous for word-lovers like me.  Not so great for the weird math-lovers like my future roommate Jennifer or friend Chris.  No one is still quite sure how Andy was able to play Bananagrams with one hand and look up spellings in the dictionary with the other.  Either way his "n comes after m" got really annoying... If you can't use a word in a sentence, define it, or spell it then you can't use it!

When you live on campus sometimes you forget driving can actually be faster than walking...
Since I wasn't home for Easter, some traditions had to be broken... like sitting in a dark closet for three hours on Friday afternoon to commemorate Jesus' time on the cross.  One tradition I refused to sacrifice was the Good Friday Service of Darkness.  It's an incredibly powerful service for Jesus reflecting on the seven things He said from the cross.  I forced Chris, Andy, and Elizabeth into funeral clothes and to the Lutheran church down the road (not to be confused with the funeral home).  We were teasing about the five cars outside and all of us leaving wearing black; people were going to start calling asking who died.  Jesus did.  Well, we walked into church and the first person we saw was wearing bright green scrubs.  Another person was wearing an Easter bonnet.  And there we were all dressed in black... So maybe this Lutheran church is a bit different than mine.  My three Baptist friends were good sports about it, though.

When you live in a house you forget that in some places of the world there are commitments before 8am.
Including Elizabeth and her two sisters, Andy, and me there were five of us fighting for one bathroom.  We were really expecting this to be a huge problem Easter morning, but it actually wasn't too bad!  For the first time in years we made it to the Sonrise service on time!  I'd never been to a Sonrise service, so it was a cool experience to stand in the parking lot and put flowers on the cross.  It a beautiful tradition and it works in Baptist Country, but it wouldn't work in place where a white Easter is feasible.

When you live in a house you have real dishes and nice china, too.
This Easter was the first holiday without my family.  I handled it a lot better than I anticipated... until Mrs. Mary asked me to set the table and handed me a set of plates.  The china pattern was the exact same as my mom's.  Our also rarely-used good china was being placed around a rarely used dining room table 900 miles away where, according to an earlier text from my sister, a place had been set for me.  I think I'm going to be late...

All in all, my Easter was great!

Care for some quotes for good measure?
Emily: What's the lowest note you can sing?
Andy: Um... I think a seven.
Emily: Will you do it?

Andy walks in carrying a heap of blankets
Elizabeth: What's that?
Andy: My gardening utensils.

Jennifer: Will you hold my Nerds? And don't tell me I am what I eat!

Elizabeth: I feel like a limp noodle!

Andy: Emily, can I put this pig in your speed bump?

<>< Katie

Use Me

I think I over-estimated my number of readers... does anyone actually read these blogs?

Last week Monday, my friend Jessica was concerned about the lack volunteers for VBS. We all concurred that God would provide.

On Wednesday, I went out to lunch with a mutual friend Emily to discuss high school ministry and in the four parking stalls between her car and mine, she somehow convinced me to see if Jessica still needed help for VBS. I knew God would provide for Jessica, but I never expected that I would be the one He provided. In reality, God dropped people from the sky for her, and the fall didn't hurt. God and I had a good laugh all the way home.
"Use me," I said, "but obviously You don't need my permission to do that. Yet I still give it."

Well, a week later I have survived my first VBS ever! There are a plethora of children's songs running on shuffle in my head... where they have been for the last week. Yet the effects of VBS go a whole lot deeper than musical hallucinations.

Last night, I drove past a dead opossum on the road. I chuckled when I contemplated pulling over, putting my hand on it, and saying, "God gives up life!" (And I half expected a loud "Fear not!" to follow).

This afternoon, my VBS kids were running back towards church and I said, "Let's use our walking feet." Imagine my surprise when every single one of them slowed down and began to walk! I was still talking, and one of them turned around and said, "SHHH!!" to me! I forgot, walking feet go with quiet mouths and listening ears! It only took a week for them to learn and less time than that to forget, but it feels good to be shhh-ed by a four year old.

One of my VBS friends loved the firefly he made on Monday. Every day he asked if he could take it home, and everyday the answer was, "You may take it home on Friday." Everyday he told me, "This is my firefly. It reminds me that God is with us! FEAR NOT!" Some lessons do actually stick.

Max Lucado recommends taking a walk with a child every day to see life from their point of view. Well, every day this week I got to see God through the eyes of a four year old, and let me just tell you: He is good!

Learning to Listen,
<>< Katie

Twas the Night Before Christmas...

Today was a pretty close to miserable day. It took me a over an hour to do a drive that should take less than 45. I dropped my sister off at the movie theater and had a nice lunch with a friend. We sat down, and he teased that it was going to take him an hour to eat, but I didn't need to feel compelled to stay that long. Well, his food was finish and our conversation still raging in full gear.

After lunch, I pulled back into the theater parking lot just as the movie ended. We then had to go to the mall. One day before Christmas. In a blizzard. Puke.

It was very easy for me to say, "If the glasses people hadn't broken my glasses the first time they tried to fix them, I could just go home now and finish making Christmas cookies. Wrap the presents? Oh, yeah, gotta do that, too." No. I had to be sitting in the mall... for an hour... while they replaced the lens of my glasses and then tried to tell me I needed to pay for it. In reality, they broke it, and eventually they replaced the lens for free.

While I was stalling for an hour, I ran over to a department store looking for a specific item. Well, apparently they don't make the size I need. Surprise, surprise. My entire body doesn't fit into the sizes made. Shoes, pants, shirts, you name it... it doesn't fit properly... After many hours (or at least many, many minutes) of searching, a sales associate approached me and asked if I was finding everything alright. I answered honestly (no) and told her what I was looking for. She then tried to convince me I needed to sign up for a charge card for that particular store. Well, if I can't find the product I want, why do I need to save money by signing up for a card? I told her no literally four different times. She then went to find another sales associate to ask if they make the size I was looking for. The second associate said no without offering any other suggestion. I walked away in frustration, and I heard the two sales associates making jokes. Maybe they weren't directed at me, maybe they were just having fun, but I highly doubt it. Needless to say, I promptly left the store.

My sister and I left the mall and I asked her where the package was. Her boyfriend is coming for Christmas and I didn't know what to get him, so she was going to go buy something while I was picking up my glasses. Well, apparently she couldn't find what she was looking for, so she bought nothing. Now I have no present for Boy. For tomorrow. Crap.

Drove home. Yeah, let's plow the roads.

Found a message waiting for me from a friend who wants to get together before break is over. Well, I had most of last week free, but she couldn't do anything. Now I'm booked and she's moderately free. I really, really want to get together with her, but there seems to be no time. It's frustrating!

Ok, awful day, eh?

So I come home, wrap the presents I do have (I figured out something for Boy), and took out my anger on our Wii. I bowled a 168! That's a personal record for me. I then upped my skills level on Wii Tennis to 606 (We've had this game for two days...).

At least the virtual world likes me.

Although, my shoulder wants to kill me.

I hope your day was better than mine!

Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow we remember the Savior of the world entering His creation in the form of an infant. Not just any infant, but an infant who was born in a stinky, smelly stable to a carpenter and his teenage wife-to-be. Perhaps my situation wasn't the only one that's less than perfect.

<>< Katie