A Run in the Park

My family and I used to go to Lifest for the bands.  Hours were spent circling artist names in the program and making a strategic plan of where we needed to be and when.  Unfortunately for me, long gone are the years when I spent five days running from stage to stage, from mosh pit to lawn chair, from merch table to meet and greet line.

This past opening night of Lifest we got caught in the madness where the one-lane road through the park became a parking lot.  The only show I wanted to see all evening was to start in four minutes.  So still in the holding pattern at the park's entrance, I abandoned my family and our minivan.  I began to walk with a purpose towards a party with a purpose.  It took me fifteen minutes to walk from the park entrance to the fairgrounds entrance (in case you ever need to know).

Fifteen minutes is long time to repeatedly glance at your watch and realize you're missing the only show you wanted to see that day.  It's also a long time to question if you're approaching with the right heart.

Even if I miss my show, will tonight still be worth it?  Am I willing to hear from the Lord through a speaker I've never heard of, a band whose CD I have never purchased?  Am I here for an artist, a speaker, or am I here for the Lord?

Valid questions to take my mind off of the ticking minutes.

A fifteen minute jog through the park, thirteen minutes in line to exchange my ticket for a wristband, and I finally made it to the Grandstand as Peder Eide was wrapping up "Yes, Lord" and beginning a new song, "We are Not Orphans."  A new, new song.  So new the CD it's on won't be released until July 15th.  Peder has personally told me about this song twice, but I've been waiting a year to hear it.

A year.  No embellishing.

I thought I was late.  Twenty-three minutes late, to be exact.  Twenty-three minutes late to a forty minute show.

I wasn't.  I was right on time.  Sure, I missed the first twenty-three minutes that I would have thoroughly enjoyed, but I was right on time to hear the song I had been anxiously awaiting.

It was a beautiful moment.

"I haven't forgotten.  Welcome to Lifest.  We've been waiting for you," the Lord whispered to me.

It might have taken twenty-three minutes of anxiety, but once again I could honestly proclaim, "God, I'm all in.  I'm here for You.  Not the artists, not the speakers, not the expo center, not the camaraderie.  I'm here for YOU!" 

What a wonderful feeling that is!

When's the last time you spent fifteen minutes running through a (figurative) park adjusting the focus of your heart?  When's the last time you let your Abba Father sing over you and remind you of His goodness?  He's waiting.

"For the Lord your God is living among you.
He is a mighty savior.
He will take delight in you with gladness.
With his love, he will calm all your fears.
He will rejoice over you with joyful songs."
Zephaniah 3:17 NLT

Blessing in Disguise

My friend Elizabeth was asked to lead an evening twenty-somethings Bible study at her church.  No one thought to give her a key to the church, and she didn't think to ask for it.

So, after dinner, we pulled up to church without a way to get inside.  Instead, we set up camp in the parking lot and began to study the Word of the Lord.

The evening was beautiful.  A light breeze, no humidity, and a beautiful sunset.  If we had had a key, we would have missed the beautiful day God created for us!  It was absolutely perfect for sitting outside.

While we were finishing up our study, the pastor drove up and offered to let us inside.  We were all pretty content with where we were.  Then he told us they were going to shoot off fireworks from the field next to the church in a few minutes.

If we had been inside, we would have missed the fireworks, the coolest end to Bible study ever.

Sometimes what's seen as a problem, such as a lack of a key, can really be a blessing in disguise.

Are you looking for blessings in disguise?

<>< Katie

The Post in Which the Author Laments

It is the end of an era.  Saying goodbye to my parents in what we now affectionately call "The Crying Parking Lot" seems like forever ago.

"One Sunday afternoon in June" is very quickly becoming "a Monday morning in May."  That very expensive piece of paper is almost mine.  But I don't want it.

I'm not ready to leave.  I'm not ready to get a big girl job.  I'm not ready to start over.

I love it here.  It's why I prayerfully chose this place.  God has grown me and used me here.

I'm not the same woman I was four years ago when we cried in the parking lot.  All too soon I'll be crying in a different parking lot.  Pulling away from a place that has shaped me, formed me, and made me who I am.

As my peers discuss what dorm they're living in next year, I ponder what state (country?) I'll be in.  As they plan their schedule, I look at the classes I wish I could take.

When my parents, sisters, and I said goodbye, I walked back to my dorm while their van pull away.  I never looked back.

Will I be able to do the same in a month?

Based on how easily the tears filled my eyes tonight, no.

I refuse to count the days until I walk across the stage. Instead, I'm being pulled towards it kicking and screaming. Even my pullers are screaming.

"I'm going to have a hard time when you graduate."
"Are you sure you don't want to add an seventh major and stay a little while longer?"

But, unfortunately, it's time. 

The rites of passage passed and the mile stones crossed.  Those "one day in the future" events have become items to be crossed off the to-do list.

Yet still it hurts.

I'm comfortable here.  Four years will do that.

I cannot walk across campus without stopping to chat.  I know the chain of command for almost every problem and situation.  I'm not afraid to jump to the top of the chain, I know the loop holes, and I call people by their first names.  I keep emergency numbers in my phone, and I have used them.

This is my school.
This is my home.

I understand now why people linger long after graduation.  Part of me hopes I become one of them.

<>< Katie

And to think, this post was supposed to be about my final youth trip this weekend.

Sorry, friends. Thanks for letting me be nostalgic today.

Amber and I purchsed our flights to China on Friday! Now my life doesn't end until August. But I still don't have any idea what I'm doing when I get back.

Perfect Timing

A few years ago at an outdoor music festival, I heard Peter Fuller (then the lead-singer of Newsboys) talk about God's perfect timing. In the middle of his statement about how perfect God's timing is, a train horn sounded in near proximity.  The entire audience errupted in laughter. In his heavy Australian accent he looked at us and said, "A train interrupts my concert and you laugh?"

Well, God's perfect timing struck again and there was only nervous laughter.

I'd just gotten out of class at 10pm and was driving back to my apartment from the library. As I approached the stoplight I noticed a car cross the intersection and instinctively slowed down to stop at the white line. It was only then that I glanced up and noticed I had the green light. Maybe there was a malfunction? No, the other car definitely had a red light.

I made a quick glance around for:
Police officers. None. What are the odds?
Other cars. None. Thank goodness.
A green light. Go ahead.

At first, I didn't really think much of it. We all accidently run red lights from time to time. Not a big deal. Besides, it was late, and he probably got sick of waiting for the light to change. I was the only other car around. It wasn't until I was back in the safety of my apartment that I truly realized what had just happened.

Rewind. When I pulled out of my parking space, there was an exit to the left (the direction I needed to go) not far from where I was parked. Instead, I drove an extra thirty seconds, out of my way, to the right exit. Why? I don't know. I guess I just wasn't paying attention. It was 10pm! I'd just gotten out of my last class. Twelve hours earlier, I'd been dismissed from my first class of the day. Yes, one of those days.

It wasn't just because I was tired. It was because if I'd been to the stop light thirty second earlier... well, crash boom bash. We know this story. Been there done that. Unlike last time, this car wasn't starting from a stopped position. He was going and going fast. That could have been a really bad end to a long day.

I cannot take credit for avoiding that collision. I didn't do anything except absent-mindedly leave the parking lot. It was God who perfectly positioned and timed our cars for this to be only a "thanks, God" rather than a "help, God!"

Had any close calls lately? Whether you're aware of them or not, they've happened. Take a minute to thank Him for His perfect timing and arms of protection.

<>< Katie

Tales of Nikki and Katie: The Episode of the Bike (Helmet)

In my family, when you turn double-digits, you get two big presents: a mountain bike and a bedroom set.  It kind of worked that way for me and my parents kept the tradition for my sisters.  So, on my tenth birthday we all hopped in the van and drove to the same bike shop where my mom and grandfather got their first adult bikes.  I still remember the day. This must have been before my purple phase because I came home with a maroon bike that I absolutely loved and a red helmet I tolerated.  I'm now twenty-one and that same bike came to college with me. 

Nikki hates to walk everywhere from our middle-of-nowhere apartment, so I offered her the use of my bike.  Problem: I'm tall; Nikki's not.  We tried to find a seat-height that would satisfy both of us but couldn't.  Finally we realized the seat moves very easily, a brand new feature back in 1999 when I bought my bike.  When Nikki wanted to ride it, she could lower the seat.  When I wanted to ride my bike, I could raise it.  Very simple; very easy.  I told her the code to my combination lock, and we were set.

A few days later, my bike was missing from our second-story porch because Nikki took me up on my offer.  Except Nikki was in the living room.
Katie: Where's my bike?
Nikki: OH MY GOSH!  Katie, you have the smallest seat in the world!
Katie: I have the smallest butt in the world.
Nikki: It's in my office.  I rode it to work and go so fed up with it that I got a car ride back.

This was Friday meaning my bike was locked in there over the weekend.  Not really a big deal.  Nikki also conveniently wore a dress for the next several days meaning she couldn't ride my bike back.

Nikki: Next time you're up near the caf, swing by my office and pick up your bike because it might stay there all semester if you don't, and we really need the space back.
Katie: Yeah, I'll remember to take my helmet with me to the caf.  That's not dorky.

Last fall, I crashed on my bike.  My thoughts went something like this, "Road?  Sidewalk?  Road?  Sidewalk?  Road.  Crap, speed bumps.  Just kidding!  Sidewalk."

I learned something very important: You can't do "just kidding" on a bike.  Indecisiveness leads to skinned knees

Since I've always been very safety conscious and I have a history of bike crashes, I wear a red helmet when I ride my maroon bike.  I also ski with a purple helmet and have been known to Wii Bowl in my ski helmet.  Yes, everyone laughs at me.  I've decided I'd rather be the dork with the helmet than the dork with the broken head.

When I did finally retrieve my bike from Nikki's office, I rode it down the hallway, on the sidewalk, through the grass, across the parking lot, up the hill, through the building, and up the stairs without a helmet.  It was terrifying.  And liberating. 

When I told my mom this story, she laughed all the way through it.  When I got to the "So I rescued my bike and rode it home without a helmet" part she said she was proud of me.  Huh?!

And now I face a major decision: Helmet or no helmet?  That is the question.

<>< Katie