A few months ago Rich (Nikki's pastor) awoke to a tap, tap, tap, and some clawing on his bedroom window. He opened the blinds to find a bird trapped between to panes of glass.
Unfortunately, the exterior pane cannot be opened from the outside. Instead, he hoped the bird would be patient and stay away from his hands as he opened each pane individually.
You see where this is going?
He opened the interior pane and, sure enough, the bird flew in. He spent the next half hour trying to get this bird out of the parsonage.
We are that bird. Some how we've trapped ourselves. Rather than waiting for God to complete His rescue mission, we escape at the first chance we get, only to realize it's not an escape at all but a larger trap.
Luckily, that's not the end for us. God's willing to do what it takes to get us, His little birdies, out of the bondage that is our parsonage.
Rich used a broom.
God used Christ.
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label pastor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pastor. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Koolaid
I had my choice between going to church with Nikki or going to church with Melia.
Really, I was just happy to get to worship with my friends on a Wednesday night.
It was decided I'd go with Nikki so we could spend some extra time together before I had to leave.
The Bible study was good. I learned. I saw the congregation's hunger for the Lord, even though they make my grandparents look young. I enjoyed time with my friend and listening to her pastor teach. It was good.
When we got home, Melia was in awe of what happened at her church. The more she spoke, the more I realized I made the wrong decision. The scripture, the truths, the presentation seemed like God had hand-crafted that sermon for me... and I wasn't there.
I didn't ask why. Rather, I was upset.
God, why wasn't I there? You had the power to put me there. I was torn on which church to attend. It would have been very easy for the conclusion to have been the opposite, and I would have clearly seen Your hand.
I don't know why I wasn't there. Maybe because Nikki and I needed some bonding time. Maybe I needed to be encouraged by the old people eager to hear the Word. Maybe the they needed to be encouraged by us youngin's. Maybe "Uncle Bill" needed a new listener for his "the dog ate my hearing aid" story. Maybe Melia needed to summarize the sermon for me.
Maybe it was selfish for me to have wished the evening had gone differently.
Do you ever do that? Tell God He's the focus of your night but then get upset when He doesn't do what you wanted Him to do?
Guilty,
<>< Katie
PS: This post has nothing to do with Koolaid. But it happens to be what I am drinking right now, and I could not come up with a better title.
Really, I was just happy to get to worship with my friends on a Wednesday night.
It was decided I'd go with Nikki so we could spend some extra time together before I had to leave.
The Bible study was good. I learned. I saw the congregation's hunger for the Lord, even though they make my grandparents look young. I enjoyed time with my friend and listening to her pastor teach. It was good.
When we got home, Melia was in awe of what happened at her church. The more she spoke, the more I realized I made the wrong decision. The scripture, the truths, the presentation seemed like God had hand-crafted that sermon for me... and I wasn't there.
I didn't ask why. Rather, I was upset.
God, why wasn't I there? You had the power to put me there. I was torn on which church to attend. It would have been very easy for the conclusion to have been the opposite, and I would have clearly seen Your hand.
I don't know why I wasn't there. Maybe because Nikki and I needed some bonding time. Maybe I needed to be encouraged by the old people eager to hear the Word. Maybe the they needed to be encouraged by us youngin's. Maybe "Uncle Bill" needed a new listener for his "the dog ate my hearing aid" story. Maybe Melia needed to summarize the sermon for me.
Maybe it was selfish for me to have wished the evening had gone differently.
Do you ever do that? Tell God He's the focus of your night but then get upset when He doesn't do what you wanted Him to do?
Guilty,
<>< Katie
PS: This post has nothing to do with Koolaid. But it happens to be what I am drinking right now, and I could not come up with a better title.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
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
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
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Trust, Even in the Desert
Let's be honest for a minute: some days I don't want to read my Bible, don't want to pray, don't want to spend time with the Lord.
It was one of those days. Even though I wasn't tired, I was ready to call it a night. I just didn't feel like doing a devotion.
Grudgingly I threw my Bible on my bed and flipped to where I was reading in Nehemiah. Chapter 9. The same chapter the pastor used in his sermon on Sunday. The same chapter we'd read in small group. In two days I had gone from oblivious to practically an expert on Nehemiah 9; I didn't want to read it yet again. I figured I'd skim it quickly and go to bed. Wrong.
Here's what you need to know: my favorite Bible is held together by purple duct tape. If you drop it, a tree of papers will fall out. The margins notes are numerous. It's in such rough shape that I rarely take it out of my room. But it's in that Bible where all of my sermon notes have been transferred... since sixth grade.
I flipped to Nehemiah 9 and lo and behold sometime in the last ten years (excluding this past Sunday), I heard a sermon on Nehemiah 9. It was at our student worship service a few years back. It wasn't my favorite guest speaker and based on the date and when that would have fallen in the semester, I debated even going that night. I'm glad I did.
In Nehemiah 9, the wall around Jerusalem has already been rebuilt. The people have literally wept upon hearing (and understanding) the Law they have not kept. Now they're confessing their sins and reminding God of how He's been faithful to them through the exodus, the desert, and into the promised land.
It's an exercise I have been encouraged to use myself. Since we're being honest, post-college life is a bit (ok, a lot) like a desert. My days are filled with job searching and rejections. My support system in 900 miles away. I have to constantly remind myself of God's faithfulness. But, as He did not abandon the Israelites many thousand years ago, God has not abandoned me here.
Have I abandoned Him? Not quite. But some days I do my devotion grudgingly; I grit my teeth while praying.
The notes in my margins around Nehemiah 9 say:
Nehemiah 9:21 says, "For forty years You sustained them in the desert; they lacked nothing, their clothes did not wear out nor did their feet become swollen."
I could make a list of things I lack here in the desert of unemployment. But in Matthew 6, Jesus prays for daily bread not daily steak. I have clothessticking to on my back, I have a roof and ceiling fan over my head, and I have dinner on my plate. It's definitely not ideal but it's satisfactory, at least for today.
And still, here I am annoyed that God said, "Not now" to graduate school, disappointed that my ideal job has not been dropped into my lap, and sad visiting my closest friends requires an airplane ticket.
How far ahead can I see? Not very far. But just far enough. Not as far as I would like to see but just as far as God is willing to let me see... for now. As difficult as it is to remember, He sees beyond the pillar. He knows what comes next. As I need to see it, He will reveal it to me. Until then, will I trust Him in the desert?
God, I want to trust You in this desert. But it's hard. I am not ready for the Promised Land. Without Your grace and love, I will never be ready. Prepare me for what lies ahead beyond my vision but not beyond Yours. Let me focus on You and the pillar You have provided to lead me both by day and night. I don't have to enjoy this desert, but I want to be found faithful through it. Thank You for not abandoning me here. I love You. Amen.
<>< Katie
It was one of those days. Even though I wasn't tired, I was ready to call it a night. I just didn't feel like doing a devotion.
Grudgingly I threw my Bible on my bed and flipped to where I was reading in Nehemiah. Chapter 9. The same chapter the pastor used in his sermon on Sunday. The same chapter we'd read in small group. In two days I had gone from oblivious to practically an expert on Nehemiah 9; I didn't want to read it yet again. I figured I'd skim it quickly and go to bed. Wrong.
Here's what you need to know: my favorite Bible is held together by purple duct tape. If you drop it, a tree of papers will fall out. The margins notes are numerous. It's in such rough shape that I rarely take it out of my room. But it's in that Bible where all of my sermon notes have been transferred... since sixth grade.
I flipped to Nehemiah 9 and lo and behold sometime in the last ten years (excluding this past Sunday), I heard a sermon on Nehemiah 9. It was at our student worship service a few years back. It wasn't my favorite guest speaker and based on the date and when that would have fallen in the semester, I debated even going that night. I'm glad I did.
In Nehemiah 9, the wall around Jerusalem has already been rebuilt. The people have literally wept upon hearing (and understanding) the Law they have not kept. Now they're confessing their sins and reminding God of how He's been faithful to them through the exodus, the desert, and into the promised land.
It's an exercise I have been encouraged to use myself. Since we're being honest, post-college life is a bit (ok, a lot) like a desert. My days are filled with job searching and rejections. My support system in 900 miles away. I have to constantly remind myself of God's faithfulness. But, as He did not abandon the Israelites many thousand years ago, God has not abandoned me here.
Have I abandoned Him? Not quite. But some days I do my devotion grudgingly; I grit my teeth while praying.
The notes in my margins around Nehemiah 9 say:
How far ahead could they see?Hum.
1. Not very far due to the pillar
2. As far as they needed to see
"You're not ready for the Promised Land if you can't trust Him in the dessert."
Nehemiah 9:21 says, "For forty years You sustained them in the desert; they lacked nothing, their clothes did not wear out nor did their feet become swollen."
I could make a list of things I lack here in the desert of unemployment. But in Matthew 6, Jesus prays for daily bread not daily steak. I have clothes
And still, here I am annoyed that God said, "Not now" to graduate school, disappointed that my ideal job has not been dropped into my lap, and sad visiting my closest friends requires an airplane ticket.
How far ahead can I see? Not very far. But just far enough. Not as far as I would like to see but just as far as God is willing to let me see... for now. As difficult as it is to remember, He sees beyond the pillar. He knows what comes next. As I need to see it, He will reveal it to me. Until then, will I trust Him in the desert?
God, I want to trust You in this desert. But it's hard. I am not ready for the Promised Land. Without Your grace and love, I will never be ready. Prepare me for what lies ahead beyond my vision but not beyond Yours. Let me focus on You and the pillar You have provided to lead me both by day and night. I don't have to enjoy this desert, but I want to be found faithful through it. Thank You for not abandoning me here. I love You. Amen.
<>< Katie
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Stump the Pastor
During Confirmation class we used to play this game called Stump the Pastor. The object of the game was for a confirmand to ask the pastor a question he was incapable of answering.
Among other things, we learned that our pastors know their stuff! We also learned they're good at being put on the spot.
During games of Stump the Pastor I don't remember ever seeing a pastor be truly stumped. On a related question, of course. No fair asking how many ridges are on the side of a quarter.
However, since that instance, I have seen two pastors stumped.
I thought it was a simple question. Nothing about eschatology or an Old Testament prophet. Nothing that requires an M. Div. or a D. Min. It's a question I'm asked regularly and usually I come up with a suitable answer. The same question has stumpt two different ministers.
The question, you ask?
How can I pray for you?
Pastors spend so much time being the prayer warriors and encouragers, that sometimes they don't know how to respond when asked how how others can pray for them.
Take a minute today and pray for your pastor, divinity school student, or spiritual leader. Ask them how you can best pray for them. Encourage them; tell them you appreciate them. It's such a simple task that's all too often forgotten.
Friends, how can I pray for you?
<>< Katie
PS: Blogger killed this post, so I re-wrote it to the best of my ability... Sorry if it reads differently then it once did.
Among other things, we learned that our pastors know their stuff! We also learned they're good at being put on the spot.
During games of Stump the Pastor I don't remember ever seeing a pastor be truly stumped. On a related question, of course. No fair asking how many ridges are on the side of a quarter.
However, since that instance, I have seen two pastors stumped.
I thought it was a simple question. Nothing about eschatology or an Old Testament prophet. Nothing that requires an M. Div. or a D. Min. It's a question I'm asked regularly and usually I come up with a suitable answer. The same question has stumpt two different ministers.
The question, you ask?
How can I pray for you?
Pastors spend so much time being the prayer warriors and encouragers, that sometimes they don't know how to respond when asked how how others can pray for them.
Take a minute today and pray for your pastor, divinity school student, or spiritual leader. Ask them how you can best pray for them. Encourage them; tell them you appreciate them. It's such a simple task that's all too often forgotten.
Friends, how can I pray for you?
<>< Katie
PS: Blogger killed this post, so I re-wrote it to the best of my ability... Sorry if it reads differently then it once did.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Broken Hearted
I had never before seen The Heart Skit when our campus minister Neal gave us the thirty second plotline. Three or four of us volunteered to be the protagonist, but Jessica chose me. I kept quiet while they discussed who would be the man to break my heart. They unanimously decided on Neal. After making sure no one else wanted the part, Neal agreed. Due to time constraints, the final cast was not able to practice together.
That night, the magnitude of the skit hit me.
1. I was going to have my heart broken on stage in a silent skit. Can you say: FACIAL EXPRESSIONS?
2. I was going to have to flirt with my married campus minister.
I prayed for emotional strength and thought about boundaries.
During church the following morning, Neal and I took opposite sides of the stage. In my hands I held a paper heart. Neal's object was to romance me until I gave him my heart. We made eye contact and showed embarrassment. He waved; I giggled. He took a deep breath and stepped closer to me. I looked away and made the same move. He put his arm around me; I leaned into him. He reached out for my heart, and I pulled away. He hugged me, I hesitated before surrendering the heart. We both smiled from ear to ear. He took my hand and paraded me around. He pointed into the distance, I looked, and he planted a kiss on my cheek. I blushed.
Was NOT expecting that.
From the side of the stage came another girl. His attention shifted. I tried to pull him back but he pulled away. From behind, I wrapped both of my arms around his waist; he dragged me across the stage. Using his foot, he pushed me off. I stumbled backwards, regained my balance, and ran at him, jumping for my heart. He pointed to the heart, pointed to me, pointed back to the heart, and got a devious look.
He took his hand off the other girl long enough to rip my heart to pieces and throw them on the ground.
I fell to the ground with my broken heart.
A friend walked by, picked up a piece of my heart, looked at it, dropped it, stomped on it, and walked away.
Two friends came and tried to help me piece it together. When they let go, my heart fell apart again.
I sat on my knees trying to put my heart back together like a puzzle. It didn't work.
Brett knelt at my side. He put one hand on my back and a Bible in my lap. His eyes dripping compassion, he pointed up, crossed his arms over his chest, and pointed to me. I turned away. He tapped me and pointed to the Bible. I pushed him away.
Alone I sat, cupping the pieces of my heart to my chest. It wasn't working. I sat them down and turned my interest to the Bible Brett gave me. I hesitated, closed the broken heart into the Bible, sat back, and prayed. I waited until the camera flashes stopped. I opened the Bible and tucked in the Psalms was a brand new heart!
Praise the LORD! For it is good to sing praises to our God; for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting...He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:1, 3
I love the image of being healed in Christ represented in this skit. But I think it's oversimplified.
Heart breaks are very real; being healed is a long, slow, painful process. I've been there. Five times last week and my share of times in weeks and months previous.
Our hearts are not the only ones that get broken. We are often cast in Neal's role doing the heart breaking every time something we find more attractive or interesting comes along. God's heart breaks every time we turn away from Him.
Every time, ladies, we're infatuated with a guy rather than with Him.
Every time we put our focus in something else.
Every time we doubt, fail to trust, are too hard on ourselves.
Every time we cry, God's tears outnumber ours.
Take a moment right now and tell Him how much you love Him. Let Him love you back. Let Him heal your heart.
With love,
<>< Katie
That night, the magnitude of the skit hit me.
1. I was going to have my heart broken on stage in a silent skit. Can you say: FACIAL EXPRESSIONS?
2. I was going to have to flirt with my married campus minister.
I prayed for emotional strength and thought about boundaries.
During church the following morning, Neal and I took opposite sides of the stage. In my hands I held a paper heart. Neal's object was to romance me until I gave him my heart. We made eye contact and showed embarrassment. He waved; I giggled. He took a deep breath and stepped closer to me. I looked away and made the same move. He put his arm around me; I leaned into him. He reached out for my heart, and I pulled away. He hugged me, I hesitated before surrendering the heart. We both smiled from ear to ear. He took my hand and paraded me around. He pointed into the distance, I looked, and he planted a kiss on my cheek. I blushed.
Was NOT expecting that.
From the side of the stage came another girl. His attention shifted. I tried to pull him back but he pulled away. From behind, I wrapped both of my arms around his waist; he dragged me across the stage. Using his foot, he pushed me off. I stumbled backwards, regained my balance, and ran at him, jumping for my heart. He pointed to the heart, pointed to me, pointed back to the heart, and got a devious look.
He took his hand off the other girl long enough to rip my heart to pieces and throw them on the ground.
I fell to the ground with my broken heart.
A friend walked by, picked up a piece of my heart, looked at it, dropped it, stomped on it, and walked away.
Two friends came and tried to help me piece it together. When they let go, my heart fell apart again.
I sat on my knees trying to put my heart back together like a puzzle. It didn't work.
Brett knelt at my side. He put one hand on my back and a Bible in my lap. His eyes dripping compassion, he pointed up, crossed his arms over his chest, and pointed to me. I turned away. He tapped me and pointed to the Bible. I pushed him away.
Alone I sat, cupping the pieces of my heart to my chest. It wasn't working. I sat them down and turned my interest to the Bible Brett gave me. I hesitated, closed the broken heart into the Bible, sat back, and prayed. I waited until the camera flashes stopped. I opened the Bible and tucked in the Psalms was a brand new heart!
Praise the LORD! For it is good to sing praises to our God; for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting...He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:1, 3
I love the image of being healed in Christ represented in this skit. But I think it's oversimplified.
Heart breaks are very real; being healed is a long, slow, painful process. I've been there. Five times last week and my share of times in weeks and months previous.
Our hearts are not the only ones that get broken. We are often cast in Neal's role doing the heart breaking every time something we find more attractive or interesting comes along. God's heart breaks every time we turn away from Him.
Every time, ladies, we're infatuated with a guy rather than with Him.
Every time we put our focus in something else.
Every time we doubt, fail to trust, are too hard on ourselves.
Every time we cry, God's tears outnumber ours.
Take a moment right now and tell Him how much you love Him. Let Him love you back. Let Him heal your heart.
With love,
<>< Katie
Monday, September 20, 2010
Can't I just pray in peace?
The pastor had finished his sermon with a "Let's pray." I bowed my head and just as he started to pray, someone grabbed my knee. Not going to lie, I jumped a little. I looked up to see Queen Emily beckoning me towards her. She, Amber, and I had to leave church early, and the service was running long than we anticipated. Instead of staying for our arranged exit time, we snuck out during the prayer. A spontaneous change in plan that I was not informed of.
Not an hour later, Queen Emily, Amber, and were in our second church service for the day. We double-dipped on church because our sign choir had been asked to perform at the second service. Neal said, "Let's pray," I bowed my head, and Amber grabbed my knee. No praying allowed in church apparently. Instead, we had to progress on stage like an army preparing for battle.
The performance went better than expected. Not flawless but quite well considering the extremely limited amount of time we had to prepare. After the service, I was mingling and everyone seemed very impressed.
"You were my favorite one up there." You're biased.
"We always love it when you guys perform." Thanks, we love it, too.
It was Jennifer's words that stuck with me the most.
"You know, some people just sign with their hands. But you sign with your whole body. It's like you're telling a story." I like to tell stories.
When I joined this choir, I had no knowledge of American Sign Language. None. During practice, I would feverishly scribble what the signs looked like to me. For example, next to Queen Emily's "WHO" I wrote "inhaler." That's where I got my first sign name, a "K" on the chin, to remind everyone of my silly "WHO = inhaler" moment. When I started, the signs were just motions to me.
Now, almost four years later, I am conversant in ASL. The signs have moved on from being motions to being worship. It means I get to worship with all that I am. My hands, my body, my face, my heart, my mind, and sometimes even my voice. I use all that I am to praise God and tell His story.
It's worth all of those hours freshman year trying and trying to figure out what was going on. Every "WHO = inhaler" moment and the laughter that followed. Every trip to practice in the icy rain. Every sore shoulder/wrist from overuse and abuse. Every moved table and chair to create ample practice space. It's even worth every interrupted prayer to use all of my being to worship God as I tell His story.
<>< Katie
Not an hour later, Queen Emily, Amber, and were in our second church service for the day. We double-dipped on church because our sign choir had been asked to perform at the second service. Neal said, "Let's pray," I bowed my head, and Amber grabbed my knee. No praying allowed in church apparently. Instead, we had to progress on stage like an army preparing for battle.
The performance went better than expected. Not flawless but quite well considering the extremely limited amount of time we had to prepare. After the service, I was mingling and everyone seemed very impressed.
"You were my favorite one up there." You're biased.
"We always love it when you guys perform." Thanks, we love it, too.
It was Jennifer's words that stuck with me the most.
"You know, some people just sign with their hands. But you sign with your whole body. It's like you're telling a story." I like to tell stories.
When I joined this choir, I had no knowledge of American Sign Language. None. During practice, I would feverishly scribble what the signs looked like to me. For example, next to Queen Emily's "WHO" I wrote "inhaler." That's where I got my first sign name, a "K" on the chin, to remind everyone of my silly "WHO = inhaler" moment. When I started, the signs were just motions to me.
Now, almost four years later, I am conversant in ASL. The signs have moved on from being motions to being worship. It means I get to worship with all that I am. My hands, my body, my face, my heart, my mind, and sometimes even my voice. I use all that I am to praise God and tell His story.
It's worth all of those hours freshman year trying and trying to figure out what was going on. Every "WHO = inhaler" moment and the laughter that followed. Every trip to practice in the icy rain. Every sore shoulder/wrist from overuse and abuse. Every moved table and chair to create ample practice space. It's even worth every interrupted prayer to use all of my being to worship God as I tell His story.
<>< Katie
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Life Ain't All Rosy
If I count up the number of meals I've eaten in the last two weeks, it would not divide out to be three a day. If I added the number of hours of sleep I've gotten, it would not be anywhere near eight-hours a night. If I blogged every God moment I've had in the last two weeks, my blog would be updated infinitely more often than anyone would read it (that is assuming people actually read it as is). All of those missed meals and lack of sleep were worth being the hands and feet of Christ.
Except today I write with a heavy heart. Within four hours of returning home, I was hit with four different life-altering scenarios.
1. A professor, emailing me for a different reason, shared that one of her close friends is dying of cancer. Why the professor felt the need to share this, I may never know, but it took the smile from my tired face as my heart broke for her.
2. My mom has a self-diagnosed broken toe. That's not pretty. She's hobbling around with only one shoe on. Maybe not life-altering, but we drink our milk and have few broken bones, so it's a big deal.
3. One of my pastors and his wife were in a serious car accident. Both are in their seventies and were admitted to the hospital. It's my understanding that they have since been released with only lacerations and contusions; no broken bones or major injuries. Alleluia!
4. A close family friend had breast cancer surgery while we were gone. It has not metastasized but she has a long road ahead of her. The oldest of their four children just graduated high school this June.
We were still living in the old house when I noticed four names scribbled in the margin of a piece of paper on the table. It was my first experience with some people that would become important in my life over the next eleven years (and counting). We added a few more names to the group until we had a party of fifteen.
I think it's safe to say we've spent a lot of time together. From the water ski show to snow skiing. From pool parties and bonfires to trips to the lake. It was Christina who pushed Uncle Steve into our pool in his nice golf uniform. When Laura earned herself an ambulance ride, Christina and I were sent to their house at 6am. When I went to college, they all came over the night before to say goodbye.
The day we got home from the NYG, Mom said she was taking them dinner. Instantly I wondered who died. Great-grandma? Grandma? Not grandpa, he was just flipping around in a moon bounce a month ago. No one died. Sue had breast cancer surgery. What? She too was in the moon bounce a month ago.
On Friday, we went to a baseball game in the skybox, a perk of my dad's job and a trip that's been planned for months. I wondered what to say. Would cancer be the topic of conversation all night? Would we brush it under the rug like it hadn't happened?
I'm not so much into baseball, so I love when we have the box because it means I can curl up on the couch with a plate of mozzarella sticks and a good book. From my couch, I can observe. I saw seven of the nine kids (one was MIA; one was me) sitting in the front row laughing and teasing each other. I saw the three women in the middle row talking about anything and everything. I saw the three men--all wearing black shirts, khaki shorts, and no shoes--turn a baseball game into a betting game. I did not see the peanuts launched over shoulders in my general direction until they collided with my face. Thanks.
I saw the concern. The genuine, "Let us know if you need anything." I also saw the smiles. Together this group of friends would push through. For this next season of life we will laugh, cry, and pray together. We can acknowledge the elephant in the room without constantly staring at it.
Our team won the baseball game that night, but I cannot wait until the day when I say our family won the battle. Maybe we'll celebrate with some brownie soup.
Until then, will you join us in prayer?
Thank you,
<>< Katie
Except today I write with a heavy heart. Within four hours of returning home, I was hit with four different life-altering scenarios.
1. A professor, emailing me for a different reason, shared that one of her close friends is dying of cancer. Why the professor felt the need to share this, I may never know, but it took the smile from my tired face as my heart broke for her.
2. My mom has a self-diagnosed broken toe. That's not pretty. She's hobbling around with only one shoe on. Maybe not life-altering, but we drink our milk and have few broken bones, so it's a big deal.
3. One of my pastors and his wife were in a serious car accident. Both are in their seventies and were admitted to the hospital. It's my understanding that they have since been released with only lacerations and contusions; no broken bones or major injuries. Alleluia!
4. A close family friend had breast cancer surgery while we were gone. It has not metastasized but she has a long road ahead of her. The oldest of their four children just graduated high school this June.
We were still living in the old house when I noticed four names scribbled in the margin of a piece of paper on the table. It was my first experience with some people that would become important in my life over the next eleven years (and counting). We added a few more names to the group until we had a party of fifteen.
I think it's safe to say we've spent a lot of time together. From the water ski show to snow skiing. From pool parties and bonfires to trips to the lake. It was Christina who pushed Uncle Steve into our pool in his nice golf uniform. When Laura earned herself an ambulance ride, Christina and I were sent to their house at 6am. When I went to college, they all came over the night before to say goodbye.
The day we got home from the NYG, Mom said she was taking them dinner. Instantly I wondered who died. Great-grandma? Grandma? Not grandpa, he was just flipping around in a moon bounce a month ago. No one died. Sue had breast cancer surgery. What? She too was in the moon bounce a month ago.
On Friday, we went to a baseball game in the skybox, a perk of my dad's job and a trip that's been planned for months. I wondered what to say. Would cancer be the topic of conversation all night? Would we brush it under the rug like it hadn't happened?
I'm not so much into baseball, so I love when we have the box because it means I can curl up on the couch with a plate of mozzarella sticks and a good book. From my couch, I can observe. I saw seven of the nine kids (one was MIA; one was me) sitting in the front row laughing and teasing each other. I saw the three women in the middle row talking about anything and everything. I saw the three men--all wearing black shirts, khaki shorts, and no shoes--turn a baseball game into a betting game. I did not see the peanuts launched over shoulders in my general direction until they collided with my face. Thanks.
I saw the concern. The genuine, "Let us know if you need anything." I also saw the smiles. Together this group of friends would push through. For this next season of life we will laugh, cry, and pray together. We can acknowledge the elephant in the room without constantly staring at it.
Our team won the baseball game that night, but I cannot wait until the day when I say our family won the battle. Maybe we'll celebrate with some brownie soup.
Until then, will you join us in prayer?
Thank you,
<>< Katie
Friday, July 16, 2010
April
Last summer, I helped with an inner-city VBS. I was sitting at the table with several preteen boys. I knew the family situation of these boys was not good. Two of the boys were being removed from their home and put into foster care. A different boy at the table was their cousin; he began trash-talking their parents. The older of the two kids in foster care, naturally, became defensive of his parents and threatened violence against his cousin.
I've worked with kids a long time. I can say, "I'm trained to handle that" to most situations, but this one was out of my expertise. I tried to get the kid to apologize. Fail. I tried to "jump the shark" and change the subject. Fail. I had no idea what to do. And I froze.
April came to my rescue. She knew this family's story and how to handle these boys. As soon as she had the situation under control, I excused myself from the table and moved to color with the little kids. I'm much more comfortable with crayons. It was during that week that I decided I wanted to be April when I grow up.
This week, I jokingly said, "God, I'd love to grow up to be April as long as I don't have to marry a guy like Christian." April's husband is one of the leaders of my 20s ministry, and on Monday we played Jenga. Until I accidentally knocked the tower into Christian's lap and he showered me with blocks. Mind you, Christian is a pastor and we are at church. We moved on to building with Jenga blocks where I used my right hand to build while using my left to knock Christian's hand away from destroying my creation. Luckily, I learned a long time ago that sassing and vexing is a love language, and most of my friends think it's my primary love language.
I love Christian and April. They're such a godly couple. Sure, they don't always get long. I've seen that, but I've also seen them both admit when they're wrong. I've seen them willingly give of themselves to serve God's Kingdom. I've seen them be used by Him. I've only known Christian and April for a year or so, but I do know I need more people like them in my life.
Happy birthday, April. I'm so glad you're coming home soon. We both know it's not good for Christian to be home alone. :-)
<>< Katie
I've worked with kids a long time. I can say, "I'm trained to handle that" to most situations, but this one was out of my expertise. I tried to get the kid to apologize. Fail. I tried to "jump the shark" and change the subject. Fail. I had no idea what to do. And I froze.
April came to my rescue. She knew this family's story and how to handle these boys. As soon as she had the situation under control, I excused myself from the table and moved to color with the little kids. I'm much more comfortable with crayons. It was during that week that I decided I wanted to be April when I grow up.
This week, I jokingly said, "God, I'd love to grow up to be April as long as I don't have to marry a guy like Christian." April's husband is one of the leaders of my 20s ministry, and on Monday we played Jenga. Until I accidentally knocked the tower into Christian's lap and he showered me with blocks. Mind you, Christian is a pastor and we are at church. We moved on to building with Jenga blocks where I used my right hand to build while using my left to knock Christian's hand away from destroying my creation. Luckily, I learned a long time ago that sassing and vexing is a love language, and most of my friends think it's my primary love language.
I love Christian and April. They're such a godly couple. Sure, they don't always get long. I've seen that, but I've also seen them both admit when they're wrong. I've seen them willingly give of themselves to serve God's Kingdom. I've seen them be used by Him. I've only known Christian and April for a year or so, but I do know I need more people like them in my life.
Happy birthday, April. I'm so glad you're coming home soon. We both know it's not good for Christian to be home alone. :-)
<>< Katie
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