I saw the ambulance. I was sitting in the front window of the coffee shop when it whizzed by. I zoned out watching it, noticing it was EMS rather than the local rescue team. Didn't mean much.
From the front window of the coffee shop you can see everything that's happening in town. I could see the ambulance was not headed towards the nursing home. It could have been headed towards campus, but I couldn't tell. Didn't mean much.
It did prompt me to think about how we have not lost a student since I started. Sure, students have had seizures, passed out, dislocated shoulders in class but they've all been fine in a few hours or days. We've lost professors, staff members, and family members. But never a student.
I went back to my work.
Not long after that, I saw the same ambulance return in the direction from which it came, sirens still on. I thought about Tweeting about how it's not a good sign when an ambulance returns from a call with its lights and siren.
Despite the town only having one stoplight, despite my roommate working in campus ministries, despite seeing the ambulance, I learned from Twitter that one of my sisters in Christ had passed away.
The world stopped.
I didn't recognize her name, but I knew her face. I definitely knew her face. I've heard her testimony.
It was her birthday.
The night before she'd Tweeted that she was excited for the next day. I'm sure she had no idea how exciting it would be for her. She got to celebrate her earthly birthday with the Lord.
That morning, she'd Tweeted and thanked the Lord for another year of her life. That night, He took her home.
Sniffles and tears were overwhelming at our weekly worship service last night. My roommate had hugged her the morning she went Home. Others had been in her class. We were all grieving.
And it's ok to cry. It's ok to be sad. Jesus was. When His friend Lazarus died, the Bible says Jesus wept.
Yet still there was an element of joy in the air. We knew (and know) that she is with the Lord.
You see, this sister I never had the pleasure to hug, loved the Lord. A lot.
We know that her death is not in vain. We know that she's in the arms of our Father. We know that she would be overjoyed if everyone (if anyone) came to know the Lord through her death.
We celebrated. We praised the Lord. We know that He is good even when life is bad. His timing is perfect even when ours is a little off.
Yes, it's hard. Yes, we thought He was going to do a lot more with her on this earth. Yes, we know that her testimony will continue to inspire, to encourage, and to draw people to Him. It's all she wanted to do with her life and now in her death.
That's what I want my life and death to be about: the glory of the Lord. Today. Tomorrow. Every day until I'm called home. And even then.
If you don't mind, can you take a few seconds right now and pray for us? Pray for her family. Pray for her friends, roommates, and colleagues. Pray for this campus, this town. Thank God that He took one of His children home rather than a student who didn't know Him. Thank Him for His goodness and journeying with us.
But don't pray for her. It's not necessary. She's ok because she's in the arms of the Father. And if she's not in heaven, then we're all in trouble. But I know she is.
And next time you see an ambulance, do me a favor and pray for the patient, the team, and the team meeting him/her. Pray for the family, the friends. Pray that God be glorified as He as been here.
This verse was very important to her. It is now very important to me.
"For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek." Romans 1:16
Today's a gift, friends. It's the most important day of your life. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow isn't promised.
You never know when you're going to be called home. It could be in the middle of class on your 21st birthday.
And I'm ok with that.
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label thankful. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thankful. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Friday, November 25, 2011
Thankful
It's hard.
It's hard to be thankful when you don't know when your next paycheck is coming (or from where). It's hard to be thankful when your best friends are 900 miles away. It's hard to be thankful when your office is the most central location of your parents' home, when your internal clock has no idea what time of the year it is, or when you don't have any idea what your calendar will look like even a month from now. It's hard to be thankful; it's easy to host a pity party.
Every once in awhile, I let the tears roll. They're good. They're healthy. But once they come, they're hard to stop.
Like Job, I speak bluntly and harshly to the Lord. While it's nice to get those feelings out on paper, it doesn't usually solve much. (Did I just say that out loud?) I still don't know what's next. I'm still playing pin the tail on the donkey.
And still even here, I have a lot to be thankful for. Did I not wake up this morning breathing and refreshed? When I rolled over and put my feet on the floor, did they not stay there and hold my weight? (No peanut gallery comments, please). Was there not toothpaste in the tube, toilet paper on the roll, and soap in the dispenser? Is there food in the pantry and hot water in the shower? Do I have a jacket, shoes, and gasoline?
Have I not people who love and care about me? People who encourage me and pour into me? Scripture tucked away in my heart? Is the Lord not in this limbo, this barren desert, this hideous time in between?
Life is hard. Yet still there is so much to be thankful for even if they're the small, simple things we tend to take for granted. Even if it's the tears and the angry words. Even if it's the promise, "I will be with you always to the very end of the age" (See Matthew 28).
Even if nothing else goes correctly, that one reason alone is enough to bring thanksgiving to my lips again and again.
<>< Katie
It's hard to be thankful when you don't know when your next paycheck is coming (or from where). It's hard to be thankful when your best friends are 900 miles away. It's hard to be thankful when your office is the most central location of your parents' home, when your internal clock has no idea what time of the year it is, or when you don't have any idea what your calendar will look like even a month from now. It's hard to be thankful; it's easy to host a pity party.
Every once in awhile, I let the tears roll. They're good. They're healthy. But once they come, they're hard to stop.
Like Job, I speak bluntly and harshly to the Lord. While it's nice to get those feelings out on paper, it doesn't usually solve much. (Did I just say that out loud?) I still don't know what's next. I'm still playing pin the tail on the donkey.
And still even here, I have a lot to be thankful for. Did I not wake up this morning breathing and refreshed? When I rolled over and put my feet on the floor, did they not stay there and hold my weight? (No peanut gallery comments, please). Was there not toothpaste in the tube, toilet paper on the roll, and soap in the dispenser? Is there food in the pantry and hot water in the shower? Do I have a jacket, shoes, and gasoline?
Have I not people who love and care about me? People who encourage me and pour into me? Scripture tucked away in my heart? Is the Lord not in this limbo, this barren desert, this hideous time in between?
Life is hard. Yet still there is so much to be thankful for even if they're the small, simple things we tend to take for granted. Even if it's the tears and the angry words. Even if it's the promise, "I will be with you always to the very end of the age" (See Matthew 28).
Even if nothing else goes correctly, that one reason alone is enough to bring thanksgiving to my lips again and again.
<>< Katie
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
More than a Day
Almost a month ago a switch flipped inside of me. In 0.4 seconds I went from enjoying and appreciating fall to ready to deck the halls. I threatened to make Trick or Treaters pretend they were Christmas carolers before I gave them candy. (No wonder no one came to my house).
Of course, my passion and excitement for Christmastime has been met with resistance. Everyone wants Thanksgiving to have its day.
Hogwash, I say! Hogwash.
Thanksgiving is not a day, friends; it's a lifestyle!
Let thanksgiving have its day... today and every day!
Yes, I'm eating turkey, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin pie. Yes, I'm participating in the round-table discussion of what we're thankful for.
But it goes beyond today. Since the beginning of September I've been keeping a list of 1,000 things I am thankful for, inspired by Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts. I just passed thing number 500.
Should I not be further? Should I not be able to list 1,000 things each day for which I am thankful? Every breath, every minute...
Here are some highlights from my 1,000 gifts and counting.
I am thankful...
95. For working heat in my car.
100. For friends who are going to make sure I come out of limbo as a prayer warrior.
102. For Sunday lunch.
106. For hunger.
115. For the courage to blog about my struggles.
118. For Your appearance at rock bottom and the willingness to touch hearts of even the most broken people.
126. For the beautiful wet leaf on my sunroof.
149. For self-imported Chinese tea.
160. For warm wash cloths and the reminder You sent me through it.
188. For friends all across the country willing to let me stay with them.
190. For the reminder of what You've done and how You've been faithful.
205. For music videos that leave me with a "bowl full of tears."
208. That it somehow worked to have a queen mattress, king sheets, a twin comforter, and a full quilt.
225. For laughter so hard I can barely breathe.
236. For fifty hugs in eight hours.
245. For a busy schedule.
254. For the reminder that just because our circumstances aren't great doesn't mean You don't love us and we're not in Your will.
274. For peanut butter and chocolate covered pretzels.
280. For encouraging, not awkward, networking meetings.
291. For the ability to contact people around the world with the click of a button.
321. For the beautiful moment we shared during communion and the reminder that I am not worthy yet You grant me grace.
338. For Job who spoke harsh words to You long before I ever did.
342. For fast email responses. (And really email responses in general).
360. That the question is, "How much will I pay for gas?" Not "Will I find gas?" or "Can I afford gas?"
362. For esperar--hope, waiting
372. For a lifestyle of Thanksgiving rather than a day or a month.
387. For nearly-coffee-spewing laughter.
388. For the reminder that You want to fill my cup until it overflows (without cracks)
399. For memories so sweet.
427. For the hair dryer.
437. For Starbucks gift cards.
453. For the heart You've given me for missions and Your children worldwide.
460. For evenings of reading by the fire curled up in a blanket.
465. For the ability to proclaim, "If it's You, I'm in!" and both mean and believe it. To trust it.
474. For online ASL dictionaries.
488. For forgiveness when I sing happy birthday to the wrong person.
Of course, my passion and excitement for Christmastime has been met with resistance. Everyone wants Thanksgiving to have its day.
Hogwash, I say! Hogwash.
Thanksgiving is not a day, friends; it's a lifestyle!
Let thanksgiving have its day... today and every day!
Yes, I'm eating turkey, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin pie. Yes, I'm participating in the round-table discussion of what we're thankful for.
But it goes beyond today. Since the beginning of September I've been keeping a list of 1,000 things I am thankful for, inspired by Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts. I just passed thing number 500.
Should I not be further? Should I not be able to list 1,000 things each day for which I am thankful? Every breath, every minute...
Here are some highlights from my 1,000 gifts and counting.
I am thankful...
95. For working heat in my car.
100. For friends who are going to make sure I come out of limbo as a prayer warrior.
102. For Sunday lunch.
106. For hunger.
115. For the courage to blog about my struggles.
118. For Your appearance at rock bottom and the willingness to touch hearts of even the most broken people.
126. For the beautiful wet leaf on my sunroof.
149. For self-imported Chinese tea.
160. For warm wash cloths and the reminder You sent me through it.
188. For friends all across the country willing to let me stay with them.
190. For the reminder of what You've done and how You've been faithful.
205. For music videos that leave me with a "bowl full of tears."
208. That it somehow worked to have a queen mattress, king sheets, a twin comforter, and a full quilt.
225. For laughter so hard I can barely breathe.
236. For fifty hugs in eight hours.
245. For a busy schedule.
254. For the reminder that just because our circumstances aren't great doesn't mean You don't love us and we're not in Your will.
274. For peanut butter and chocolate covered pretzels.
280. For encouraging, not awkward, networking meetings.
291. For the ability to contact people around the world with the click of a button.
321. For the beautiful moment we shared during communion and the reminder that I am not worthy yet You grant me grace.
338. For Job who spoke harsh words to You long before I ever did.
342. For fast email responses. (And really email responses in general).
360. That the question is, "How much will I pay for gas?" Not "Will I find gas?" or "Can I afford gas?"
362. For esperar--hope, waiting
372. For a lifestyle of Thanksgiving rather than a day or a month.
387. For nearly-coffee-spewing laughter.
388. For the reminder that You want to fill my cup until it overflows (without cracks)
399. For memories so sweet.
427. For the hair dryer.
437. For Starbucks gift cards.
453. For the heart You've given me for missions and Your children worldwide.
460. For evenings of reading by the fire curled up in a blanket.
465. For the ability to proclaim, "If it's You, I'm in!" and both mean and believe it. To trust it.
474. For online ASL dictionaries.
488. For forgiveness when I sing happy birthday to the wrong person.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Multitudes on Monday
I have made references to it, but I regret never fully explaining. In her book One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp explains that a friend challenged her to make a list of one thousand blessings/ things she loves/ gifts from God.
In turn, Ann challenges her readers to do the same. I accepted the challenge and have begun my list (some highlights are below).
In turn, I invite you to join me and do the same.
"It's the art of seeing that makes gratitude possible, and it's the art of gratitude that makes joy possible, and isn’t joy the art of God?" Ann Voskamp
Thankful,
<>< Katie
I am thankful...
1. For Jesus Christ who died and rose again so that I may have hope.
2. For friends who remind me of that hope when I dare to forget.
5. For toilet paper (on the roll).
9. For friends worth visiting.
10. For friends who intentionally leave their Bibles on the kitchen counter open to a specific passage to encourage me.
11. For cold milk in a glass made of glass.
19. For city lights in the dark night sky.
23. For Bible verses and song lyrics that pop into my head bringing the exact message I need to hear.
26. That the coffee I just spilled on my computer did not destroy it.
34. For the iPhone so we can avoid traffic jams.
37. For beautiful views of Your magnificent creation.
41. For encouraging blog comments.
46. For lasagna.
61. For cool nights to snuggle with a homemade quilt, drink in hand, in the jumbo chairs on the deck and watch the sunset with Mom.
70. For pleasant memories and a well-traveled memory lane.
82. For books a'plenty, always books a'plenty.
84. For the deer in the backyard, the oblivious cat, and the analogy You dropped from heaven.
88. For the ability to share my thoughts and realize I am not alone.
91. For the prayers and support of friends around the country.
94. For the promise that spring will come again.
In turn, Ann challenges her readers to do the same. I accepted the challenge and have begun my list (some highlights are below).
In turn, I invite you to join me and do the same.
"It's the art of seeing that makes gratitude possible, and it's the art of gratitude that makes joy possible, and isn’t joy the art of God?" Ann Voskamp
Thankful,
<>< Katie
I am thankful...
1. For Jesus Christ who died and rose again so that I may have hope.
2. For friends who remind me of that hope when I dare to forget.
5. For toilet paper (on the roll).
9. For friends worth visiting.
10. For friends who intentionally leave their Bibles on the kitchen counter open to a specific passage to encourage me.
11. For cold milk in a glass made of glass.
19. For city lights in the dark night sky.
23. For Bible verses and song lyrics that pop into my head bringing the exact message I need to hear.
26. That the coffee I just spilled on my computer did not destroy it.
34. For the iPhone so we can avoid traffic jams.
37. For beautiful views of Your magnificent creation.
41. For encouraging blog comments.
46. For lasagna.
61. For cool nights to snuggle with a homemade quilt, drink in hand, in the jumbo chairs on the deck and watch the sunset with Mom.
70. For pleasant memories and a well-traveled memory lane.
82. For books a'plenty, always books a'plenty.
84. For the deer in the backyard, the oblivious cat, and the analogy You dropped from heaven.
88. For the ability to share my thoughts and realize I am not alone.
91. For the prayers and support of friends around the country.
94. For the promise that spring will come again.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Child-Like Prayer
"What if we woke up today with only the things we thanked God for yesterday?"
I like quotes. I read a lot of them throughout the day, especially on Twitter (@KatieAx3). But this one struck me in a way few have.
Instantly, I began thanking God for everything within my gaze.
Thanks for the glass of water, the coaster, and the table.
Thanks for that still-life picture on the wall.
Thanks for the dog pooping on the hairy floor and the paper towels to clean it up. Thanks for the floor. And the hair, too.
It seemed a little ridiculous. But it was good. I felt like a kid again.
Have you ever had the opportunity to hear small children pray?
When asked to bless the food, they sometimes remember it among their thanking God for freckles, gum, and the sand box. While sometimes I get impatient (I remember the now-cold food on the table), I think God appreciates it.
No, more than appreciates it.
I think God loves it.
He loves hearing His children (even His big children) talk to Him throughout the day. He loves being appreciated for His work, being called on in times of need, and being praised through the storms of life. He loves hearing what's on our hearts and minds. No matter how life-changing. No matter how mundane.
He doesn't think prayers about freckles are silly. After all, He put the freckles there.
He put the bird on the satellite dish that's blurring my show. He put those skin cells on my body just to fall off and become the dust on that piano. He put the water in the sky to rain to the earth to be filtered and come out my faucet to fill my cup to quench my thirst (and drench my shirt).
Just because we take things for granted doesn't mean He didn't put them there.
"What if you woke up today with only the things you thanked God for yesterday?"
Today, try talking to your Abba Father like a child. After all, "The kingdom of God belongs to such as these" (Luke 18:16)
<>< Katie
I like quotes. I read a lot of them throughout the day, especially on Twitter (@KatieAx3). But this one struck me in a way few have.
Instantly, I began thanking God for everything within my gaze.
Thanks for the glass of water, the coaster, and the table.
Thanks for that still-life picture on the wall.
Thanks for the dog pooping on the hairy floor and the paper towels to clean it up. Thanks for the floor. And the hair, too.
It seemed a little ridiculous. But it was good. I felt like a kid again.
Have you ever had the opportunity to hear small children pray?
When asked to bless the food, they sometimes remember it among their thanking God for freckles, gum, and the sand box. While sometimes I get impatient (I remember the now-cold food on the table), I think God appreciates it.
No, more than appreciates it.
I think God loves it.
He loves hearing His children (even His big children) talk to Him throughout the day. He loves being appreciated for His work, being called on in times of need, and being praised through the storms of life. He loves hearing what's on our hearts and minds. No matter how life-changing. No matter how mundane.
He doesn't think prayers about freckles are silly. After all, He put the freckles there.
He put the bird on the satellite dish that's blurring my show. He put those skin cells on my body just to fall off and become the dust on that piano. He put the water in the sky to rain to the earth to be filtered and come out my faucet to fill my cup to quench my thirst (and drench my shirt).
Just because we take things for granted doesn't mean He didn't put them there.
"What if you woke up today with only the things you thanked God for yesterday?"
Today, try talking to your Abba Father like a child. After all, "The kingdom of God belongs to such as these" (Luke 18:16)
<>< Katie
Monday, July 4, 2011
Freedom
Right now I'm reading The Heavenly Man, a nonfiction book recommended to me prior to my trip to China. It tells the story of Brother Yun, a Chinese pastor who has faced heavy persecution for his faith and ministry.
I've lost track of how many times he's been arrested, and I'm only in chapter ten (of twenty-nine). Every time he faces brutal torture, undying faith, and miraculous escapes.
In reading this testimony, I can't help but wonder what the church in the United States would look like if we had that kind of faith. The faith where we'd be willing to face electric shock, starvation, and frigid temperatures all because we believe in God. would we be found faithful or would we relent? It's convicting.
But it also makes me thankful for what we, as Americans, have. The persecution we may face is verbal slander and judgment not physical abuse and death. We live in a country where we don't have to be afraid of our churches being attacked by the government and our members arrested for simply being on the premises. We can play our Christian music in our cars, at festivals, and even in retail stores. We can proclaim we believe with our t-shirts, bumper stickers, and blog posts.
For this I am grateful. But I know the price for this freedom was very high. Men and women have lost lives and limbs fighting for our independence. For my right to write this blog post. For your opportunity to read it.
Please take the time to thank a soldier. Not just on Independence Day, Veterans' Day, and Memorial Day, but any day and every day that you are grateful for your comfortable life free from persecution.
Now, let's go out and proclaim God with more than just our music, bumper stickers, t-shirts, and blog posts. God can and does use Americans just as He uses Brother Yun and Chinese Christians.
Have you thanked Christ for the price He paid for that freedom, too?
<>< Katie
I've lost track of how many times he's been arrested, and I'm only in chapter ten (of twenty-nine). Every time he faces brutal torture, undying faith, and miraculous escapes.
In reading this testimony, I can't help but wonder what the church in the United States would look like if we had that kind of faith. The faith where we'd be willing to face electric shock, starvation, and frigid temperatures all because we believe in God. would we be found faithful or would we relent? It's convicting.
But it also makes me thankful for what we, as Americans, have. The persecution we may face is verbal slander and judgment not physical abuse and death. We live in a country where we don't have to be afraid of our churches being attacked by the government and our members arrested for simply being on the premises. We can play our Christian music in our cars, at festivals, and even in retail stores. We can proclaim we believe with our t-shirts, bumper stickers, and blog posts.
For this I am grateful. But I know the price for this freedom was very high. Men and women have lost lives and limbs fighting for our independence. For my right to write this blog post. For your opportunity to read it.
Please take the time to thank a soldier. Not just on Independence Day, Veterans' Day, and Memorial Day, but any day and every day that you are grateful for your comfortable life free from persecution.
Now, let's go out and proclaim God with more than just our music, bumper stickers, t-shirts, and blog posts. God can and does use Americans just as He uses Brother Yun and Chinese Christians.
Have you thanked Christ for the price He paid for that freedom, too?
<>< Katie
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Give Thanks
"Happy Thanksgiving," said the man on the other end of the phone. Those two words caught my off guard and it wasn't just because the phone was answered on the first ring.
Every holiday my dad answers the phone by wishing the caller a happy day. Happy Thanksgiving. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Happy Labor Day... you get the idea. I've listened to him do this all my life, but we've always been on the same side of the phone.
"Happy Thanksgiving," I choked back.
Two words was all he needed to recognize my voice, and I heard the smile in his. For the next hour we played "Pass the phone" with my nine relatives.
I was told that this year our family was not separated by gender. Instead of men in the kitchen and women in the dining room, all nine of them fit around the dining room table. Somebody got the bright idea that they should all share something they're thankful for. I'm thankful I wasn't there for Sap Fest.
Christina: I'm thankful for Jesus.
Aunt: I'm thankful for our family and that we don't fight.
Uncle: [to my aunt] I'm thankful we're not facebook friends.
Grandma: I'm thankful we're all alive and here and...
Mom: I'm thankful Laura loves her college, and they were able to "unbreak" our dog.
Dad: I'm thankful we're all healthy. [insert sappy sermon here]
Grandpa: I'm thankful for your momma and that she puts up with me. I love her.
I've never heard my grandparents express love to each other. Love pats here and there but sassiness is more common. For my grandfather to compliment my grandmother and say he loves her in front of all of those people made Grandma cry. I've seen the video to prove it.
Every holiday my dad answers the phone by wishing the caller a happy day. Happy Thanksgiving. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Happy Labor Day... you get the idea. I've listened to him do this all my life, but we've always been on the same side of the phone.
"Happy Thanksgiving," I choked back.
Two words was all he needed to recognize my voice, and I heard the smile in his. For the next hour we played "Pass the phone" with my nine relatives.
I was told that this year our family was not separated by gender. Instead of men in the kitchen and women in the dining room, all nine of them fit around the dining room table. Somebody got the bright idea that they should all share something they're thankful for. I'm thankful I wasn't there for Sap Fest.
Christina: I'm thankful for Jesus.
Aunt: I'm thankful for our family and that we don't fight.
Uncle: [to my aunt] I'm thankful we're not facebook friends.
Grandma: I'm thankful we're all alive and here and...
Mom: I'm thankful Laura loves her college, and they were able to "unbreak" our dog.
Dad: I'm thankful we're all healthy. [insert sappy sermon here]
Grandpa: I'm thankful for your momma and that she puts up with me. I love her.
I've never heard my grandparents express love to each other. Love pats here and there but sassiness is more common. For my grandfather to compliment my grandmother and say he loves her in front of all of those people made Grandma cry. I've seen the video to prove it.
How was your Thanksgiving this year? Was it the typical sweet potatoes, turkey, and pumpkin pie? Was it merely a the precursor to Christmas? Or was it really a time of reflection and thankfulness?
My friend Caitlin is extending Thanksgiving for a year. For the next 365 days she's going to share something she's thankful for. I'd love to be able to do the same thing. Look at every day with the realization that I do have something to be thankful for.
Even when it rains. Even when my suitemates pick on me. Even when my computer refuses to cooperate.
I still can be thankful. I can still tell someone I am thankful for their influence in my life. Thankful for their love. Their smile. Their encouraging word.
I can tell Christ I am thankful for His sacrifice. Thankful for His love. Thankful for His controlling, disciplining hand.
I wasn't going to post about being thankful. After all, it's Thanksgiving. That's kind of the cliche thing to do, right? Wrong. It's something we need to do more often than we do. Not just on the fourth Thursday of November. Be thankful around the year.
Cyber friends, I am thankful for you.
<>< Katie
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Happy Birthday, Homeland
For the last ten years or so, my church has done a patriotic musical every Fourth of July, and I have made it part of my Independence Day celebration. One of the songs we do is entitled "Salute to the Armed Forces" where we sing the song of every branch of our military. When their song is sung, the veterans are told to stand. The congregation and choir alike applaud them for their sacrifice as we sing together.
It's a powerful moment. Or string of moments. It's amazing to be in the congregation as amen and women all around you stand and are honored for their willingness to give. One year, I sang in the choir and sitting in the second row was a solider in his dress blues. I don't know if there was a dry eye in the building.
This year, something a little bit different happened. After we applauded, without the prompting of the choir or the director, the entire congregation moved to keep the beat with our hands. I wasn't quite sure how to handle this in my no clapping, barely sing along Lutheran congregation. We were all clapping together and singing at the top of our lungs.
In ten years, that has never happened before. It happened at both performances this year. Wow.
Those men and women who stood and could not stand deserve more than a round of applause. So many more gave the ultimate sacrifice in laying down their lives so that I can sit here and type this sentence. So many of them suffered horrific injuries, physical and emotional. They've experienced more than I can ever imagine and they did it all for us.
Army.
Navy.
Coast Guard.
Air Force.
Marines.
Thank you!
Happy birthday, America. I am so glad to call you my homeland.
<>< Katie
It's a powerful moment. Or string of moments. It's amazing to be in the congregation as amen and women all around you stand and are honored for their willingness to give. One year, I sang in the choir and sitting in the second row was a solider in his dress blues. I don't know if there was a dry eye in the building.
This year, something a little bit different happened. After we applauded, without the prompting of the choir or the director, the entire congregation moved to keep the beat with our hands. I wasn't quite sure how to handle this in my no clapping, barely sing along Lutheran congregation. We were all clapping together and singing at the top of our lungs.
In ten years, that has never happened before. It happened at both performances this year. Wow.
Those men and women who stood and could not stand deserve more than a round of applause. So many more gave the ultimate sacrifice in laying down their lives so that I can sit here and type this sentence. So many of them suffered horrific injuries, physical and emotional. They've experienced more than I can ever imagine and they did it all for us.
Army.
Navy.
Coast Guard.
Air Force.
Marines.
Thank you!
Happy birthday, America. I am so glad to call you my homeland.
<>< Katie
Friday, June 11, 2010
One Year Ago Today
I don't think I'll ever forget my last night in Costa Rica. I lived there for a month taking Spanish classes and living with a tico family. My final night, a big group of us went out to dinner. My host parents, my host aunt and family, one of my classmates, and myself. We went to a restaurant that serves all of the food on one plate and you kind of grab the food and eat it with your fingers. Yeah, not a germ-o-phobe's favorite restaurant. Top if off with the fact that I felt like crap and it was not a pleasant night. (I blame the chloroquine...next time I might take my chances with malaria). I tried to eat but really had no appetite. To distract myself from the nausea on the ride back, I started making a mental list of all of the memories/ stories/ things I'd learned that I wanted to share with Sra. Wright, my high school Spanish teacher. Learning a language is one of those things you remember learning every detail, at least for me. There were so many things I wanted to talk to her about, so I decided I was going to make a list on the plane ride back.
When made it home safely (that's actually a big surprise), and I stood in the family room contemplating checking my email one last night or waiting until I got back to the States. I decided to go for it. It'd be quick and then I'd go to bed and pray I was feeling better in the morning. Well, it wasn't as quick as I had wanted it to be. In fact, I learned that on the plane I'd be writing a different letter to Sra. Wright. One she would never receive. She'd passed away two days earlier.
The plane ride back was a roller coaster. Sitting behind me on the plane was not just a student from my high school but someone that graduated with me... took Spanish with me. I asked him if he'd heard and he said, "Yeah, it's a bummer." A woman dies and you say a bummer? That's worse than when I told a professor I was in a car accident on a way to her event and she said bummer.
I regretted not visiting Sra. Wright all of those times I'd visited my Alma Mater. She'd asked about me, but I never made it down to see her. I regretted not going in the one week I was home before leaving for Costa Rica. (Again, I blame the chloroquine... nine weeks of nasty pink pills meant nine weeks of feeling nasty). It helped me to know she hadn't been at school that day, but it didn't help much. I regretted not emailing her to tell her I was still using my Spanish and going to Costa Rica to learn more. I regretted not thanking her for taking the time to teach me. I regretted not being able to look her in the eye the last time we spoke. Her jaundice grossed me out. I'd known she was sick, but I never knew she was that sick. The word "cancer" was never shared, at least not with me.
I'll be honest, she was never my favorite teacher. I was disappointed when I saw her name on my schedule for the fourth consecutive year. In fact, there were many days I'd "Go to my locker" and get distracted by friends who had a free period; at least once a week I'd hear, "Katie, go back to Spanish." However, even the teachers we don't always appreciate leave lasting impacts on our lives, especially when you see them every day for four years.
Earlier this week, my sister Christina asked me to explain the difference between "por" and "para." I never get those two right, but I explained it to her the same way Sra. Wright explained it to me countless times. In fact, one day in class the example we were doing was a post card written to a teacher years after Spanish class thanking the teacher for teaching the difference between por and para. Sra Wright kind of laughed, "Please don't ever send me a post card thanking me for teaching you the difference between por and para. Por and para can't be taught... they must just be learned." That didn't stop her from trying.
The same idea didn't stop her from trying to teach us the difference between "ser" and "estar" either. Remembering this brought tears to my eyes. She said, "Estar is used with changing things. The soup is hot- estar. Today I'm sad- estar. The one I don't really understand is death. To me, death isn't a temporary thing but the Spanish use estar."
Death isn't a temporary thing. Life is the temporary thing. How do we spend it? Running a million miles an hour too busy to notice the little moments or investing in children and teaching them something they have the capabilities to use for the rest of their life? Being too stuck up to laugh at yourself or stopping class to remark about the "delightful aroma" of fart in the room before leaving and locking your students in it? Do you put up with their "Senora, how do you say (insert some super random word here like "lipgloss" or "headphones" or "@")" or do you cut off their fun?
Thank you, Sra. Wright, for taking the time to teach us the difference between "por" and "para" but, more importantly, thank you for taking the time to invest in us. To show us we can do it even when we don't think it's possible. In the words of the Celine Dion song sung at Sra. Wright's funeral, "You gave me wings and I could fly/ you touched my hand I could touch the sky/ I lost my faith you gave it back to me/ you said no star was out of reach... you saw the best there was in me..."
Muchas gracias.
<>< Katie
When made it home safely (that's actually a big surprise), and I stood in the family room contemplating checking my email one last night or waiting until I got back to the States. I decided to go for it. It'd be quick and then I'd go to bed and pray I was feeling better in the morning. Well, it wasn't as quick as I had wanted it to be. In fact, I learned that on the plane I'd be writing a different letter to Sra. Wright. One she would never receive. She'd passed away two days earlier.
The plane ride back was a roller coaster. Sitting behind me on the plane was not just a student from my high school but someone that graduated with me... took Spanish with me. I asked him if he'd heard and he said, "Yeah, it's a bummer." A woman dies and you say a bummer? That's worse than when I told a professor I was in a car accident on a way to her event and she said bummer.
I regretted not visiting Sra. Wright all of those times I'd visited my Alma Mater. She'd asked about me, but I never made it down to see her. I regretted not going in the one week I was home before leaving for Costa Rica. (Again, I blame the chloroquine... nine weeks of nasty pink pills meant nine weeks of feeling nasty). It helped me to know she hadn't been at school that day, but it didn't help much. I regretted not emailing her to tell her I was still using my Spanish and going to Costa Rica to learn more. I regretted not thanking her for taking the time to teach me. I regretted not being able to look her in the eye the last time we spoke. Her jaundice grossed me out. I'd known she was sick, but I never knew she was that sick. The word "cancer" was never shared, at least not with me.
I'll be honest, she was never my favorite teacher. I was disappointed when I saw her name on my schedule for the fourth consecutive year. In fact, there were many days I'd "Go to my locker" and get distracted by friends who had a free period; at least once a week I'd hear, "Katie, go back to Spanish." However, even the teachers we don't always appreciate leave lasting impacts on our lives, especially when you see them every day for four years.
Earlier this week, my sister Christina asked me to explain the difference between "por" and "para." I never get those two right, but I explained it to her the same way Sra. Wright explained it to me countless times. In fact, one day in class the example we were doing was a post card written to a teacher years after Spanish class thanking the teacher for teaching the difference between por and para. Sra Wright kind of laughed, "Please don't ever send me a post card thanking me for teaching you the difference between por and para. Por and para can't be taught... they must just be learned." That didn't stop her from trying.
The same idea didn't stop her from trying to teach us the difference between "ser" and "estar" either. Remembering this brought tears to my eyes. She said, "Estar is used with changing things. The soup is hot- estar. Today I'm sad- estar. The one I don't really understand is death. To me, death isn't a temporary thing but the Spanish use estar."
Death isn't a temporary thing. Life is the temporary thing. How do we spend it? Running a million miles an hour too busy to notice the little moments or investing in children and teaching them something they have the capabilities to use for the rest of their life? Being too stuck up to laugh at yourself or stopping class to remark about the "delightful aroma" of fart in the room before leaving and locking your students in it? Do you put up with their "Senora, how do you say (insert some super random word here like "lipgloss" or "headphones" or "@")" or do you cut off their fun?
Thank you, Sra. Wright, for taking the time to teach us the difference between "por" and "para" but, more importantly, thank you for taking the time to invest in us. To show us we can do it even when we don't think it's possible. In the words of the Celine Dion song sung at Sra. Wright's funeral, "You gave me wings and I could fly/ you touched my hand I could touch the sky/ I lost my faith you gave it back to me/ you said no star was out of reach... you saw the best there was in me..."
Muchas gracias.
<>< Katie
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Hope, Pray, Wish
I didn't come up with this idea but rather stole it from another blog I read.
Hope, Pray, Wish
I hope you all have a blessed, healthy, and safe white Christmas. This is especially important for my family because it would be a significant first if we made it through Christmas without a glitch. Let's just say we're gotten really good at throwing flaming items into snowbanks, and we tease my sister that it isn't Christmas until she almost passes out. :-) However, we always have a good time, laugh a lot, and take a million photos enjoying each others' company.
I pray for those who aren't with their families this holiday. I am thankful we know if in all of our brouhaha we need emergency personnel they're on the other end of 9-1-1 ready to take our call, but this also means they are not celebrating with their families. Likewise, I pray for those who are fighting for our freedom both here and abroad. I pray for those too sick to enjoy today the way we think when we think of Christmas. I pray for those stranded both due to problematic travel plans and financial difficulties.
I wish for everyone to know the real reason to be joyful this Christmas season. It's not about the big man in red who magically squeezes down the chimney. It's not about the candy. It's not about the pretty lights outside. It's not about the gifts under the tree. It's about the Gift God gave when He sent His Son to leave the heavenly realms and become a baby. What a marvelous gift.
Every time I write "Hope, pray, wish" I have to think because it reminds me of "Tears, Hopes, and Promises" a wonderful Easter song that discusses how after Jesus died on Good Friday there were many tears, lost hopes, and broken promises. However, those of us who know the rest of the story know the tears became tears of joy, the hopes came to fruition, and the promises were fulfilled. May your Christmas be filled with hope, prayer, wishes, joyful tears, and promises.
I thank you for reading and I thank you for putting up with my grammar errors this blog. We're leaving in twenty minutes and my hair is still wet, but I had to post this before my Christmas got too wrapped up in the traditions and I hadn't taken a minute to remember the real reason we celebrate.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
<>< Katie
Hope, Pray, Wish
I hope you all have a blessed, healthy, and safe white Christmas. This is especially important for my family because it would be a significant first if we made it through Christmas without a glitch. Let's just say we're gotten really good at throwing flaming items into snowbanks, and we tease my sister that it isn't Christmas until she almost passes out. :-) However, we always have a good time, laugh a lot, and take a million photos enjoying each others' company.
I pray for those who aren't with their families this holiday. I am thankful we know if in all of our brouhaha we need emergency personnel they're on the other end of 9-1-1 ready to take our call, but this also means they are not celebrating with their families. Likewise, I pray for those who are fighting for our freedom both here and abroad. I pray for those too sick to enjoy today the way we think when we think of Christmas. I pray for those stranded both due to problematic travel plans and financial difficulties.
I wish for everyone to know the real reason to be joyful this Christmas season. It's not about the big man in red who magically squeezes down the chimney. It's not about the candy. It's not about the pretty lights outside. It's not about the gifts under the tree. It's about the Gift God gave when He sent His Son to leave the heavenly realms and become a baby. What a marvelous gift.
Every time I write "Hope, pray, wish" I have to think because it reminds me of "Tears, Hopes, and Promises" a wonderful Easter song that discusses how after Jesus died on Good Friday there were many tears, lost hopes, and broken promises. However, those of us who know the rest of the story know the tears became tears of joy, the hopes came to fruition, and the promises were fulfilled. May your Christmas be filled with hope, prayer, wishes, joyful tears, and promises.
I thank you for reading and I thank you for putting up with my grammar errors this blog. We're leaving in twenty minutes and my hair is still wet, but I had to post this before my Christmas got too wrapped up in the traditions and I hadn't taken a minute to remember the real reason we celebrate.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
<>< Katie
Friday, July 4, 2008
Happy Fourth of July
Thank you to all of the soldiers who have given up all of their tomorrows so we can be here today! Let us always remember that freedom isn't free! THANK YOU FOR YOUR SACRIFICE!
"After all our hopes and dreams have come and gone. And our children sift through all we've left behind. May the clues that they discover, and the memories they uncover, become the light that leads them to the road we each must find. Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful! May the fire of our devotion light their way. May the footprints that we leave, lead them to believe, and the lives we live inspire them to obey!" - Randy Vader, Camp Kirkland
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"After all our hopes and dreams have come and gone. And our children sift through all we've left behind. May the clues that they discover, and the memories they uncover, become the light that leads them to the road we each must find. Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful! May the fire of our devotion light their way. May the footprints that we leave, lead them to believe, and the lives we live inspire them to obey!" - Randy Vader, Camp Kirkland
In Christ,
<>< Katie
Friday, May 30, 2008
God's Sense of Humor
Last night, I went to bed hearing thunder off in the distance. Before I fell asleep, the distance had gone and the storm was here. Torrential rains poured down on my house, lightening flashed, and thunder roared. I listened to the sounds of nature, praying they were a simple thunderstorm and no more. I contemplated checking the weather to see if tornadoes were anticipated. Tornadoes have a tendency to appear when least expected, and I expected them last night therefore there would not be any. After all, God is in control and if a tornado blows my house over, in His loving arms I'll be. This storm made me think back to one several years ago.
I was still in high school one evening when a storm rolled through. We'd eaten dinner but no schoolwork had been done when the power went out. Our power goes out quite frequently. It's created problems and since then we've put in a generator. However, the generator only powers certain rooms and appliances (the sub pumps, the refrigerator, the furnace, etc.). Needless to say, my bedroom and computer aren't on the generator. It was going to be incredibly difficult to get my homework done in a dark bedroom. It would be just as hard to get my homework done in the lighted kitchen where my sisters were panicking and the radio was blaring.
Frustrated due to my overload of work and inability to do it, I opted not to do any homework for the few hours we were without power and just sit and enjoy the storm. Grumbling and moaning about the lack of power, I sat on the couch in the front room and watched the lightening, listened to the thunder, and peered out into our eerie neighborhood sans electricity. The lightening was lame and when I whispered,
"God, this is a boring storm" a huge bold of lightening flashed and thunder cracked shaking the whole house. He would make a liar out of me! The lightening got much more interesting after that.
Finally, I stopped my complaining and began to thank God for the nice break from the world. How I needed it because I was feeling overworked, underpaid, and not appreciated (just a perk of being middle class and educated). If taking the power away was the only way He could get my attention, so be it. Thank You.
At that very moment, the power came back on and a floor light was shining brightly into my eyeballs. Wow, You're funny. Lesson learned.
<>< Katie
"The men were amazed and asked, 'What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him [Jesus]!'" Matthew 8:27
I was still in high school one evening when a storm rolled through. We'd eaten dinner but no schoolwork had been done when the power went out. Our power goes out quite frequently. It's created problems and since then we've put in a generator. However, the generator only powers certain rooms and appliances (the sub pumps, the refrigerator, the furnace, etc.). Needless to say, my bedroom and computer aren't on the generator. It was going to be incredibly difficult to get my homework done in a dark bedroom. It would be just as hard to get my homework done in the lighted kitchen where my sisters were panicking and the radio was blaring.
Frustrated due to my overload of work and inability to do it, I opted not to do any homework for the few hours we were without power and just sit and enjoy the storm. Grumbling and moaning about the lack of power, I sat on the couch in the front room and watched the lightening, listened to the thunder, and peered out into our eerie neighborhood sans electricity. The lightening was lame and when I whispered,
"God, this is a boring storm" a huge bold of lightening flashed and thunder cracked shaking the whole house. He would make a liar out of me! The lightening got much more interesting after that.
Finally, I stopped my complaining and began to thank God for the nice break from the world. How I needed it because I was feeling overworked, underpaid, and not appreciated (just a perk of being middle class and educated). If taking the power away was the only way He could get my attention, so be it. Thank You.
At that very moment, the power came back on and a floor light was shining brightly into my eyeballs. Wow, You're funny. Lesson learned.
<>< Katie
"The men were amazed and asked, 'What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him [Jesus]!'" Matthew 8:27
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