ASL Pride

Part of my new optimism ploy for the last eleven months or so has been to catch people doing things right.  If I'm going to do it for my "real life" friends, I feel the need to exhibit the same courtesy to my virtual friends.  As an ASL minor, I cannot let this story slip by uncelebrated.  Please take a moment and realize not everyone in the hearing and medical worlds are the evil deaf-haters that our professors make us out to be.  There are exceptions.  Please got take a few minutes and read it.  Thank you, Jim.  Well done.  <>< Katie

National Youth Gathering Post One: a YAV at the NYG in NOLA
NYG Post Two: The Savior, The Seat Belt, The Superdome

For the last week, I've been in New Orleans at the LCMS National Youth Gathering.  Basically, 25,000 teens from around the country (and world) gather to worship God.  As a volunteer, it was my job be enthusiastic, loud and crazy, and cheerful.  For a pessimistic introvert, that's not easy.  On top of the fact that I knew a grand total of one person at the event.  One.  Everyone else was greeting friends they hadn't seen in months or years and I was sitting there going, "Yeah, I haven't seen you ever.  My name is Katie; what's yours?"  Not going to lie, I was jealous and homesick (for my college friends).

My first night in NOLA, they split us up into groups of about 20 to 30 people that we would get to know over the next few days.  We shared our name, hometown, and one safety item we brought with us.  The conversation had kind of moved on, but it wasn't anything deep or serious (yet).  One girl got the attention of our group.

"Just so you all know, I'm completely deaf.  If you could please face towards me when you're talking, it'll help me read your lips."  Her voice was excellent.  I never would have known she could not hear had she not said something.

A little adrenaline rush started inside of me.  I wanted to know if she signed.  Ten minutes later, we were in a circle more conducive to conversation, and I threw out a simple, "Do you sign?" with Casey's favorite Question Finger.  I got a yes.  PAH!  My little adrenaline rush turned into a bigger adrenaline rush, and I'm amazed I didn't tangle myself into a literal knot.  It had been two months since I'd done any serious signing, so I was a little rusty.  But it didn't matter.

She was drinking out of her water bottle with her left hand as she watched me.  Her eyes lit up.  She didn't say, "Cool" or "Neat" or anything.  No, she said "Wonderful."  I babbled some more and then she took a turn talking about how so many people in the world are clueless about Deaf culture.  With the rest of our group staring rather rudely, she and I talked for a few minutes.  I learned she, too, knew no one at the NYG.

We weren't glued to the hip, but I made a point to know where she was at most times.  I began to imagine what it had been like for her to be trying to lip read everything.  A lot of times, she'd just give up and read her book instead of listening (or watching).  Once or twice she asked me what someone had said and I signed it back to her.

I don't know how she felt about encountering someone else who signed, but to me it was a sign from God that my week was going to be ok.  He was there with me.  There I was feeling sorry for myself about not knowing anyong and God sent me someone in a smiliar predicament.

Her honesty in admitting her deafness broke the ice for my group.  By the end of the 45-minute Get to Know You time, most of us were in tears.  Every person sitting in that circle had a story that would break your heart.  Financial challenges that meant it was only by the grace of God that he was able to attend the Gathering.  A girl that was signed up to attend the 2007 Gathering but found herself in the hospital instead.  A boy who was trying to quit smoking asked us to throw away his cigarettes to remove the tempation that week.  A friend of a 2007 participant who has since gone Home to Heaven.

Wow.

When the adult coordinator came by to give us a five-minute warning, our group was locked together in a hug.  In less than three hours we transformed from strangers trying to learn names ("When in doubt, guess Katie") to the family of Christ crying together.  I love it!

The Savior, The Seat Belt, The Superdome

A snapshot from my time at the LCMS National Youth Gathering.  See the first post here.

The Savior
On my way to New Orleans, I flew alone.  I am no stranger to being a party of one, but I have rarely felt as lonely as I did on that airplane.  I was frantically searching for someone else headed in my direction.  Every time I passed someone about my age, I looked at them with expectant eyes as if to say, "Are you my savior?  Will you share a taxi with me?  Will you help me figure out where to go?"  Ultimately, I got on a shuttle for $20 and made it to the hotel fine and by myself.  It was as if God was saying, "No, I AM your Savior."

The Seat Belt

My plane had a layover but I did not switch planes.  On the first leg of my journey, the woman seated in front of me noticed she was missing half of her seat belt.  Since she didn't want to be reseated, she didn't say anything to the flight attendant.  On the continuing flight into New Orleans, a little boy had that seat.  Of course, his mother was not thrilled about her son flying without a seat belt.  She called the flight attendant who quickly came over and put the new seat belt together.  A simple fix.

That's life.  We try and hide things from God and solve it on our own.  We literally try to fly by the seat of our pants as we attempt to take our lives into our own hands.  We can't.  As soon as we admit that and say, "Help!"  He does.  Maybe it's not a simple fix, but it's no longer our problem.*

The Superdome

Five years ago, it served as a shelter during Hurricane Katrina.  People died here.

Five hours ago, it was so empty you could converse across it and be heard.

Now, it is the home of the Superbowl Champions.

Now, it is filled with 25,000 youth praising God!

The saints are marching into the home of the Saints.

<>< Katie

*When I shared this (what I considered to be a mediocre) metaphor with my group, they loved it.  It kind of became a challenge to see who could come up with the best metaphor for the day.  Everyone always compared their metaphors to it in terms of, "this one isn't as good as the seat belt metaphor."  They ultimately said I should write a book of them... Wouldn't that be cool?

a YAV at the NYG in NOLA

Every three years the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod hosts a National Youth Gathering (NYG) where, you guessed it, youth from all over the nation gather together.  I was lucky enough to attend the gatherings in Orlando in 2004 and 2007.  This year it was in New Orleans (NOLA) and my role was a little bit different than in the past.  Instead of participating this year, I had the opportunity to serve as a Young Adult Volunteer (YAV, pronounced like "yam" but with a "v") and quite literally be the hands and feet of the gathering and, more importantly, of Christ.

What does this mean?

A. It means I got to wear the same orange shirt every day for a week.  One night they made a joke about the stench around NOLA and blamed it on Orange Nation (the YAVs) and Yellow Nation because they were both only given a single shirt for the entire Gathering.  They joke continued to say a portion of that night's offering was going to buying air fresheners for us to wear around our necks.  Yummy.  It also means I got a green backpack that, combined with the shirt, made us all look like pumpkins.  And I got a gold VIP bracelet that let me go just about anywhere I wanted (or needed) to go.

Read: Long days, short nights, and sore feet.

B. At 7am every morning I was headed into the community to serve and help rebuild in the wake of Katrina.  Vegetation removal, landscaping development, etc.  They let me be in charge of a bus.  One day I almost left a group in the bayou.  The next day a different group left me at the woods.  The first day I was actually able to give away my Bible to a New Orleanian!

Read: Physically exhausting; spiritually exhilarating.

C. At 7pm, I was wearing the same orange shirt with a pretty yellow vest as I tried to make sure no one was trampled as they invaded the Superdome.  Basically that meant I was the first one trampled.  I'm 5'8" and 120 lbs.  There's not much I can do to slow down 25,000 excited teens except to be a speed bump.  I don't know if you're familiar with the Superdome, but what is considered the first floor is filled with dangerous catwalks that I had to stand next to for five hours every day.  Sure, there's a railing but it's was almost exactly at the top of my hips.  Since my body naturally bends there, it would not have been hard to push me to a nice soft landing on concrete a floor below.  I will admit, there were some people I would have preferred they knocked me to my death than forced me to deal with them...
Read: Crowd control = Fear.  Lotta fear.  It is only by the grace of God that I survived.

Welcome to the National Youth Gathering, the place where all of those rules your mother taught you do not apply. Talking to strangers is encouraged (hugs welcome). Running, dancing, and jumping in the concourse are totally acceptable. Oh, and no indoor voices. Buckle up and get ready for a wild ride.
I'll be honest, it's hard to be friendly, fun, and flexible when you're working eleven to twelve hours a day and sleeping five to six hours a night.  It's hard to be spiritually fed while you're worried about making sure you're physically fed.  However, hard is not synonymous with impossible.

Even though the trip was last week, free time was sparse.  Instead of updating you while I was there, I'll use the next week or so to tell some of the great stories from my trip to New Orleans.
<>< Katie

Unusual Joy

All of the following are real quotes from one person's mouth.

•  "We should eat eight of the elderly because then we wouldn't have to go buy more prizes."
• "Ohh!  Ambulance parking.  We could park there.  Bob, turn on your lights!" [Bob drives a minivan]
• "Men don't have hair."
• "I want to eat my words because I didn't have breakfast, and I'm hungry."
• "AH!  You just decapitated me again."
• "I had a dream last night that I actually behaved at youth group.  Thank goodness it was only a dream!"
• "There are dominoes in my shorts!"
• "Look!  That tree is moving.  Oh, wait, the bus is moving."
• "Naked!  Hehehe Silly!  Plethora, giggle, tomatoes." [This was a text message sent to the wrong person]
• "Ew!  Rick Warren!"
• "What does 'nagivet' mean?"
• "ATHANASIAN CREED!  Exploring His manhood?  Oh!  This creed is dirty!"
• "That's why I make out with Katie: she goes to seminary next week."  [That is what we heard.  What she really said was: "That's why I hang out with Katie: she leaves for school next week."]
• "I don't need caffeine.  I'm pre-caffeinated."

Who REALLY says these kinds of things?

The same girl who was on the jumbotron speaking whale...

One of my anonymous readers... Melissa Joy Noel.

She's been begging me for a birthday blog for years, and I'm really not sure what to say to the girl who threw herself a 19th birthday party at the city pool.  We played with shaving cream and silly string on the playground...

I think for her birthday I will donate blood because I'm eligible for the first time ever.  Then I'll give her the information pamphlet.  I can just hear her reading it, "Definition of sexual content... AHHHH!!! ... whether or not a hmmmhmmm is used... EWWWW!!!"

I love Melissa.  She brings unusual joy into my life.  Selflessness, a strange sense of humor, and silly string.  What more does a person really need?

<>< Katie

Dance for Joy

I think the thing I say to God most frequently is a sarcastic, "Wow, You're funny."  He's got perfect timing and sometimes it just makes me shake my head.

If you've ever seen Peder Eide in concert, you know that at some point he plays a "hymn on Mountain Dew" that is an upbeat arrangement of "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee."  Towards the end of the song, the invisible band vamps while Peder talks about how if what we're singing is true and we really have the joy of the Lord we don't just uses our voices, we use everything we have.  He tells the audience to put their arms around their sweaty neighbors, complete strangers that are now family.  Then everyone jumps.  Without letting go of each other.

Then, he tells us we can let go.  He moves on to talk about how dance is worship.  There's no right or wrong way to dance for joy.  He says, "David danced before the Lord.  He was almost naked, but we're going to skip that part."

I always play my iPod on shuffle.  Always.  I have over 3,300 songs on it; it's the only way I get to hear all of them.  The other morning, I was getting dressed when "Joyful, Joyful" came on.  Peder's version.  I stopped and danced.

Then I doubled over in laughter.  There I was, just like David, almost naked and dancing before the Lord.

Try it sometime.  It's fun.  Dance before the Lord.  Get the rest of your family to join you, too!

Note: if you are in the presence of others and you are not married to said others, please put some clothes on.  Thanks.

<>< Katie

Tractor on Fire; Katie on Tractor

When it comes to household jobs, cutting the grass is my favorite.  I get to fly around the yard, write, and get paid for it.  Sweet!

I'm quite a sight when I cut the grass.  Today I am wearing a blaze orange shirt, not quite matching the orange of my tractor, and brown shorts with black Chacos (I'm looking to enhance the Zorro-like tanlines on my feet).  To top it off, I'm wearing my notorious cowboy hat, I have a blue Off! fan latched to my shorts, and my iPod is strapped to my thigh using the elastic band intended for a runner's arm.  Yeah, really pretty.

I'm lost deep in thought, memories, and stories that may someday be blog-worthy when all of the sudden I hear this nasty noise.  It kind of sounds like I ran over something, but I haven't.  I keep going and there is a second noise, not as loud as the first.  At the third noise, I stop the tractor.  I see Mom inside the house walking towards me as I turn it off.

"Did you hear that?" I ask.

She assures me she has and asks what it was.  Like I know.  Then she tells me the tractor was smoking.

I hop off the tractor.   "It's on fire," I say.  "Yes, I see a flame."  Keep in mind, I hate fire.  Been there; done that.  Lived to tell the tale; have the scars to prove it.

Mom runs to get the fire extinguisher, her trademark move.  From a reasonable distance, I watch the grass burn.  There is only one flame, but it is bigger than you would see on a candle.

"Do I even know how to work this?" She asks as she pulled the pin out of the fire extinguisher.  She pushes the levers together and it blows a fog-like gas.  Well, the wind take it and it showers me with fire extinguisher fluid.

The flame goes out, our tractor needs to be serviced, our fire extinguisher needs to be inspected, and the grass still needs to be cut.  Oh, and I smell like Off!, grease, freshly cut grass, forget me nots, smoke, and fire extinguisher.

When we tell Dad what happened, he just laughs.  And laughs.  And laughs.  He's now outside trying to fix the poor piece of flaming machinery.  I told him to scream if he needs me to call 911.  All quiet in the front.

I'm fine, by the way.  A little traumatized and just as pyro-phobic as ever, but it's just another day in the life...

<>< Katie

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