Ten Steps

What did you do thirteen days ago?  At some point during the day did you walk to your living room and sit down on the couch?  For the first time in two years, so did my friend Kaitlyn.

In October 2007, Kaitlyn was sent home from school sick.  At first they thought she had the flu, but she got worse rather than better, and no one knew why.  Her hyper-sensitivity to sound, touch, smell, light, etc. left her to sit in a dark room all day watching tv and the lowest possible volume level.  Her family read the subtitles because the tv was too quiet to hear. 

In April 2008, she lost the ability to walk.  That June she was finally diagnosed with Lyme Disease and multiple co-infections.  Her family of five (plus two dogs) packed up their lives, left their 3,800 square foot house, and moved 800 miles to a two-bedroom apartment.

Over the last few years they have faithfully walked through a battle that I cannot fathom.  The air conditioner, the act of cooking dinner, and even the gurling of the fridge are painfully loud to her.  Hugs are out of the question.  She's been treated almost daily at same clinic since 2008 and the doctor and nurses have never seen her face because she wears a towel over her head to block the light. 

The week before the Steelers (this family's football team of choice) won the Superbowl, Kaitlyn independently walked ten steps, something medicine could not explain.  That ability was lost again but the hope it provided was remarkable.  She's now learning to walk again, and less than two weeks ago she got to sit in the living room for the first time since they've lived there.

This week, on September 29, Kaitlyn turns sixteen.  What did you do for your sixteenth birthday?  Not sit around in a dark apartment or go to a clinic with a towel over your head, right? 

For her 14th birthday, their apartment was flooded with cards. 
For her 15th, we were asked to fast and petition the Lord, the Great Physician, for her healing. 
This year, her family has asked that we find a way to make her 16th birthday memorable. 

What they want everyone to do is something sweet or uplifting. Something out of the ordinary.  They suggested volunteering at a soup kitchen, making a meal for someone, visiting hospice, writing to a solider, volunteering at a dog shelter... Bless someone on her behalf.  In Kaitlyn's honor and for God's glory.

I would love for you to participate with us.  If you do, please comment on this post or send me an email with what was done and where it was, your state if you're within the US or your country (since I know there are some international lurkers!).  What they're going to do is collect these stories and bind them into a keepsake book for Kaitlyn.

“Therefore, we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:15-18

As for what I did, well, you'll have to come back on Friday.
<>< Katie

PS: For more information, visit her caringbridge.  You do have to register for the site but it's free and open to everyone.

Hurt

If I could summarize this past week in one word I'd say: hurt.

In the last few days I've been bizarrely injured multiple times.  With a few of them I've had to seriously contemplate if professional medical attention would have been inappropriate.  It seemed every time I put my First Aid kit away it needs to come out again a few hours later.  I've always been the "girl with the Band-Aids" and now I'm "the girl who needs the Band-Aids."  It's annoying, but what is more annoying is that not all hurts are physical.

Emotional wounds are harder to treat.  Neosporin and Band-Aids don't cover it (no pun intended).  You think they're healing and suddenly you're gushing tears again.

At (adult) Sunday School I shared the prayer request that I keep getting hurt physically and emotionally, and I am sick of reaching for Band-Aids.

Our Sunday School teacher Matt smiled.  He said he could write his own name next to that request every day.  He said many others could do the same.

When Matt prayed, he thanked God for the rain pounding on the roof.  He said it was healing rain sent to cleanse and heal those of us who have hurts like I mentioned.  Later, he asked God to relieve our (my) physical, emotional, and spiritual hurts.

My first thought was defensive.  "I didn't say I was hurt spiritually."  As Matt prayed, God prodded gently.

"Yes, you are."

I can put a Band-Aid over my scratches to cover them up.  I don't have to see their nastiness and neither does anyone else.  Why am I still putting man's Band-Aid over God's band-aid (a scab)?

Emotional wounds don't need Band-Aids; they're covered in a different way.  They're hidden deep within me as if that'll make them go away.  The other day Luci said, "Katie, you're like a box.  I keep trying to open you, and I can't."  That hurt.  But it was true.

Is God saying that to me too?  "Katie, I'm here ready to open you, ready to heal you.  I'm ready and you won't let Me."

Just like physical wounds need to be cleaned, so do emotional and, more importantly, spiritual wounds.  Boy, does it hurt!  But it's vital.

<>< Katie

"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." Romans 5:3-5

Never Alone

She sat on the futon with both of her legs curled underneath her.  The purple polar fleece blanket draped over her held the textbook she wasn't reading.  Just out of reach was her chocolate milk in a glass made of glass.  On the table in front of her sat the computer with broken internet, Nalgene with one last shluck of iodized lake water, and her Writer's Notebook. 

The music was playing louder than necessary but she wasn't listening until the familiar chords sounded once again.  She'd already heard that song once that day well as several times in the last week.  It seemed to be appearing everywhere as if it were haunting her.  Perhaps there was something in it she desperately needed to hear.

"Never Alone" by BarlowGirl

I waited for You, today
But You didn't show.
No, no, no.
I needed You, today,
so where did You go?

You told me to call.
Said You'd be here.
And though I haven't seen You,
are You still there?

I cry out with no reply,
and I can't feel You by my side,
so I'll hold tight to what I know:
You're here,
and I'm never alone.

And though I cannot see You,
and I can't explain why.
Such a deep, deep reassurance
You've placed in my life.
Oh, oh.
We cannot separate.
You're part of me.
And though You're invisible
I'll trust the unseen.

I cry out with no reply,
and I can't feel You by my side, so
I'll hold tight to what I know:
You're here,
and I'm never alone.

We cannot separate.
You're part of me.
And though You're invisible
I'll trust the unseen.

As she listens, she remembers learning to sign the song.  The corresponding facial expressions of desperation and confusion seemed to come so easily.  Now they seem easier.  What was once a loud proclamation of, "I'll hold tight to what I know: You're here, and I'm never alone" is now whispered gently.  Yet it still holds true.  Even when it is difficult to say, it holds true!

Her right hand flies through the air in a reverse candy cane.  The left meets in an imaginary bouquet of flowers and pulsates for emphasis.
GOD TRUST +

"God I trust You," she says.

Communication Breakdown

When you're a college student and you get into a twelve passenger van with other college students, you have no option but to play traveling games.  Even if your ride is only to Wal-mart.

We played a word game where every person had to come up with an entire sentence where all of the words began with the same letter.

Guess who had Q and V... yours truly.

Luckily, I'm an English major, so I didn't have too much trouble coming up with "Quiet Queen Quinn quilted quickly" and "Violent Vincent viciously vexed Vanessa."  I pity the person who had "X" because there were no verbs in the English language that begin with the letter "X" (except for "Xerox" which really is a noun that has become a verb).

On the way back we played the game were each person says one word and we have to form a sentence/story. These were our sentences:

"The ant pooped on Kevin's teeth which were brushed not ever."

"Gardener Sammy went to the treehouse to hang the ant that poop with his face."

"Sarah ate her hair because it looks delicious."

"Focus went to a sleep where they dreamed about telephone poles and maracas beating cows named Ernest and Rhubarb."

"GiGi Stamey lost the bra during his emancipation proclamation while he ate bananas and apricots."

"Fire-hydrant Bob loves water colored yoyos and hula hoops named Elmer and Fudd."

"Green grass beans grow gloriously after rain doesn't come generously in fact snow doesn't appear melted astronomically because they ran out."

"Dictionaries are stupid unless donkeys appear bloodied messy with orthodontists on its head."

"Flags twirl vexingly America enjoys laughing foreigners with animals that can't race."

Yeah, the first few made sense but after that good luck, right?

When you say a word, you anticipate what the rest of the sentence is going to sound like. Unless there's some cheating, that doesn't happen.

When you surrender your day to God, you kind of anticipate what's going to happen. Typically, that doesn't happen. Being obedient to His plan is not throwing a fit and saying, "That doesn't make sense!"  Except to Him, it makes perfect sense. He understands why the weird things happen.

Do you trust Him enough to be obedient to His obscure plans? I think that's something we all need to ask ourselves daily.
<>< Katie

"Who let the dogs out?"

In my media writing class, we're doing a unit on journalism.  It bores me to tears because I need the freedom to embellish rather than being confined by the truth and bland format.  This is an exception.  <>< Katie

A college student was attacked by three dogs while walking through a campus apartment building.

Katie Ax, 21, was on her way to a meeting around dusk on Sunday night when three small dogs burst out of the apartment unchaperoned and began to viciously bark, jump, and bite.

"It's one of those things you imagine in dreams, but the marks on my legs tell me it was real life," Ax says.

The owner of the dogs, a mother visiting campus for the weekend, claims they are not prone to attacking and are up to date on their shots.  However, Ax still questions why they were on campus in the first place since the only pets permitted are fish.

Ax says when she returned to her apartment an hour later, her roommates and their respective boyfriends were concerned, especially when she showed them the gashes in her leg where the dogs bit through jeans and flesh.

Andy, the resident "medical person" and his girlfriend Elizabeth took Ax to report the situation, Allyson and Jennifer photographed the injury, and Amy sought an unscented bar of soap.

Ax is hopeful of her full recovery and steps are being taken to avoid infection.  A representative for the campus disability center, Laura, said if Ax were to lose her leg she could no longer live in her current apartment since it is not ADA approved; however, her disability would get her priority registration for classes and the ability to request a note-taker.

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

Tear down the walls. Let everything fall

I don't like alarm clocks.  I still remember flying out of my skin the first night I shared a room with Amber when her alarm clock when off in the morning.  It seemed to take me forever to calm down and realize it was NOT the fire alarm.  Over the year it got better, but every morning she got up first, I got an unwelcome jolt.

My own alarm clock is music.  I plug my iPod in, put it on shuffle, and wait to see what God sends me in the morning when the alarm goes off.  Today the first song I heard was "Break Through" by Peder Eide.  As I was in bed trying to convince myself to pull my lazy head off of the pillow and sit up, the lyrics that I've heard a million times hit me in a new way.  I decided to make this my prayer for today.  Feel free to do the same.

"Break Through"
By Peder Eide

Sing all the songs
and read all about You.
I know right from wrong.
What does it amount to
if my life doesn't show
how much I love You?

I need You to break through.
Tear down the walls;
let everything fall.
'Cause I want to praise You.
Nothing between You and me.
I need you to break through.

I know there is more
I've yet to discover.
So many things
You want to uncover.
I've been scratching the surface;
I want to go deeper.

I need you to break through.
Tear down the walls;
let everything fall
'Cause I wanna praise You.
Nothing between You and me.
I need You to break through.

Break through the pride.
Break through the shame.
I've had enough of staying the same.
Break through the fear.
Open the gates,
I'm getting tired of playing it safe.

I need You to break through.
Tear down the walls;
let everything fall.
'Cause I wanna praise You.
Nothing between You and me.

I need you to break through.
Tear down the walls;
let everything fall.
'Cause I wanna praise You
Nothing between You and me.
I need You to break through.
Need You to break through.
Break through!