Orange

"Are you ok with the orange?"

Instead of selling it for profit, Ruth was giving me a three by three book I'm going to fill with Bible verses.  The book has an orange theme, and I'm a purple girl.  I assured her the orange was fine and thanked her for the gift.

While orange does not make it in my top three favorite colors, it holds a special significance.

Orange is the color of the World Vision pen on my desk because it is bright enough to not get lost in the heap of dead trees.

Orange makes me think of Nikki and her now, rightfully, retired phone...
Orange makes me think of Carrie.

Orange is construction cones and Taco Bell hot sauce.

Orange makes me think of Guatemala.
Orange helped me realize that just like white crevices in stucco take forever to fill so does sin take forever to be removed from our lives. Every time we think we’re getting close, we find yet another missing spot… and then some more.
Orange is a reminder to stop and listen. Sometimes we have to be quiet to hear what God is trying to say.

Orange mean authority.
Orange means funs, friendly, and flexible.
Orange proclaims, "We believe!"

More than anything, Orange reminds me of my trip to New Orleans where I got to be part of Orange Nation. A week of long days and short nights. A week sacrificing ourselves and serving one another. A week of almost being trampled every night as I tried to play crowd control for 25,000 excited youth. A week I learned where "challenging" and "cherished" can intertwine.

I won this game, by the way.

Happy Reformation Day.
Happy Halloween.
Let orange be more than the color of the "publish post" button.

<>< Katie

Self-Serve Ice Cream

When it comes to upper body strength, I'm a weakling.  Lift this heavy item?  No, thanks.  Do a pull up?  Yeah, right.  When you're a weakling, you need tricks.  You wedge your hip against the ice cream cooler and pull, with two hands if necessary.

Most days, that works.  Yesterday not so much.  I've scooped myself a lot of ice cream over the last three plus years, and I will say this was honestly the hardest I've ever seen the ice cream.  After five minutes of struggling I still didn't even have a spoonful.

"It's really hard today.  We just put in the new buckets," said the male voice behind me.  "Do you want me to give it a try?"

Out of breath, I turned and surrendered my scoop... to our executive chef.

You know those people who are always smiling and have a kind word?  I call them "Radiators" because they radiate love, grace, and compassion.  Our executive chef is one of them.

He took the scoop and half-disappeared into the cooler.  He came up for a breath and gave me an "Oh my gosh!" look before diving in for a second go.

The executive chef stopped what he was doing (probably refilling the dessert tray, explaining to Nikki the science behind why the alfredo sauce looks like gravy, or making something delicious at the end of the salad bar) to serve me from the self-serve ice cream.  I did nothing to deserve his help but he saw a need and sought to satisfy it.

Ladies and gentlemen, that's is exactly what God calls us to do.  Stop what we're doing and offer to help.  See needs, no matter how big or how small, and satisfy them.  To serve one another, even if that means putting our other responsibilities on hold.

Thank you, Mr. Executive Chef, for the reminder.  And for the ice cream.

<>< Katie

Interdigiting

"Let a child take you for a week every week." - Max Lucado

My Baptist Church had a (dry) tailgate before my college's Homecoming football game. Amber wanted to take little Abby to the parade. I figured my six year old boyfriend would enjoy it, too.

Several weeks ago it came out that this busy six year old has three girlfriends. I asked if I could be number four. His father applauded him for working the college girls. He was too embarrassed to look at me all day. I think that means yes.

I knew getting him to go to the parade with me was a long shot but it was worth a try. At his father's insistence, he came. The four of us walked (ok, Amber carried Abby) to what we thought was the parade route only to discover we were on the wrong side of the soccer field. Even at their slowest speed my long legs move twice as fast as this six year old's little legs. I didn't want him to get lost in the crowd. I also realized he'd still a bit uncomfortable with me. I kept a close eye on him and my hand at a level where he could grab it if he so desired.

The closer we got to the parade, the closer he got to me. When we stopped, he reached up and took my hand. He then reached up with his other hand and grabbed hold. We watched the parade together, my right hand held captive in both of his.

I was no longer jealous of Amber with the toddler. I had a six year old comfortable enough to grab my hand with both hands. Maybe he was afraid the animals on the floats were going to jump off. Maybe he was afraid I was going to wander off and leave him. Maybe he was lost but he knew I wasn't; I knew where his parents were. All the way back, he held me hand with one hand and stuck so close I had to step around him to move. I didn't mind.

Is that how we should be with God? Our inclination, especially at first, is to wander nearby God. As we walk, we realize He knows where we're going. And we don't. We step closer and closer to Him. We link hands and let Him show us the way. He leads; we follow closely and (sometimes) obediently.

When my "boyfriend" had my hand, my face had a smile. I loved walking hand in hand with him. I wanted to introduce him to everyone we passed, I steered him clear of hot grilles, I returned him safely to his parents. If I can feel that much joy from walking with a six year old who may or may not claim to be my boyfriend (my vote is on not), how much more joy does God feel when we walk with Him? God takes pride in calling us His children. He does not steer us clear of all trials and turbulence but He does walk with us all of the way. With His shield of protect, nothing happens to us without His knowledge. That's more than I could promise my "boyfriend."

<>< Katie

The Painful Smile

Allyson and I were joking around when suddenly she stopped smiling and gripped the top of her head. The night before she'd gone to the ER for a head injury and came home five hours later with the hiccups. She explained that being hit on the head with a color guard flag made smiling a painful experience. Allyson smiles a lot, and to be able to not do it is... well... painful.

I can relate. I'm not really sure what I did but for two days freshman year it hurt to laugh. For two days I had a huge smile but I refused to laugh. You don't realize how often you laugh until you can't.

The world is not a fun place when smiles and laughter cause pain. It's miserable. Smiles and laughter are things God created for good and instead they were being used for evil.

How often does that happen? All too often.

Money, food, entertainment, and a million other things have been created for God's glory only to be tragically transformed by human wickedness. Instead of looking to others with love and self-sacrifice, we hoard for personal gain. Instead of honoring Him in what we watch, how we spend our money, and the words we use, we are frivolous and careless.

God created sex. (gasp!) It was a gift to man and woman to enjoy within the confines of marriage. Too often it's used in other scenarios making it less special. Less sacred. Less about God Himself.

God created me for a special purpose. Too often I disregard His plan and pursue my own. My words are full of hatred and grumpiness rather than compassion and grace. (gasp, again!)

No wonder the world is miserable. We're misusing His creation. The things He created for good we are using for evil. Of course it's causing pain. Our pain and His.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, let's reclaim the smile. The laughter. The finances. The sex. The entertainment. The word choice. Let's reclaim what it means to be a Christian by showing His love.

<>< Katie

The Signs of Womanhood

I have a huge Wal-mart list, but I haven't had time to go.  Instead, I made a quick stop at the grocery store for the vitals.  Three two-gallon jugs of water, a 12 oz bag of milk chocolate chips, and a bottle of Tylenol.

Since you can't go out in public here without seeing someone you know, I ran into one of my professors.

"That makes so much sense," she said after a quick glance at the items in my hand.  "On so many levels."

Busted.

I laughed it off.  There was no way she'd believe the water was a weekly purchase, the Tylenol because I finally ran out of the nasty store-brand pain reliever I bought in the spring, and the chocolate chips were not for eating.

Well, they were.  Sort of.

Last week Kristin posted a microwave recipe for peanut butter cups, and I wanted to try them.  So, I did the logical thing.  I printed the recipe and glued it in my Writer's Notebook, then saved a digital copy just in case.  It was in that moment that I realized I am officially one step closer to adulthood.

I don't cook.  Ok, I can make a coveted cheese dip.  That's about it.  Until now.  Now I can make peanut butter cups, too.  What more does a person need, right?

<>< Katie

PS: If you're going to try the recipe, don't cut the muffin papers in half (at least I didn't) and let them thaw between the second cooling and eating or be prepared for a little someone (aka my roommate Jennifer) to make a mess of peanut butter.

Reunited

A long time ago I said if you all were nice to me I would post some fiction.  I haven't forgotten that promise but I have not fulfilled it either.  Until now.  Ta-da!  It's just a first draft (well, second if you count the version in my Writer's Notebook). Inspired by a couple I saw for ten seconds while people watching in the airport.  <>< K

Juggling a cranky toddler in one arm and an overfull diaper bag with the other, Samantha slowly made her way down the airport concourse.

"Sam."

His booming voice made her insides swell with excitement.  Had it really only been four days?  She felt like she had been gone for four years.  Even though she had not yet found Brad in the crowd, she knew they were close because Alexi squirmed more with every step Samantha took.  Finally Samantha saw him.  His big white smile, deep blue eyes, and shaggy brown hair.  She could get lost staring at him.

Alexi flew out of Samantha's arms and fell into her father's chest.  Samantha watched as Brad nuzzled his face into Alexi's hair.  If ever there had been a doubt regarding this father's love for his daughter, this moment eliminated it.

"Hey, Beautiful," he said to Samantha.  He stepped forward and kiss her on the forehead.  With his free arm he wrapped her into him.  Letting the diaper bag fall to the ground, she gripped his back with both hands and breathed in his scent.  She loved being held firmly in his embrace.

Alexi let out a giggle and leaped backwards, almost throwing herself to the ground.  Brad let go of his wife and shifted his attention back to the baby.  He entertained Alexi while Samantha claimed their stroller and large suitcase with a heavy tag, again she questioned if the trip had truly only been four days.  She reassembled the stroller and threw the diaper bag into the seat.  There would be no removing Alexi from her daddy's arms anytime in the near future; they both would protest if Samantha tried.

"Ready?"

Samantha nodded.  She pushed the stroller with her left hand and pulled the suitcase with her right.  The three of them headed out the door.  Samantha was ready to get home.  Ready to relax on her own couch, cuddle with her husband, and let him take care of the baby.  She didn't think he'd mind.

As they stepped into crosswalk, Brad switched Alexi to his right arm and reached for the suitcase with his left hand.  Samantha let him take the weight, but she did not remove her hand.  She wrapped her pinky around his and held on as they walked to the car.

For His Glory

I've been looking for God moments in my own life and I haven't been smacked in the face with any. However, I've recently heard three "Yay, God" stories. None of them are mine, but they give me goose bumps every time I tell them. Feel free to add your own!  God is good. <>< Katie

1. A female friend of mine attends a public university. She and one of her female friends were at a party in a dorm, when they needed some fresh air. The two of them stepped outside alone and were approached by two men. Naturally, these girls got nervous about the situation and began to pray for their safety. The men introduced themselves as Christians on campus who walk around and ask how to best pray for their classmates.

2. Another college student friend needed to go home for an event. She had intended to go home in the morning but made a spontaneous decision to travel home the night before instead. That night she went to bed around midnight; her grandfather was still up watching tv. At three in the morning, she woke up suddenly and could not fall back to sleep. She decided to get up to get a drink of water and noticed the living room light was still on. She went in and found her grandfather asleep on the floor. She woke up her mom and told her to tell him to go to bed. Grandpa was responsive but not really coherent, so they woke up Grandma. Grandma said that wasn't normal and at four in the morning they called 911. Grandpa had gone into diabetic shock and if God hadn't woken up my friend at 3am, her grandfather would have died.

3. Wife made "a big oops" regarding the family's finances. A bill hadn't been paid correctly and the correction ended up to be a huge sum of money that needed to be paid now. This left the family with less than $15 for a food budget to last a little over a week.  Husband said he would scrounge up whatever he could find for a week, not a big deal. Wife, on the other hand, is pregnant and therefore needed substantial food. He told her to keep eating normally, everything would turn out alright, God would take care of them. They had no idea how, but they stepped out on faith that He would provide. They didn't tell anyone about their hardship. That week, a woman came up to Husband while he was at work. She said, "You and your family have been such a blessing to me. I want to show my appreciation." She handed him a grocery bag. Inside were a dozen eggs, a jar of homemade jam, and a loaf of homemade bread.  God provided.

Providing Today's Entertainment

Well, we did it again.  Mom and I single-handily entertained everyone we encountered today.

It started innocently enough: I needed new glasses.  After church, we went to the mall and meandered towards the eye doctor's office.  Well, they didn't have any appointments until 2:15, so we ventured into the mall.  An hour and half later, we returned.

It was the same ole spiel.  "Can you read these letters?  What numbers are in dots?" I almost have that book memorized.  "Take your contacts out.  Now can you read the letters?  This puff if your eye is going to make you jump but it won't hurt.  Have a seat right here.  The doctor will see you shortly."

So there we sat.  Me half blind; Mom laughing at me.

The doctor came out and called my sister's name.  I almost, automatically, stood and corrected him.  People confuse my for my sister all of the time.  But there was another patient standing, so Mom and I just laughed.

Then he came back and asked for someone with my dad's name.  "Actually, this is Katie," Mom whispered to me.  We had another good laugh.

I've been going to this same place in the mall for years, but this was a new doctor I'd never met before.  You figure if he was working Sunday afternoon he probably wasn't very high on the totem pole.  However, every time he came back, we noticed he had a smile.  Well, Mom noticed. I just saw him as a big purple and black blob, but I think we have matching purple shirts.  We figured he was enjoying his job.

Finally, the doctor came out and called my name.  With a hand outstretched, he introduced himself.

"I can't see you," I said with a laugh.  He chuckled, I found his hand, and we shook. 

Then he led me back to the exam room.  "Just feel around until you find the big chair," he said.  My turn to laugh.  I'm not quite that blind. 

The exam went well, albeit not uneventful.
Doctor: Healthy blood flow.
Katie: Oh, good.
Doctor: No signs of glaucoma.
Katie: Oh, good.
Doctor: Your prescription needs to be updated but all looks good.
Katie: Oooh, yay!
He laughed.

To do: Entertain Opthamologist.  Check

Next on the to-do list was the more daunting task of picking out new glasses.  I narrowed it down to two but could not decide between them. 

Number one...
or
number two...

Finally, I put them both on at the same time to compare the two.  Well, someone saw me with two pairs of glasses on (and contacts back in by this point) and just started laughing.

To do: Entertain other patients.  Check.

The last thing we had to do was check out.  The store was super busy that day, so by this point Mom and I had been there for over an hour (not including the almost two hours we stalled prior to my appointment).  We were ready to go home.  Meaning we were more giggly, if that's possible.

Just in case the conversation between Mom and I wasn't enough to entertain the clerk, we threw her some jokes, too.  Most of which I don't remember.  I do remember she had a sheepish laugh when I told her I loved how her glasses matched her shirt.

To do: Entertain sales clerk.  Check.

Then she handed us the bill, and I was thoroughly confused: why were we paying to be their comic relief on a Sunday afternoon?

<>< Katie

"Keep on loving each other as brothers. Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it." Hebrews 13:1-2

I have been rejected

As part of my English major, I have to take a Communications class.  Someone please explain that one to me.  All I know is I would much rather write about donating blood or girls tumbling from walls than yesterday's bank robbery on 15th and Main St.

My optimistic attitude about this class quickly moved to dislike.  I even mentioned it to one of my English professors.
Professor: You know, you could have taken Poetry Writing instead of Communications Class.
Katie: I know, but I thought this would have been the lesser of the two evils.
Professor: You would have had more fun in the other evil.

Well, I think out of boredom, some of very clever lines have flowed through my fingers in this class.  And let me tell you, they're not about the hit-and-run that happened around 10pm last night...

The professor handed us a speech asked us to write an article about it, and said, "You're going to like this one."  I'm not sure if it was out of spite for the professor or spite for the class, but I was determined for prove him wrong.  It was pretty easy.  This was a Steve Jobs speech, and I'm a Windows girl.  The irony is that this post was written from a Mac.

With a Shaun Groves post about fear pulled up as an incentive to finish the assignment, I began to read the speech.  Naturally, I did everything my English background told me to do: critique, analyze, examine.  Well, that's apparently a big no-no for journalism, but I didn't really care.  I figured I would turn the filter on later.

Somewhere around the middle of the speech, I moved from loathing the assignment to tolerating it.  Although I did not agree with all of the theology, Jobs was making good points.

"I had been rejected, but I was still in love," he said.
Jobs was talking about being fired from his own company, but I think that's a line that can be applied to a plethora of different aspects of life.

"I had been rejected, but I was still in love."

For me, the application that shines through most clearly is in writing.  I submitted a piece that I thought was a sure-thing, but it was rejected.  That's a hard pill to swallow, especially for someone who can't swallow pills.

"I had been rejected, but I was still in love."

I was rejected, but I still love to write.  Just like Jobs continued to pursue a dream that eventually turned into the development of Pixar and NeXT, I am continuing to pursue a dream.  Who knows where it will turn out. 

This is what I do know: God gave me a passion for writing.  It is one of my strengths.  There is no way that He isn't going to use it for His glory.  I am willing to suffer through every Communications class required for my English major just to see that come to fruition.

<>< Katie

"Two in the Bed and the Little One Said..."

Everyone was still over watching Glee one Thursday night last year, but I had a different agenda: avoid the sixteen people in the living room and get to bed.

I accomplished my mission and was ready to head into dream-world when the bedroom door opened, shining light into my dark room.  I thought it was my roommate.  Until I saw a head pop up at the foot of my bed.  I slept in a loft last year, just far enough away from the ceiling that I could sit straight up.  The only people that climbed up there were me and whoever was attached to the head at the foot of my bed.

The head became shoulders and she army crawled towards me.

"Katie," she hissed.  "Are you asleep?"

I considered faking it, but I could not stifle my laughter.

"I didn't get a good night hug."

Melia crawled all of the way up to the head of my bed, gave me a hug, crawled backwards, and tried to climb down the ladder.  The ladder was built for me, and I am literally eight inches taller than she is.

This started a long-standing joke about how Melia was going to sleepover one night and sleep in my bed.

"I get the wall," she always called.  If someone was falling six feet out of bed, it was going to have to be me.

Over the summer, we shared a double bed one night.  But there was no wall side.

Last weekend, we had three friends visit us, all of whom needed places to sleep.  Our futon folds down to sleep two, but the third was out of luck.

Katie: Melia can sleep with me.
Melia: Seriously?
Katie: As long as I get the wall.

My bed is only four feet off of the ground this year, but that's still not a fall I want to make.

On Sunday night, Melia and I jumped into my bed and were pleasantly surprised to discover we both fit.  We had an agreement.  If either one of us couldn't sleep, we were going to take a spare blanket and sleep on the loveseat.  No hurt feelings.

Jennifer: If you guys can't sleep, wake me up.  One of you can sleep in my bed, and I'll sleep on the floor."

Jennifer seriously can sleep anytime, anywhere.  There are nights I'm up working on homework with the light on, music playing, and paper shuffling when I look over and notice she is asleep.

Melia: Do you have enough space?
Katie: Yup.  Do you have enough pillow?
Melia: Yes.  If I get too hot, I'm just going to do what I did this summer and throw all of the covers on you.
Katie: Perfect!

In the morning, Melia and I compared notes.  We both slept well.  I wasn't cold, first time ever.  The only real challenge was rolling over, but I only got poked in the eye once.

Jennifer had different notes.  She got a horrible night's sleep.  Quite possibly because she was afraid she would wake one of us up if she rolled over.  Now that's selflessness!  To be afraid to roll over at night because one of the girls in the other bed might wake up.

<>< Katie

The House that Pukes Kids

There is a local family that invites Amber and me over for lunch on a regular basis.  Sunday dinner is a gathering of three generations, approximately thirteen people, in a house near the church.  We know this family so well that we don't even knock before walking it.

Rather than briefing first-timer Kevin on the chaos he was about to encounter, we spent the ride there discussing some of our best pranks.  Those we've pulled and those that have been pulled on us.  The appropriate and the inappropriate.  The hilarious and the flops.

When we got there, we pulled the conversation to a temporary halt (primarily because I was telling alcohol-related stories and those are frowned upon in Baptist Country).  Amber pulled open the back door and I followed her in.  Behind me I heard a thud.

Kevin said as he was about to step inside the house, an eleven year old girl tumbled onto the ground from inside the wall.  She was quickly followed by her three year old cousin wrapped in one of Granddaddy's dress shirts.  They both laughed hysterically when Kevin jumped.

Amber and I were thoroughly amused but we knew there was still one missing.  I walked back and looked into the hole in the wall.  Sure enough, there was my six year old "boyfriend" with a pair of boxers on his head.

I guess the original plan had been to lure the three of us into the bathroom, together, and scare us by popping out of the top of the laundry shoot.  Well, that wasn't good enough.  Instead, they rolled out the side of it.

It definitely goes on the list of best pranks!

<>< Katie

Disclaimer: No one was hurt in the making of this blog.  The laundry shoot is like a built-in cabinet basket that opens in the laundry room on the other side of the wall.  The author claims no responsibility for any injuries that result from attempting similar pranks.

Debated Words

My suitemates and I have taken a stab at songwriting.  Most of us are either musically inclined or wordsmiths.  It's a great combination.

A few days ago, Jennifer had a beautiful concept for a song and ideas on what she wanted to proclaim in the verses, so we tried to write it.

We talked it out.  We free wrote.  We prayed.  We played with chords.  We were having a hard time.  Every word was deliberate and discussed.

Two hours later, we had a grand total of twenty-two words.

We were pleased yet simultaneously, I was little frustrated that it was taking so long.  Let's be honest: I'm a bit verbose.  Yes?  If I spent two-solid hours writing I would hope to have at least 700 words.  But they would not be as planned as these twenty-two words were.  They would be much less deliberate.  I would not debate them like we did those song lyrics.  They are not repeated as frequently as a song, even one only six of us know.

It got me thinking about the words that come out of my mouth.  Am I flippant in what I say or are they well-chosen?  Does each sentence run through a filter before it runs off my tongue?  Am I careful is what I say and how I say it?

The truthful answer is no.  But I should be.

"May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer." Psalm 19:14

<>< Katie

I finally did it!

Four years ago, as part of our university orientation class we had to make what is called a 50 by 50.  Basically it's a bucket list of 50 things you want to accomplish by the time you turn 50.  I never finished mine but on it was donate blood.  I figured that would be one of those things I would do at 49 when my 50 by 50 resurfaced, unaccomplished.  Well, I did at 49 but that was my donor number rather than my age.

Stephanie was sitting outside the caf on Tuesday trying to get people to sign up for appointments.  I got "caught in the lunch rush" and didn't sign up.  She caught me on the way out instead.

"Are you still thinking about donating?"

"Thinking about donating" was something I'd done for four years.  The furthest I ever got was my first time: I got my mom to sign the permission form (I was 17) and signed up.  Lo and behold in the two days between when I signed up and when my time came, I got a cold.  I went by, talked to someone, and explained I had just a bit of a cold.

"We recommend you don't donate then because we don't want you to get any worser."

Yes, she said "worser."  I cancelled my appointment and continued by day... cold free.

Another time I considered donating but I didn't weigh enough.

Then I went to Mexico... then Guatemala... then Costa Rica...

But now I'm one-year chloroquine-free (anti-malaria medicine that made me nauseous for nine weeks...), and I got bit by a dog.  But even it if breaks the skin you're still eligible as long as the dog doesn't have rabies and the bite isn't inflammed or infected.

Ok, Moses, you're out of excuses.

I signed up for a time, told my roommates, and "ate healthy" for a day.  I really have no idea what it means to "eat healthy," especially in a cafeteria, but I gave it my best shot.  It apparently worked.

We had a few kinks: the once-over of doubt when I said I weigh more than 110 lbs, the lost stethoscope and blood pressure cuff, the woman vanishing on break while I was (giggling and) answering questions on the computer, and I had a very difficult time understanding the mumbled directions caked with a thick accent.  Cattle herding.

As I was sitting there, needle in my arm, thinking.  I thought about all of the germy surfaces surrounding me as blood poured from my vein.  I realized that I have no memories of having blood drawn as a kid.  None.  I also thought about how mad Sarah got at me when she chose to read something I wrote while she was donating blood.  "I'm in public with a needle in my arm, and I'm shouting, crying, and giggling.  People keep asking if I'm ok, and it's all your fault!"  I thought about my amazing roommates who called me exactly as I was struck with the needle.  No, I didn't pass out!

All of this babbering to say: I finally did it!  Another fear conquered!  Another item crossed off the 50 by 50!

The goal for our blood drive was 90 units of blood.  I was there two hours before it was supposed to close and we were barely halfway there, and the woman at the door was getting really nervous about coming in so low.  Two hours later, they stopped taking walk-ins, but the existing line left them there for an extra hour.  We raised 106 units!  God is good!
If you're eligible to donate, there is a huge need right now.  Check out The American Red Cross or your local blood center.  Be a hero.  Give an hour of your life to save three (lives that is).

<>< Katie

Wacky Wednesday

"If life is worth living, then it is worth recording."

Jennifer: Is that your journal?
Katie: No, it's my Writer's Notebook.
Jennifer: What's the difference?  They're both writing, and they're both stupid.

Elizabeth: This is a fun game; there is no blood involved.
Andy: Clearly we have two different definitions of the word "fun."  Fun for me always involves blood.

Katie: We do do that.
Sara: Katie Ax said do-do!
Matthew:  Katie Ax is wearing a tutu?  Um... those are jeans.
Katie: I am not wearing a tutu!

Maintenance Man: What would make a shower head scream?

Amy: Moby [the fish] just ran into a spiderweb.

[Elizabeth had just taken some cough syrup]
Elizabeth: I knew that!
Andy: No you didn't.  You're drunk.
Elizabeth: What happened?
[a few days later]
Andy: You're drunk, too.
Katie: But I'm Lutheran; it's allowed.

Jennifer: Katie, it [a dust pan] is used for dirty things.  It's ok if people lick it.

Nikki: This is our pet cat.
Courtney: You should hear the story.  Really touching.  The arts and crafts store was just going to throw him out.
Nikki: So we saved him, but we laminated him when we found out Presley was allergic.
Presley: That's why he's so shiny.
[All three of them are petting a paper cat]

Jennifer: I didn't know if you like feet.
Katie: I don't like them in my nose, but I don't mind them in general.
Jennifer: My toes don't fit in your nose.  I have big toes and noses are generally small, but if you lie your nose will grow.  So, Katie, you need to say lots of lies, so my toes will fit in your nose.

Katie: Jennifer, you're a weird thing that happens.
Jennifer: I only happened once.

Karissa: Are you guys Apple people?
Katie: No, that's Megan's apple.  She asked me to get it for her from the caf.
Karissa: No, I meant are you a Mac or a Windows person?
Katie: Oh, Windows definitely.  But I can use Macs.

Holden: Last time we went fishing Christian got his line tangled in mine.  I just let my line out so he could untangle them, but he cut my line.  When I reeled it in there was nothing there.  He stole my hook!
Christian: He hit me in the face with a basketball.  He just threw it in the dark and it hit me in the face.
Holden: He beat me up with a bowling pin.
Christian: But he found a pool noodle.
[Unfortunately, I really believe these hold at least some elements of the truth]

Danielle: I love fire, but I hate ovens.  They scare me.  It's so hot in there.

Dr. Z: People don't suffocate on Saran Wrap with other people around.
[We didn't test this theory]

Jennifer: Cheese [pronounced "Cheeth"] is so much better than Twilight.

Jennifer: We should make a movie as a suite.
Andy: It should be a musical.
Jennifer: I was thinking more like a horror musical.
Elizabeth: I'm in charge of the fake blood!
Nikki: Andy's in charge of side effects.  I mean sound effects.
Amy: OOOH!  I'll kill Liz!

Allyson: What did the popsicle go best the peanut butter?
Nikki: Did you just mess up the joke and the punch line's in there?
Allyson: No!
Nikki: I think you did.  You're on drugs. [Legal, prescription ones]
Allyson: Wait!  What kind of fish goes best with peanut butter?  That was the joke on my popsicle.
Nikki: I don't know.
Allyson: Jelly fish!  [Bursts out laughing while Nikki blinks]

Jennifer [on Nikki's facebook wall]: Thanks for the popcycle dart that you kindly threw at my head.
Nikki: Well, whenever I'm finished with my pop-cycle and I'll move on to my rap-cycle and then into my country-cycle to be concluded with my jazz-cycle... oh and maybe I'll have a krunk-cycle... then I'll go to the freezer and grab a popsicle dart and kindly throw it at your head again... in other words... you're welcome.
Andy: AHHH!!  STOP talking about your cycles in the presence of men!
Jennifer: I hate rooming with English majors... obviously I can't spell because that POPSICLE dart hit me right in the temple and you could care less.
Nikki: Touche.  My aim, it is too accurate.  Almost in a mathematical sense, wouldn't you say?

Elizabeth: Now put your back arms on the pool noodle--
Katie: What do I do with my front arms?

Katie: Jamee actually updates her blog.
Kevin: You know what's funny?  I updated mine, what, three times over the summer and I have five new followers.  Katie updates hers everyday--
Katie: Not everyday!
John: Every other day, excuse us!  You know, I might delete mine.  It just takes too much thought and energy.
Kevin: I hate those two things!

The Mirror

Sometimes I want to have a "Did you know?" blog series.  My brain is filled with random things that I enjoy making people stop and go "Wait, what?" 

Examples:
Did you know, watermelon floats?
Did you know, shaving cream cleans tables?
Did you know, dry erase markers write on mirrors?

The other morning, I stumbled into the bathroom to find two notes.

"Amy, I'm not going to class.  It's a stress/sleep thing.  Love, Liz."

"Jen, you're beautiful.  Love, Nikki."

Still half asleep, I brushed my teeth and didn't think anything of it.

Ten minutes later I ventured into the bathroom again and found a whole new set of notes.

KATIE!
We love you!  We hope you have a wonderful day!  Your beautiful face here: : )
PS: Please wash the mirror.

The mirror was covered in purple notes!  And my sweet suitemates earned their keep.  Their simple action put a smile on my face all day long.

Do something simple and make someone's day today.

PS: I didn't wash the mirror.

<>< Katie

Fridge Kids

Growing up I spent my share of time at a certain neighbor's house.  One of the things I always noticed was a certain photo on their fridge.  It was of a girl who was clearly not from around here.  I asked who she was and never remembered the answer.  Seriously, I think I asked three or four times before I finally resolved myself to believe it was one of Kaitlyn's friends, and in my head I called her "Fridge Girl."

When I was looking for an "in Kaitlyn's honor" project for her 16th birthday, I sat down and thought about Kaitlyn.  Lyme disease, dogs, Christ, and love all came to mind.  As I was getting lost in memories, Fridge Girl popped up.  I now realize Fridge Girl was a child they sponsored through Compassion.  You see, my apartment now has our own Fridge Girl.

On Tuesday afternoon Neal asked begged me to help with an event on campus.  My primary job was to sell merchandise but I also got to talk about Compassion.  Play with money and CDs while talking about child sponsorship.  Basically it was the perfect job for me.

I got to talk about my family's Fridge Girl.  Her name is Maria Jose and she lives in Columbia with her two sisters and parents.  Since she's in a Spanish-speaking country, I write letters to her directly in Spanish.  Of course, Compassion has translators, but it feels more personal to me to exchange words in her native language. 

My roommate Jennifer just recently got back from a trip through Compassion.  She got to go to the Philippines to visit her sponsored child, Jamsell.  Photos of Jamsell are all over our room and it makes me smile (and a little jealous) every time I see them.

Among us were volunteers from Compassion.  One man showed us letters from his sponsored child in Ecuador, a map of where Compassion works, and then he ran out to his car.  He came back with an arm full of computer-printed photographs of his grandchildren.  He told us the age and full name of each child.  It was actually quite sweet.

"And this is my new knee."

I was selling a CD at the time, so I was really hoping I misheard him.  A discrete glance in their direction told me I was in no such luck.  Right there on the table was a photograph of an x-ray.

"It has four parts..."

Let's just say I learned infinitely more than I ever wanted to know about knee replacements.  Honestly, it was more awkward than the awkward moment the Compassion coordinator warned us about: The Packet Pass.

Each of us took a pile of packets (each packet has information about a real child somewhere in the world) and went through the audience handing them out.  Our director told us to stay there among the audience until about halfway through the song.

"Two minutes," he said, "but it's going to feel like eight."

When I was standing up there with a smile and God's children in my hands, two minutes felt like eight seconds.  It was while I was standing there I realized that in my hands I held fifteen children all who happened to be from Africa and Asia.  That means that even though I can communicate in three languages, my communication with these kids would look like a game of charades.  Not God's.  He can talk to them directly in their language and vice versa.  How cool is that?  God speaks English, German, Chinese, all tribal languages, etc.  It's a simple realization but when you're looking at photographs of real children, it's mind boggling.

As a student body, we sponsored 53 children on Tuesday!  That is forty more than our previous record.  That is 53 children whose were just given an education, medicine, and hope thanks to "poor college students."  Fifty-three children and their families are being told about Christ!  Well done, y'all!  My apartment now has two of our own Fridge Girls and one Fridge Boy.  I can't wait to start sending them letters and photos.  Our Fridge Kids are going to think Americans are crazy.  :-)

As for me, well, I'm just in awe at how God works.  And I'm thankful for "Kaitlyn's friend," the first Fridge Girl in my life.

<>< Katie