Great Things

I was thinking about next year and how I don't have any idea where I'm headed in May.  I've sent MFA applications to five schools around the country.  The closest to home is six hours away.  The closest to here is five hours away.  Of all five schools, the one with the closest family friends is three hours, my friend Rebecca's extended family.

I began to think about Rebecca's little sister Kaitlyn who's finally on the uphill climb in her horrific battle with Lyme Disease.  She has miraculously regained mobility but remains hyper-sensitive to touch, sound, light, smells, etc.  She's made huge steps (no pun intended) but has a long way to go.

Katie: God, You've given her such a great testimony of spiritual strength through physical weakness.  You're going to do such great things with Kait!  I'm so excited to see it!
God: Actually, Katie, I'm not going to wait until she's healed to do great things with her.  I'm doing great things with her right now.  I'm using her as she is, where she is.

I began to think about how God can and is doing the same things in each of our lives.  He's not waiting until we're healed, until we're in a middle-of-nowhere grad school, until we're all put together.

He is using us right now, where we are, as we are.

Being used,
<>< Katie

PS: For more about Kaitlyn's story, check out her caringbridge.  You do have to register for the site but it's open to anyone with a (free) CaringBridge account.

Snow pants and iced coffee

Sometimes so many cool things happen in life that I just want to write about every minute of every day.  Except I can't.  Let me give you snapshots of my yesterday.  <>< Katie

Snapshot One
Five of the six girls in my apartment had somewhere to be by 8am.  Remember, we're college students, so that is unheard-of early!  A little before seven I rolled over and noticed Jennifer was missing.  Honestly, I wondered if she ever came to bed.  I fell asleep before she came in and she apparently got up before I did.  She could sleep while doing a headstand, so I wasn't too worried.  I was worried about our frantic, groggy noise as the other five of us tried to get ready.  When I found her in the living room, she said she went to bed just after I fell asleep and got up not five minutes before my alarm went off.  I asked why she was up and she said she got up to make Allyson coffee.  I figure that's the epitome of selflessness, to get up at 7am to make coffee for your roommate.  It got better.  She then went out and scraped all of the ice off of Elizabeth's car.  At seven am, my amazing roommate woke up just to serve us.

Snapshot Two
Around nine, Dr. Z and J-M walked into the coffee shop.  I asked J-M why he was wearing snow pants.  He said it was eleven degrees outside and they had walked.  He then proceeded to order an iced coffee.  At which point I reminded him it was eleven degrees out.  His response?  "That's why I'm wearing snow pants."

Snapshot Three
I arrived at the Wal-mart crosswalk two steps behind an elderly couple with matching hand-carved wooden canes.  There was enough time of me to cross in front of the oncoming car but there wasn't enough time for them.  The man cleared his throat to find his voice.  "Let's go," he said to his wife.  One foot at a time they moved forward and I subconsciously slowed my naturally fast pace to half time.  When we reached the halfway point, I was sure the car had stopped and there were other people in the cross walk, so I sped up again, but for some reason that cute old couple has stuck in my head for the last few days.

Snapshot Four
Around eight pm, my roommates announced it was wintery mixing outside.  I left my study perch on the couch and got up to look out the window.  Honestly, I was excited to see big white snowflakes for the first time this season.  As soon as I pulled open the blinds, I remembered I live in Baptist Country.  If I closed one eye, tilted my head sideways, and stared at the street light, I could kind of see something that resembled a rain drop.

Snapshot Five
Remember those nice things I said about my roommate in Snapshot One?  I take them all back.  That morning she also washed our sheets.  She said it took forever to put the sheets on my bed.  Apparently she had finished when she realized she missed a layer and had to start all over again.  Honestly, I appreciated it.  What I did not appreciate was the fact that she intentionally made the bed backwards.  I think next time I do the sheets I'll make Jen's bed inside out with the sheet on top and comforter on the bottom.

Touch

Sometimes Elizabeth is struck with this uncontrollable urge to touch someone's hair.  It's really bad when she walks up to a stranger and starts running her finger's through this person's hair.

I had an "Elizabeth Moment" the other day.  Sarah was sitting beside me in class with a stack of blank paper in her notebook.  During the entire 50-minute class I had this barely controllable urge to run my hand along her beautiful paper.  I'm a writer; I can't help it.  Don't judge; it's the little things in life.  As soon as the professor dismissed the class, my left hand shot across the aisle and onto Sarah's notebook.  It happened at the exact moment that she was closing her notebook, sandwiching my hand between the new and the used paper.  She gave me a weird look, I explained, and the weird look continued.  But she let me touch her paper.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, what if had the same urge to touch lives in His name?

Christian told me this story about his first trip to Guatemala.  They were serving food outside the garbage dump in Guatemala City.  As the dump inhabitants came for food, Christian and some of the other members of his team sanitized their hands.

"The biggest thing we could do for them was to touch them.  These people were considered untouchable and when we touched them to sanitize their hands we accepted them," he explained.

Jesus did the same thing in touching the man with leprosy in Matthew 8. He could have said, "You are healed," and it would have been done. He's God. He has the power to do that. But He didn't. He made a point to touch someone that society had seemed untouchable.

Now, I'm not saying run up to everybody and touch them.  There are ways to touch people without ever making physical contact.

Jennifer and Amy just sent letters to their Compassion children in the Philippines and Ecuador. Lives touched. The executive chef served some weakling from the self-serve ice cream cooler. Life touched. We packed seven Operation Christmas Child boxes last week. Lives touched. A grad student spent her birthday doing homework and grading papers, alone, until some friends invited her over to hang out. Life touched.

It doesn't always take much. A small act can have a huge impact.

May the Lord give us all uncontrollable urges to touch the lives of His children and those who do not yet know Him. Let's do it all in His name.

<>< Katie

PS: I was inspired to write this during church this morning. As I was revising tonight, I was thinking about how it was similar to this post I wrote for Kaitlyn's birthday. I just found out an hour ago that after two and a half years of medical treatment 800 miles from home, Kaitlyn finally will be able to go home this December! What a wonderful Christmas present!

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

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.

July 2, 2000

It's the time of the year again.  The time when we are pelted relentlessly with storm after storm.

We built the house we currently occupy and while under construction it almost constantly had several inches of water in the basement.  Ultimately, we opted to lower the ceiling (literally by raising the basement floor) to avoid most water problems.  We're the low point of the subdivision and the closest we can legally be to a river.  We've also got an industrial-size sump pump and the mother of all dehumidifiers, both of which run for hours daily.  On top of a battery back up for the sump pump, a generator, and a check value, we're pretty much good to go.

We learned the hard way.  Today marks the ten-year anniversary of when our basement flooded.... with almost a foot of raw sewage.  Once we realized the gushing of sewage wasn't going to stop, my mom called her parents who live 30 minutes away.  We were lucky because my aunt and uncle were in town staying there, too.  The six adults ran up and down the stairs with flashlights in their teeth and were able to save 80 percent of our stuff.  (My sisters watched in terror... I was in my room getting a good night's sleep).  Two doors down, they weren't so lucky.  Rob was out of town on business, so eight-months pregnant Karen trudged through literally eight inches of sewage trying to save those irreplaceable.  Three houses in our neighborhood got sewage and another few got water.  It was not a good night.

That was back when we first moved into our new house and lost power with every storm.  We slept with flashlights in each bedroom.  Now, we get so many tornado watches that they're ignored, other than turning on local television.  "Tornado Warning" runs more smoothly than "Dinner's ready."  Turn off and unplug all of the computers, close windows and doors, close the garage door, grab the cats, someone get a flashlight, where's my cell phone?, and into the basement we go. We don't mess around, but we don't panic either.  During one of the more recent storms, I paused for a second. No adrenaline rush, no tremors, and no pounding heart.  In all honesty, I was moderately disappointed, but I was also relieved.

I remember the first tornado warning without my parents. I was just barely old enough to stay home with my sisters, and it was literally the first time they let us stay home alone. They went to a baseball game in the skybox with a bunch of friends.

The sky was dark and even at 7, 9, and 11 my sisters and I weren't stupid. We had all of the flashlights we owned, our first aid-kit, and sweatshirts and blankets all piled neatly on my bed. "Just in case," I said, and we went back to playing.

In the stadium, focus shifted from the game to the tv revealing the weather. Instantly, those with cell phones pulled them out and began to call home. The tornado was headed directly towards our neighborhood. My parents began to panic.

Three little girls home alone + tornado = bad news bears

To top it off, every one of our neighbors, every one of our "call these people if you ever have a problem" friends was at the baseball game with my parents watching helplessly as the weatherman told our area to take cover. Of course, all of the neighbors' kids were home with young babysitters, too. There weren't any better options than "suck it up, go downstairs, and pray hard."

Our prayers were answered very quickly.  On the other end of the phone, Dad stopped talking. The voice was replaced by Rob's unmistakable Pennsylvania accent, "My mom's in town. She's at home with our girls; she'll go and get yours, too."

Grammi's number of scared little girls doubled that minute as she became our hero. My sister said something about being scared and Grammi told her if the storm ripped off the roof, Grammi would lay on top of us girls and there was no way the storm would move her.  :-)   The seven of us huddled in the corner of their basement playing a game and waiting for the storm to pass.  There was no major damages that night but there were a lot of sighs of relief.

Just a good neighbor answering the call of duty or an everyday hero?  Take your pick.

<>< Katie

Happy birthday, Rebecca

"How's your family?"  I asked Rebecca over dinner a few months back.  I already knew the answer thanks to the sporadic caringbridge updates, but it would have been ruder of me not to ask.

"They're having a grand time in their little tiny apartment," she told me, her Pennsylvania accent not nearly as thick as her mother's.  Mrs. Karen and I used to tease about the desire to sit for hours and listen to the other talk just to hear our different accents.  Mine's not as strong as it used to be, a repercussion of living in the south nine months out of the year, but it's still there to be a frequent source of mocking.  Rebecca's accent has faded, too, I noticed as she went on to tell me about her family of five (plus two dogs) living in a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment with a hyper-sensitive (no light, sound, touch, etc.) sister battling Lyme disease.  If Rebecca wanted to talk Lyme, I was more than willing to discuss it with her, but a year and a half after diagnosis who really wants to keep repeating the horrors of the debilitating disease?  That's what caringbridge is for.  Dinners are for reminiscing with old friends, and that's exactly what we did.  We retold our favorite stories about growing up together, the three years we were neighbors.

"Remember when we had a four-bedroom cardboard house in your basement?"
"The one we used seven rolls of duct tape to build? Yes!"

It's so funny to hear the different memories we both share in addition to the ones the other has forgotten.  Sometimes I think these stories are better than the ones we both remember.  I'd forgotten about the time we "flew" into her basement by climbing through the window.  She'd forgotten about our "synchronized swimming routine" in my pool.  Of course, neither one of us has forgotten the "pump up the new born baby," the restaurant in her basement, or playing hide and go seek.  One set of parents would laid down some rules and the other would obey them.  Even grandparents knew we had to be home for dinner at 5:30, and after dinner we could play again until the neighborhood lights came on.  Those were the rules and we accepted them.

When sharing my testimony I always say Rebecca was placed in my life to provide me when a friend during the challenges of middle school.  Really, I believe that to be true but I also believe Rebecca and her family were placed in my life to show me what it's like to live as a Christian.  To show me selflessness, hope, discipline, and love.  Even now, when I get emails about their medical fight, every update ends with a scripture, hope-filled song lyrics, or a prayer.

Living in different parts of the country now (between the two of us, we could claim residency in six different states) makes it hard to get together and share life on a regular basis.  Prior to our dinner last month, it had been three years since I'd seen her.  Even though I wasn't feeling well enough to actually enjoy eating dinner, I thoroughly enjoyed our dinner conversation.  We picked up exactly where we left off, as friends and sisters in Christ.

All this to say, happy birthday, Rebecca; thank you for the joy, hope, and love you've brought into my life.  One day I will watch you play basketball; I hope it's in a WMBA game.

<>< Katie

Happy birthday, Kaitlyn!

Today is Kaitlyn's birthday. Unfortunately, she's not having a very happy one. Her birthday consists of the daily trip to the clinic for treatment followed by the necessity of eating despite the nausea. That's not to mention the light, noise, and touch sensitivity.

Kaitlyn's my sisters' friend that I haven't seen in four years. Were she in any other condition, today would go on as normal. Instead, it's causing me to pause and reflect and find a good Kaitlyn story. I could tell countless stories about her big sister. Several about her family in general, but Kaitlyn? There's the memory of crouching in the closet listening to her pace the hallway calling my name during an intense game of "Hide and Seek". Or the time we were in the basement for the tornado warning with their grandma.

A different story comes to mind and causes me to feel guilty. I usually wasn't the girl who made fun of other kids, but one afternoon I made fun of one of Kaitlyn's friends for being a little different. Kait's sister totally called me out on it.

"It's not her fault she has a speech impairment."

Ouch. I was caught up in the physical attributes of this girl and missed who was hiding behind her crimped blond hair. Kaitlyn was able to look beyond that and see a good friend. Let's learn from Kait's love and Katie's mistake! :-)

In Christ,
<>< Katie

(This was supposed to be posted yesterday... oops)

Thank for the Noise

Yesterday was my first day to sleep in since the 9th and I took a full opportunity to do it! It would have worked a whole lot better if it weren't move-in day for returning students. Yeah, the brilliant architects who made this building forgot about insulation. I'm not kidding. There are some bullet-sized holes in the wall where we can literally see through into our neighbors' room. So, yesterday I awoke to the banging of desks against the wall, the slamming of drawers, and the building of bunk beds. What a perfect way to start the day. :-)

As luck would have it, I ended the day in the exact same fashion. As I lay there in bed praying midnight would come and visitation hours would end for their male friends with big booming voices would be forced to return home, the air conditioner turned on. That was all God needed to do to get my attention.

You see, my friend Kaitlyn (who I blogged about a few weeks ago) is so sensitive that she can't tolerate ANY noise. The noise of the air conditioner is too loud.

Thank You, God, that I can tolerate a certain level of noise.

Thank You God for the ability to hear.
Even if I'm unintentionally eves dropping.

Take a minute and thank God for those things you often overlook or become annoyed with. The gurgling fridge. The ability to smell, even if it is the garbage. The ability to see, even if you see more than you want to. The ability to touch, too bad you got your fingers stuck together with glue. The ability to talk, even when those crude four-letter words slip out.

<>< Katie

"Pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thessalonians 5:17-18