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

The Homeless Man

This story made the Gathering website, but I'd like to tell it again.  Although not directly involved in the story, I was in that line of people wearing an orange shirt and a green backpack.  I also witnessed the connection of the dots later in the day.  It was a powerful moment.
<>< Katie

Planting- 6:45am
Lisa noticed a homeless man on her way to the convention center.  She asked how he was, and he said he guessed he was ok because he was alive.  She had to continue her walk, so she said, "Jesus loves you."

Sowing- 6:50am
Unaware of the previous interaction, Sarah was caught off guard when the homeless man looked at her, continued the conversation, and said, "But why does Jesus love me?"  She struggled for a minute before telling him about God's love and being God's child.

Reaping- 6:55am
A few minutes later Andrew, also unaware, walked by on his way to the convention center.  The homeless man shouted to him, "Jesus loves you."  Andrew smiled at the homeless man's faith.

Life Ain't All Rosy

If I count up the number of meals I've eaten in the last two weeks, it would not divide out to be three a day. If I added the number of hours of sleep I've gotten, it would not be anywhere near eight-hours a night. If I blogged every God moment I've had in the last two weeks, my blog would be updated infinitely more often than anyone would read it (that is assuming people actually read it as is). All of those missed meals and lack of sleep were worth being the hands and feet of Christ.

Except today I write with a heavy heart.  Within four hours of returning home, I was hit with four different life-altering scenarios.

1. A professor, emailing me for a different reason, shared that one of her close friends is dying of cancer.  Why the professor felt the need to share this, I may never know, but it took the smile from my tired face as my heart broke for her.

2. My mom has a self-diagnosed broken toe.  That's not pretty.  She's hobbling around with only one shoe on.  Maybe not life-altering, but we drink our milk and have few broken bones, so it's a big deal.

3. One of my pastors and his wife were in a serious car accident.  Both are in their seventies and were admitted to the hospital.  It's my understanding that they have since been released with only lacerations and contusions; no broken bones or major injuries.  Alleluia!

4. A close family friend had breast cancer surgery while we were gone.  It has not metastasized but she has a long road ahead of her.  The oldest of their four children just graduated high school this June.

We were still living in the old house when I noticed four names scribbled in the margin of a piece of paper on the table.  It was my first experience with some people that would become important in my life over the next eleven years (and counting).  We added a few more names to the group until we had a party of fifteen.

I think it's safe to say we've spent a lot of time together.  From the water ski show to snow skiing.  From pool parties and bonfires to trips to the lake.  It was Christina who pushed Uncle Steve into our pool in his nice golf uniform.  When Laura earned herself an ambulance ride, Christina and I were sent to their house at 6am.  When I went to college, they all came over the night before to say goodbye.

The day we got home from the NYG, Mom said she was taking them dinner.  Instantly I wondered who died. Great-grandma?  Grandma?  Not grandpa, he was just flipping around in a moon bounce a month ago.  No one died.  Sue had breast cancer surgery.  What?  She too was in the moon bounce a month ago. 

On Friday, we went to a baseball game in the skybox, a perk of my dad's job and a trip that's been planned for months.  I wondered what to say.  Would cancer be the topic of conversation all night?  Would we brush it under the rug like it hadn't happened?

I'm not so much into baseball, so I love when we have the box because it means I can curl up on the couch with a plate of mozzarella sticks and a good book.  From my couch, I can observe.  I saw seven of the nine kids (one was MIA; one was me) sitting in the front row laughing and teasing each other.  I saw the three women in the middle row talking about anything and everything.  I saw the three men--all wearing black shirts, khaki shorts, and no shoes--turn a baseball game into a betting game.  I did not see the peanuts launched over shoulders in my general direction until they collided with my face.  Thanks.

I saw the concern.  The genuine, "Let us know if you need anything."  I also saw the smiles.  Together this group of friends would push through.  For this next season of life we will laugh, cry, and pray together.  We can acknowledge the elephant in the room without constantly staring at it.

Our team won the baseball game that night, but I cannot wait until the day when I say our family won the battle.  Maybe we'll celebrate with some brownie soup.

Until then, will you join us in prayer?

Thank you,
<>< Katie

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