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.
Showing posts with label Rebecca. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rebecca. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, July 2, 2010
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
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
Friday, April 9, 2010
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
"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
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