Goal: Prayer Warrior

Sorry to dwell on the whole "Katie doesn't have a job" theme but it's kind of my life right now.  I want to be transparent in this struggle.

A long time ago I realize that if when I make it to the other side of this awful desert, I will be one of two people:
1. A cynical God-hater
2. A prayer warrior

The first one's easy.  It's easy to be mad when you say, "Here I am; send me!" and you're not going anywhere.  It's easy to get frustrated, host pity parties, and play the blame game when doors slam repeatedly.

But lucky for me, I've got friends making sure I come out to be the latter.

Friends all across the country praying me through.  Friends checking up on me to see how I'm doing and encouraging me.  I am blessed.  Plus, I've got friends who serve as great role models for that prayer warrior thing.

Amy: I wish tomorrow was Saturday.
Nikki: No, no, no we're not wishing away days!
Amy: I'm not wishing it away.  I'm wanting two Saturdays in a row.  Let's pray about that.
From the other room, Stacy heard the word "Pray" and came running in.
Stacy: Pray about what?

That's who I want to be: the girl who seeks out and seizes every available opportunity to pray.  Not just at church or small group.  Not just before meals or when people share prayer requests.  Every minute of every day.  Alone, in groups, for needs voiced, and those unspokens.

I remember watching a brother and sister in Christ converse.  He was borderline upset, angry.  She was super upset, teary.  He set aside his own situation to slowly calm her down.  As their conversation drew to a close and her eyes dried, he reached over, grabbed her shoulder, and lifted her concerns to the Lord.

That's who I want to be.  The friend who doesn't just say, "I'll pray for you" but does--right then and there.

I've had the urge to do it yet I've swallowed it.  I want the courage to act on that prompting of the Holy Spirit.

I don't want to be cynical and crabby for the rest of my life.  It'd be too easy.

So instead, I'm going to work on this prayer warrior thing.  It's not a destination but rather a journey.  There will always be room for improvement.  It's hard and uncomfortable.  But it's necessary.

Will you help me practice?  Leave me a prayer request in the comments section (or email it to me or Tweet it or text or your contact method of choice) and you bet it'll be prayed.  Maybe even more than once. ;-)

<>< Katie

Tractor on Fire; Katie on Tractor

When it comes to household jobs, cutting the grass is my favorite.  I get to fly around the yard, write, and get paid for it.  Sweet!

I'm quite a sight when I cut the grass.  Today I am wearing a blaze orange shirt, not quite matching the orange of my tractor, and brown shorts with black Chacos (I'm looking to enhance the Zorro-like tanlines on my feet).  To top it off, I'm wearing my notorious cowboy hat, I have a blue Off! fan latched to my shorts, and my iPod is strapped to my thigh using the elastic band intended for a runner's arm.  Yeah, really pretty.

I'm lost deep in thought, memories, and stories that may someday be blog-worthy when all of the sudden I hear this nasty noise.  It kind of sounds like I ran over something, but I haven't.  I keep going and there is a second noise, not as loud as the first.  At the third noise, I stop the tractor.  I see Mom inside the house walking towards me as I turn it off.

"Did you hear that?" I ask.

She assures me she has and asks what it was.  Like I know.  Then she tells me the tractor was smoking.

I hop off the tractor.   "It's on fire," I say.  "Yes, I see a flame."  Keep in mind, I hate fire.  Been there; done that.  Lived to tell the tale; have the scars to prove it.

Mom runs to get the fire extinguisher, her trademark move.  From a reasonable distance, I watch the grass burn.  There is only one flame, but it is bigger than you would see on a candle.

"Do I even know how to work this?" She asks as she pulled the pin out of the fire extinguisher.  She pushes the levers together and it blows a fog-like gas.  Well, the wind take it and it showers me with fire extinguisher fluid.

The flame goes out, our tractor needs to be serviced, our fire extinguisher needs to be inspected, and the grass still needs to be cut.  Oh, and I smell like Off!, grease, freshly cut grass, forget me nots, smoke, and fire extinguisher.

When we tell Dad what happened, he just laughs.  And laughs.  And laughs.  He's now outside trying to fix the poor piece of flaming machinery.  I told him to scream if he needs me to call 911.  All quiet in the front.

I'm fine, by the way.  A little traumatized and just as pyro-phobic as ever, but it's just another day in the life...

<>< Katie

Brothers in Christ

Since my reader is anonymous, I can't tailor my blogs to her (I think it's a her).

Confession time: I my only brother is the tractor. Sometimes I eel like I missed out by being in a primarily female family. My dad always teases he's the minority in the sorority, but it's actually true. My life has almost always been filled with female friends and I've had very few close guy friends over the years. This summer my sister was teasing me about the "four" guys I have in my phone. (In my defense, I really have more than four guy friends but that's beside the point... and I mean their numbers in my phone not the guys themselves because that would be weird). I think all of these factors could contribute to why I don't really know how to behave around guys.

However, as of late, I've discovered I have a lot more guy friends than I'm given credit for having. I mean, go back and reread this blog. Either I have my share of guy friends, I'm making up, or the few I do have just inspire me write. (All of the above is not an option). I've also taken a look at where I've spent my time lately. Monday night confirmed this inkling when I was actually one of the guys for a few hours.

Monday night, my Green Bay Packers played the Minnesota Vikings and I was invited to watch the game with a bunch of guys (and a few girls briefly). At first, I was wondering if they were all Vikings fans who invited me over for a good laugh as my team was destroyed. Most of them are Vikings fans, but they didn't laugh at me. Not even when I confessed part of a deep secret: I don't really understand football. I know to cheer when the green guys are running and to boo when the purple guys score. I know Brett Favre is a traitor. I know the thing on my head is a cheesehead. Ask me about scoring and I'm clueless. I even had to think if football games were separated into quarters or only halves. Hockey I can explain in full detail. Tennis I can play. I understand the basics of basketball and baseball, but football and futbol (soccer) leave me totally confused.

It didn't really matter. We weren't all glued to the tv. Fellowship, friendship, and football took place in that dorm room. I looked over Four Year Plans (I love these!), we traded pictures from this last weekend, and we shared life together. I got the opportunity to witness true selflessness (a guy offering to drive a friend three hours to her date with a different guy, sit around while she was on her date, and drive her three hours back), someone else pull the door shut to shield the girls' eyes when a friendly dorm prank turned dirty and involved the removal of pants, oh, and I wasn't killed when I helped myself to a guy's food either. I realize this isn't normal: we all gathered to watch the football game and it was just background noise, yet it was wonderful. It is how it should be: brothers and sisters helping each other out and spending time together while honoring their Abba Father.

<>< Katie

Oh, and just to clarify: I'm not dating nor am I trying to impress any of these guys. They didn't pay me to say this either; they're the brothers I've never had. :-)