The Next Piece

She was ready to give up. The 1,000 piece puzzle with a nature scene was too daunting to even think about completing. I told her not to call it quits.

Two weeks later, I was hardly in the back door when Ms. Donna ushered me to the puzzle on the dining room table.

"Look at how much we've gotten done!"

Their progress had more than doubled. The remaining pieces were sorted by approximate color.

I went to work. We chatted loosely and ate chips while we fingered every single piece of the puzzle.

Some where instant fits. Others seemed to go to a different puzzle. Sometimes we'd get two or six in a row. Sometimes we'd have minutes where nothing worked.

Those were the worst. The times you begin to say, "Surely there's something better I could be doing with this Sunday afternoon. Why am I even here doing this? It's just going to go back in the box when we're done anyway."

And then you'd get a piece to fit correctly. Maybe even two. Or sometimes it would be more minutes before another piece worked.

Yet still hope had been renewed; we found the strength and determination to continue.

I began to pray:

God, I don't want to see the cover of the puzzle box. I don't know what the final scene will look like, and I'm ok with that. I just want the strength to be able to say, "I can do this for another day because I know You're with me."

Some puzzle pieces are instant, easy, obvious fits. Those are my favorites.

Some take a little more work. Some you're not even convinced belong to the right puzzle. Either way, I'm ready for the next piece.

I will complete this life puzzle, one lousy piece at a time.

The final product will be worth it.

<>< Katie

Multitudes on Monday

I have made references to it, but I regret never fully explaining.  In her book One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp explains that a friend challenged her to make a list of one thousand blessings/ things she loves/ gifts from God.

In turn, Ann challenges her readers to do the same.  I accepted the challenge and have begun my list (some highlights are below).

In turn, I invite you to join me and do the same.

"It's the art of seeing that makes gratitude possible, and it's the art of gratitude that makes joy possible, and isn’t joy the art of God?" Ann Voskamp



Thankful,
<>< Katie

I am thankful...
1. For Jesus Christ who died and rose again so that I may have hope.
2. For friends who remind me of that hope when I dare to forget.
5. For toilet paper (on the roll).
9. For friends worth visiting.
10. For friends who intentionally leave their Bibles on the kitchen counter open to a specific passage to encourage me.
11. For cold milk in a glass made of glass.
19. For city lights in the dark night sky.
23. For Bible verses and song lyrics that pop into my head bringing the exact message I need to hear.
26. That the coffee I just spilled on my computer did not destroy it.
34. For the iPhone so we can avoid traffic jams.
37. For beautiful views of Your magnificent creation.
41. For encouraging blog comments.
46. For lasagna.
61. For cool nights to snuggle with a homemade quilt, drink in hand, in the jumbo chairs on the deck and watch the sunset with Mom.
70. For pleasant memories and a well-traveled memory lane.
82. For books a'plenty, always books a'plenty.
84. For the deer in the backyard, the oblivious cat, and the analogy You dropped from heaven.
88. For the ability to share my thoughts and realize I am not alone.
91. For the prayers and support of friends around the country.
94. For the promise that spring will come again.

Make a Difference

The following is a story requested by Wess Stafford of Compassion International requesting people tell stories about a time when an adult encouraged you as a child.  A moment that has stayed with you.  It is part of the push to get adults to make a difference in childrens' lives.  See the whole story here.

During my junior year in high school, I ran for a position that required a certain number of support signatures before I could even get my name on the ballot.

Approaching me for another reason, my adviser (who now lets me call him by his first name) saw the petition in my hand. He grabbed it from me and reached to his breast pocket for a pen.

“Can I sign this?” he offered.

I was taken aback. We were told a signature would require a polite, well-timed request followed by a semi-brief interview. Brian asked me if he could sign my paper not vice versa.

“I’m not even going to ask you those silly questions. I know your heart is always in the right place.”

Woah!

If I wasn’t caught off guard before, I was then.

“Your heart is always in the right place.”

Always?

I might have chosen “sometimes,” “periodically,” or “occasionally.” Yeah, those would definitely be more accurate. But no, he said “always.”

“Your heart is always in the right place.”

While I still don’t quite believe that statement, it was wonderful encouragement at that time and has been an excellent challenge since then.

I would love to hear your stories about some encouragement you received from an adult!  Little moments matter, especially to little people.

<>< Katie

War Wounds

Today was more of a winter day than a construction day... The banging has stopped temporarily, but I am wearing long pants and a long sleeve shirt. What the crap?

I cut the grass today for the third time since Saturday. I've come to a conclusion: cutting the grass shouldn't be this painful. It is literally painful for all aspects of personal health. Ok, maybe not relational, but then again, I've never tried to have a deep conversation on the tractor. Emotionally it's hard especially when the neighbors are those kinds of people who measure their grass with a rule and use a scissors to cut the grass (just kidding, but only a little). Spiritually it's a challenge because I listen to sermons on my iPod. Mentally it's a strategic battle because I have to make sure I'm going the right direction at the right time in order to avoid grass shavings in the trees... (Whatever you say, Dad.)

Cutting the grass causes physical pain. Our trees, bushes, etc. are taking over and desperately need trimming! Cutting the grass next to them involves scratching, pricking, and (since it just rained) wetness. It's not pleasant. Especially compiled with the fact that my "Lay on the steering wheel, close your eyes, hit the gas, and pray for the best" no longer saves me from scars.

Cutting the grass leaves me with war wounds in the same way being a witness for Christ leaves me with war wounds. Wounds from the trees are a lot more visible on the outside, but wounds for Christ hurt just as much on the inside. God's changing out lives and sometimes we have to get a little dirty in order for Him to do it. To quote Audio Adrenaline, 'Let's get dirty, let's get used..."

<>< Katie