BANG

With a good-book in my hand, I was curled up in the coziness of my bed with two blankets, a comforter, and Mom's homemade quilt (don't get me started on our air conditioning situation...). I was confident, safe, amused, and lost deep within a another world when suddenly I was rudely ripped back to reality.

I don't know which I heard first: the banging or the screaming. My mind went wild.

Someone just fired gunshots in my living room, I panicked, imaging the worst case scenario. My suitemates are out there bleeding to death, the thoughts continued as I contemplated the best way down from my loft: climb or leap. What if the gun-man is still out there?

Wait a second, that didn't sound like gun-fire, I noted. This isn't inner-city Chicago; this is the middle of nowhere. Way too creative, Miss Writer. I began to think of more plausible ideas. The guys on first floor felt their snow-ball pelting a few weeks ago was inadequate and we've become their target once again? Bottle rockets? Fire crackers?

"Gosh, I love the smell of sulfur," Nikki moaned; Allyson and Jo still screaming incomprehensible words.

Once I realized we weren't all going to die and my heart stopped pounding, I turned back to my book and instantly could felt my face turn red. The book in my hands? Fearless by Max Lucado. The Chapter? "Worst-Case Scenario." Yup. Maybe I should start reading that chapter again.

<>< Katie

Creation

Hey, guys, thank you for all of the new comments, your support, and feedback. I was beginning to wonder if I had any readers, but according to my calculations this my 200th post and I have about ten readers. That's not too bad, is it? My ten readers are a fun mix of people (except for the few of you who are anonymous because I don't know who you are), which is exciting. Thanks for reading!

When I complete something, I'm pretty proud of it. Be it a paper, a blog, the newsletter, my scrapbook, anything. When I manage to complete a project, I love running my hands over it, rereading lines I've written, and enjoying the finished product. I love being able to talk about my projects in a non-braggadocios way. I am an artist, and I'm proud of my creation.

Likewise, God is an artist. You are His creation. He is proud of you. He wants to show you off, run His fingers through your hair, and enjoy just being with you. The only difference is: His work is perfect and He's allowed to brag about you.

You make your Heavenly Daddy proud,
<>< Katie

He's nuts!

I can't claim this thought as my own. My sister came up with it, but I thought it was pretty good and felt the need to share. She was all embarrassed about it, but it's actually pretty accurate! (The more I think about it, this didn't seem like a new idea: so maybe it was mine, but I forgot about it... I don't know).

There's this one coach at school who is crazy! Absolutely crazy. He kind of came with the woodwork; he's one of those people that if you go to that school, you know him. He's been there forever. I was in the last grade to have him in the classroom, and I had him for two years. That means I've worked with him for EIGHT years. Two in the classroom and six (plus) on the court. That's enough to see any one's quirks, and this coach has more than anyone I can imagine! Everyone loves him, but no one understands him. He's got a very creative teaching style both on the court and off. Half the time his team has no idea what he's doing, but he knows. Half the time his team has no idea what he's talking about, but he knows. Even though the team doesn't see it, there's enough trust to believe there is a method to his madness.

Do you trust God enough to believe there is a method to his madness? Even though you don't know what He's doing, He knows. Even though you don't know what He's talking about, He knows. His plans are better than ours, even if they are a bit peculiar. Maybe it's not the way you would have gone about it, but He has much more experience, so let Him do what He wants.

<>< Katie

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding." Proverbs 3:5