Eight twenty-somethings sat squished around a card table. It has become a Monday night tradition.
Although I sit among them with minimal elbow space, I feel far away. Six of them are in graduate school together taking the conversation to a level where I spend more time trying to find the verb in the sentence than actually comprehending it. The other two have jobs. Real jobs, careers. They make money, own homes, and cook real meals.
There I am. Lost among friends. It's not their fault. Does that mean it's my fault?
My fault I didn't get into grad school? My fault I don't have a job? My fault I'm stuck in limbo? My fault that sometimes I wear work clothes just so I can feel like a real person?
Even putting those words on paper... er... the screen seems ridiculous. But it's very real. Real enough to bring tears to my eyes... again.
Let's just be real: job searching sucks. (Although, I have a new appreciation for rejection letter because it means the company loves you enough to tell you they don't want you rather than just letting you guess).
People always ask me what I'm called to do, if I feel led to a certain job or company, etc. What the heck does that even mean?
I am called to do the same thing every one else is called to do: to love and serve the Lord wherever He puts us.
For six of my Monday dinner buddies that means serving Him through divinity school. For the other two, it means honoring Him in their respective careers.
For me, it means trusting in the unknown. It means looking hopefully towards the future (whatever that is) but also finding a way to enjoy today. It means adding "free Monday dinner and enjoyable socialization time" to my list of 1,000 gifts. It means knowing this time in between isn't a wasteland. It means trusting that I haven't been deserted in this desert.
It means sometimes I get to write mopey posts because, in order to be a real person, I need to be real about my struggles and fears. I don't have it all together. I don't know what I'm going to be if I grow up. I don't know what tomorrow looks like.
But I do know One who will accompany me tomorrow.
Because He is faithful.
"Yet still I dare to hope when I remember this: the faithful love of the Lord never ends. His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness. His mercies begin a new each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritence' therefore I will hope in Him." Lamentations 3:21-24
Keeping it real,
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label dinner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dinner. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Hard
It had been a long day. The car said I'd been on the road for 31 minutes but it felt like considerably longer. I'd left my house fourteen hours earlier and hadn't been home since.
I'll be honest, I was starting to feel sorry for myself and my long day. While parts of it (like dinner!) were really nice, but other parts (like repeatedly trying to convince a 5 year old to share) weren't so nice. I was exhausted and on the brink of tears for no apparent reason.
I needed to make a phone call to some friends. Since I knew they go to bed early (and were an hour ahead) I contemplated calling them while driving, something I rarely (one might say "never") do. Even though it meant missing them tonight, I'm so glad I waited.
Instead, as I pulled into my subdivision, my phone lit up. On the other end, I found my friend Kevin.
He himself on his way home after a very long day... except after work he joined a friend at a hospital bedside where he stayed until he called me. Tomorrow, he's getting up to do it all over again.
"They haven't gotten any good news lately, and don't except to," he said.
Instantly my self-pity washed away. I felt so convicted that I was upset over my fourteen-hour day that I planned myself when he was dealing with a longer, unplanned day.
We spoke for forty minutes. There were no tears. But there was a lot of honest confession and sympathizing with each other. "This is hard," we must have each said fifteen times. But almost as many times we said how God has worked and is working through hard.
In the words of the five year old who refuses to share, "Don't do easy things. Do hard things."
Let's do hard. Let's do it for His glory. And let's not feel sorry for ourselves in it.
I don't know about you, but I needed that reminder today and every day.
<>< Katie
PS: Check out my friend Hannah's blog about a Bulgarian Sunrise. It was another reminder I needed. Hannah's on the World Race right now so they're ministering in eleven different countries in the next eleven months. Wow!
I'll be honest, I was starting to feel sorry for myself and my long day. While parts of it (like dinner!) were really nice, but other parts (like repeatedly trying to convince a 5 year old to share) weren't so nice. I was exhausted and on the brink of tears for no apparent reason.
I needed to make a phone call to some friends. Since I knew they go to bed early (and were an hour ahead) I contemplated calling them while driving, something I rarely (one might say "never") do. Even though it meant missing them tonight, I'm so glad I waited.
Instead, as I pulled into my subdivision, my phone lit up. On the other end, I found my friend Kevin.
He himself on his way home after a very long day... except after work he joined a friend at a hospital bedside where he stayed until he called me. Tomorrow, he's getting up to do it all over again.
"They haven't gotten any good news lately, and don't except to," he said.
Instantly my self-pity washed away. I felt so convicted that I was upset over my fourteen-hour day that I planned myself when he was dealing with a longer, unplanned day.
We spoke for forty minutes. There were no tears. But there was a lot of honest confession and sympathizing with each other. "This is hard," we must have each said fifteen times. But almost as many times we said how God has worked and is working through hard.
In the words of the five year old who refuses to share, "Don't do easy things. Do hard things."
Let's do hard. Let's do it for His glory. And let's not feel sorry for ourselves in it.
I don't know about you, but I needed that reminder today and every day.
<>< Katie
PS: Check out my friend Hannah's blog about a Bulgarian Sunrise. It was another reminder I needed. Hannah's on the World Race right now so they're ministering in eleven different countries in the next eleven months. Wow!
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Just One Shirt
All of the best ideas come from a "What if?" question.
"What if we went dorm to dorm asking people to donate one shirt to homeless shelter?" Keith asked at dinner.
The idea exploded and on a Saturday afternoon Nikki, Keith, David, Ryan, and Wes wandered around campus with two plastic buckets for their "Just One Shirt" drive.
They walked dorm to dorm knocking on every door encouraging residents to find one item in their wardrobe that they don't wear.
Personally, this was a challenge. If I don't wear certain clothes, they're at home. I don't have the space to have superfluous stuff here. I did find one shirt I don't wear--a yellow coffee shop shirt that makes me feel like I'm in my pajamas all day.
They gathered a car trunk and backseat full of clothes--it's approximately twelve trash bags full of clothing!
It was also part of a school-wide service project campaign where the three best service projects won $100 each.
Another winning project (the most creative project) was a hall of students who went to the nursing home and asked the residents to make Valentines Day cards for the children at the children's home. Then, they went to the children's home and asked the children to make Valentines Day cards for the nursing home residents.
The Just One Shirt campaign won most spirited. Get this: their $100 is going to support a Compassion International child for this month and for his birthday.
What if we all gave one shirt? What if we were all servant-minded? What if?
<>< Katie
"What if we went dorm to dorm asking people to donate one shirt to homeless shelter?" Keith asked at dinner.
The idea exploded and on a Saturday afternoon Nikki, Keith, David, Ryan, and Wes wandered around campus with two plastic buckets for their "Just One Shirt" drive.
They walked dorm to dorm knocking on every door encouraging residents to find one item in their wardrobe that they don't wear.
Personally, this was a challenge. If I don't wear certain clothes, they're at home. I don't have the space to have superfluous stuff here. I did find one shirt I don't wear--a yellow coffee shop shirt that makes me feel like I'm in my pajamas all day.
They gathered a car trunk and backseat full of clothes--it's approximately twelve trash bags full of clothing!
It was also part of a school-wide service project campaign where the three best service projects won $100 each.
Another winning project (the most creative project) was a hall of students who went to the nursing home and asked the residents to make Valentines Day cards for the children at the children's home. Then, they went to the children's home and asked the children to make Valentines Day cards for the nursing home residents.
The Just One Shirt campaign won most spirited. Get this: their $100 is going to support a Compassion International child for this month and for his birthday.
What if we all gave one shirt? What if we were all servant-minded? What if?
<>< Katie
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
"And Then I Found Five Dollars"
Since I've been home, I've told a lot of stories around our dinner table. When I finally pause to breathe at the end of each story, Christina has looked at me and said, "And then did you find five dollars?"
Every time she's said it, I've boiled with anger and frustration. The desire to rip off her head has increased with every smart alec comment that could be translated to, "That pointless story was a waste of my time."
I think that may be why Max Lucado's A Love Worth Giving has resonated so well with me, the queen of pointless stories.
In the chapter "Your Kindness Quotient," Max talks about Christ wanting to hear your story. The example used is the woman with the bleeding problem whose story is found sandwiched in Mark 5.
Basically she's been sick for years and years. She was out of money, and everyone told her to be out of hope. But she wasn't. She had the faith to believe Jesus could heal her, so she went to find Him.
Of course, He was busy. The daughter of a city leader (Jairus) was dying, and Jesus was on His way to perform a miraculous healing. This woman didn't want to take up Jesus's time, so she slid behind Him in the crowd and touched the hem of His robe.
Instantly she was healed and ready to go on her way. Jesus wasn't going to let her get off that easily.
"Who touched me?" He demanded.
Can you imagine the disciples' response? "We're in the middle of a crowd and You wonder who touched You? A million people! That guy there, this woman over here, but I was the one who stepped on Your foot. Sorry. Come on; let's go!"
Christ was adamant, and the woman timidly came forward. If it was me, I'd be ashamed of the ruckus I'd caused. Maybe she was, but she was also healed.
Max writes, "A girl was dying, people were pressing, the disciples were questioning, but Jesus... Jesus was listening. Listening to the whole story. He didn't have to. The healing would have been enough. Enough for her. Enough for the crowd. But not enough for Him. Jesus wanted to do more than heal her body. He wanted to hear her story--all of it. The whole story" (26).
It blows my mind that we have a Savior who is willing to hear every story we tell. He's not even disappointed when they're long and pointless. He'll never ask if we found five dollars. If the story is important to us, it is important to Him.
I saw a prime example of this years ago at a concert meet and greet crowd. A little girl came up and cut me in the blob of a line. Of course, at the time I was annoyed but years later I'm glad to have witnessed such a beautiful moment.
The artist, Peder Eide, leaned over to be at her height, put his arm around her, and held his head next to hers in order to hear her over the crowd. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I knew it was intense because every once in a while Peder would draw back to make eye contact with her. As her story drew to a close, he started gently asking her questions. The crowd pressing for his attention no longer mattered; he wanted to know more about this little girl.
When she was done and he was done asking questions, Peder looked her in the eye and said, "Thank you for telling me that. I'll be praying for you."
Christ's waiting for you to tell Him the whole story. The crowd of people lobbying for His attention vanishes when He's got His arm around you listening to your story. He's willing to sit there and talk with you for as long as you want. He'll stay until your story is complete, even if it's long and boring. He'll ask questions and carefully listen to the answers. When you're done, He'll say, "Thank you for telling Me that. I'm sure it wasn't easy."
Sit and talk. Let Him be your Audience of One.
The non-monetary amount you find will be worth a whole lot more than five dollars.
<>< Katie
Every time she's said it, I've boiled with anger and frustration. The desire to rip off her head has increased with every smart alec comment that could be translated to, "That pointless story was a waste of my time."
I think that may be why Max Lucado's A Love Worth Giving has resonated so well with me, the queen of pointless stories.
In the chapter "Your Kindness Quotient," Max talks about Christ wanting to hear your story. The example used is the woman with the bleeding problem whose story is found sandwiched in Mark 5.
Basically she's been sick for years and years. She was out of money, and everyone told her to be out of hope. But she wasn't. She had the faith to believe Jesus could heal her, so she went to find Him.
Of course, He was busy. The daughter of a city leader (Jairus) was dying, and Jesus was on His way to perform a miraculous healing. This woman didn't want to take up Jesus's time, so she slid behind Him in the crowd and touched the hem of His robe.
Instantly she was healed and ready to go on her way. Jesus wasn't going to let her get off that easily.
"Who touched me?" He demanded.
Can you imagine the disciples' response? "We're in the middle of a crowd and You wonder who touched You? A million people! That guy there, this woman over here, but I was the one who stepped on Your foot. Sorry. Come on; let's go!"
Christ was adamant, and the woman timidly came forward. If it was me, I'd be ashamed of the ruckus I'd caused. Maybe she was, but she was also healed.
Max writes, "A girl was dying, people were pressing, the disciples were questioning, but Jesus... Jesus was listening. Listening to the whole story. He didn't have to. The healing would have been enough. Enough for her. Enough for the crowd. But not enough for Him. Jesus wanted to do more than heal her body. He wanted to hear her story--all of it. The whole story" (26).
It blows my mind that we have a Savior who is willing to hear every story we tell. He's not even disappointed when they're long and pointless. He'll never ask if we found five dollars. If the story is important to us, it is important to Him.
I saw a prime example of this years ago at a concert meet and greet crowd. A little girl came up and cut me in the blob of a line. Of course, at the time I was annoyed but years later I'm glad to have witnessed such a beautiful moment.
The artist, Peder Eide, leaned over to be at her height, put his arm around her, and held his head next to hers in order to hear her over the crowd. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I knew it was intense because every once in a while Peder would draw back to make eye contact with her. As her story drew to a close, he started gently asking her questions. The crowd pressing for his attention no longer mattered; he wanted to know more about this little girl.
When she was done and he was done asking questions, Peder looked her in the eye and said, "Thank you for telling me that. I'll be praying for you."
Christ's waiting for you to tell Him the whole story. The crowd of people lobbying for His attention vanishes when He's got His arm around you listening to your story. He's willing to sit there and talk with you for as long as you want. He'll stay until your story is complete, even if it's long and boring. He'll ask questions and carefully listen to the answers. When you're done, He'll say, "Thank you for telling Me that. I'm sure it wasn't easy."
Sit and talk. Let Him be your Audience of One.
The non-monetary amount you find will be worth a whole lot more than five dollars.
<>< Katie
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Wait
The middle school girl across the dinner table from me was lost gazing into space. Her friend said she was deep in thought. Naturally, I asked what she was thinking about. Again her friend provided the answer: boys. She has a boyfriend but there's another guy she likes. I've never been there, but I still realize that's a difficult position.
"You know that one thing all guys want?" the girl asked.
I nodded, carefully choosing words as we embarked into dangerous territory. "If he does not respect you, then he is not worth your time," I said.
She nodded and told me about her purity commitment.
"One day you will find a man who respects you as a woman," I continued. "One who will honor your commitment and your relationship with God. Maybe he'll even share in them. You will find a man who treats you right. Do not settle for anything less."
She nodded.
There was no point in continuing my sermon. It was something she already knew but needed to hear again. Likewise, I needed to say it again.
"You know that one thing all guys want?" the girl asked.
I nodded, carefully choosing words as we embarked into dangerous territory. "If he does not respect you, then he is not worth your time," I said.
She nodded and told me about her purity commitment.
"One day you will find a man who respects you as a woman," I continued. "One who will honor your commitment and your relationship with God. Maybe he'll even share in them. You will find a man who treats you right. Do not settle for anything less."
She nodded.
There was no point in continuing my sermon. It was something she already knew but needed to hear again. Likewise, I needed to say it again.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Wacky Wednesday
Just another day in the life...
Christina (from the back seat of the van): Mom, can I text you a photo of my toe? It hurts.
Mom (passenger seat): No, I can probably see it just as well from here.
"That's not a llama that's a little girl. Oh, they put sunglasses on the llama's butt. That's obscene. Oh, it was a dog's butt not a llama's butt. Oh, look it's a little kid riding a bike again. I saw this kid already. No, it's a different kid. Why do none of these kids wear helmets?! Oh, wait, it is the same kid crashing into the mailbox. I don't know if it's the same kid or not. THESE KIDS NEED HELMETS! Woman tossing monkey. Monkey tossing woman. Now there's a gorilla on top of a post." - Mom's play-by-play of America's Funniest Home Videos
Christina: There's a cat outside somewhere.
Katie: Oh! I see it! It's a bunny.
Christina had just finished telling some "really funny" story and no one laughed.
Christina: OK, well, I guess it was just really funny in my head.
Mom: Well, I hope so because it wasn't really funny in any of our heads.
Laura's in the family room video chatting with her friend Jake who's currently in Louisiana. I was sitting there as well, and Jake asks for Christina to come downstairs and video chat, too, so we'd all be there. Laura texts Tina and she responds that she's sleeping. "Clearly she's not since she's texting," Jake said, picking up his phone. He then calls Christina. The two of us in the family room could hear Christina's voice from upstairs... through the computer... through Jake's phone... in Louisiana.
Dad: Why is there one egg on the counter?
Mom: I'm making cookies later.
Dad: Oh, of course, why didn't I think of that?
Katie: Gar! I don't want to read this manuscript. I want to write my own manuscript.
Mom: It is a writing internship.
Katie: I'm switching my POV from third--my favorite POV--to first because I think it will work better, but I'm not quite sure how I'm going to do that.
Mom: That's why Cindy keeps all of her choir music.
Huh?
In the middle of a hamburger dinner I almost shot milk out my nose. Everyone looked at me, but I couldn't defend myself since I was at risk of choking... Instead I picked up the mustard and turned it around so they could all see the expiration date: June 4, 2007. I swallowed and we all laughed that the mustard expired before I graduated. (Throughout high school I'd keep track of what expired after I graduated, and I said the scary day would be when the milk expired after I graduated). We threw away that mustard and Mom went to the fridge to get another one. "Oh, good," she said, "now we only have four open mustards!"
Mom: You're writing this down? For your blog?
Katie: Yeah.
Mom: Great... I'm never going to be able to get a job again.
Katie: No, I blog you as "Para Salin" or "Sarah Palin."
Mom: Oh, ok, instead you're screwing the future of this country instead of just my future.
Katie: You're the weird one.
Laura: Katie, you talk too much!
Katie: Laura, you listen too little!
<>< Katie
Christina (from the back seat of the van): Mom, can I text you a photo of my toe? It hurts.
Mom (passenger seat): No, I can probably see it just as well from here.
"That's not a llama that's a little girl. Oh, they put sunglasses on the llama's butt. That's obscene. Oh, it was a dog's butt not a llama's butt. Oh, look it's a little kid riding a bike again. I saw this kid already. No, it's a different kid. Why do none of these kids wear helmets?! Oh, wait, it is the same kid crashing into the mailbox. I don't know if it's the same kid or not. THESE KIDS NEED HELMETS! Woman tossing monkey. Monkey tossing woman. Now there's a gorilla on top of a post." - Mom's play-by-play of America's Funniest Home Videos
Christina: There's a cat outside somewhere.
Katie: Oh! I see it! It's a bunny.
Christina had just finished telling some "really funny" story and no one laughed.
Christina: OK, well, I guess it was just really funny in my head.
Mom: Well, I hope so because it wasn't really funny in any of our heads.
Laura's in the family room video chatting with her friend Jake who's currently in Louisiana. I was sitting there as well, and Jake asks for Christina to come downstairs and video chat, too, so we'd all be there. Laura texts Tina and she responds that she's sleeping. "Clearly she's not since she's texting," Jake said, picking up his phone. He then calls Christina. The two of us in the family room could hear Christina's voice from upstairs... through the computer... through Jake's phone... in Louisiana.
Dad: Why is there one egg on the counter?
Mom: I'm making cookies later.
Dad: Oh, of course, why didn't I think of that?
Katie: Gar! I don't want to read this manuscript. I want to write my own manuscript.
Mom: It is a writing internship.
Katie: I'm switching my POV from third--my favorite POV--to first because I think it will work better, but I'm not quite sure how I'm going to do that.
Mom: That's why Cindy keeps all of her choir music.
Huh?
In the middle of a hamburger dinner I almost shot milk out my nose. Everyone looked at me, but I couldn't defend myself since I was at risk of choking... Instead I picked up the mustard and turned it around so they could all see the expiration date: June 4, 2007. I swallowed and we all laughed that the mustard expired before I graduated. (Throughout high school I'd keep track of what expired after I graduated, and I said the scary day would be when the milk expired after I graduated). We threw away that mustard and Mom went to the fridge to get another one. "Oh, good," she said, "now we only have four open mustards!"
Mom: You're writing this down? For your blog?
Katie: Yeah.
Mom: Great... I'm never going to be able to get a job again.
Katie: No, I blog you as "Para Salin" or "Sarah Palin."
Mom: Oh, ok, instead you're screwing the future of this country instead of just my future.
Katie: You're the weird one.
Laura: Katie, you talk too much!
Katie: Laura, you listen too little!
<>< Katie
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Home Sweet Home
It's times like this I love being home.
(before dinner)
Dad: Ok, Mom, we've got steaks and hot dogs for dinner.
Katie: I'm eating the steaks. They're eating the hot dogs.
That was followed by a shockingly normal steak dinner. We all like our steaks at varying cooking stages from still mooing (that's me) to shoe leather (that's Mom), and Dad never manages to get them onto the right plate. Chunks of meat the size of the plate fly through our kitchen on steak night.
Dad's in the kitchen putting the uncooked steak in the freezer bag and vacuuming it shut.
Dad: Katie, you want to pump this?
Katie: No, thanks, I only like to pump the wine because it makes a great popping noise when you uncork it.
(I feel like such a little kid but it seriously entertains me for ten minutes).
Christina: Ooh! I should learn to say that in Dutch.
(No one in our house speaks Dutch... nor are we Dutch)
Christina: Yeah! Mom! Let's learn Dutch together because that way we can speak in code and no one will understand.
Mom: Since everyone is going away to college and it's just the two of us, we could just speak in English.
Dad: Tina, how's Jake?
Christina: I GOTTA LETTER!
Dad: Laura, how's your Jake?
Laura: He's good. He says it's hot.
Dad: Katie, how's your Jake?
Katie: I'm the only one in the family who DOESN'T have a Jake.
Dad: You do have a Jake but his name is Chris.
Mom: It's still a four-letter name.
Katie: Last time I counted "Chris" was five letters.
Oh, and there was another conversation that I can't re-type here, but it was inspired by the story I told on Tuesday...
<>< Katie
(before dinner)
Dad: Ok, Mom, we've got steaks and hot dogs for dinner.
Katie: I'm eating the steaks. They're eating the hot dogs.
That was followed by a shockingly normal steak dinner. We all like our steaks at varying cooking stages from still mooing (that's me) to shoe leather (that's Mom), and Dad never manages to get them onto the right plate. Chunks of meat the size of the plate fly through our kitchen on steak night.
Dad's in the kitchen putting the uncooked steak in the freezer bag and vacuuming it shut.
Dad: Katie, you want to pump this?
Katie: No, thanks, I only like to pump the wine because it makes a great popping noise when you uncork it.
(I feel like such a little kid but it seriously entertains me for ten minutes).
Christina: Ooh! I should learn to say that in Dutch.
(No one in our house speaks Dutch... nor are we Dutch)
Christina: Yeah! Mom! Let's learn Dutch together because that way we can speak in code and no one will understand.
Mom: Since everyone is going away to college and it's just the two of us, we could just speak in English.
Dad: Tina, how's Jake?
Christina: I GOTTA LETTER!
Dad: Laura, how's your Jake?
Laura: He's good. He says it's hot.
Dad: Katie, how's your Jake?
Katie: I'm the only one in the family who DOESN'T have a Jake.
Dad: You do have a Jake but his name is Chris.
Mom: It's still a four-letter name.
Katie: Last time I counted "Chris" was five letters.
Oh, and there was another conversation that I can't re-type here, but it was inspired by the story I told on Tuesday...
<>< 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
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Rainy Days
Yesterday morning I passed my FOCUS brother Jordan on his way to breakfast.
"Hey, how are you?" I asked giving him a hug. I knew the answer before he spoke.
"Not good. It's raining. I HATE the rain. Absolutely hate it more than anything else in the world. It's going to be a bad day," he explained. As someone whose mood is often dictated by the weather, I understood. Rainy days are often miserable but "hate" is a strong word.
"Do me a favor, try to find one thing good in today. Yeah, it's rainy and gross, but God still made today and therefore there must be one thing good in it," I coached. He kind of groaned, and we went our separate ways.
I don't see Jordan very often and was surprised when I saw him again at dinner. I asked him about his good thing for the day.
"I got a good grade on a test," he said proudly.
In the next few minutes we made a list of good things:
1. Good grade
2. He's alive and breathing
3. It's Friday
4. We saw each other twice
Not bad for someone who hates the rain more than anything! Sure, they're all pretty basic but they're still reasons to smile on a no good, very bad rainy day.
This morning, I saw him again and asked how he was doing.
"Today is much better. It's not raining today. My feet are dry!" His girlfriend and I teased him about getting some rainboats. Yeah, that idea didn't fly. Maybe dry feet was his good thing for today.
I think we all have days like Jordan where we know before breakfast that it's going to be a bad day. Rain, headaches, heavy backpacks, and nasty caf food make my days bad. Smiles and hugs from friends, cancelled classes, and blog comments make my days better.
I'd challenge you to do the same thing I often encourage myself to do and I suggested Jordan do: find one thing good in today. Even as simple and being grateful that you got out of bed this morning.
"This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" - Psalm 118:24 (emphasis mine)
<>< Katie
"Hey, how are you?" I asked giving him a hug. I knew the answer before he spoke.
"Not good. It's raining. I HATE the rain. Absolutely hate it more than anything else in the world. It's going to be a bad day," he explained. As someone whose mood is often dictated by the weather, I understood. Rainy days are often miserable but "hate" is a strong word.
"Do me a favor, try to find one thing good in today. Yeah, it's rainy and gross, but God still made today and therefore there must be one thing good in it," I coached. He kind of groaned, and we went our separate ways.
I don't see Jordan very often and was surprised when I saw him again at dinner. I asked him about his good thing for the day.
"I got a good grade on a test," he said proudly.
In the next few minutes we made a list of good things:
1. Good grade
2. He's alive and breathing
3. It's Friday
4. We saw each other twice
Not bad for someone who hates the rain more than anything! Sure, they're all pretty basic but they're still reasons to smile on a no good, very bad rainy day.
This morning, I saw him again and asked how he was doing.
"Today is much better. It's not raining today. My feet are dry!" His girlfriend and I teased him about getting some rainboats. Yeah, that idea didn't fly. Maybe dry feet was his good thing for today.
I think we all have days like Jordan where we know before breakfast that it's going to be a bad day. Rain, headaches, heavy backpacks, and nasty caf food make my days bad. Smiles and hugs from friends, cancelled classes, and blog comments make my days better.
I'd challenge you to do the same thing I often encourage myself to do and I suggested Jordan do: find one thing good in today. Even as simple and being grateful that you got out of bed this morning.
"This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" - Psalm 118:24 (emphasis mine)
<>< Katie
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Life as a Double Major
It's crunch time. Two 5-page papers due this week. One isn't in English. Newsletter to be released... today... wait, where's Jack's article? Oh, yeah, he hasn't written it yet.... I did laundry two days ago, why is it still all over my room? The socks aren't folded and the shirts don't fit in the drawer. Half-finished Mountain Dew sits by the sink calling my name. The sink! The sink desperately needs to be cleaned. What's the noise? Oh, my stomach. Ooops, forgot dinner. That chocolate looks yummy. St. Nick brought it a day early and just in time. Just like that paper I finished last night. Turned it in at 11:59 and went straight to bed. Hence the heap of papers spewed all over my floor. Somewhere in the heap of junk on my desk is my study abroad form, mission trip form, and... crap... work forms? That's ok, I'm not officially hired yet. My future boss tells me I'm the slave who does everything and doesn't get paid. There's Jack's article! Plug and chug then to bed.
Morning comes all too soon. Do I really need a shower? Um... YES! Time for class. I still didn't finish the book we were supposed to have finished two days ago. It's going to be a loooong day. Where's that Mountain Dew? I knew I didn't finish it on purpose! Oooo... flat... my favorite.
Have a great day!
<>< Katie
(written around midnight one day this past week when I should have been sleeping...)
Morning comes all too soon. Do I really need a shower? Um... YES! Time for class. I still didn't finish the book we were supposed to have finished two days ago. It's going to be a loooong day. Where's that Mountain Dew? I knew I didn't finish it on purpose! Oooo... flat... my favorite.
Have a great day!
<>< Katie
(written around midnight one day this past week when I should have been sleeping...)
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Dinner
I had a very interesting dinner today, and I feel the need to share. :-)
At 5 o'clock, I headed towards the caf out of habit. I stopped in Laura and Becky's room (aka my other room). Laura wasn't there, and Becky was headed to Chic-fil-a. I was going to join her, but then realized I had to be back for CMU stuff, so I didn't go. I wandered to the caf figuring I'd meet up with someone or find some lonely person eating alone. I walk in, and see no one that fits that description. I got a plate of pasta and sat down by myself. I seriously knew NO ONE in the caf and no one was sitting by themselves... I really tried to be outgoing and it failed miserably!
I ate my pasta by myself and got a cookie. Really sitting alone wasn't that bad because I am an introvert and recharge by being by myself, and I was by the door so I got to greet people as they came in. I ate my cookie by myself and got a salad. I was a good majority of the way through my salad when my friend Xan came in and chewed me out for eating by myself. I told her I was almost done and it wasn't a big deal. Then my friend Annie came in a yelled at me for eating by myself. I told her I wasn't eating by myself, I was watching Monk, the news, and ESPN simultaneously. Then my friend Lauren came over and we chatting for awhile.
I had literally two bites left of my salad and Annie came back and forced me to her table. So I finished my salad, put my dishes up, and sat down with Annie and her friends. Annie was telling some story about how a church leader came up to her at the club fair today and invited her to his church. He asked her if she'd ever considered going to church which is really funny because Annie has Bible verses all over her dorm room and we met in small group last year. She finished the story and realized she hadn't prayed. She asked each of us individually if we'd already prayed and we all said yes. I told her I'd pray again with her. We teased around about who would pray and were just being silly. There was minimal praying getting done and my friend Tiffany walked up. I half-jokingly said, "Tiffany, will you pray with us?" She said sure and prayed for us. Then she walked away and Annie was like, "I really don't even know who that was."
I love Christ, sometimes the people He throws at me are just so amazing! The fact that some random person can just jump up and pray at dinner cracks me up!
In Christ,
<>< Katie
At 5 o'clock, I headed towards the caf out of habit. I stopped in Laura and Becky's room (aka my other room). Laura wasn't there, and Becky was headed to Chic-fil-a. I was going to join her, but then realized I had to be back for CMU stuff, so I didn't go. I wandered to the caf figuring I'd meet up with someone or find some lonely person eating alone. I walk in, and see no one that fits that description. I got a plate of pasta and sat down by myself. I seriously knew NO ONE in the caf and no one was sitting by themselves... I really tried to be outgoing and it failed miserably!
I ate my pasta by myself and got a cookie. Really sitting alone wasn't that bad because I am an introvert and recharge by being by myself, and I was by the door so I got to greet people as they came in. I ate my cookie by myself and got a salad. I was a good majority of the way through my salad when my friend Xan came in and chewed me out for eating by myself. I told her I was almost done and it wasn't a big deal. Then my friend Annie came in a yelled at me for eating by myself. I told her I wasn't eating by myself, I was watching Monk, the news, and ESPN simultaneously. Then my friend Lauren came over and we chatting for awhile.
I had literally two bites left of my salad and Annie came back and forced me to her table. So I finished my salad, put my dishes up, and sat down with Annie and her friends. Annie was telling some story about how a church leader came up to her at the club fair today and invited her to his church. He asked her if she'd ever considered going to church which is really funny because Annie has Bible verses all over her dorm room and we met in small group last year. She finished the story and realized she hadn't prayed. She asked each of us individually if we'd already prayed and we all said yes. I told her I'd pray again with her. We teased around about who would pray and were just being silly. There was minimal praying getting done and my friend Tiffany walked up. I half-jokingly said, "Tiffany, will you pray with us?" She said sure and prayed for us. Then she walked away and Annie was like, "I really don't even know who that was."
I love Christ, sometimes the people He throws at me are just so amazing! The fact that some random person can just jump up and pray at dinner cracks me up!
In Christ,
<>< Katie
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