Do me a favor and hold your imaginary tennis ball in your left hand, racket in your right. Bounce the ball on the ground a few times because in a second you're going to toss it straight into the air. Now, cross your wrists. You know this. "Down together; up together; swing when you're ready."
How's your serve?
Off the court, how's your serve? Invisible? Are you putting the towel on like Jesus and washing dirty, smelly feet? Are you getting dirty? Are you being used? Are you serving your own intentions or feeding the needs of others?
Honestly?
No one's judging you (except God, of course, but He loves you anyway).
The serve
An Ace: A job well done. Applaud but not because of what you did. Applaud that God used you, and no one saw. Don't you dare tell anyone what happened. Now, go do it again.
The Let: The job was completed, but you got caught in the act. Bounce the ball a few times, brush it off, and step up to the baseline. Take two. Don't get caught. Let God work.
It's Out: You pushed your own intentions, and the ball went long. You didn't do what needed to be done, and the ball went wide. That's ok. Try again. Whatever you do, don't let the ball fall short. Good intentions do nothing. Follow through.
<>< Katie
Note One: some of the ideas in this post come from Peder Eide. If you have never explored his Taste Worship ministry, I highly recommend you do so. Especially if you have a family. Which you do.
Note Two: The title of this post comes from a Michael W. Smith song from The Second Chance movie.
Showing posts with label judge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label judge. Show all posts
Monday, July 12, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Seat Buddy
I first noticed her at the gate. I think it was the three bags and pillow she was carrying. That's twice as many as the allotted number of carry-ons. With her unkempt, wet hair and the luggage she was juggling she personified the word "disheveled."
I was already seated when she boarded the plane. I began to have an internal panic moment as she made her way down the aisle towards me.
Please don't be my seat partner. Please don't be my seat partner.
Lucky for me, she stopped one seat short. This meant I could hear her loud music and conversation without having any of her bags fall in my lap.
I got lost in my book and was only snapped back to reality when I heard the word "publisher." For the next few minutes I eavesdropped. She was in the process of publishing a book. No, she wasn't the child photographed on the cover. That would have cost more. She trusts her publisher and isn't so worried about what to write any more.
At that moment, I wished I could have traded seats with her seat partner. I wanted to ask Disheveled about her publishing experiences. How she find a publisher, did she have an agent, what was her book about, where would it be sold, was she exploring online publishing? I had a million questions and not the opportunity to ask them. Quite possibly because I'd been praying for her to be seated somewhere else.
Shame on me. I judged before I knew.
Oops.
<>< Katie
I was already seated when she boarded the plane. I began to have an internal panic moment as she made her way down the aisle towards me.
Please don't be my seat partner. Please don't be my seat partner.
Lucky for me, she stopped one seat short. This meant I could hear her loud music and conversation without having any of her bags fall in my lap.
I got lost in my book and was only snapped back to reality when I heard the word "publisher." For the next few minutes I eavesdropped. She was in the process of publishing a book. No, she wasn't the child photographed on the cover. That would have cost more. She trusts her publisher and isn't so worried about what to write any more.
At that moment, I wished I could have traded seats with her seat partner. I wanted to ask Disheveled about her publishing experiences. How she find a publisher, did she have an agent, what was her book about, where would it be sold, was she exploring online publishing? I had a million questions and not the opportunity to ask them. Quite possibly because I'd been praying for her to be seated somewhere else.
Shame on me. I judged before I knew.
Oops.
<>< Katie
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Book Buying with a Writer
"What do you want to do today?" Dad asks me every morning (or afternoon) when I get up. Everyday all week the answer has been the same,
"Sleep!"
"You've already done that; it's noon-thirty. What else do you want to do today?"
"Nothing!"
"That's what you did yesterday."
He's bored and therefore is objective is to annoy the rest of us, but he's right. As I look at my yesterday, my day before yesterday, my everyday since Christmas I realize I haven't done much. I read The Five Love Languages: Singles Edition and that's about it. I've read some blogs, written some blogs, played a few million games of Bejeweled Blitz, whooped butt in Bananagrams, scrapbooked a bit, and that's really about it. I'm not ok with that. I decided I have this time, so I should work on the story. Well, since I have this time the characters don't want to play with me. I've also found when I'm blogging regularly I obtain my "writing fix" without even opening a Word doc. That's a problem.
Umpteen years of writer's block has taught me to read when I want to write. Problem: there's nothing here I want to read. Sure, just within arm's reach I can grab four different books with bookmarks less than 100 pages in and almost a million more I've never read. Yet none of them seem appealing at the moment. I need to do something with my days, and I need to read more.
"One of these days I should go to Barnes and Noble," I said aloud to myself. Then I decided: why wait? Go right now. Instead of waiting for a car, I hopped in our minivan and tooled down the road. I don't like driving the van but nothing gets between a girl and her books!
As I was on my way out the door Dad asked where I was going. He's bored, and I was the only one home. When I told him he asked for how long. My response didn't please him. "Until I'm done kinking my neck to read book title sideways."
"You're just going to walk up and down the aisles until you find something you want to read?"
"Exactly."
"Then I'm definitely not going!"
Good because you weren't invited. Going to B&N alone is something I love. It started freshman year of college when I didn't have a car on campus. I always went shopping with people. Yes, Wal-mart by yourself can be lame, but it's also refreshing to wander the aisles alone and at your leisure. I'm not allowed to go to Wal-mart when I'm home, so I always try to make at least one trip to Barnes and Noble by myself.
"I have my phone but don't call me. I'll be home when I'm done," I announce as I depart.
"What if we need the car?" It's a legitimate concern because we have four and a half drivers and three cars.
"If Dad can hog a car sitting in the parking structure at work untouched all day five days a week I can hog one for a few hours."
No, you can't even go to the mall while I'm at the bookstore because when you're done I have to be done. I want the freedom to be on my own time.
Call me rude but if I run in to people I know while at B&N, our conversations are exceptionally brief. I'm on a mission and I cannot be distracted. However, sometimes I have to pause to people watch.
"Can you just point me to my section?" an annoyed father asked his wife. Their grade school daughter stood in between them.
"This is the adult section," the girl says waving her hands. "All of these books are for adults."
I didn't hear how his wife responded, but he apparently was not satisfied.
"You mean I have to walk around and read every sign to find what I'm looking for?"
Yes, sir. That is exactly what I do.
I wander through the bookstore searching for something to read. For an English major, I'm not very well-read, so I investigate the classics. Nope. No Dickens of Shakespeare for Katie, please. I peruse the 1/2 off books. Since I don't know what I want how marvelous would it be to find it to be on sale? No luck. I sneak to the back corner where my B&N keeps the Christian books. I already have all of those Max Lucado books. They're out of Francine Rivers, and I don't love Karen Kinsbury's grammar.
Without fail I always find my hands on a writing book. Today I laughed at myself when I picked up the first one and quickly put it back. Not even five minutes later I picked up a second one. Realized I'd flipped them both open at random and they both fell open to sections dealing with rejection. That's not something I handle well, so I figured it was a message from God and am now the owner of A Novel Idea. :-)
After this it's the purposeless roaming. I think about books I've heard other people are reading. I recognize authors' names and check out their other books. I remember I've had professors encourage me to read more non-fiction, so I try to come home with at least one non-fiction book (usually this goal fails miserably). Really, though, I'm looking for a novel, and my B&N doesn't have a creative nonfiction section. I want something good to get lost in during these cold winter days as I fight cabin fever.
After that, I do exactly what every child is told never to do: I judge books by their covers. If I like the cover (or title or whatever) I pick up the book and read the back. If there's no synopsis on the back of the jacket I usually put it back down. If the synopsis sounds interesting, I fan the book open. Does it look like a book I could read? Laugh if you want but I almost stopped reading The Five Love Languages because the page number was really close to the edge of the page and I was afraid it was going to get cut off. I also scan for words; books littered with swears will not be enjoyed. For me, sex doesn't sell. No dark, no dirty.
My last stop before hitting the check-out counter is the investigate the teenage section. I didn't discover this section until I was a little too big. I always figured the teen section was for... well... teenagers. Not sheltered twelve or thirteen year old me. I read Harry Potter and Princess Diaries throughout most of my teenage years (this could explain why I'm not very well-read). Oh, well.
Few people enjoy going to bookstores with writers. Thanks for going there with me today (but not literally because I really just want to be there alone).
<>< Katie
"Sleep!"
"You've already done that; it's noon-thirty. What else do you want to do today?"
"Nothing!"
"That's what you did yesterday."
He's bored and therefore is objective is to annoy the rest of us, but he's right. As I look at my yesterday, my day before yesterday, my everyday since Christmas I realize I haven't done much. I read The Five Love Languages: Singles Edition and that's about it. I've read some blogs, written some blogs, played a few million games of Bejeweled Blitz, whooped butt in Bananagrams, scrapbooked a bit, and that's really about it. I'm not ok with that. I decided I have this time, so I should work on the story. Well, since I have this time the characters don't want to play with me. I've also found when I'm blogging regularly I obtain my "writing fix" without even opening a Word doc. That's a problem.
Umpteen years of writer's block has taught me to read when I want to write. Problem: there's nothing here I want to read. Sure, just within arm's reach I can grab four different books with bookmarks less than 100 pages in and almost a million more I've never read. Yet none of them seem appealing at the moment. I need to do something with my days, and I need to read more.
"One of these days I should go to Barnes and Noble," I said aloud to myself. Then I decided: why wait? Go right now. Instead of waiting for a car, I hopped in our minivan and tooled down the road. I don't like driving the van but nothing gets between a girl and her books!
As I was on my way out the door Dad asked where I was going. He's bored, and I was the only one home. When I told him he asked for how long. My response didn't please him. "Until I'm done kinking my neck to read book title sideways."
"You're just going to walk up and down the aisles until you find something you want to read?"
"Exactly."
"Then I'm definitely not going!"
Good because you weren't invited. Going to B&N alone is something I love. It started freshman year of college when I didn't have a car on campus. I always went shopping with people. Yes, Wal-mart by yourself can be lame, but it's also refreshing to wander the aisles alone and at your leisure. I'm not allowed to go to Wal-mart when I'm home, so I always try to make at least one trip to Barnes and Noble by myself.
"I have my phone but don't call me. I'll be home when I'm done," I announce as I depart.
"What if we need the car?" It's a legitimate concern because we have four and a half drivers and three cars.
"If Dad can hog a car sitting in the parking structure at work untouched all day five days a week I can hog one for a few hours."
No, you can't even go to the mall while I'm at the bookstore because when you're done I have to be done. I want the freedom to be on my own time.
Call me rude but if I run in to people I know while at B&N, our conversations are exceptionally brief. I'm on a mission and I cannot be distracted. However, sometimes I have to pause to people watch.
"Can you just point me to my section?" an annoyed father asked his wife. Their grade school daughter stood in between them.
"This is the adult section," the girl says waving her hands. "All of these books are for adults."
I didn't hear how his wife responded, but he apparently was not satisfied.
"You mean I have to walk around and read every sign to find what I'm looking for?"
Yes, sir. That is exactly what I do.
I wander through the bookstore searching for something to read. For an English major, I'm not very well-read, so I investigate the classics. Nope. No Dickens of Shakespeare for Katie, please. I peruse the 1/2 off books. Since I don't know what I want how marvelous would it be to find it to be on sale? No luck. I sneak to the back corner where my B&N keeps the Christian books. I already have all of those Max Lucado books. They're out of Francine Rivers, and I don't love Karen Kinsbury's grammar.
Without fail I always find my hands on a writing book. Today I laughed at myself when I picked up the first one and quickly put it back. Not even five minutes later I picked up a second one. Realized I'd flipped them both open at random and they both fell open to sections dealing with rejection. That's not something I handle well, so I figured it was a message from God and am now the owner of A Novel Idea. :-)
After this it's the purposeless roaming. I think about books I've heard other people are reading. I recognize authors' names and check out their other books. I remember I've had professors encourage me to read more non-fiction, so I try to come home with at least one non-fiction book (usually this goal fails miserably). Really, though, I'm looking for a novel, and my B&N doesn't have a creative nonfiction section. I want something good to get lost in during these cold winter days as I fight cabin fever.
After that, I do exactly what every child is told never to do: I judge books by their covers. If I like the cover (or title or whatever) I pick up the book and read the back. If there's no synopsis on the back of the jacket I usually put it back down. If the synopsis sounds interesting, I fan the book open. Does it look like a book I could read? Laugh if you want but I almost stopped reading The Five Love Languages because the page number was really close to the edge of the page and I was afraid it was going to get cut off. I also scan for words; books littered with swears will not be enjoyed. For me, sex doesn't sell. No dark, no dirty.
My last stop before hitting the check-out counter is the investigate the teenage section. I didn't discover this section until I was a little too big. I always figured the teen section was for... well... teenagers. Not sheltered twelve or thirteen year old me. I read Harry Potter and Princess Diaries throughout most of my teenage years (this could explain why I'm not very well-read). Oh, well.
Few people enjoy going to bookstores with writers. Thanks for going there with me today (but not literally because I really just want to be there alone).
<>< Katie
Friday, August 14, 2009
Stereotypes
We've all assumed them. We've all faced them. We've all been annoyed by them. Yet stereotypes still exist in this world.
On Wednesday, several friends and I were having an intimate, intense discussion in the hallway of his dorm. A door opened and a new student walked into the hall. I'd never met this boy before, but I instantly knew he was a football player and I didn't like him. As he passed, my friend accidentally dropped a pen. The new student stopped, picked it up, and handed it back to my friend before continuing down the hall. We looked at each other in shock! Someone even mouthed, "Wow! He's actually nice!"
We'd all judged this new kid before we'd even met him. When he returned to his room, we introduced ourselves and he blew away more stereotypes. Yes, he is a football player. Yes, he was student government class president for three years in high school. Yes, he is a music major, choir director, and teacher. Yes, his dream is to go to medical school. Yes, he is a preacher's son. Yes, he was appalled by the number of swear words dropped nonchalantly on the football field. Yes, he was concerned about the cleanliness of his room. Yes, he cringed when someone used improper grammar. Yes, he is nice. We invited him to join our discussion, and he was instantly sucked into our dilemma.
Don't make the same mistake I did and write people off before you even know their names. Take the time to get to know them before you judge them.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
On Wednesday, several friends and I were having an intimate, intense discussion in the hallway of his dorm. A door opened and a new student walked into the hall. I'd never met this boy before, but I instantly knew he was a football player and I didn't like him. As he passed, my friend accidentally dropped a pen. The new student stopped, picked it up, and handed it back to my friend before continuing down the hall. We looked at each other in shock! Someone even mouthed, "Wow! He's actually nice!"
We'd all judged this new kid before we'd even met him. When he returned to his room, we introduced ourselves and he blew away more stereotypes. Yes, he is a football player. Yes, he was student government class president for three years in high school. Yes, he is a music major, choir director, and teacher. Yes, his dream is to go to medical school. Yes, he is a preacher's son. Yes, he was appalled by the number of swear words dropped nonchalantly on the football field. Yes, he was concerned about the cleanliness of his room. Yes, he cringed when someone used improper grammar. Yes, he is nice. We invited him to join our discussion, and he was instantly sucked into our dilemma.
Don't make the same mistake I did and write people off before you even know their names. Take the time to get to know them before you judge them.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
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