She sat on the futon with both of her legs curled underneath her. The purple polar fleece blanket draped over her held the textbook she wasn't reading. Just out of reach was her chocolate milk in a glass made of glass. On the table in front of her sat the computer with broken internet, Nalgene with one last shluck of iodized lake water, and her Writer's Notebook.
The music was playing louder than necessary but she wasn't listening until the familiar chords sounded once again. She'd already heard that song once that day well as several times in the last week. It seemed to be appearing everywhere as if it were haunting her. Perhaps there was something in it she desperately needed to hear.
"Never Alone" by BarlowGirl
I waited for You, today
But You didn't show.
No, no, no.
I needed You, today,
so where did You go?
You told me to call.
Said You'd be here.
And though I haven't seen You,
are You still there?
I cry out with no reply,
and I can't feel You by my side,
so I'll hold tight to what I know:
You're here,
and I'm never alone.
And though I cannot see You,
and I can't explain why.
Such a deep, deep reassurance
You've placed in my life.
Oh, oh.
We cannot separate.
You're part of me.
And though You're invisible
I'll trust the unseen.
I cry out with no reply,
and I can't feel You by my side, so
I'll hold tight to what I know:
You're here,
and I'm never alone.
We cannot separate.
You're part of me.
And though You're invisible
I'll trust the unseen.
As she listens, she remembers learning to sign the song. The corresponding facial expressions of desperation and confusion seemed to come so easily. Now they seem easier. What was once a loud proclamation of, "I'll hold tight to what I know: You're here, and I'm never alone" is now whispered gently. Yet it still holds true. Even when it is difficult to say, it holds true!
Her right hand flies through the air in a reverse candy cane. The left meets in an imaginary bouquet of flowers and pulsates for emphasis.
GOD TRUST +
"God I trust You," she says.
Showing posts with label milk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label milk. Show all posts
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Lunch with a Stranger
It was a little after 1, and I had somewhere to be at 1:30 and lunch to eat first when I flew into the caf. I got my food and had resolved myself to sit alone, something I actually enjoy doing periodically. I still don't know how I saw her since she was behind me, around the corner, and hidden by the crowd, but I did. She, too, was sitting alone. I walked up and slid my tray onto the table.
"Can I sit here?"
She had food in her mouth but nodded, and I told her I'd be right back. I dropped my bag, left my tray, and went to get my milk. I came back, sat down, prayed the Common Table Prayer, and asked her name. Marta. I recognized it from working check-in that morning. She was a transfer student; it was her first day on campus. I asked how it was going.
As she talked, slowly the tears welled in her eyes. They matched the ones I had been sporting earlier. Sometime between my golf-cart ride to McDonalds with Megan after check-in and this lunch, I discovered the job I had last year was no longer available to me. It was a complicated situation, and I was the victim of the system. I was confused. Upset. Frustrated. Livid. I cried. I called my dad. I cried again. I had a plan: talk to my boss, but I couldn't do that until I knew I was not going to melt in his office.
With a compassionate smile, I asked Marta how many times she had gotten lost that day. Lots. She'd lost her map. She laughed. I laughed. She cried. I cared. By the end of lunch, I had gotten her two new maps. Each had her apartment building circled, the building where her nursing classes would be circled, and a big huge "F" over the building where the food was. What more does a person need, right? I walked her to where she needed to go, and we said goodbye.
I visited my favorite coffee shop to email my hippy boss. My internet's still spotty. "We have a problem," the email said. "When are you going to be in your office?"
Almost instantly he responded, "I'm here now; come on over."
I did. When I walked in, he asked how I was. I said I was cranky. He didn't understand: worms were burrowing and he'd just gotten his iTouch to work after two years; how could I be cranky? Then I told him what happened to my job. He became distressed and no longer cared about the worms. He called his boss who called her boss who promised to work on the mess for me. The hippy told me it was just a matter of faith that the situation would work itself out. It was weird.
At dinner, I saw Marta again. I asked if the rest of her day had improved. She said it had. She even had a new friend! I was so excited for her I "woooh-who-ed" right there in the middle of the caf. I had intended to sit with them, but we got separated in the mob.
It's been four days since I've seen Marta. My job situation has been rectified. My boss's boss's boss, who has a big important title, made some phone calls, got me my job back, and earned himself a hand-written thank you card. I can only hope Marta has memorized her maps, made more than one friend, and is enjoying herself.
I think we both needed each other at that lunch. It was a simple exchange, a breach of the comfort zone, and a world gained. God's way to remind us that He is Jehovah-Jirah, the Lord provider.
<>< Katie
"Can I sit here?"
She had food in her mouth but nodded, and I told her I'd be right back. I dropped my bag, left my tray, and went to get my milk. I came back, sat down, prayed the Common Table Prayer, and asked her name. Marta. I recognized it from working check-in that morning. She was a transfer student; it was her first day on campus. I asked how it was going.
As she talked, slowly the tears welled in her eyes. They matched the ones I had been sporting earlier. Sometime between my golf-cart ride to McDonalds with Megan after check-in and this lunch, I discovered the job I had last year was no longer available to me. It was a complicated situation, and I was the victim of the system. I was confused. Upset. Frustrated. Livid. I cried. I called my dad. I cried again. I had a plan: talk to my boss, but I couldn't do that until I knew I was not going to melt in his office.
With a compassionate smile, I asked Marta how many times she had gotten lost that day. Lots. She'd lost her map. She laughed. I laughed. She cried. I cared. By the end of lunch, I had gotten her two new maps. Each had her apartment building circled, the building where her nursing classes would be circled, and a big huge "F" over the building where the food was. What more does a person need, right? I walked her to where she needed to go, and we said goodbye.
I visited my favorite coffee shop to email my hippy boss. My internet's still spotty. "We have a problem," the email said. "When are you going to be in your office?"
Almost instantly he responded, "I'm here now; come on over."
I did. When I walked in, he asked how I was. I said I was cranky. He didn't understand: worms were burrowing and he'd just gotten his iTouch to work after two years; how could I be cranky? Then I told him what happened to my job. He became distressed and no longer cared about the worms. He called his boss who called her boss who promised to work on the mess for me. The hippy told me it was just a matter of faith that the situation would work itself out. It was weird.
At dinner, I saw Marta again. I asked if the rest of her day had improved. She said it had. She even had a new friend! I was so excited for her I "woooh-who-ed" right there in the middle of the caf. I had intended to sit with them, but we got separated in the mob.
It's been four days since I've seen Marta. My job situation has been rectified. My boss's boss's boss, who has a big important title, made some phone calls, got me my job back, and earned himself a hand-written thank you card. I can only hope Marta has memorized her maps, made more than one friend, and is enjoying herself.
I think we both needed each other at that lunch. It was a simple exchange, a breach of the comfort zone, and a world gained. God's way to remind us that He is Jehovah-Jirah, the Lord provider.
<>< Katie
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Life Ain't All Rosy
If I count up the number of meals I've eaten in the last two weeks, it would not divide out to be three a day. If I added the number of hours of sleep I've gotten, it would not be anywhere near eight-hours a night. If I blogged every God moment I've had in the last two weeks, my blog would be updated infinitely more often than anyone would read it (that is assuming people actually read it as is). All of those missed meals and lack of sleep were worth being the hands and feet of Christ.
Except today I write with a heavy heart. Within four hours of returning home, I was hit with four different life-altering scenarios.
1. A professor, emailing me for a different reason, shared that one of her close friends is dying of cancer. Why the professor felt the need to share this, I may never know, but it took the smile from my tired face as my heart broke for her.
2. My mom has a self-diagnosed broken toe. That's not pretty. She's hobbling around with only one shoe on. Maybe not life-altering, but we drink our milk and have few broken bones, so it's a big deal.
3. One of my pastors and his wife were in a serious car accident. Both are in their seventies and were admitted to the hospital. It's my understanding that they have since been released with only lacerations and contusions; no broken bones or major injuries. Alleluia!
4. A close family friend had breast cancer surgery while we were gone. It has not metastasized but she has a long road ahead of her. The oldest of their four children just graduated high school this June.
We were still living in the old house when I noticed four names scribbled in the margin of a piece of paper on the table. It was my first experience with some people that would become important in my life over the next eleven years (and counting). We added a few more names to the group until we had a party of fifteen.
I think it's safe to say we've spent a lot of time together. From the water ski show to snow skiing. From pool parties and bonfires to trips to the lake. It was Christina who pushed Uncle Steve into our pool in his nice golf uniform. When Laura earned herself an ambulance ride, Christina and I were sent to their house at 6am. When I went to college, they all came over the night before to say goodbye.
The day we got home from the NYG, Mom said she was taking them dinner. Instantly I wondered who died. Great-grandma? Grandma? Not grandpa, he was just flipping around in a moon bounce a month ago. No one died. Sue had breast cancer surgery. What? She too was in the moon bounce a month ago.
On Friday, we went to a baseball game in the skybox, a perk of my dad's job and a trip that's been planned for months. I wondered what to say. Would cancer be the topic of conversation all night? Would we brush it under the rug like it hadn't happened?
I'm not so much into baseball, so I love when we have the box because it means I can curl up on the couch with a plate of mozzarella sticks and a good book. From my couch, I can observe. I saw seven of the nine kids (one was MIA; one was me) sitting in the front row laughing and teasing each other. I saw the three women in the middle row talking about anything and everything. I saw the three men--all wearing black shirts, khaki shorts, and no shoes--turn a baseball game into a betting game. I did not see the peanuts launched over shoulders in my general direction until they collided with my face. Thanks.
I saw the concern. The genuine, "Let us know if you need anything." I also saw the smiles. Together this group of friends would push through. For this next season of life we will laugh, cry, and pray together. We can acknowledge the elephant in the room without constantly staring at it.
Our team won the baseball game that night, but I cannot wait until the day when I say our family won the battle. Maybe we'll celebrate with some brownie soup.
Until then, will you join us in prayer?
Thank you,
<>< Katie
Except today I write with a heavy heart. Within four hours of returning home, I was hit with four different life-altering scenarios.
1. A professor, emailing me for a different reason, shared that one of her close friends is dying of cancer. Why the professor felt the need to share this, I may never know, but it took the smile from my tired face as my heart broke for her.
2. My mom has a self-diagnosed broken toe. That's not pretty. She's hobbling around with only one shoe on. Maybe not life-altering, but we drink our milk and have few broken bones, so it's a big deal.
3. One of my pastors and his wife were in a serious car accident. Both are in their seventies and were admitted to the hospital. It's my understanding that they have since been released with only lacerations and contusions; no broken bones or major injuries. Alleluia!
4. A close family friend had breast cancer surgery while we were gone. It has not metastasized but she has a long road ahead of her. The oldest of their four children just graduated high school this June.
We were still living in the old house when I noticed four names scribbled in the margin of a piece of paper on the table. It was my first experience with some people that would become important in my life over the next eleven years (and counting). We added a few more names to the group until we had a party of fifteen.
I think it's safe to say we've spent a lot of time together. From the water ski show to snow skiing. From pool parties and bonfires to trips to the lake. It was Christina who pushed Uncle Steve into our pool in his nice golf uniform. When Laura earned herself an ambulance ride, Christina and I were sent to their house at 6am. When I went to college, they all came over the night before to say goodbye.
The day we got home from the NYG, Mom said she was taking them dinner. Instantly I wondered who died. Great-grandma? Grandma? Not grandpa, he was just flipping around in a moon bounce a month ago. No one died. Sue had breast cancer surgery. What? She too was in the moon bounce a month ago.
On Friday, we went to a baseball game in the skybox, a perk of my dad's job and a trip that's been planned for months. I wondered what to say. Would cancer be the topic of conversation all night? Would we brush it under the rug like it hadn't happened?
I'm not so much into baseball, so I love when we have the box because it means I can curl up on the couch with a plate of mozzarella sticks and a good book. From my couch, I can observe. I saw seven of the nine kids (one was MIA; one was me) sitting in the front row laughing and teasing each other. I saw the three women in the middle row talking about anything and everything. I saw the three men--all wearing black shirts, khaki shorts, and no shoes--turn a baseball game into a betting game. I did not see the peanuts launched over shoulders in my general direction until they collided with my face. Thanks.
I saw the concern. The genuine, "Let us know if you need anything." I also saw the smiles. Together this group of friends would push through. For this next season of life we will laugh, cry, and pray together. We can acknowledge the elephant in the room without constantly staring at it.
Our team won the baseball game that night, but I cannot wait until the day when I say our family won the battle. Maybe we'll celebrate with some brownie soup.
Until then, will you join us in prayer?
Thank you,
<>< Katie
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
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