Sometimes it baffles me what people don't know about me. They don't know I have a whole last name. That I have two sisters. That I love to blow glass.
People don't know what you don't tell them. I graduated from a college where last names only matter for a select few (and "Ax" was satisfactory). The "my sister" stories are not always the same sister. Apparently I don't talk about glass blowing.
Have you told people you're a Christian?
I don't just mean telling them with your words, I mean telling and showing them with your actions. More than inviting them to church on Sunday. Bring a helpful hand, walking through life with them, and praying for (and with) them. Loving them even when it's hard. Letting them see a glimpse of Jesus by seeing you.
If you've been in my room, you've seen my hand-blown pen holder, the vase, and the paperweight. My love of glassblowing can be evidenced by my knickknacks. Can my love of Christ be evidenced by my thoughts, my words, and my actions?
Have I told people with my life that I am a follower of Christ?
Have you?
<>< Katie (Axelson)
Showing posts with label name. Show all posts
Showing posts with label name. Show all posts
Friday, June 3, 2011
Saturday, September 4, 2010
A Trip to the Police Station
I've never really cared for the administrative assistant at the police station. She's not as friendly as the officers. Maybe it was the smirk she gave me when I went in to report a missing hub cab a few years back. I don't know. I do know she did not earn herself any more points today.
I needed another key made for my roommate. They did not provide us with enough when we moved in, so we've had to get more made. 'Round these parts you do that at the police station. I walked in yesterday and was told the key-maker had left for the day. He would be back between 6 and noon today. I went back today a little before noon, and he was out on the grounds.
At first she began to take down my name (not even daring to repeat my last name to me but requesting I spell it), request, and a phone number. I did not get past the area code when she looked out the window and almost stood. She picked her Blackberry up off of the desk and radio-ed the officer.
Officer: Go ahead.
Secretary: Can you come in and help this little girl?
Woah. I glanced around to make sure she and I were the only ones in the room. Nope, no little girl had snuck in on my watch. I politely waited, but her words rang through my head.
"Help this little girl... help this little girl... help this little girl..."
Suddenly instead of a renter asking for a new key to be made, I felt like a child separated from her mother. That's where separated children are told to do, right? Seek help from police officers. I contemplated producing some tears just to accurately play the part.
Officer Larry came through the front door and stood in front of me, so close that if there had not been a wall and fake ficus behind me I would have stepped backwards to remove him from my large personal bubble. His eyes were the same level as mine, not bad for a little girl.
Officer Larry: What can I do for you?
I held up the key between our faces. I told him my request and gave my apartment number.
Officer: You already have a key.
Katie: My roommate needs one.
Officer: This for the front door?
Katie: Yes, sir.
When it doubt, throw in the "sir." It used to be so unnatural it sounded corny but after three years down South I have to remember to turn it off when I go home (and not say it to women...)
He took the key and walked away. I was not sure if I should follow or not, but I did since he was still talking to me.
Officer: I've already made a bucket full of keys for that front door.
Katie: You've made one, and we need one more.
I didn't blabber my spiel about the apartment housing six students and the school only providing four keys because I was interrupted by the Chief of Police.
Chief: You made a bucket full-a them? Now whatcha gonna do? Can your bucket hold one more?
Officer Larry: I guess so.
Katie: Thank you.
Officer Larry disappeared I stood in Chief's doorway waiting.
Chief: What are you up to today?
Katie: Causin' trouble.
Chief: Would you stop that?
Katie: What are you up to?
He looked down at his desk, knowing my eyes would follow and see his Subway sandwich and chips.
Katie: Eatin' lunch?
Chief: Yup.
Katie: All day?
Chief: Yup. You're like my wife. I'm sitting on the tractor and she says, "Are you going to cut the grass?" I want to say, "No, I'm just sitting here because I feel like it."
I contemplated telling him about how my dad and his neighbor-friends gather their matching orange tractors in the middle of the yard, rest their feet on the steering wheels, sit back, and enjoy a good beer and great company. But I remembered I'm in the South... and talking to a police chief. Crazy Northern Lutheran stories were probably unwelcome.
Instead, I should have asked to ride the segway. Chief might have actually said yes. Either that or he would have said, "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness." I'm not really sure.
I didn't get to find out because Officer Larry came back with two keys and sent this "little girl" on her way to find her own lunch to eat all day.
<>< Katie
I needed another key made for my roommate. They did not provide us with enough when we moved in, so we've had to get more made. 'Round these parts you do that at the police station. I walked in yesterday and was told the key-maker had left for the day. He would be back between 6 and noon today. I went back today a little before noon, and he was out on the grounds.
At first she began to take down my name (not even daring to repeat my last name to me but requesting I spell it), request, and a phone number. I did not get past the area code when she looked out the window and almost stood. She picked her Blackberry up off of the desk and radio-ed the officer.
Officer: Go ahead.
Secretary: Can you come in and help this little girl?
Woah. I glanced around to make sure she and I were the only ones in the room. Nope, no little girl had snuck in on my watch. I politely waited, but her words rang through my head.
"Help this little girl... help this little girl... help this little girl..."
Suddenly instead of a renter asking for a new key to be made, I felt like a child separated from her mother. That's where separated children are told to do, right? Seek help from police officers. I contemplated producing some tears just to accurately play the part.
Officer Larry came through the front door and stood in front of me, so close that if there had not been a wall and fake ficus behind me I would have stepped backwards to remove him from my large personal bubble. His eyes were the same level as mine, not bad for a little girl.
Officer Larry: What can I do for you?
I held up the key between our faces. I told him my request and gave my apartment number.
Officer: You already have a key.
Katie: My roommate needs one.
Officer: This for the front door?
Katie: Yes, sir.
When it doubt, throw in the "sir." It used to be so unnatural it sounded corny but after three years down South I have to remember to turn it off when I go home (and not say it to women...)
He took the key and walked away. I was not sure if I should follow or not, but I did since he was still talking to me.
Officer: I've already made a bucket full of keys for that front door.
Katie: You've made one, and we need one more.
I didn't blabber my spiel about the apartment housing six students and the school only providing four keys because I was interrupted by the Chief of Police.
Chief: You made a bucket full-a them? Now whatcha gonna do? Can your bucket hold one more?
Officer Larry: I guess so.
Katie: Thank you.
Officer Larry disappeared I stood in Chief's doorway waiting.
Chief: What are you up to today?
Katie: Causin' trouble.
Chief: Would you stop that?
Katie: What are you up to?
He looked down at his desk, knowing my eyes would follow and see his Subway sandwich and chips.
Katie: Eatin' lunch?
Chief: Yup.
Katie: All day?
Chief: Yup. You're like my wife. I'm sitting on the tractor and she says, "Are you going to cut the grass?" I want to say, "No, I'm just sitting here because I feel like it."
I contemplated telling him about how my dad and his neighbor-friends gather their matching orange tractors in the middle of the yard, rest their feet on the steering wheels, sit back, and enjoy a good beer and great company. But I remembered I'm in the South... and talking to a police chief. Crazy Northern Lutheran stories were probably unwelcome.
Instead, I should have asked to ride the segway. Chief might have actually said yes. Either that or he would have said, "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness." I'm not really sure.
I didn't get to find out because Officer Larry came back with two keys and sent this "little girl" on her way to find her own lunch to eat all day.
<>< Katie
Monday, July 26, 2010
ASL Pride
Part of my new optimism ploy for the last eleven months or so has been to catch people doing things right. If I'm going to do it for my "real life" friends, I feel the need to exhibit the same courtesy to my virtual friends. As an ASL minor, I cannot let this story slip by uncelebrated. Please take a moment and realize not everyone in the hearing and medical worlds are the evil deaf-haters that our professors make us out to be. There are exceptions. Please got take a few minutes and read it. Thank you, Jim. Well done. <>< Katie
National Youth Gathering Post One: a YAV at the NYG in NOLA
NYG Post Two: The Savior, The Seat Belt, The Superdome
For the last week, I've been in New Orleans at the LCMS National Youth Gathering. Basically, 25,000 teens from around the country (and world) gather to worship God. As a volunteer, it was my job be enthusiastic, loud and crazy, and cheerful. For a pessimistic introvert, that's not easy. On top of the fact that I knew a grand total of one person at the event. One. Everyone else was greeting friends they hadn't seen in months or years and I was sitting there going, "Yeah, I haven't seen you ever. My name is Katie; what's yours?" Not going to lie, I was jealous and homesick (for my college friends).
My first night in NOLA, they split us up into groups of about 20 to 30 people that we would get to know over the next few days. We shared our name, hometown, and one safety item we brought with us. The conversation had kind of moved on, but it wasn't anything deep or serious (yet). One girl got the attention of our group.
"Just so you all know, I'm completely deaf. If you could please face towards me when you're talking, it'll help me read your lips." Her voice was excellent. I never would have known she could not hear had she not said something.
A little adrenaline rush started inside of me. I wanted to know if she signed. Ten minutes later, we were in a circle more conducive to conversation, and I threw out a simple, "Do you sign?" with Casey's favorite Question Finger. I got a yes. PAH! My little adrenaline rush turned into a bigger adrenaline rush, and I'm amazed I didn't tangle myself into a literal knot. It had been two months since I'd done any serious signing, so I was a little rusty. But it didn't matter.
She was drinking out of her water bottle with her left hand as she watched me. Her eyes lit up. She didn't say, "Cool" or "Neat" or anything. No, she said "Wonderful." I babbled some more and then she took a turn talking about how so many people in the world are clueless about Deaf culture. With the rest of our group staring rather rudely, she and I talked for a few minutes. I learned she, too, knew no one at the NYG.
We weren't glued to the hip, but I made a point to know where she was at most times. I began to imagine what it had been like for her to be trying to lip read everything. A lot of times, she'd just give up and read her book instead of listening (or watching). Once or twice she asked me what someone had said and I signed it back to her.
I don't know how she felt about encountering someone else who signed, but to me it was a sign from God that my week was going to be ok. He was there with me. There I was feeling sorry for myself about not knowing anyong and God sent me someone in a smiliar predicament.
Her honesty in admitting her deafness broke the ice for my group. By the end of the 45-minute Get to Know You time, most of us were in tears. Every person sitting in that circle had a story that would break your heart. Financial challenges that meant it was only by the grace of God that he was able to attend the Gathering. A girl that was signed up to attend the 2007 Gathering but found herself in the hospital instead. A boy who was trying to quit smoking asked us to throw away his cigarettes to remove the tempation that week. A friend of a 2007 participant who has since gone Home to Heaven.
Wow.
When the adult coordinator came by to give us a five-minute warning, our group was locked together in a hug. In less than three hours we transformed from strangers trying to learn names ("When in doubt, guess Katie") to the family of Christ crying together. I love it!
National Youth Gathering Post One: a YAV at the NYG in NOLA
NYG Post Two: The Savior, The Seat Belt, The Superdome
For the last week, I've been in New Orleans at the LCMS National Youth Gathering. Basically, 25,000 teens from around the country (and world) gather to worship God. As a volunteer, it was my job be enthusiastic, loud and crazy, and cheerful. For a pessimistic introvert, that's not easy. On top of the fact that I knew a grand total of one person at the event. One. Everyone else was greeting friends they hadn't seen in months or years and I was sitting there going, "Yeah, I haven't seen you ever. My name is Katie; what's yours?" Not going to lie, I was jealous and homesick (for my college friends).
My first night in NOLA, they split us up into groups of about 20 to 30 people that we would get to know over the next few days. We shared our name, hometown, and one safety item we brought with us. The conversation had kind of moved on, but it wasn't anything deep or serious (yet). One girl got the attention of our group.
"Just so you all know, I'm completely deaf. If you could please face towards me when you're talking, it'll help me read your lips." Her voice was excellent. I never would have known she could not hear had she not said something.
A little adrenaline rush started inside of me. I wanted to know if she signed. Ten minutes later, we were in a circle more conducive to conversation, and I threw out a simple, "Do you sign?" with Casey's favorite Question Finger. I got a yes. PAH! My little adrenaline rush turned into a bigger adrenaline rush, and I'm amazed I didn't tangle myself into a literal knot. It had been two months since I'd done any serious signing, so I was a little rusty. But it didn't matter.
She was drinking out of her water bottle with her left hand as she watched me. Her eyes lit up. She didn't say, "Cool" or "Neat" or anything. No, she said "Wonderful." I babbled some more and then she took a turn talking about how so many people in the world are clueless about Deaf culture. With the rest of our group staring rather rudely, she and I talked for a few minutes. I learned she, too, knew no one at the NYG.
We weren't glued to the hip, but I made a point to know where she was at most times. I began to imagine what it had been like for her to be trying to lip read everything. A lot of times, she'd just give up and read her book instead of listening (or watching). Once or twice she asked me what someone had said and I signed it back to her.
I don't know how she felt about encountering someone else who signed, but to me it was a sign from God that my week was going to be ok. He was there with me. There I was feeling sorry for myself about not knowing anyong and God sent me someone in a smiliar predicament.
Her honesty in admitting her deafness broke the ice for my group. By the end of the 45-minute Get to Know You time, most of us were in tears. Every person sitting in that circle had a story that would break your heart. Financial challenges that meant it was only by the grace of God that he was able to attend the Gathering. A girl that was signed up to attend the 2007 Gathering but found herself in the hospital instead. A boy who was trying to quit smoking asked us to throw away his cigarettes to remove the tempation that week. A friend of a 2007 participant who has since gone Home to Heaven.
Wow.
When the adult coordinator came by to give us a five-minute warning, our group was locked together in a hug. In less than three hours we transformed from strangers trying to learn names ("When in doubt, guess Katie") to the family of Christ crying together. I love it!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Blessed Be Your Name
I spent all weekend helping lead a youth retreat weekend. On Saturday afternoon we did a service project and gardened for a few elderly church members. Upon returning to the church, we each took some quiet time to reflect and pray. As that kind of wrapped up, people seemed to be gathering in the grass on the hill and it became a spontaneous worship song session. One of the songs we sang was "Blessed Be Your Name." As we went through the familiar verses and chorus, I pondered how many times I'd sung that song. On campus, in church, in my car, in Spanish in Guatemala, in ASL, with 35,000 teens, by myself, with a small group around a campfire... the list goes on and on. Every summer for almost the last ten years my family has gone to an outdoor Christian music festival. In the last few years, it seems every artist sings "Blessed Be Your Name." I've sung with the hot July sun beating down on me. I've sung it as refreshing night rain pelts my face. I've sung it a lot. You'd think I'd know the verses in the right order...
On May 21, 2008, singer/songwriter Steven Curtis Chapman's youngest daughter died tragically at age 5 after being accidently hit by a car in the family's driveway. On July 11 of the same year SCC returned to the stage for the first time since the accident and earned a standing ovation prior to playing a note. He softly explained after such a tragedy there was one song that kept running through his head and he began to sing "Blessed Be Your Name." I highly doubt there was a dry eye in the entire audience. With heavy hearts and sore feet we extended our arms to the heavens and worshipped our precious Holy Father while He painted us a beautiful sunset in the Midwestern sky. The lyrics took on a whole new meaning as we proclaimed, "Blessed be Your name when the sun's shining down on me. When the world's all as it should be, blessed be Your name, on the road marked with suffering, though there's pain in the offering, blessed be Your name." If a hurting father could say it, so can we. If the responsible brother could say it, so can we. If the sunburned, mud-laden audience can say it, so can we. Right?
It doesn't mean your pain is gone. It doesn't mean you need to be happy-go-lucky. It means God is still God. It means you'll praise Him in the hard times in addition to the easy times. In the United States, in foreign countries. In the sun and in the rain. From the top of the mountain and the bottom of the valley. As yourself honestly, no matter what you're going through today, are you willing to say, "Blessed be Your name"?
Blessed be,
<>< Katie
Friday, March 19, 2010
Words are my Friends
We interrupt this program to bring you some important information...
First off, I got sick of the dots. What do you think of the new page? I'm still not completely happy with it.
Secondly, I can't find spell check on this new blogger. Five points if you can tell me where it is.
Thirdly, I had already written this blog when I heard this quote. It needs to be shared.
And now back to your feature presentation...
I don't think I'm alone in this, but to me words have connections. Typically it's the first time I heard/understood them but it's also when a word is very well used that it forms an association in my brain. Some of them were teacher-enforced (Prussia: big army), but most of them aren't.
Here are some examples:
Some words have connections, and some people have favorite words. We all know Melissa loves "plethora" and "fruition," but what about everyone else? Personally, I'm always looking for a great excuse to use the word "brouhaha." Mark (the mortician) loves the word "ointment." Most of my school friends like to hear me say words like "Chicago" and "pansy" because they emphasize my accent. Five points to anyone (who isn't Natalie) that can correctly use the word "perspicacity" without looking it up. Do you have a favorite word?
The psalmist did. In Psalm 75 he(?) admits God's name is his favorite word.
"We thank You, God, we thank You. Your name is our favorite word, Your mighty works are all we talk about." (Ps. 75:1 MSG)
Does this verse ring true in your life? Is God's Name your favorite word? Is it even a part of your active vocabulary? What is your favorite name for Him?
In my Bible (yes, the Message today, sorry) it doesn't say which name for God is used here. My guess would be "Elohim." Personally, that's not my favorite name for God. I'm a bit partial to "Abba" or the Aramaic for "Daddy."
Just like in different situations we need different words because of their associations and connotations, at different points in our life we need names for God. What name do you need today?
<>< Katie
First off, I got sick of the dots. What do you think of the new page? I'm still not completely happy with it.
Secondly, I can't find spell check on this new blogger. Five points if you can tell me where it is.
Thirdly, I had already written this blog when I heard this quote. It needs to be shared.
"It doesn't matter what you've heard, impossible is not a word. It's just a reason for someone not to try." - Kutless in their song "What Faith Can Do"
And now back to your feature presentation...
I don't think I'm alone in this, but to me words have connections. Typically it's the first time I heard/understood them but it's also when a word is very well used that it forms an association in my brain. Some of them were teacher-enforced (Prussia: big army), but most of them aren't.
Here are some examples:
- "Gregarious" will forever be associated with my dad's friend Greg who kept talking, preventing Dad from helping me study for my 9th grade vocabulary test.
- "Gumption" will always remind me of a homeless man requesting a fish sandwich.
- "Vulnerable" always takes me back to 8th grade history when we were forced to memorize "Vulnerable: exposed or unprotected."
- "Verbose" is my former headmaster.
- "Vex" is what my flying monkey does to Bob.
Some words have connections, and some people have favorite words. We all know Melissa loves "plethora" and "fruition," but what about everyone else? Personally, I'm always looking for a great excuse to use the word "brouhaha." Mark (the mortician) loves the word "ointment." Most of my school friends like to hear me say words like "Chicago" and "pansy" because they emphasize my accent. Five points to anyone (who isn't Natalie) that can correctly use the word "perspicacity" without looking it up. Do you have a favorite word?
The psalmist did. In Psalm 75 he(?) admits God's name is his favorite word.
"We thank You, God, we thank You. Your name is our favorite word, Your mighty works are all we talk about." (Ps. 75:1 MSG)
Does this verse ring true in your life? Is God's Name your favorite word? Is it even a part of your active vocabulary? What is your favorite name for Him?
In my Bible (yes, the Message today, sorry) it doesn't say which name for God is used here. My guess would be "Elohim." Personally, that's not my favorite name for God. I'm a bit partial to "Abba" or the Aramaic for "Daddy."
Just like in different situations we need different words because of their associations and connotations, at different points in our life we need names for God. What name do you need today?
<>< Katie
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Door Decks
Last night at 11:30pm when I sat down to blog, no words were here, and I wanted to be in bed in the next half-hour. I'd had a plethora of ideas throughout the day, but they had all vanished. Instead of blogging, I spent the last half hour of my day talking to my sweet suitemates. Sorry, few faithful readers.
Yesterday was Tony's birthday, and I felt it necessary to give him a birthday blog. The problem is that I don't really have a lot of stories about Tony (except the time he got bit by a squirrel but I've already written about that). This morning we were both in the computer lab at the same time and he laughed as he asked me how many blogs I have. Only two: a personal blog and a work/school blog.
This semester, Tony is my RA. This means he's responsible for making our door-decks (aka name tags for the door). Several of the girls in my apartment don't go by their proper names. Well, our door-decks all say our proper names. Tony knows us and should have known to change the names. So we were giving him a hard time about it.
"Ok, listen," he said. "Keith was there when I was making the door-decks, and when I said, 'Which name should I use?' He got this devious look on his face and kind of laughed--"
"Are we ready to go to dinner?" Keith asked bursting in to our apartment in the middle of Tony's story. All of our eyes darted from Tony to Keith. Drama Queen Keith figured out what story was being told, grunted, and stormed out of the apartment.
"KEITH!" We screamed, running after him to take our anger out on him instead of Tony. Love you, Keith.
Happy birthday, Tony! We now know the truth: you are mostly innocent in the instance of the mislabeled door-decks.
<>< Katie
Yesterday was Tony's birthday, and I felt it necessary to give him a birthday blog. The problem is that I don't really have a lot of stories about Tony (except the time he got bit by a squirrel but I've already written about that). This morning we were both in the computer lab at the same time and he laughed as he asked me how many blogs I have. Only two: a personal blog and a work/school blog.
This semester, Tony is my RA. This means he's responsible for making our door-decks (aka name tags for the door). Several of the girls in my apartment don't go by their proper names. Well, our door-decks all say our proper names. Tony knows us and should have known to change the names. So we were giving him a hard time about it.
"Ok, listen," he said. "Keith was there when I was making the door-decks, and when I said, 'Which name should I use?' He got this devious look on his face and kind of laughed--"
"Are we ready to go to dinner?" Keith asked bursting in to our apartment in the middle of Tony's story. All of our eyes darted from Tony to Keith. Drama Queen Keith figured out what story was being told, grunted, and stormed out of the apartment.
"KEITH!" We screamed, running after him to take our anger out on him instead of Tony. Love you, Keith.
Happy birthday, Tony! We now know the truth: you are mostly innocent in the instance of the mislabeled door-decks.
<>< Katie
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Grr!
I couple of days ago I found this really cool website with writing prompts. Call me a nerd, I know... I haven't entirely decided what to do with it yet so I haven't closed it. Every time when I log online, it opens up and gives me a new prompt.
Today's:
"People that irritate me..."
I prefer:
People irritate me.
I realized today that it's not the shopping that I hate, it's the people I run into while I'm shopping. The parents who walk off as their screaming young child struggles to step onto the elevator. The woman who demands a refund because the price she paid was ridiculous. I really don't mean to sound racist, but I feel like nobody speaks English anymore, either.
Then there's my name. Katie. You have no idea how popular it is until it's your name. Everywhere I go I get yelled at because some little kid--who just happens to share my name--is disobeying her parents. I can't go out in public without getting yelled at! It drives me nuts.
OK, so I'm not allowed to blog about shopping anymore because they are never possitive blogs... This was today's rant. I promise, I'll try and make more deep connections, less ranting. I have a sixteen hour drive coming up, that should be plenty of time for God to say something inspiring. :-)
<>< Katie
"Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” Philippians 4:8(RSV)
Today's:
"People that irritate me..."
I prefer:
People irritate me.
I realized today that it's not the shopping that I hate, it's the people I run into while I'm shopping. The parents who walk off as their screaming young child struggles to step onto the elevator. The woman who demands a refund because the price she paid was ridiculous. I really don't mean to sound racist, but I feel like nobody speaks English anymore, either.
Then there's my name. Katie. You have no idea how popular it is until it's your name. Everywhere I go I get yelled at because some little kid--who just happens to share my name--is disobeying her parents. I can't go out in public without getting yelled at! It drives me nuts.
OK, so I'm not allowed to blog about shopping anymore because they are never possitive blogs... This was today's rant. I promise, I'll try and make more deep connections, less ranting. I have a sixteen hour drive coming up, that should be plenty of time for God to say something inspiring. :-)
<>< Katie
"Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” Philippians 4:8(RSV)
Thursday, July 31, 2008
So many memories, so many miles
Four blogs in three days. I must be sick. Actually, I am. :-)
My best friend Mary came over last night. I got home from work and had a splitting headache (remember, the sick part?) and wasn't thrilled about having to play hostess. I kind of vegged around the house and did nothing until about 8:30pm when my phone rang. Without looking at it or talking to her all day, I knew it was Mary, and I knew it was because of the construction. I answered the phone,
"The bridge is out. Sorry, I forgot to tell you."
When she got here, my headache kind of disappeared, and we played games all night long. Cribbage, Life, Scattergories, Stratego, Rack-O, etc. All classic Mary and Katie games. Surprisingly, this time we actually played by the rules and didn't make up our own rules. We've played Cribbage where if you don't want to throw into the crib you don't have to. If you don't like the letter rolled in Scattergories, you can roll again (ok, we did do that a few times, but, come on, how many pizza toppings, diseases, and Biblical women start with "K"?) Although, we still did some of our quirky traditions like naming our kids in Life as they came along...
I've known Mary since I was two. It's fun to hang out with someone like that who knows you soooooo well. We've teased that we aren't allowed to speak at each others' weddings because too many embarrassing stories will come out. Like the flair on facebook says, "We'd better stay friends forever because if we become enemies, we'll have too much blackmail." Even though Mary and I no longer have any common friends, experiences, or hobbies, we can still hold a multi-hour conversation. It's not one-sided. It's not "Oh, you weren't there for that." It's not "Do you know this person?". It's not awkward when the conversation finishes. A few minutes of silence is fine before the next conversation starts itself.
That's how things should be with Jesus. He shouldn't be awkward to talk to. He's always been there. He knows all of the same people. It should be an easy conversation. When the conversation ends, the silence of just being together should be nice before the next conversation begins.
When Mary got hungry while she was here, she didn't ask if I had any food. She'd help herself to the pantry and find food I didn't even know we had. If she wanted something to drink, she found a glass and filled it with ice. Let Jesus raid your pantry. Allow Him to fill your cup! "Have a Mary heart in a Martha world". Sorry, that was bad. See Luke 10. (Did that link really work? That'd make me uber happy if it did!)
After spending twenty-four hours with Mary, I would have expected myself to be sleep deprived. Shocking we were in bed, lights out, talking put on hold by 1 am. It's appalling because we normally try to stay up all night! Even though I got enough sleep, I have no voice. Too much talking (again, remember the sick part?). People here need to learn ASL because I hate not being able to communicate effectively. :-)
<>< Katie
"[Martha] had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. " Luke 10:39
My best friend Mary came over last night. I got home from work and had a splitting headache (remember, the sick part?) and wasn't thrilled about having to play hostess. I kind of vegged around the house and did nothing until about 8:30pm when my phone rang. Without looking at it or talking to her all day, I knew it was Mary, and I knew it was because of the construction. I answered the phone,
"The bridge is out. Sorry, I forgot to tell you."
When she got here, my headache kind of disappeared, and we played games all night long. Cribbage, Life, Scattergories, Stratego, Rack-O, etc. All classic Mary and Katie games. Surprisingly, this time we actually played by the rules and didn't make up our own rules. We've played Cribbage where if you don't want to throw into the crib you don't have to. If you don't like the letter rolled in Scattergories, you can roll again (ok, we did do that a few times, but, come on, how many pizza toppings, diseases, and Biblical women start with "K"?) Although, we still did some of our quirky traditions like naming our kids in Life as they came along...
I've known Mary since I was two. It's fun to hang out with someone like that who knows you soooooo well. We've teased that we aren't allowed to speak at each others' weddings because too many embarrassing stories will come out. Like the flair on facebook says, "We'd better stay friends forever because if we become enemies, we'll have too much blackmail." Even though Mary and I no longer have any common friends, experiences, or hobbies, we can still hold a multi-hour conversation. It's not one-sided. It's not "Oh, you weren't there for that." It's not "Do you know this person?". It's not awkward when the conversation finishes. A few minutes of silence is fine before the next conversation starts itself.
That's how things should be with Jesus. He shouldn't be awkward to talk to. He's always been there. He knows all of the same people. It should be an easy conversation. When the conversation ends, the silence of just being together should be nice before the next conversation begins.
When Mary got hungry while she was here, she didn't ask if I had any food. She'd help herself to the pantry and find food I didn't even know we had. If she wanted something to drink, she found a glass and filled it with ice. Let Jesus raid your pantry. Allow Him to fill your cup! "Have a Mary heart in a Martha world". Sorry, that was bad. See Luke 10. (Did that link really work? That'd make me uber happy if it did!)
After spending twenty-four hours with Mary, I would have expected myself to be sleep deprived. Shocking we were in bed, lights out, talking put on hold by 1 am. It's appalling because we normally try to stay up all night! Even though I got enough sleep, I have no voice. Too much talking (again, remember the sick part?). People here need to learn ASL because I hate not being able to communicate effectively. :-)
<>< Katie
"[Martha] had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. " Luke 10:39
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