Disclaimer One: Sometimes these God moments are great when God and I are talking about them... but they don't seem as great when I write them down.
Disclaimer Two: The title of this post may only be read aloud in a British accent, particularly one that belongs to Rupert Grint, aka Ron Weasley.
The other day I got brown Sharpie on my finger where the fingernail meets finger. I apparently haven't washed my hands enough (no peanut gallery comments, please) because it hasn't come off yet. Every time it catches my eye, I think I'm bleeding. Naturally, I stop what I'm doing to further investigate. It's not normal to be bleeding.
A few years ago, my aunt and I were putting something into a Ziploc bag (shells? rocks? wild flowers? I don't know) when I noticed some blood on the bag.
"Are you bleeding?" I asked.
"No, you are," she told me.
I'd say most people are pretty quick to tell each other when they're bleeding. If you have something stuck in your teeth or a booger hanging from your nose, they're not as quick to let you know but your real friends will still do it. What about if you're messed up spiritually?
I'll be honest: you're bleeding, I'll tell you. You've got food in your teeth, no big deal. Your zipper's down, chances are I'll let you know. If you're messing up spiritually, I'm not so quick to jump in.
First of all, I'm far from perfect: who am I to correct someone else? I've got more than my share of battles of my own, thank you. Frankly, I think that's an excellent excuse. Until something inside of me remembers I am quick to exhibit physical common courtesy but a little more slow to offer spiritual common courtesy.
But where do you draw the line between spiritual common courtesy and bashing someone upside the head with a Bible? (Side note: my mom physically did that to my sister once... it was an accident). Does it matter? An open zipper, a stray piece of food, and a little bit of blood is hardly life and death. Spiritually, it's eternal life or not. The stakes are bigger and the risk less willing to be taken. Why is that? The only answer I have is fear.
Most people consider faith to be a matter of opinion. Hey, guys, Jesus didn't say, "Follow whomever you like." He said, "Follow Me."
Does that mean I'm going to stand on a street corner with a megaphone? No. Does it mean I'm going to reconsider before I let another witnessing opportunity pass? Does it mean I'm going to try to be more obedient to that nudge from the Holy Spirit? Does that mean when people ask what I'm doing next year instead of saying, "I don't know" I'm going to say, "I'll be wherever the Lord leads"? You betcha.
Will you join me in doing the same? Consider this my telling you that there is a piece of broccoli hanging from your spiritual braces.
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label nose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nose. Show all posts
Monday, June 28, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
An Afternoon at Starbucks
A few weeks ago I confided in you all that I have this secret goal to one day become a coffee shop-dwelling writer. I talked about how my first shot at that goal didn't go so well since I chose a small, local coffee shop where professors hold office hours and my friends dwell. I didn't give up, and on Wednesday I took a second stab at that goal.
"Hey, do you guys know of any good coffee shops in the area?" I asked after an enlightening, entertaining lunch discussing world politics and the best way to remove snot from one's nose (yes, really).
"Come over to church and use our coffee shop; that's why we have it," Bob suggested. Then he laughed, "No, you wouldn't get any work done; you'd just talk." I pretended to be mad at him, but we both knew it was the truth.
"Barnes and Noble has a coffee shop. As does Borders," Jessica provided. No good. I'd spend more than the $3 I had in my wallet.
"Or there's a Starbucks across the street," Emily offered.
I was looking for a small, local coffee shop, but Starbucks would have to do. I ventured across the street, walked into Starbucks with my purple purse, purple computer bag, and purple tumbler, and took a seat at the first table I saw with an outlet. There I sat. My water warm (it sat in the car during lunch). My coffee cold (I only bought it so I didn't feel like I was loitering). My battery dead (it was fine Monday, but by Tuesday it wouldn't hold a charge). My pen sticky, my notebook out, and my inspiration missing. I had been afraid of that. I wasn't too worried. I had plenty of stories to write. Since the novel's hit a stand-still I've explored short stories. As I've sure you've all noticed, I don't do "short" but, boy, do I love "stories." If none of those would suffice, I had plenty of old material to play with. I've never written "Major Parking Lot Incident" or I could tell the stories behind some of the weird items I'm finding as I clean my bedroom. That wasn't necessary. I did several hours of "picking" and POV focusing before finally calling it a day.
One thing I started in March was what I think I'm going to call the "inspiration box" (Unless someone else has a more clever title). Anytime I read a good prompt, quote, exercise, or idea it goes in a gold box I saved from this past Christmas. Most of these come from a writer's blog but some come from class and others from others. I'd love to hear, how do you find inspiration? What do you write when words don't come? Also, can you work in a coffee shop or do you spend too much time people watching? I've had that problem, too.
Oh, and how about a quick quote from Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.
"And as I worked on the novel, as my character did what he wanted and ruined my story, it reminded me of life in certain ways. I mean, as I sat there in my office feeling like God making my worlds, and as my characters fought to have their way, their senseless, selfish ways of nonstory, I could identify with them... I was also that character, fighting God and I could see God sitting at His computer, staring blankly at His screen as I asked Him to write in some money and some sex and some comfort." (Pg 85-86)
<>< Katie
"Hey, do you guys know of any good coffee shops in the area?" I asked after an enlightening, entertaining lunch discussing world politics and the best way to remove snot from one's nose (yes, really).
"Come over to church and use our coffee shop; that's why we have it," Bob suggested. Then he laughed, "No, you wouldn't get any work done; you'd just talk." I pretended to be mad at him, but we both knew it was the truth.
"Barnes and Noble has a coffee shop. As does Borders," Jessica provided. No good. I'd spend more than the $3 I had in my wallet.
"Or there's a Starbucks across the street," Emily offered.
I was looking for a small, local coffee shop, but Starbucks would have to do. I ventured across the street, walked into Starbucks with my purple purse, purple computer bag, and purple tumbler, and took a seat at the first table I saw with an outlet. There I sat. My water warm (it sat in the car during lunch). My coffee cold (I only bought it so I didn't feel like I was loitering). My battery dead (it was fine Monday, but by Tuesday it wouldn't hold a charge). My pen sticky, my notebook out, and my inspiration missing. I had been afraid of that. I wasn't too worried. I had plenty of stories to write. Since the novel's hit a stand-still I've explored short stories. As I've sure you've all noticed, I don't do "short" but, boy, do I love "stories." If none of those would suffice, I had plenty of old material to play with. I've never written "Major Parking Lot Incident" or I could tell the stories behind some of the weird items I'm finding as I clean my bedroom. That wasn't necessary. I did several hours of "picking" and POV focusing before finally calling it a day.
One thing I started in March was what I think I'm going to call the "inspiration box" (Unless someone else has a more clever title). Anytime I read a good prompt, quote, exercise, or idea it goes in a gold box I saved from this past Christmas. Most of these come from a writer's blog but some come from class and others from others. I'd love to hear, how do you find inspiration? What do you write when words don't come? Also, can you work in a coffee shop or do you spend too much time people watching? I've had that problem, too.
Oh, and how about a quick quote from Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.
"And as I worked on the novel, as my character did what he wanted and ruined my story, it reminded me of life in certain ways. I mean, as I sat there in my office feeling like God making my worlds, and as my characters fought to have their way, their senseless, selfish ways of nonstory, I could identify with them... I was also that character, fighting God and I could see God sitting at His computer, staring blankly at His screen as I asked Him to write in some money and some sex and some comfort." (Pg 85-86)
<>< Katie
Thursday, April 29, 2010
My life is awesome
Author's Note: All of the following is a collection of achronological stories that have all happened in the last two days. Minor creative liberties may have been taken but these stories are as true as I can put them to where a reader can understand without having actually been here. Please don't pity me. I am cranky, but I am not being sarcastic; my life is awesome. Enjoy. <>< K
My life is awesome
Katie: Guys, I just had another bloody nose.
Andy: I'm trained handle that.
Elizabeth: How many times do we have to tell you, Katie: stop getting punched in the face!
Katie: It was Allyson!
(side note: this is a whole lot funnier if you know Allyson because she'd never hurt a fly)
Allyson (butter knife in hand): Do you want me to cut off your nose? That would help!
Katie: Actually, I think that'd make it bleed a bit more.
Andy: Well, look at it this way: it would hurt and bleed a lot right away but then you'd never have to worry about it again!
Elizabeth: Yeah, 'cuz you'd be dead.
(insert big argument about whether or not it's possible to live after getting your nose chopped off with a butter knife)
My life is awesome
Nikki: Gah! Why don't I ever date my notes?
Katie: Because they're not male.
Nikki: I never send my notes in the mail.
My life is awesome
Katie: Is that your mom or Andy on the phone?
Elizabeth: Huh?
Katie: Is that your mom or Andy on the phone?
Elizabeth: I still can't understand Katie's man-voice.
Nikki: You mean Kenny's man-voice?
Elizabeth: Talk to me again when you sound normal.
Katie (in the most pitiful stuffy-nose voice I could make): Just because I don't have a sense of smell doesn't mean I don't have feelings!
My life is awesome
If you've never been in an ASL class it's hard to imagine twenty people sitting around in complete silence when no one has died. Please try to picture it for me. Oh, and we were watching a silent movie, so... well... we know what happens when videos are shown in class... Anyway, I was in desperate need of some Tylenol. This cold might kill me, my headache was not helping, and after watching 50 minutes of ASL storytelling on a small tv screen you'd be groping for Tylenol, too. I was trying to decide if it would have been socially acceptable to take it in the middle of class. Most classes I wouldn't have cared, but this one is completely silent, so all of my classmates will hear me unzip my personal pharmacy; the bottle rattle; plus, I dropped my Nalgene splash guard on the floor yesterday and haven't had time to wash it, so I'm going to make a noisy mess as I nearly drown myself trying to swallow the pesky pill; eventually I'll give up and the "crunch" will reverberate through the classroom as if we were in a tunnel. This was my very long internal debate. I finally decided I didn't care: I needed some Tylenol. So I uncrossed my legs and began to dig into my backpack, but before I got there I accidently kicked one of the desks in front of me. "That desk is going to fall and there is nothing I can do about it." It fell in slow motion and the clang rang through the previously silent classroom.
My. Life. Is. Awesome.
My life is awesome
Katie: Guys, I just had another bloody nose.
Andy: I'm trained handle that.
Elizabeth: How many times do we have to tell you, Katie: stop getting punched in the face!
Katie: It was Allyson!
(side note: this is a whole lot funnier if you know Allyson because she'd never hurt a fly)
Allyson (butter knife in hand): Do you want me to cut off your nose? That would help!
Katie: Actually, I think that'd make it bleed a bit more.
Andy: Well, look at it this way: it would hurt and bleed a lot right away but then you'd never have to worry about it again!
Elizabeth: Yeah, 'cuz you'd be dead.
(insert big argument about whether or not it's possible to live after getting your nose chopped off with a butter knife)
My life is awesome
Nikki: Gah! Why don't I ever date my notes?
Katie: Because they're not male.
Nikki: I never send my notes in the mail.
My life is awesome
Katie: Is that your mom or Andy on the phone?
Elizabeth: Huh?
Katie: Is that your mom or Andy on the phone?
Elizabeth: I still can't understand Katie's man-voice.
Nikki: You mean Kenny's man-voice?
Elizabeth: Talk to me again when you sound normal.
Katie (in the most pitiful stuffy-nose voice I could make): Just because I don't have a sense of smell doesn't mean I don't have feelings!
My life is awesome
If you've never been in an ASL class it's hard to imagine twenty people sitting around in complete silence when no one has died. Please try to picture it for me. Oh, and we were watching a silent movie, so... well... we know what happens when videos are shown in class... Anyway, I was in desperate need of some Tylenol. This cold might kill me, my headache was not helping, and after watching 50 minutes of ASL storytelling on a small tv screen you'd be groping for Tylenol, too. I was trying to decide if it would have been socially acceptable to take it in the middle of class. Most classes I wouldn't have cared, but this one is completely silent, so all of my classmates will hear me unzip my personal pharmacy; the bottle rattle; plus, I dropped my Nalgene splash guard on the floor yesterday and haven't had time to wash it, so I'm going to make a noisy mess as I nearly drown myself trying to swallow the pesky pill; eventually I'll give up and the "crunch" will reverberate through the classroom as if we were in a tunnel. This was my very long internal debate. I finally decided I didn't care: I needed some Tylenol. So I uncrossed my legs and began to dig into my backpack, but before I got there I accidently kicked one of the desks in front of me. "That desk is going to fall and there is nothing I can do about it." It fell in slow motion and the clang rang through the previously silent classroom.
My. Life. Is. Awesome.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Last Pass
A few years ago, a group of us from school went on a mission trip. To burn off some energy after a loooooong car ride (and another long one coming the next day), we played frisbee in the parking lot the first night. Originally it was going to be a large group of us, but wound up being me and like four or five guys. How'd that happen? Ok, I'm not great at sports, and luckily these weren't the jocks, but I was still kind of intimidated. These men have better hand-eye coordination that I do, we'll just leave it at that. (Just nod approvingly, JPR).
We threw the frisbee around for quite awhile before the chaperone called the last throw. Where does the frisbee happen to go on its last throw of the night? Go figure it's flying at me. I was shocked and amazed when it actually landed in my hands instead of bouncing off my nose. I caught the last pass of the night!
Those memories flooded back to me today when our frisbee game was almost over. The game resumed after an injury time out, and my team was about two steps from the end zone (Like that sports lingo, Melissa?). There were three or four of my teammates in the end zone, but I was the closest to the person with the frisbee. Go figure I just far enough away where I could drop it. The frisbee left his hands, glided across the air, and landed gently in my arms. I caught the last toss! I scored the last field goal! It was pretty exciting for uniquely coordinated me.
My youth leader was on the other team, and he'd been teasing me most of the night about my amazing athletic abilities. He came up to me after I caught it. No "nice catch." No "Good game." (He may be uber competitive, but his team whooped the butts of my team). Nope. What do I get? A "Wouldn't it have been funny if you dropped it?" Thanks! I smacked him with the frisbee. :-)
No deep theological connection today. Just connecting frisbee memories with both of my readers. :-)
<>< Katie
"He said to me: 'It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life.'" Revelation 21:6
We threw the frisbee around for quite awhile before the chaperone called the last throw. Where does the frisbee happen to go on its last throw of the night? Go figure it's flying at me. I was shocked and amazed when it actually landed in my hands instead of bouncing off my nose. I caught the last pass of the night!
Those memories flooded back to me today when our frisbee game was almost over. The game resumed after an injury time out, and my team was about two steps from the end zone (Like that sports lingo, Melissa?). There were three or four of my teammates in the end zone, but I was the closest to the person with the frisbee. Go figure I just far enough away where I could drop it. The frisbee left his hands, glided across the air, and landed gently in my arms. I caught the last toss! I scored the last field goal! It was pretty exciting for uniquely coordinated me.
My youth leader was on the other team, and he'd been teasing me most of the night about my amazing athletic abilities. He came up to me after I caught it. No "nice catch." No "Good game." (He may be uber competitive, but his team whooped the butts of my team). Nope. What do I get? A "Wouldn't it have been funny if you dropped it?" Thanks! I smacked him with the frisbee. :-)
No deep theological connection today. Just connecting frisbee memories with both of my readers. :-)
<>< Katie
"He said to me: 'It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life.'" Revelation 21:6
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