Journey Around the World

All too often people go on mission trips expecting to be taking Jesus to another country, another part of the world.

While there are areas of the world who have never been told the name of Jesus, short-term missionaries often arrive and realized He is already there.

The Lord is working worldwide, and we are oblivious.

I want to offer all of what I have and to tell His story.

In 2012 we're going to take a blog-series journey around the world. We're going to see God working worldwide through the eyes of our brothers and sisters abroad.

Every Monday for the next fifty-two weeks we're going to be headed to places like the Philippines, Zimbabwe, Guatemala, the Congo, India, Haiti, etc.

These worldwide journeys are coming in the form of guest posts, interviews, and photo diaries from people in a variety of stages of life. And I'm "sups excite" (that's "super excited") about it!

Are you willing to get on the plane with me?

Bon voyage y Dios le bendiga,
<>< Katie

PS: I can't do this without your help. I don't have fifty-two weeks worth of international contacts, so if you have ideas, I'd love to chat. Shoot me an email at KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com. Thanks!

PPS: This blog series needs a title. Any suggestions?

In the Arms of the Father

The plane was preparing to land and the man across the aisle from me frantically fastened his toddler back into the window seat. The little girl began to whimper.

"Shh, shhhh, shhhh," the man said.

The girl whimpered more. The shushing wasn't working. Eventually the man unbuckled the child and pulled her into his lap.

The whimpering stopped. The child was no longer afraid. She was in her daddy's arms.

That's who I want to be: the little girl perfectly content my Heavenly Daddy's arms.

Even when I don't know where my next paycheck is coming from. Even when I don't know when I'll get to see my friends (read: family) again.

Are you willing to curl up in the lap of your Abba Father?

Even when finals are hard. Even when your kids are disobedient. Even when you're not sure if you'll be able to pay for the avocados to make the guacamole you promised. Even when life is hard.

"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" 1 John 3:1a NIV

I pray in marker.

Putting prayers on paper prevents me from getting distracted (raise your hand if you have the attention span of a butterfly when praying). It's childish and messy to use a thin-line Crayola on college-ruled paper. It is good.

Prayer is messy. Life is messy.

Like a child whose hands are more colorful than the paper, I stretch them up to my Daddy and let Him shush me with His perfect love.

"The LORD your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
He will quiet you with his love,
He will rejoice over you with singing.”
Zephaniah 3:17 NIV

Just as the daddy on the airplane cared for his little girl, all the more will my Heavenly Daddy care for me (and you).

Even through our childish fits about things not going our way. Even through our crying and panicking when there is nothing to fear.

Take a seat in His lap, stretch your marker-hands to the sky, let Him hold you, His child. Take peace and comfort in His love.

I do.

Love,
<>< Katie

The Savior, The Seat Belt, The Superdome

A snapshot from my time at the LCMS National Youth Gathering.  See the first post here.

The Savior
On my way to New Orleans, I flew alone.  I am no stranger to being a party of one, but I have rarely felt as lonely as I did on that airplane.  I was frantically searching for someone else headed in my direction.  Every time I passed someone about my age, I looked at them with expectant eyes as if to say, "Are you my savior?  Will you share a taxi with me?  Will you help me figure out where to go?"  Ultimately, I got on a shuttle for $20 and made it to the hotel fine and by myself.  It was as if God was saying, "No, I AM your Savior."

The Seat Belt

My plane had a layover but I did not switch planes.  On the first leg of my journey, the woman seated in front of me noticed she was missing half of her seat belt.  Since she didn't want to be reseated, she didn't say anything to the flight attendant.  On the continuing flight into New Orleans, a little boy had that seat.  Of course, his mother was not thrilled about her son flying without a seat belt.  She called the flight attendant who quickly came over and put the new seat belt together.  A simple fix.

That's life.  We try and hide things from God and solve it on our own.  We literally try to fly by the seat of our pants as we attempt to take our lives into our own hands.  We can't.  As soon as we admit that and say, "Help!"  He does.  Maybe it's not a simple fix, but it's no longer our problem.*

The Superdome

Five years ago, it served as a shelter during Hurricane Katrina.  People died here.

Five hours ago, it was so empty you could converse across it and be heard.

Now, it is the home of the Superbowl Champions.

Now, it is filled with 25,000 youth praising God!

The saints are marching into the home of the Saints.

<>< Katie

*When I shared this (what I considered to be a mediocre) metaphor with my group, they loved it.  It kind of became a challenge to see who could come up with the best metaphor for the day.  Everyone always compared their metaphors to it in terms of, "this one isn't as good as the seat belt metaphor."  They ultimately said I should write a book of them... Wouldn't that be cool?

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

An Airport Adventure

Alexis said it would be no problem to pick me up at the airport.  We were both headed back to school from a break and she drove past the airport on her way.  I told her what time my flight was arriving, and, despite my not checking a bag, we planned to meet at baggage claim.

The plane landed safely and I texted her tell her I'd just landed.  I'd be there shortly.

"You'll never guess what I just did." She texted back.  I thought she'd forgotten me, honestly.  Nope, better.

She'd arrived at the airport, parked the car, and came into baggage claim, our planned meeting place despite my not having any checked bags.  She walked up to the monitor and searched for flights coming in from Philadelphia, a city she's visited.  She then looked to the beginning of the alphabet for "Arizona."  It wasn't listed.  In a near-panic, she called home and told her mom my flight wasn't coming in.  I'm so glad her mom assured her my flight was coming and told her to wait for it.

When Alexis explained this to me on the bus back to her car--the wrong bus, I might add--I looked at her and could not stifle my laughter. 

"Alexis, my plane didn't come from the whole state of Arizona.  It came from Phoenix.  'P-h-o' right next to the 'P-h-i' of Philadelphia."

So she's a bit airport challenged... but I love her anyway.

<>< Katie

PS: Happy birthday, Elizabeth.

Are you thinking?

Papers are written. Exams are taken. Grades are being turned in. Life is good. Time to head home!

Going to school a million miles away from home has made me a frequent flier. I think in terms of flights and never put anything I can't take on an airplane in my purse for fear that it won't leave before I fly next and therefore will be confiscated. I store my 3oz liquids in quart-sized Ziploc bags. Flying is the story of my life. This year alone I've flown 15 times (not counting lay-overs). I'm pretty sure that qualifies me as being able to go through the expert traveler line at security.

Well, today I flew on autopilot (pun unintended). I went through security, took of my shoes, pulled out my bag of liquids, arranged my bags in order so that it's easiest to pick them up on the other side, and walked through the metal detector. This no longer worries me. I've been selected for extra screening in the past; I've got nothing to hide therefore don't mind the magic wand. Today, I made it through and was waiting for my bags when I heard it, "Bag check!" Crap. It's mine. "Laptop!" CRAP! How often do I fly? When is the last time I flew? Not really a big deal, they pulled my laptop out and run the bag through again, but I felt like an idiot. I should know better. I think I forgot I had it with me because last time I flew (two weeks ago) I didn't bring it.

Just wait, it gets better.

I realize I'm halfway through the concourse before I even bothered to look at the monitor to see where my gate was located. Thank goodness I was headed in the right direction. I buy my customary bottle of water and something to snack on (I can almost never eat on "airplane days"...I've come to accept it rather than fight it), take a seat at the gate, and start to read. I pondered briefly if my bag would fit in the overhead compartment. No, it won't. Sadness! Gate check. See you at baggage claim, wonderful blue bag I carry-on so as not to have to wait at baggage claim... They began boarding the flight, so I walked up with my ticket in hand and was halfway through the tunnel before I realized I didn't know what zone I was sitting in. I knew my seat assignment, but they load by zones, so I shouldn't be allowed to board the plane until my zone is called. I definitely think I boarded with the "Parents with small children, and people needing extra time or assistance." Oops. In my defense, I think they might have called, "Gold, Silver, and Preferred customers" which IS me, but I couldn't prove that. Oh, well.

Sometimes when we do something so often it becomes ritual. What once was so important it was the only thing you could focus on for days has become so mundane that it barely crosses your mind. Pay attention when you do something ritual because otherwise you miss important steps. Ask yourself why you're going to church today and be sure you know what the pastor discussed. Don't simply read your Bible because it's what you do every morning but take a look at what the words actually say. Think. Don't just do.

Oh, I did make it home safely, picked up my bag, and headed out to the car when it hit me. It hit like knives piercing through my skin. Ladies and gentlemen, it is FIVE degrees Fahrenheit here. Welcome to Alaska, Katie. Merry Christmas!

<>< Katie

Adventures from the Flying Cesspool

Dear Fellow Compansions on This Flying Cesspool,

For the strangers who keep giving me the once-over, yes, I'm talking to you. No, you don't know me.

To the woman on the loud speaker, shut up.

To the man driving the golf-cart, I don't care how many times you offer me a ride. I have three hours and am able-bodied. I am good to go, thank you.

To the man complaining about his son, maybe we should trade books. You read Disconnect by Chap Clark and I'll read "Parents apparently don't play a role in their children's upbringing" that you've got your nose stuck in.

To the woman sitting in front of me, I don't care how many times you slam your body into the chair, it doesn't come back any further. In fact, those are my knees you're hitting. It hurts me just as much as it hurts you.

To the woman who can't get on this flight, I'm sorry the flight is full. Maybe next time it would be a good idea to book ahead of time.

To the woman with the small child, ever considered a sedative? (For yourself or the child)

To the man yawning while walking on the moving walkway, don't walk. It saves energy. Don't yawn, I've been up since 6:45am (in a different time zone), and I have four hours until I even get home. Twelve hours ago, I was finishing class for the day. My grades for that class are already posted. Should we compare long days?

To whoever thought it was smart to put flashing lights at the end of the moving walkway, you idiot. I'm very glad I don't have a photosensitive epilepsy.

To the people with the wheelchair on the moving walk-way, that was quite hilarious.

To the grounds crew who can't properly close the cargo door, thanks for delaying us 45 minutes. Just close it, let the pilot lie and say it's closed and move on. Whatever you do... DON'T CALL... Maintenance!

To the pilot who had the nerve to tell me we were flying right over my final destination, just let me off this darn plane! Give me a parachute, get me close, and we'll be good to go!

To everyone else who has caught my eye, thank you for your amusement.

Have a great day, here or wherever your final destination may be!
<>< Katie