Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Giant Women’s Underpants

Ok I know you are asking yourself, how does Katie go from talking about God and scars and victory and then jumps over to underpants. Very easily in fact. If you know me at all, then you know that I can jump from topic to topic with lightening fast ease. I also have an uncanny gift of connecting those topics, so if you wish to challenge me go ahead.

Back to the underpants.

I love a good practical joke or prank. Not a mean prank or one that hurts another person, but a good, funny, unexpected prank.

I also like very much to be on the giving end of said prank. There is truth in the statement it is better to give than receive. It is funnier to give than receive also.

Back to the underpants. (I just like typing that sentence)

So in honor of my love of pranks I was gun ho when my roomie suggested we prank a houseful of boys that we knew. And what better way to prank boys than to involve GIANT women’s underpants.

Our plan was foolproof and pretty funny. Her job was to find the BIGGEST pair of women’s underpants in town. Now this is a tough job people. There are many sizes of women’s underpants and we wanted the biggest. You really can’t just walk into a store and ask the teenage boy sales clerk, “Show me your largest pair of women’s underwear please.” This would take some research and undercover work. So my roomie set off to all the local stores in search of her prize.

Soon after she left I got a phone call from her. She was standing in the lingerie section of our faithful Target (I love Target) holding up a pair of underwear and trying to decide if they were indeed the biggest she could find. While on the phone with me, she proceeded to try them on. Now let me explain something about my former roomie. She is TINY. My sweet little roommate was maybe, maybe 5 feet and an inch. This, in comparison, to my 5’9” height made her seem even smaller. She also is tiny size-wise, little and compact. So imagine this small, little girl trying on the biggest pair of underwear she could find. She was laughing so hard because she could have made an entire outfit out of these underwear, and still been decently covered. They were THAT big. Roomie then asked a fellow shopper if they thought these were the biggest underwear possible. How would you have liked to be that person, and how do you answer that question from a complete stranger.

So confident that she had in fact found the largest pair of underwear in town, she made her purchase and brought them home for my part in the prank.

Not only were we going to purchase GIANT women’s underpants for these guys we were going to personalize them. So off I go with my three pairs of underpants and head for the nearest embroiderer. Every man needs his name stitched on a pair of women’s underpants.

So I walk confidently into the embroiderer with my underwear in tow (well the giant underwear actually). The set up of a prank is almost as much fun as the prank itself. The girl behind the counter was rolling as I explained that I wanted boy’s names stitched on these underwear. Now the decisions came: what color? on the front or back? Well if you are going to have women’s underwear than you need womany colors so I went with the pink, purple, and turquoise shades. And, just in case the boys wanted to actually wear the underpants I figured a name on the back would be most useful.

Then came Underpants Day. My roomie showed up at my work (I happen to work in the same neighborhood as the guys) and we set off with all our supplies. Our idea was to string up the underwear across their porch, proudly proclaiming their name. The best part was that these guys were super active in our college group and had people over at their house all the time and their neighbors were all people they knew really well.

I swear the Mission Impossible theme was playing in the background as we made our way there. Stealthily we hung the underwear with care across a rope on the front porch (much like stockings on a mantle at Christmas time).

Each boy had his individual pair flapping there in the breeze. It was BEAUTIFUL, simply BEAUTIFUL.

Our mission was accomplished. Now all we had to do was wait for the reaction.

So of the three boys, the mellowest came home first. He later told us he drove up and thought that his one of his roommates had just hung his laundry out to dry. It wasn’t until he got up close that he realized exactly what was flapping in the breeze and that his name was on one of them. My favorite part is that he just left them there.

So the boys left them up for a few days and I got to take people by and show them our handiwork. After that two of the guys took them down and tacked them up on their bedroom doors. CLASSIC. That made me smile. Nothing like some good Christian boys using women’s underwear that span their entire doorway as a nametag.

We eventually confessed and relished in our prankdom. They were good sports and tried to prank us back with saran wrap around my roomies car. It was a nice try, but so beneath our level.

The funny part of this story is that my roomie, my partner in crime, is now married to one of those boys. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. So she can always say that she gave her future husband women’s underwear even before they were dating.

Oh yea, as part of the prank we sent them a little postcard as a reminder of their special underwear. I’m not sure if you can really grasp the size of these underwear. Let’s just say that my roomie and I both fit in them with room for another few people.

Image hosted by

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Additional thoughts on the last post

If you haven't read the previous post, Scars, take a moment and go back through it.

I found this verse tonight and it seemed to fit perfectly with my line of thoughts.

"Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. And that is what some of you were. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God."

What if this statement ended after the list of who doesn’t get into the kingdom of God? Gosh I would be on a one way trip to the pits of hell. Really we all would. I'm not sure I know of one person who hasn't been greedy at one time, or slandered another person, or other stuff there on that list. We all fall into one of those categories and therefore none of us would inherit the kingdom of God. That verse is so depressing if you left it right there.

The next two verses are the best.

“Some of you were” – ahhh past tense. That means we aren’t that anymore. Then what are we?

BUT – what a great word right here, I love this word because it gives me hope. But we were (again past tense – already done, finished, completed) WASHED, SANCTIFIED, JUSTIFIED. In what? The name of Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of OUR God.

What the world sees as damaged, what the law condemns, what we may not be able to forgive in ourselves, God has already washed away, He has sanctified (fancy word for changing to be more like Him), He has justified (made us right before Him).

In the words of a wise Oregonian, GOD IS GOOD.

Monday, August 29, 2005


Read through the comments on this one. People have written some good things and it is worth hearing thier thoughts also.

I have fair skin. In fact, some of my more melanin blessed friends seem to think I may be slightly albino (thank you Eddie). It must be the Irish, Scottish, French, German, British blood that gives me the light skin, blonde hair, blue green eyes. Face it people I am about as WASPy as you can get.

So I have the kind of skin that guarantees you will be bright red if you spend any significant amount of time in the sun. It is also the type of skin that guarantees I will have a scar from any type of cut, burn, wound I happen to receive.

I wondered why people actually get scars, why the skin just doesn’t grow back as it was before. The cliff notes version is that when a burn, scrape, cut, wound is deep enough, the body works quickly to try and repair itself. In doing so it uses, maybe not the best materials, but the most efficient for the circumstances. Dense and thick, it is usually paler than the surrounding tissue because it is poorly supplied with blood, and although it structurally replaces destroyed tissue, it cannot perform the functions of the missing tissue. The human body amazes me in that it can repair horrible injuries, it can compensate when extreme things happen to it and while it may not be exactly the same as it was before it will survive and continue on.

In fact, I have quite a collection of scars. Many from a childhood of being the neighborhood tomboy who ran with all the boys. I have scars from climbing trees, playing war, all kinds of sports (kickball, football, tag, hide and seek, and any other game we considered sport). Then there were the scars from my chronic clumsiness. I fall down, I run into things, I accidentally cut myself, scrape myself, pretty much if it falls under the category of clumsy I have done it, and done it well and many times.

From all these adventures I have built up a timeline of sorts on my body. I have stories and memories that go with each scar. Like the one where I was trying to learn how to surf as a kid and ran into a wooden piling in the ocean and took a chunk out of my shin. Or the time when my sisters threw a stick at a woodpile directly behind where I was standing and I happened to turn my face into the stick. Then there's the scar from the traumatic removal of cysta. Stories from my past, some funny, some scary, some just a happy or painful memory.

We all have these scars; we all have stories for each one. They are a timeline of our lives, marking stories. They chronicle who we are, where we’ve been, and what we’ve done.

But then, there are other scars, scars that aren’t left by a cut or a scrape. These scars might not be visible to another person, at least not visible by sight alone. The scars are left from times when we have been hurt emotionally or when we have fallen into bondage to sin. Scars from when our heart has been pierced, or torn, or even ripped to shreds. Scars from where we wore chains of bondage to different things in our life: addiction, control, pride, self image. These scars aren’t visible as a line on our heart or rings on our wrists. But they are visible in our actions, our fears, our emotions, our relationships. There is a time line with these scars also. And some wounds are scarred over and over again.

These scars also tell a story. If we thought and remembered only what caused the scars then the stories would be painful, they would be a haunting memory we would carry with us our entire life. But each story has a common ending, an ending that makes the stories worthwhile, that makes the scars worthwhile and makes them a treasured part of who we are.

See, the story of each of these scars is one of victory. Victory that we came through the pain, the hurt, the bondage. Victory that those things were conquered in our life. Yes, there was pain, there was hurt. And the scars will always be there, they will never go away. And like a physical scar there are consequences, there was a price paid and something given up. Remember with a physical scar the scar structurally replaces destroyed tissue, but it cannot perform the functions of the missing tissue. Likewise in an emotional scar or one of bondage, there are areas of weakness, areas of temptation, but the pain is gone, the bondage is gone. Victory has come.

There is someone else who knows the pain of scars, both physical and emotional. Christ’s body was subjected to tremendous torture. His back was whipped, His head gouged, His hands and feet penetrated by spikes, His side pierced. His physical body was horribly scarred from all of these traumatic punishments. Each a reminder of the anger and unfairness aimed at Him. He also suffered emotional scars: denied by His disciples, hated by His people, falsely accused, separated from God. Christ carries scars from all of these. But his scars symbolize a victory also. The victory of His life, the victory of conquering death, but most important the victory of our lives. Christ’s scars represent His victory of overcoming our sin, our separation, our death. Christ’s scars are our victory.

So when I look at scars, both visible and not, I don’t see failures, pain, or bad memories, I see victory. Not of my own doing, but of God and his freedom, his grace, the price he paid so long ago that allows us to claim victory in Him. To see past the pain, the wound, the scar, to see the life that comes afterward and continues.

There is a hymn that our church’s worship team reworked. I really like the song and there is one verse in particular that seems to touch me every time we sing it. When I think of scars, when I think of bondage, when I think of the victory of our freedom these words haunt me.

Long my imprisoned spirit lay,
Fast-bound in sin and nature’s night;
Thine eye diffused a quickening ray;
I woke, the dungeon flamed with light;
My chains fell off, my heart was free,
I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

Amazing love! How can it be
that Thou, my God, would die for me?

Why couldn’t I just be Daisy?

Eddo posted a story about Kanakuk Kamps today and it got me thinking. Well, it really doesn’t take much to get me reminiscing about Kamp because it summed up the best 6 summers of my life. The funny thing is that I don’t know if I can really share how much each of those three months out of the year meant to me. Some of my best friends were made at kamp, friends that I will have for a lifetime. Some of my best and most fun memories come from kamp: climbing on the blob from the side of the pool and falling in fully dressed, deep lake diving for a sunken boat, thunder muffins, midnight runs to night watch, tornadoes, the stories keeps coming.

But today, in honor of Eddie’s post on TP 1, I will recount a story that is funny.

As with all that I seem to do, my job at kamp was administrative. My first summer I worked in the kitchen (great place to have servanthood beat into your body) and then the next summer I worked in the office. After that I spent four years running the K-7 (our specific kamp) office. I LOVED it. I got to spend time with all the kids whenever I wanted, I got to let my organized and administrative mind go crazy, and I got to work with the greatest girls and pour into their lives.

Kamp loves to give titles to all it’s workers. There is the pool daddy (runs the pool), dock daddy (runs the lake), kitchikomos (girls that work in the dining hall), DHDL (dining hall discipleship leader), CIT (counselors in training), and then me, the head office girl, otherwise known as the HOG. Yep, my title spelled HOG.

Now this creates so many opportunities for jokes and I decided early on to be the person that spearheaded most of these. I accepted the title of HOG, in fact I embraced it. I was the HOG and I was proud of it. Well that is until one moment ruined it all.

One day I was standing on the front porch of our office watching TP 1 (the youngest boys in kamp, ages 6-8) march down the road. As I watched, their counselor looked up at me and waved, I returned the way and yelled out a hello to the entire TP. Micah (the counselor) gathered the boys together and chatted with them for a second.

Then in unison all 12 little boys cried out,


Now I’m not sure what you think of when you hear the words BOSS HOG, but a fat man in a white suit that chases down the Duke boys is what comes to my mind. I guess I just watched a lot of the Dukes of Hazzard growing up.

So I stood there in shock with my mouth gaping open. How do you respond to 12 cute little boys calling you a FAT MAN IN A WHITE SUIT.

For the rest of the week those 12 little boys knew nothing about me but that I was the BOSS HOG. For 7 days I was greeted in that manner each time they saw me. In fact I think they sought me out to call me BOSS HOG.

There is humor in a 6 year old calling a young 20 something girl BOSS HOG, but not that much humor. As the name began to catch on with the counselors and other kampers I had to take action. HOG is one thing but BOSS HOG is another all together.

So to this day the ONLY person that gets away with calling me BOSS HOG is Micah. Even this summer when I went to visit kamp, the first words out of his mouth were BOSS HOG.
SAD. Funny, but SAD.

Friday, August 26, 2005

Anyone, anyone?

I mean really, who needs stores when they are just giving things like this away?

Free: Bean bags in good condition, smell slightly of cat piss

Reply to:
Date: 2005-08-18, 10:14AM CDT

Black, pleather bean bag and accompanying bean bag footstool (or kid size bean bag), in good condition, with a bit of cat piss scent.

For some reason my cats occasionally like to use these bean bags as a toilet, though only for pee, NO cat poo smell or residue.

I’ve tried to clean the bean bags with enzyme cleaners specifically for cat pee but my cat’s pee must be super cat pee, it will not budge.

Maybe you don’t mind cat pee and would like a bean bag, maybe you can’t smell anything, maybe you’d like the bean bag for your cat to keep her from peeing where she is currently peeing, maybe you want to give it to someone as a really mean joke? Either way, they are free. Pick up please.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Finally . . . .

Sorry for the wait (if anyone was waiting) I had to confirm my story and then I was in such a rush it might not have the special touch that makes it more enjoyable. Oh well the facts alone make me laugh.

So my friend, the one who peed in a sonic cup on a road trip, is absolutely CRAZY. For her protection, I’ll call her BERTHA.

What this woman won’t do. It actually scares me some times that these things happen to her but it is way too funny for me to really complain.

This was a story she told me last night.

BERTHA shows up at her nephew’s first birthday party. Family and friends are all gathered at her parent’s house for a pool party. It should be noted that BERTHA’s sister-in-law is half Vietnamese and her mother and aunt are fully Vietnamese and the aunt speaks no English. These women are also so short they come up to BERTHA's waist (she really is an Amazon woman).

The grandparents meet them at the door and have gifts from their recent trip to Alaska. Now BERTHA's dad pulls her husband aside and tells him he has a special gift just for him. He opens the package and in it is a jock strap.

Now this is not any normal jock strap but it has certain embellishments. The front is covered with a fur pelt and a long raccoon tail is attached to the back strap.

Granddad leans over to BERTHA’s husband and offers $75 if he’ll wear it out to the pool. BERTHA’s husband is a funny guy but not that funny.

And this is where my friend BERTHA comes in. Her ears perked up at the idea of easy money and she pipes up that she’ll wear it. At this point, Granddad runs to get the video camera (yes there is video of this incident).

So BERTHA proceeds to don this fur covered jock strap. Now BERTHA, her husband, and two kids are coming from church so they are all dressed up and have their suits with them. BERTHA has no choice but to wear the jock strap with her nice pressed white blouse.

All dressed up she proudly walks out onto the back porch and greets the 18 or so guests. As soon as she walks out the door EVERY person at that party stops talking and stares at her, well they were more likely staring at her special outfit.

The aunt that speaks no English has eyes the size of saucers and starts spurting out Vietnamese at an amazing rate.

Her dad has taken up a strategic position and is now filming and directing her to turn around, hold her shirt up, and show everyone the back. Now, do know that she is wearing this thing exactly as it should be, so – well - let’s just say that when she turned around the guests got an eye-full.

All this time, BERTHA’s 4 year old nephew is chanting “Turn around, Aunt BERTHA, turn around.”

Ladies and gentleman, this is my friend.

And oh it only gets better. On the way home her sons pipes up with, “Mom I could see your crack. When you turned that tail moved and I saw everything.”


Then BERTHA’s brother called and could not believe that she did that. BERTHA retorted, “For $75 I did it.” His response, “Yeah, but you’re going to have to use that money for counseling for your children or to fix all that hail damage you got back there.”

I love my friends. I love them more that these kind of things happen to them and not me.

Still Pending . . . .

I'm typing as I well type . . . . .

Post pending

I have a GREAT story to tell but I can't . . . . . . . yet.

To pass the time go check out the rap-off on Eddo's site from yesterday. You have to read through ALL the comments to get the full effect. Oh my word, I am glad that we all have such a good sense of humor and can go crazy every once in a while.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005


I know that I’ve gone down deep on some of the last few posts. If you clicked on kpinion for lightness and laughter today you might be disappointed. I’ve realized that my mind and heart focus on what is going on at the moment and therefore my writing (blogging, whatever) ends up focusing on that also.

Last night I met my bible study gals after what seems like months being apart from them. It is amazing that fellowship with girls whose hearts you hold dear can touch you in such a distinct way.

One of my sweet friends in the group is going through a trial like none other at the moment. In respect of her privacy I will not go into details but know that my heart breaks for her and at the same time I delight to see the hand of God as He works in her life. This woman of faith sat there and told all of us her pain, her struggles, the darkness of the situation and then in the same breath she spoke of how God would receive all the glory. Her heart is broken and yet she praises her Father for the strength He gives, for the mercy He lavishes, and for the grace that she holds so tightly to. That is faith my friends, active, struggling, death-grip faith.

Many of you know of Rebekah. She is a little girl who was introduced to most of us by Steve. This precious angel is fighting a battle with cancer and other diseases and it is ravaging her body. To read the daily battles and struggles of her and her family rip at my heart. But God’s grace is sufficient, and His work is seen both in her victories of healing and in the way that He has brought the body of Christ to its knees together in prayer for this child. Rebekah may not know that she is being used by her Creator to gather His children in communion with Him, but I pray that she knows that people who she’s never met are bowing a knee to Yahweh (Lord, Jehovah), Jehovah-Rapha (the Lord who heals), Jehovah-shammah (The Lord is There), Jehovah-shalom (The Lord is Peace), El Roi (The God Who Sees), Elohim (The Creator), El Elyon (The God Most High), and El Shaddai (The All Sufficient One).

But the question in my title is not to ask why these things are happening. I’ve asked why before and I’ve come to see that God often does not relinquish that answer. Those answers are not promised.

The question I want to ask is: Why are we alive? That was a question in our bible study last night. At first I laughed because it was such a bible study type question. Why are you here? Oh, and I had an answer all ready, a good answer no less, the “right” answer, the one I had been taught to answer, the one that makes me look spiritual, the one that makes me look like I have it all under control. But guess what, I don’t.

If anything, these situations I’m seeing are teaching me that I have nothing under control. Control is not mine to have. Control is something that human beings will NEVER have.

But back to the question. Why are we alive? As I thought about this in those few moments we were discussing it, I took it a step farther. Why are we still alive? If I believe that salvation is true, if I trust that it is His will that I spend eternity with Him, if Christ’s death was to purchase that presence, then why am I still here on earth?

Then it hit me. Why am I alive (or why am I still alive)? Well look beside you. Look around at your family, at your friends, at the people you walk past on the street, at the little girls you hear about on the internet. There’s your answer.

I’m alive because of ____________ (fill in the blank with a name). We are alive because God wants flesh and bones out there on His behalf. Because of the family member that we can love through sickness, because of the shoulder we can offer to a hurting friend, because of the prayer we can offer for a sick child, because of the neighbor we can serve by raking their yard, because of the stranger who is contemplating suicide because no one cares and doesn’t today because we smiled and said hello, because of the children who get to hear about Jesus by sitting in our classes or Sunday schools, because of the changes in my life that so many people have made just because I have known them, because I heard about my Lord from another person, because you heard about the Lord from someone else.

When we put a face on it, when we attach a name, when it is someone we know, or someone we see, or more than that when it is us, it becomes real, it becomes more than a life statement, more than a vision, it becomes living.

This is why we’re here.

Thanks for reading my ramblings today. It is more free flow than organized thought so I’m sorry if it is hard to get through.

Ok readers, I'm going to challenge you here. Comment, say something, be it an "amen" or a "you're stupid". I don't care which, but this is a topic that deserves feedback. Are you in need of someone to be alive for you? Is there someone in your life that fills in your blank in the question? I know I have a lot of silent readers but talk to me, tell me what you think. You are welcome to visit in silence, but I'm a big believer in correspondence so go for it.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

I'm in love

That’s it. I’m head over heels in love. . . . .

Yesterday was the day.

I had waited so long and it had finally arrived.

There they were, all dressed in khaki, green, and green/white plaid.

As I approached the line my heart began to jump and my stomach got butterflies.

What if they didn’t like me? What if I wasn’t special anymore? What if I was just another girl to them?

Then it came, the words that made my heart melt.

“Good morning Miss Kpinion” (ok they didn’t say kpinion).

And then the hugs. Oh the hugs.

There is nothing like a group hug by first graders who only come up to your waist.

Then I see the second grade class.

Again, “Good morning Miss Kpinion”

More hugs.

I LOVE MY JOB (well some days, on days when I get hugs from our students I feel like I can deal with anything.)

Then to top it off my friend, whose daughter I love, tells me about a conversation she had last night.

Mom: So did you get to see Miss Kpinion?

Rebekah (the cutest little red hair girl in the world): I saw her but she was at the front of the line so I didn’t get to get a hug from her.

Notice the wording there, she didn’t get to GET a hug from me.
Heart melting at this very moment.

Ok, then to add to my heart melting I had a good laugh.

One of our new second graders decided to accessorize her school uniform of khaki shorts and a green polo with some snazzy shoes. Picture an eight year old bubbly brunette girl with hunter green converse hi tops (chuck taylors for those in the know) with a gold stripe down the back (our school colors no less) and hunter green knee socks.


Monday, August 22, 2005

We regret to inform you . . .

Kpinion's sister site Me and My Skirt is no more. Unfortunately the chronicles of a nice, innocent, well meaning girl and her skirtability were just a little too much for the internet and it was getting hits from some scary places.

Thank you,
The management

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Dual Citizenship

Bear with me on this post, it is long and rather wordy but I would love to hear your thoughts, additions, or even different points of view. These ramblings came out of where I am in life right now and the things I see around me. It's as much a challenge to myself as it is to anyone else.

I'm sure I'll return to some lighter fare in the future but for now you get deep and introspective kpinion.

What does it mean for a Christian today to be in the world but not of the world? Can you exist in the Christian sphere without giving up your place in this world? Can we be dual citizens?

It is a biblical fact that the world is not going to get better. The Bible is pretty clear on the outcome of the world – destruction. Not just destruction but self destruction. Our world is suffering from the cancer of sin, and it is eating away at our world. This is fact, this is the future.

So what are Christians supposed to do? Do we run and hide waiting for the second coming? Do we form our own safe communities, our little places of peace and goodness where we protect ourselves from the evils and horrors of a sinful world? Is this what we are called to do in these last days? At Christ’s death and resurrection a countdown began leading up to His return. These are the last days and they have been occurring for the last two thousand years. Since the days of Adam and Eve, this world has been infected with this cancer of sin.

Today is no different from yesterday, it is just maybe more apparent. So many people talk of the days we are in now, the sin that runs so rampant. Sin has always been here, it has lurked in the shadows, deceived hearts, and caused so many to suffer. Sin is by nature constant on this side of heaven. Are we seeing it more openly now? Yes. Is it any more powerful? I don’t think so. What once was hidden is now shown. What once was secret is now known. Study ancient Rome and you will probably be surprised by how openly men and women lived in sin. The sins that we are surprised to see practiced and accepted so openly are the same sins the church tried to combat then. Sin doesn’t change, the people’s weakness to it does. So we’re back to the question how is a Christian to live in the face of sin? What are we to do? Does the Bible give any instruction? You bet it does and the commands are simple. Love, stand, and live.

Our salvation is based on love. “For God so loved the world, that he gave His only begotten Son.” This is our basis for love. God loved, and we are to do so also. God loved the world, the entire world. Not just the good people, not even just those who loved him back. God loved all, everyone single person put on this earth. Did he love with an expectation of love back? Did he love knowing that we would return that love? He knew who would respond to His love, he knew who would accept it, but he loved all anyways. He loved the world so much that it was a sacrificial love, a love that moved Him to act on our behalf.

Don’t sit on the sidelines letting the world pass you by. An ineffective witness is just as bad as a false one. To know the truth and keep your mouth shut is the same as speaking against it. God said “GO” and so we shall. Stand up for those things that are wrong. Stand firm in your beliefs, convictions, and faith. That’s the difference between being in the world and of it. Don’t conform to what this world has to offer and expects. Christians should look different. If you don’t then there is a problem. Christ never compromised his position; he never became part of the world. He stood firm. Others knew where he stood, what he stood for, and that he wouldn’t change.

This command goes along with standing. Live your life. The question can be asked why God doesn’t just sweep us into heaven at the moment of our conversion. There must be a reason he leaves us on this earth, why our lives here are important to Him. Our lives are our witness. How we live speaks to why we live. Christ came to this earth as a man. God approached his children on their own turf with a familiar face. To me, one of the most approachable things about Christ is that he lived. He experienced humanity: temptations, hardships, joys, family, friends, work, and life. We are also ambassadors to this world. How we navigate our lives speaks of who we are and who we call Lord. Our lives should be a representation of the relationship that we count most dear. It should be a reflection of God and therefore tell others of whom we serve. We are to live as Christ lived among the very people that He desires to reach.

What does this look like?
Who did Christ approach? Who did he interact with? Christ went to the people. He didn’t see them by level or title but people on the same footing. All were lost, all were sinful, and all were in need of Him. Christ spent time with the poor, the desolate, the sick, the shameful, the proud, the rich, and the powerful. He went to all because all needed Him.

Look how Christ approached the adulterous woman. Did he condemn her outright, did he call her on her sin, did he point and tell her how wrong she was? No. He approached her with the one thing His Father sent him in, love. Oh she was wrong. There was no doubt in that. And she probably knew she was wrong, as we all do deep in our hearts when confronted with sin. Christ knew there would be time for conviction later, for you cannot be convicted until you know what is right. So Christ, in direct opposition to the Pharisees approached her not with a pointing finger and condemnation but with acceptance, forgiveness, and love. Think through how the Christian world, the church, approaches people like the adulteress today. Do we go to them with love, with acceptance, knowing we are on equal footing before God? It is good to remember that save Christ, the preacher and the prostitute are the same in the eyes of God.

Witnessing isn’t just what you do when you go door to door in your neighborhood; it isn’t just the mission trip to another country. Witnessing is what you do in your life, day in and day out. It is your reaction to other people, your treatment of those around you, how you choose to live. Witnessing is definitely not you, the high and mighty Christian graciously going to those who are lost and stuck in their sin and providing them with all your wisdom. It is you, a sinner, sentenced to death for unrighteousness, imperfection, looking to your left and right and telling the guy next to you, who is in the same place you are, that you were shown the way out and offering to show them too.

What doesn’t it look like?
Why does the church have such a bad rap in the world? What are we doing wrong? Take a look at the Pharisees and you’ll get a good answer. Look at what they did with the adulteress woman. They drug her out into public to shame her. They tried to make a political statement out of her sin while completely ignoring their own. They went to her, not with love or forgiveness, but with judgment and condemnation. There was no lost soul, hurting heart, or redeemable person, there was only sin. It was wrong, and they were ready to determine the punishment. The ironic thing is they brought her to the only person who had the right to determine guilt and punishment. But that’s another story.

So how did the Pharisees view other people, specifically non-Pharisees? Not surprisingly, with arrogance and a view of superiority. Sound familiar to anyone? I know a few non-Christians who have felt like some (not all) Christians have viewed them in that way. It’s kind of like the kid who knows all the answers and looks at everyone else as below them in knowledge. The funny thing is that that kid often doesn’t remember there was a time when he didn’t know anything at all. How quickly one forgets his past when his present allows him to have superiority over others.

Back to the Pharisees, there is a story in scripture of a Pharisee who goes to worship and looks around and thanks God for not make him like the other people around him. Sound familiar again? Look around and see how some Christians treat other people. Lord, thanks for not making me an adulterer, thanks for not making me a drug user, thanks for not making me a murderer. Do you think they are really thanking God from saving them from these heartaches, these sins in their life or do you think they are thanking God (and themselves mostly) for allowing them to be better than these other people. This isn’t to say that we shouldn’t thank God daily for protecting us from certain sins. I am so thankful that God has guarded me from committing so many sins that I know I am not only capable of doing, but my flesh desires. I wish I could give even a little bit of congratulations to my amazing will power but that will power has failed me so many times before and I have fallen into so many sins that it is only by the grace of God that I can claim any victory over any sin. For some reason, some Christians seem to think that with salvation comes elevation.

This brings us back to the original question, how are we to live? Well looking at the Pharisees again, I am pretty sure they weren’t out among the people all that much. In the Bible you usually see them traveling in packs, kind of like a Pharisee gang. Safety in numbers, right? If not safety at least you have someone who will back you up and agree with you. People naturally want to be around others that are like them. They want the comfort of knowing that their crowd believes like they do. This isn’t all bad. Christ traveled with his disciples. He had scores of people who would travel with him, want to be around him, and all had a common belief system. The Bible tells us to continue to meet together, to form a body of believers.

The one thing the Bible doesn’t say is to take ourselves out of the world, to make our own little society that is safe from all the bad in the world. To make an elitist society that is just that, elite. But that is what so many Christians today seem to be doing. I’ve heard so many reasons: this world is just becoming horrible, we can’t believe what is out there in the world, it was never this bad when we or our parents were growing up. So we pull away, we create a safe place, away from all the sin out there in the world. All in the name of protecting ourselves from the world. But the question you have to ask is, does this sound like being in the world? The truth is that the body of Christ is not expanded by inbreeding.

The Bible talks about putting on the full armor of God. My question is what good is armor if you leave it in the closet? Putting on armor when you’re not going into battle is pretty useless. I have a feeling that if when Paul was describing our spiritual armor he was intending it to take a beating. Think of the football player who stands on the sidelines and doesn’t get his uniform dirty. He wasn’t in the game which was evident by his uniform. If our armor doesn’t bear the marks of battle then we aren’t effective warriors.

Where does this leave us?
Once again we come back to the truth, that without Christ we are all the same before the eyes of God. It should also be noted that we didn’t discover Christ. We weren’t the smartest or the most persistent and therefore we found the answers. We didn’t work the hardest to obtain some great reward. In fact we did absolutely nothing to deserve it and everything to cause us to not be chosen. His salvation was given to us and is not something that we were smart enough to grasp, good enough to earn. It was and is an open invitation to all. Yes, there are some who will not accept salvation, some who will turn it down flat, but we don’t know who these people are. Thank goodness God didn’t give us the ability to see the future salvation of others. How our arrogance and judgment would reign. The problem is that we have no idea who may be a future brother or sister in Christ and yet some people treat those they don’t think are or will be with contempt. We’ve reasoned in our mind that we are in some way exalted and above all those other people who don’t have the right answer.

So back to the question: how? We stand on Christ. We emulate his life. We let the Holy Spirit direct us with His fruit. We daily submit ourselves under the authority and grace of our Father. We stand knowing that God has placed us here on this earth to serve not our purposes but His. We diligently come before Him, seeking that He uses us to the glory of his kingdom. We trust that He has placed us where He wants to use us.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Yes I do think about things like this

Some of my blog friends have very creative gifts. Steve can sing and write songs, his friend Yakima Chris is also a gifted song writer, Eddie and Edgy Mama can write fiction like no other, I’m convinced that Ben is a short story writer waiting to break loose.

I, on the other hand, write dissertations. Yep, I am such a nerd that I write long thought out papers on points of interest to me. Somehow this seems so much less creative than all my other friends, but I’ve accepted my nerdom so now I will inflict it on you.

"My own personal Jesus" - Depeche Mode circa 1990. I have no idea the true meaning of this song but it sets the stage for something I’ve been thinking about.

What is “it” that we turn into our own personal Jesus? Is it sometimes ourselves? If I’m honest, I will admit that there have been many times when I’ve told God, “Sit back and take a breather, I can handle this one.”

How to do I get to the point where I remove the Lord from his throne and take His place as my own personal Savior?

This never happens when I’m in a crisis. It always happens when things are working out for me, when everything is good. It happens when I think I’ve got everything under control and I can handle anything that comes my way.

Notice the amount of “I’s” in that last paragraph. That is the tell tale sign of my problem. I start focusing on me and start giving myself credit for my circumstances. I start to forget that “I” did nothing to get myself to this point of calm and blessings but “I” sure like to take credit for it.

So what happens when you push the Lord of Creation out of His throne? DISASTER.

Have you ever noticed that men are not good saviors? They often fail at the whole saving bit. Or at least they may save someone but they invariably lose their own life in the process. What good is it for the savior to be dead? Then the saving is done but the saved is left all alone with nothing.

Men are terrible saviors and I’m a horrible lord. As soon as I get in that throne everything goes to hell. I’m not saying that to be crass but to illuminate exactly where the work of the lord (me) ends up. Why? Because now a faulted, sinful, messed up being is trying to be divine and do the divine. On his own, the pauper can’t play the prince.

So if I am my own personal Jesus, what am I saving? Who am I leading? Where is my kingdom? Those answers are easy: noone, nothing, nowhere.

I read a quote in a book I’m struggling through (deep stuff if anyone out there is up for the challenge) and I came across this passage. The author was writing about something different but his point is true here also:

“ . . of the madman who called himself Christ. If we said what we felt, we should say, ‘So you are the Creator and Redeemer of the world: but what a small world it must be! What a little heaven you must inhabit, with angels no bigger than butterflies! How sad it must be to be God; and an inadequate God! Is there really no life fuller and no love more marvelous than yours; and is it really in your small and painful pity that all flesh must put its faith? How much happier would you be, how much more of you there would be, if the hammer of a higher God could smash your small cosmos, scattering the stars like spangles, and leave you in the open, free from other men to look up as well as down!’”
Orthodoxy by C.K. Chesterson

Wow, how small my world becomes when I am my own savior. How pointless my life is. How ineffective love becomes. How sad that mercy and grace are limited by my inadequacies. I’m not a good savior. I’m not a good lord.

So why do I like to take over the throne when things are going so well? Why do I try and take control when God has proven Himself so worthy of my praise, so true to His word, so equipped to be the Sovereign Lord?

How small my faith becomes in that moment when I sit in that throne. How hurt my Lord is when I take His place. How painful the removal from that chair is, as God exerts His will to be the only Lord.

It is then that I realize what I have done. It is then that my eyes open to His glory. It is then that I repent of my arrogance in His presence. It is then that I remember my Lord, my Savior, my King.

It is then that I realize Jesus is mine. I can claim Him as my own personal Savior and no one else need step in and take over that role, especially me.


First day of school

I got this email from my elementary principal. She received it from a mom who, with her husband, were talking to their new first grader about going to school for the first time.

Tonight Bryan and I were discussing with Ally the class principles and general expectations that she will face in this school year. Bryan asked her what the most important thing to learn this year would be, and after some thought she concluded that the most important thing to learn would be to not burp or toot while she was at school. Bryan told me later that, while those are important aspects of getting along with others, that wasn't quite the answer he was looking for.

This is one of the MANY reasons I love working with elementary kids. Also that I got more hugs this morning than I have in the last week (the hugs where they really just hug your legs or waist because that is as high as they come). LOVE IT.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Sigh . . . . .

That sigh was a sigh of completion, or better yet the sigh of seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I

am sitting in my office, at my desk, and on my computer. Not much else is in here, and I still have to go searching for boxes scattered throughout the school but I'M IN MY OFFICE.


This has been a very frustrating situation and I know I haven't handled it in the best way but it was very encouraging that I knew I had friends out there praying for me and thinking of me. Thanks to everyone for their encouraging words as the cement dried.

Our vice principal quoted this scripture to our kids today and it hit home with what my attitude should have been throughout this adventure. (I love that we quote scripture in student orientation, LOVE IT.)

"The Lord GOD has given Me the tongue of disciples, That I may know how to sustain the weary one with a word. He awakens Me morning by morning, He awakens My ear to listen as a disciple. The Lord GOD has opened My ear; And I was not disobedient, Nor did I turn back. "Isaiah 50:4,5

I want to wake up in the moring wiht my ear listnening to God. I want to hear Him and obey Him. Gosh, this verse probably flew right over our kids head but it knocked me in the heart.

P.S. Pray for Rebekah. (this is as much a reminder for me as it is a challenge to you).

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

14 hours 47 minutes

Yep, 14 hours 47 minutes later and I still don't have an office.
Am I frustrated? Yep.
Is it somewhat funny? Yep.
Am I learning something? You betcha: patience, a servant's heart, peace in the midst of chaos, and so much more.

So once again, I may not be around tomorrow so . . . . .

Go see Rebekah and spend the time there that you would have here. My frustrations pale in comparison to her struggles and her and her families strength and perseverence.
Thanks guys.

God must have a sense of humor

Yesterday was a crazy day and I figured I had weathered the worst. How wrong I was.

As of 9:00 am this morning we have no offices, still no floors upstairs, no computer access (which means no work), no phone lines, nothing. Am I stressed? Oh yeah, but I've now moved on to the point of hilarity. Everything in the school is in boxes, we are sitting there watching cement dry, and kids come tomorrow at 8:30 am for the first day of school.

So if you get a chance I would love some prayer for my stress level and just that everything will work out in time for classes tomorrow. But if not, that I will just roll with everything and have a good attitude.

This also serves as a warning that I may be without internet access for a few days, so know that I haven't fallen off the face of the earth, I just need the cement to dry quickly. As of right now, watching cement dry means that I get to goof off for the rest of the day (i.e. go to my parent's house and take advantage of their internet) and then I get to WORK at 10 pm.

Monday, August 15, 2005


I'm thankful that God shows me my selfishness by opening my eyes to one of his little children who is suffering so much more than I can even imagine. Please go to this site, read her story, and above all join in prayer for this precious child and her family.

Who are we if we can't surround our brothers and sisters in Christ as they struggle? Who am I?

"Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
Matthew 5: 3-10


I am going crazy, slowly, surely, crazy. Parents everywhere, drills, electric saws, hammering, the copy machine is jammed, teachers are calling with questions, new applicants are walking in (two days before school starts), we have a meeting tonight and aren't prepared, school starts on Wednesday and we have no flooring, the phone keeps ringing. Ahhh the few days before school starts.


Saturday, August 13, 2005

Saturday Night

I stopped by my office for 5 minutes and an hour later I'm posting something I found in my computer files as I was organizing them (I know this is a sickness for me).

These are the lyrics to a song I heard years ago at a youth ministry conference and they just really hit me at the time. I ended up putting them in this form and framing it in my bedroom. I look at it each day I go to get my watch off my dresser and it continues to strike me and make me really question what it is I want from God or more what it is I desire to give Him.

Just a random thing to post on a Saturday night, so enjoy.

Image hosted by

Thursday, August 11, 2005

The Chum

Yuck, just the thought of that word makes my stomach twist. Back when I use to work with out youth group we had an event we called Mess Fest. It was a glorified food fight. We wanted something messy, something fun, something unforgettable.

Instead of doing an all out food fight we decided to have a competition of sorts and involve the NASTIEST food we could find. So we gathered up about 20 dozen eggs, about 15 big ol tubs of oatmeal, some chicken feed, pudding, whip cream, and the best part “moo glide” (more on that later).

I can’t really remember all the actual tasks the teams had to do but I remember it was CRAZY MESSY.

Oh yeah, I need to explain the chum. Chum is made up of coolers of hot steaming oatmeal, chicken feed, and orange Gatorade powder. It has a texture all its own and a smell that is, well, pretty much vomit inducing. The chum would become the backbone of the evening.

So we had the kids do all these different games. One was a blindfolded egg toss and then an egg shoot-out at 10 paces. Nothing like starting off when the sun is still out and beating down by having everyone covered in eggs.

We then moved on to a obstacle course where all the leaders pelted the kids with piping hot chum and they made their way through the course and then had to bob in pudding. Good times, good times.

One of my favorites was the “moo glide” dunk and slide. Kids had to run down and dunk themselves head first into the “moo glide”. This magic potion was something we picked up from the farm store when we got the chicken feed. Its sole purpose in farming is to act as a lubricant for birthing cows. Yep, you read that right, for birthing cows. It comes in powder form and when you add water turns into the slimy wet stuff that feels just like water but whicks off of you when you shake your arm. It is the coolest stuff in the world. So kids had to dunk themselves in a huge trash can of moo glide and then slide across a ghetto slip in slide (i.e. tarp) and tag their teammate who then had to do the same thing. It was HILARIOUS.

So after all the competitions we had the all out fest of the mess. We brought out more coolers of hot chum, buckets of pudding and whip cream, another trash can of moo glide and just let everyone run wild. It was CHAOS.

Here are a few tips if you are ever in a food fight. Always aim for the major holes in the head. These include the mouth, ears, and nose. These are perfect areas to deposit your weapon of choice. They each have their own pros and cons. You will have the most luck with the mouth as it is probably opened from talking or screaming. It is also the biggest opening so you can get the most bang for your buck. The nose is good because it is unexpected and with just a slight forward thrust of your palm you can move from the mouth to the nose and expertly compact a good few inches of material up both nasal cavities. I personally favor the ears as they make the most damaging impact. You can spit food out of your mouth, you can blow your nose, but your ears are just empty spots waiting to be filled. This also allows you to make a sneak attack from the side or back and be on your way before retribution can be given. Also, the ears offer the opportunity for a long lasting effect as it will take days for them to be properly cleaned out.

So we went at each other like crazy people and by the end of it I was covered head to toe in chum and such and my hair was a slick mess of moo glide with chunks of chum squished into my scalp.

So what do you do when you have 100 people covered in food? Call the fire department. We had one of the huge water trucks come out and spray us down. It was a blast. (pun not intended)

So if anyone wants to start a food fight with me, remember I am a professional with a detailed game plan.


I wonder what a mind exploding would actually look like? Would the head burst open and brain matter come shooting out like a volcanoe? Sick thought, I know. Not very girly like. Sorry.

We're in the middle of in-service training and are trying to get all our staff on the same page with a new computer program. NIGHTMARE.

So if you are looking for a post from me, you might have to wait unitl after 4 or 5 CST (that is for Ben, or better yet Eddie).

Wednesday, August 10, 2005


If you’re wondering about the title: Dénouement, in literature, means resolution of the conflict.

Yesterday seemed to be a hard day for many people (including me). The storm clouds had rolled in and the flood waters were rising.

Ben mentioned something that made me think of something someone once told me.

Children are so innocent and trusting. They delight in the smallest pieces of joy and never tire from repetition. A child will beg their father over and over again to continue throwing them up in the air.

Now think about God’s repetition. How He provided mana for the Israelites as they wandered in the wilderness each and every day. How each year the leaves change colors and float to the ground as fall begins. Then blossoms peak from beneath the chill in the spring. How a field can be filled with thousands or millions shafts of grass, or better yet daisies, each one the same and yet each special.

So back to the child. After each time his father tosses him in the air, these words tumble from his lips: “Do it again Daddy”.

We know that after every storm God brings the rainbow. Repetition we can hope in. Repetition we can know.

I ask:

“Do it again Daddy.”

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

I had a whole other post planned for today and then BAM.

Do you ever wake up thinking that today is going to be a good day and then hours later realize just how wrong you were. It seems I am never prepared for life's sharp turns. Suffice it to say that along with quite a few other blog friends out there, my day is not going so well.

It seems there is a theme of stoms and weathering them going on out there with my compatriots and I would like to proclaim that I am in the midst of my own. As I look from horizon to horizon I am not seeking a speck of light or really a hope of the clouds parting.

Part of me wants to walk outside, look up to the sky and ask God, "What in the world are you thinking?" This question may seem harsh but at its core is my heart wanting to know not really the why but the what that He wants from me in this. What am I to learn? What are you trying to show me? What are you trying to change in me?

The next thing I would say is "HELP". Show me that you are here. Show me that you are bigger than all of this. Show me that you are in control. Show me that there is light at the end of this and that this is in your plan. Show me your grace. Show me your hands holding me in the middle of all this.

I guess one good thing in this I don't feel all alone in the storm.

Monday, August 08, 2005

This ain’t game night at the Elk Lodge (Part 1)

Game night always sounded to me like something you did when you got old and boring but there is nothing old or boring about our monthly game night.

Jes and Roger have introduced a group of us to the game Settlers of Catan. It is crazy hard to pick up and get good at it, but it is ADDICTIVE.

I’ve heard there is some coveting of our game nights so I wanted to share some pictures so you could feel like you were actually there with us

The Gang:

An action shot as Roger lept across us and caused some internal injuries:

This game night started off with some entertainment as the circus had come to town. Eddie played the role of strong man (because hello who else but eddie could be our strong man).

And yes people, these are Eddie's calves:

Bianca then joined Eddie in some Cirque de Soleil antics.

Of course, to not be outdone I had to show off my acrobatic skillz (yes with a z, in fact with a capital Z). In all actuality we were all playing with R&J’s (roger and jes) exercise ball. Roger was showing us his back work out where you kneel on the ball and balance. This became one of those moments where I forget that I am lacking real balance skills of any kind. I have been known to fall down while standing still. Don’t ask, I can’t explain just accept it and move on, I have.

So I proceed to follow Roger’s instructions and try and kneel on this ball and balance with my hands. The next step is to take your hands off and balance but I didn’t make it that far. Instead I “felt” myself falling so I used my stunt girl skillz (again with the Z) and tried to launch my body up in the air so that I would land on my feet. No wait, that’s a lie. I actually was just trying not to do a face plant into the carpet, because, well, that would hurt. A lot. So I attempted to twist my body so that I would at least land on my side. Mental note: Do not twist anything while on a big ball of air. What occurred next was an acrobatic feat that has never been attempted again. I somehow bounced off the ball and actually flew into the air and then landed in a crumpled mass on the floor.

The funny part about all this is I distinctly remember being shocked as I heard a loud high pitch laugh/cackle in the middle of my flight. Then I hit the ground and felt the pain but I could not contain my own laughter. It was dead silent for two seconds and then the whole room erupted in laughter.

Jessica, who was the photographer for the evening was so shocked by my display of grace and flying capabilities missed the action shot and only got the recovery from landing/laughing my head off picture.

Everyone was asking if I was ok and I assured them that I have perfected the art of falling down and I have learned to laugh at myself quite well.

Stay tuned for part II and hear about actual game playing . . . . .

Friday, August 05, 2005

Since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,
Hebrews 12:1

This verse jumped into my head last night. I had met up with some women (mostly moms) from my school to support and encourage another mom whose husband was in the hospital. I am always encouraged and amazed to see the body of Christ at work in the lives of others. It is humbling for me to see how little I reach out to those who are broken, beaten down, in pain, and suffering when in fact that is exactly what I am called to do.

I want to share with you the story of this family. Travis (dad), Paula (mom), and Ian (son) are returning to our school this year. Two weeks ago Travis began to feel numbness in his fingers and toes. This progressed to his feet going numb and then it continuing up his legs. They feared that he had ALS, Lou Gehrig’s disease, and began to plan as if Travis only had the next two years to live. After being admitted to the hospital they were relieved to find out it was not ALS but a disease (of which I cannot remember the name, of course) that causes progressive paralysis, intense pain, and then plateaus and the paralysis begins to diminish. The disease causes antibodies to attack the body which then causes paralysis but the person can still feel everything (there is no loss of sensation just loss of control of the muscles). The joyful news is that there is a 100% recovery rate of this disease.

Paula has watched her husband be taken over by paralysis to a point where he couldn’t breathe on his own, couldn’t talk, and couldn’t even close his eyelids. She described how she would close his eyelids for him (how sweet and tender is the touch of a wife to her husband). Paula has had to sleep lying across Travis’s chest so that he would not pull out the breathing tube since he has gained some movement back in his arms.

As I sat listening to this woman of faith I was humbled by her faith, by her hope, by her strength, and by her heart. She’s going through this awful situation and she is smiling and hopeful and assured that God is good and her husband is safe in His hands.

If you have a chance please pray for this family. Pray that Travis will continue to recover at a miraculous rate (the doctors are amazed at his progress), that rehabilitation will go smoothly, and that he will rest in the hands of the God of healing. Pray for Paula, that she will be comforted as she takes on the responsibilities of her family, that the peace that surpasses all knowledge will encompass her, that she will be given blessings of joy as Travis recovers (for example he was able to kiss her for the first time in two weeks). Pray for Ian, that this little boy will see the strength of faith of both his parents, that he will fear nothing in this time, that all the transitions to come will not be difficult for him. Also please just pray that our community at school will rise up and support this family and that God will be exalted by the serving and caring hearts of all who come to the need of this family. Pray that they will be surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses and that they themselves will witness to the power and love of our God.

Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
Hebrews 12:2

This isn’t in the grain of my usual postings, but this situation just touched my heart and I wanted to share it with you out there.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Did my womb just leap?

I just love that title. It begs you to read the post.

There is a family at my school that I LOVE. They have 6 children from 1st to 10th grade and the younger ones (grades 1,2,4) have a special place in my heart especially the youngest one.

Rebekah is a spunky red haired, freckled, fire cracker who is PRECIOUS. She comes and hugs me evertime I see her and she holds my hand when we walk down the hall. I dream of one day having a girl just like her.

Well today she comes into my office and I ask her if I can have some of her freckles. She reached up and tried to pull them off but can't so she says they're glued on too hard. I then suggest we try and rub them off of her onto me. So there we are rubbing cheeks and noses trying to get her freckles on to my face. Thump, thump, thump, thump that is my womb leaping.

PRECIOUS (Rebekah not my womb)


The red digits teased me this early morning, or should I say the time that does not exist in my world. I realized I was awake and yet I didn’t want to open my eyes. You know how you can just sense that it is not time to get up yet, and if you don’t open your eyes and actually wake-up you can trick your body back into sleeping. Well my body was not falling for any tricks this morning. I was awake, completely. And as I looked at the clock it mocked me with the digits it displayed. There really are no reasons why I should see these numbers unless it is in the middle of the afternoon or I have been having way too much fun all night and am about to flop into bed in the wee hours of the morning.

Something is going on because I have not slept at all the last two nights. Midnight rolls around and I am completely awake, in fact I am more awake than I am at noon. Then I wake up in the middle of the night (4:22 to be precise) and that’s it, I’m up and ready to go. This is disturbing as I am usually a good 7-8 hour sleeper. I love sleeping, I love getting to sleep in. And now I’m not even sleeping until the alarm but 2-3 hours before the alarm. Ugh. This is going to be a problem if it continues on much longer.

I’ve posted before about my sleep routine. Here you go JLR I do have quirks. When I go to sleep it is with a mission. I am going to SLEEP. I have a pretty deep sleep pattern; I can sleep through trains, planes, and automobiles. I also dream, every night, well almost every night. I dream in feature length movies with plot lines, multiple characters, etc (my aunt told me I got that from my grandmother). I can also have a conversation with you in the middle of the night and then completely forget it the next morning.

I also have a theory about waking up. If you do not open your eyes, or only open one really quickly, to check the time then you will be able to more quickly return to the peaceful place I call slumber. Ahhh sleep, slumber, shut eye, those are good words to me. Now don’t think I am some old fogie that goes to bed at 9 p.m. I just like to continue in my slumber once it has begun. Back to my theory. So if you keep your eyes closed you are set. I’ve even mastered the ability to reset my alarm clock with my eyes closed. This in it self is a trick task because my alarm clock is positioned so that I have to lean way out of bed and stretch my go-go-gadget arm to reach it. I then have to use only the fingers of my right hand and stretch them to hold down the alarm button while I punch the minute (or hour – what a treat) and count the minutes I am adding. All of this must be accomplished while still in a slumber-like state so no real hard thinking is allowed, which means not addition or subtraction, just counting 1,2,3,4,5,6 . . . . 30. I like to add time in 15 or 30 minute increments (don’t know why but it is a good number for me.)

There I have a quirk. And I’m now tired. And I have no appetite. What is going on?

This just in . . . . .
Humor is always a good substitute for sleep. So this incident below makes up for at least 30 minutes of the 2.5 hours of sleep I didn’t get last night.

There was a new coffee-like drink in the office, Postum. Our elementary principal was asking about it and our sweet accountant (a kindly grandmother) was describing it to her. This is the part of the conversation I liked:

Millie (grandmother/accountant): “It has malt in it.”

Mrs. Morse (elementary principal): “That says malt liquor, Millie.”

Without missing a beat. Millie: “That’s why I like it.”

These are the women I work with.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Rebuilding the Wall

This was the title of the breakout session at my conference last week. It was so vague that of course it peaked my interest. Sandwiched in between “Transfer Credits”, “Student Government”, “Science Labs on a short Timetable” something about it said come. So I went.

This session was led by a school administrator. Let me take a moment to refresh your memory: I work for a private Christian school which partners with parents for a whole new model of school. Our students are not full time five days a week but alternate between here and home with parents taking an active role in the education of their children. This idea is very different from the normal public education I had but I’ve see the benefits of it and the blessings it is to both parents and children. Ok back to the conference. So this administrator really just took the time to share with us his heart, his struggles with the school, and how God’s word spoke to him.

Now I realize that many of you are thinking what does a school conference have to do with me? Well keep reading and I think you will be able to relate to the “heart” of his words.

Aaron (the speaker)’s school has been around for five years now and he was seeing an attitude and heart of complacency and even rebellion. The school was having more discipline problems than ever before, parents weren’t involved, the staff was floundering on having a vision, and everything had just become second nature. There was no heart to any of it.

Aaron was discouraged and happen to stumble upon the book of Nehemiah. He said that as he read it he was entranced with the insight that God was showing him as he read through Nehemiah’s mission to rebuild the wall of Jerusalem.

Here is some background if you don’t remember your nation of Israel history. Most of the nation had been taken into captivity at this point and a small remnant was left in Israel. The walls around the city of Jerusalem had been destroyed by warring nations and the glory of the promised city and nation of God’s people was left in rubble. Nehemiah was an official in the king of Babylon and left with permission to go back to Jerusalem and rebuild the wall.

Back to the story. So Aaron is looking the towers around the new wall and how the towers are to protect the people within the city by watching out for coming trouble. And then the gates are there to monitor the flow of people. He then related this to his school and the board members as the watch towers, the staff as the gates, and the parents as the wall. This entire living wall then creates a place of safety and shelter to the children the school is training so that one day they may take their place on the wall. He also talked about how the people would build while holding a spear in one hand ready to do battle with the any nation that would come against them.

This is all a rambling story to get you to this one point. At the end of his session I was ready to sign up to work for him. Why? Because this man had a mission, he had a vision of what God had placed on his heart and he was leading the way to complete that mission. This was a man who had answered the call God had placed before him, had pondered the mission and was leading the charge to accomplish that which God chose him to do.

Men lend me your ears for a few minutes here. Women desire this type of leadership, both in a relationship, in work, in ministry, in anything. Ladies you are welcome to disagree with me but this is my opinion. I want to follow a man who leads. I don’t want to follow a guy who has no idea where he is going, why he is going this way, or what he is doing along the way. I want to follow a man who seeks to do that which God has specifically called him. Who is excited and has a vision in his heart of what he is doing. This is one of the most frustrating things for a woman in anything, to have a man who does not lead, or who leads but has no vision. Gentlemen you are given a distinct challenge and role. You are to lead the charge, to set the pace, to rally the troops, and to pull them into your vision of what, when, where, and most importantly why. Share with me your heart. Tell me what God is teaching you. Let me get caught up in the vision, in the mission you are calling me to join.

So that was what I got from his talk. We are called to do great things in the name of God. Things beyond our abilities, our efforts, our dreams. What an amazing calling. Where are the men that are going to take that calling and lead the way?

This is not a rail on men post but more of an encouragement to be what you were created and to know that you will be followed into battle, into the mission, into the fight.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Yes Virginia there is a Tooth Fairy . . . . .

And it’s ME.

Yep you read that right. I am the tooth fairy. I collect used teeth and deposit change in their place. How do I travel all over the world? And what do I do with all those used teeth? Well those are trade secrets so I’m sorry but I can’t share them with you.

Actually to our first grade class I am the tooth fairy. Whenever they lose a tooth their teacher (our elementary principal and one of the most Godly women I know) sings them a song and then I perch on their desk for the day in my tooth fairy garb.

Here’s the backstory if you are really confused:

A few years ago I went to a Christmas party for all the female teachers at work. We had to bring an ornament for a gift exchange and I wanted to be creative and of course randomly absurd. I got the GREAT idea of making an angel tree topper. But of course this could not be just any angel tree topper it needed the special Katie touch. So it became the Katie the Angel tree topper. I made an angel with robe, wings, halo and all with my face plastered right there on the face of the angel. CLASSIC and pretty darn good if I do say so myself.

So we get to the gift exchange and my ornament was the party favorite but the girl who ended up with it was a party pooper and didn’t want it (I tried not to take it as a personal insult that she didn’t want my face looking down on her on Christmas day). So I switched with her and kept my own angel knowing it would one day be put to good use. That day was not far off because I soon house-sat for the party hostess and a good friend (like a big sister) and I decided her tree needed a special touch. She arrived home with her family to see my bright shiny angelic face greeting her.

Somehow soon after that the angel ended up in the main office at work and it was perched upon a trophy where everyone entering the office could see it. Let’s just say that it was a crowd pleaser and comment generator for a few weeks. Then my elementary principal gets an idea to turn it into the tooth fairy. So my angel became a fairy and traveled to the first grade room.

So now when a kid looses a tooth the fairy sits on their desk for the day signifying they are the special tooth looser. It is always fun when my principal brings it out for the first time and all the kids look at it noticing that it seems somehow familiar. Then one bright kids puts two and two together and I get called the tooth fairy for the rest of the year.

I’m always wondering when a first grader looks inquisitively at me if they're wondering where I keep my quarters of if right now I am eyeing the loose tooth they are fiddling with.

Footnote: Try as I might I cannot find the CD to download the picture of the Tooth Fairy. I will try and get it up soon.