Because if it is way down in the comments you may not take the time to read it

Uhhh sorry but the following statement that says I will post something from my head is false. I will have to wait until tomorrow to post something new. Sorry for the false advertisement.
I will post something out of my own pretty little head a bit later but I HAD to highlight this once comment from my post yesterday.

Some of you know Deals of Blinky Moments, who is also known as Deals on Wheels (how is that for a name?). And then there are those of you who have not had the opportunity to experience this hidden wonder. If I have any sway with you (which I'm sure if I do it is very little and expires after about three seconds) I recommend you visit this blog and enjoy the ramblings of a mighty funny gal.

This was a comment she offered on my post asking for conversation. I went ahead and added my responses to her. So sit back with a cup of joe and just experience the dealio psyche.

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Does anyone else have a problem chewing gum? Because I do. I chew, like, a pack a day or something ridiculous, which wouldn't be a problem if I could somehow manage to not swallow it all of the time.

Back when I was little, I wouldn't allow myself to chew gum because I knew that I had a problem "swallowing" it. I was afraid that it would really get stuck on my ribs and that it would stay there for seven years. This bothered me to no end, so I decided that I would just swear off gum until I could figure out a way to chew it without swallowing it.

Anyway, the whole not chewing thing really worked out for me when I was seven or eight. Well, that is until I found out in science class one day that gum travels through the digestive system just like anything else you swallow. This, of course, was a great relief, because it meant that my ribs weren't covered in the stuff.

So, I started chewing again, and I still chew to this day. I like to chew, but I rarely (if ever) manage to not swallow the stuff. Case in point: I’ve swallowed three pieces of gum this afternoon alone. It just happens - one second I am chewing away and the next it is gone (tragic, I know).

Plus, my gum habit is getting a little expensive.

I'm a little worried, though, that my science teacher might have been wrong about the whole thing (like maybe he was just mistaken and gum really does get stuck to your ribs if you swallow it). Sometimes I imagine what my ribs must look like (assuming that gum really does get stuck there for seven years) and I always envision this jar that my 2nd grade art teacher had in her classroom. See, gum was forbidden in class, so every time she caught someone chewing it, she made them spit it out into this jar. At first, it wasn't that gross, but as the year went on more and more gum went into the jar. By the end of the year, the jar was full of all of these multicolor gum balls and they were all floating in a yellowish pool of thick salvia. I gag just thinking about it. If we were misbehaving in class, the art teacher would threaten us by saying things like, “if you don’t behave I’ll make you drink some of the spit in the jar.” We would all get quiet immediately – even the boys – because just looking at the jar made us all want to vomit. It was just pure nastiness.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure that if gum doesn’t go through me like everything else that I eat, that my ribs - by now - must look like all of that gum did in that jar: a bunch of multicolored wads completely covering every nanometer of ribcage inside of my chest. Whenever I have a cough and my chest rattles - I picture the gum on my ribs and decide that it is the gum (not the phlegm) that is causing the rattle. Then, I promise myself – once again - that I'll learn to not swallow my gum anymore, but - of course - I still do.

Too bad there is not a “Gum Chewers Anonymous”, because I could use the support. I’ve identified the issue and accepted (and admitted) that it is a problem, but I have no idea where to go from here.

That reminds me of that song from Evita. You know, the one that goes, “Where do we go from here? This isn’t where we intended to be. We had it all. You believed in me. I believed in you…” I always liked that song. One time in high school we went to the movies to see Evita (starring Madonna). I went to this boarding school in Maryland, and the movie theater closest to the school was deemed to be unsafe (apparently). So, in order to see Evita, we had to travel to Pennsylvania. It was a miserable bus ride and when we finally got there it was this dirty, sketchy little theater in the middle of nowhere. When the lights went out, you could hear and feel the mice running around. It was horrible, but the chaperones made us stay and watch the entire movie (since they had gone to all of the trouble to bus the group of us all the way up to this particular theater).

Anyway, I always think of that song whenever someone says, “Where do we go from here?”

That song also reminds me of the time I got lost on a bike path and had to be picked up at some random guys house. We were completely lost, and had no idea where we were going. I had been walking with this friend of mine for hours and it was starting to get dark. This was before cell phones and all, so we decided that we’d knock on the first house that we saw from the bike path. Well, we didn’t see a house for over an hour, and when we finally found one, it was nothing more than a shack by the side of the road. I was pretty sure that we had stumped into one of those horror movies by accident, but the girl I was with decided that we had to knock to see if the people living there had a phone that we could use to call for help.

So, she knocks on the door and this BIG guy answers holding an axe. I was like, “Oh, no. We’re dead,” but my friend wasn’t fazed and asked if we could use his phone. He ended up being very friendly and brought us his portable (there was NO way I was going inside his house to use the phone – especially with him holding that axe).

Anyway, my friend’s mother came and picked us up 45 minutes later. We had managed to walk over 20 miles in the wrong direction. I’m still not completely sure how we managed to get lost on a bike path in the first place, but whatever.

Okay, that’s it for me. I hope this “conversation” adds to the overall “conversation”. I can talk and/or write about nothing for hours. It’s a talent.

Anyway, work is finally over! Yey!

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And my comments in reply:

:)

This is what I did when I saw Deals's comment pop up in my email and I had to SCROLL my email to read it all. The small things in life, that is really what it is all about, and this is one of those small things that brings me an inexpicable amount of joy.

and then after I smiled I read the comment and I dry heaved for about five minutes at the mention of a gum gar filled with yellow saliva like liquid, and then I dry heaved some more because you said that your teacher would threaten to make you drink it (just dry heaved at this moment)

and then I laughed at the axe man story because it reminded me of the hatchet man story (which I must share come time)

too bad there wasn't anything to cry about because deals you would have taken me through the wheel of emotions and that would be an achievment

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So friends take a moment and just enjoy what brought a smile to my face, a dry heave to my gut (ugh just did it again as I read over this post), and a laugh to my soul

I'll be back this afternoon with some ramblings of my own, although my ramblings are usually not this entertaining and they aren't really ramblings but long drawn out thoughts that are over analyzed and hard to follow, yep those are my ramblings.

Conversation

Let me state a fact for you:
Girls can talk.
In massive quantities.
About absolutely nothing.
And we enjoy it.

Another fact:
Guys NOT SO MUCH.

This is not to say that guys don't talk. I happen to know many guys who talk just fine, and who are capable of talking in mass quantities. But this is not really the norm.

I was again reminded of this today during a convesation with a guy who works in my Sunday School class. He mentioned that his roomate and he were talking about a college guy who had called his roomie because he was in his small group. The guy in question spent a good quantity of time keeping the roomie on the phone talking about absolutely nothing. The roomie then remarked to the guy I was talking to that this poor boy was not a man at all if he could talk for that long on absolutely nothing.

So today I ask you for conversation. Blogs have a tendency to create a writer/reader mentality. You come, you read, and if you are so inclined you comment. Instead I suggest you question, you comment, you spark conversation and let's see what happens. So feel free to ask a question, to make a statement that will garner responses, or if you must to just linger and watch the conversation pass you by.

I choose to laugh at myself thank you very much

I was talking with a friend last night (a fellow blogger by trade) and we were discussing people's voices (not the audible part) and their reasons for blogging. Some people approach this new form of mass media because they have a plan, a mission.

I am not one of those people.

Kpinion does not exist to take over the world (at least that is what you have been led to believe). Nor does it exist to force some sort of revolution. Nope. People, my reasoning is fairly pure. I blog because I like it. I write because it is something that I enjoy. The things I post are not meant to move you in any one direction, to change your entire view of life, or even to entertain you, because I don't write for you. I write whatever weighs on my heart or swims in my mind. I write for me. I just choose to put it out there for the entire world to read along with.

Ok and now that the public service announcement has ceased, I must chronicle a most hilarious moment for me yesterday.

As I sat at lunch with some fellow workers, we began to talk about the phrase "just so you know". I, for one, use this phrase quite frequently. It might be my "signature phrase". I often laugh that this phrase has a bit of sarcastic wit with it on every usage. "Just so you know, I already did that." "Just so you know, Bob was talking about you yesterday." The phrase has bite to it though covered in the covering of a informative and kind phrase. And yes I did discuss this with my co-workers (I'm a bit of a nut you see).

In the middle of this conversation, our vice principal mentioned that some people use the phrase "For you FYI". It took me a second but the hilarity of that phrase stuck me so much that I just started giggling. My mind raced with thoughts that whoever uses that is so funny and yet a little sad because they are saying "for your for your information".

In the midst of my laughter, my VP looked at me with a grin and said, "Katie you say that." Oh the uproarious laughter that occurred on my part at that moment. Here I was laughing and making fun of the poor soul who misspoke and IT WAS ME. Yes, this only made it even more hilarious on my part. And then my VP commented, "but it makes you ghetto fabulous, you know you can rap it" and he proceeded to rap "for your for your information" for my listening pleasure.

My response to him was of course "I am going to have to blog about this." He smiled and asked what his moniker was on my blog. Without missing a beat I said "My Vice Principal who is a year younger than me." He smiled and said that he liked the focus placed on his youth in comparison to my grand old age. (Yes, my secondary vice principal is a year younger than me, smarter than me (I can admit that), and makes me laugh on a daily basis. As the two youngins of our administration team we act like brother and sister for the most part).

So this is what I choose to share with you dear internet. Misspeaking, humor, and a little slice of the pie that is called humble that I eat on a daily basis with much laughter and smiles. Stay tuned, because you never know what I will post next. Will it be a deep thought provoking delve into the inner workings of my mind, with it be an emotional roller coaster ride of free form thought, will it be another story of my mishaps (they occur in great frequency so there is always material in that category). I don't know because there is no game plan, no ulterior motive. What you see is what you get, although figuring out what you are seeing may take a while.

It all started with a Happy Meal . . .

For those wondering, the introspective Kpinion will return in the near future. There are some things afoot (don't you just love that word) but need a bit more simmering and pondering. It comes in ebbs and flows people and right now I'm ebbing. In the meantime I submit for your viewing pleasure a humorous tale.

Jes and I use to be roomies, actually double roomies (meaning that we lived together twice but separated by three years) but this story occurred on our second run of being roommates (it only lasted about 5 months because she moved to Dallas and left me all ALONE).

So one day we went to McDonalds and I got a Happy Meal (they really don’t make you that happy so I think I may bring a class action suit for false advertisement) and it came with a toy tie-in for the Country Bears (an animatronics movie by Disney). It was a small stuffed bear wearing a brown coat. It was UGLY (and I mean U G L Y you ain’t got no alibi, you ugly yeah yeah you ugly).

I tried to give it to Jes but she didn’t want it. So what do you do with an ugly bear? You hide it in your roommate’s room on occasion. And so began the great Country Bear hand off. First it started with me hiding it in Jes’s room (in her bed I think) and then she hid it in my drawer. And throughout the five months we lived together the Country Bear would sneak back and forth between us.

Well Jes moved out on me (don’t worry I’ve dealt with the feelings of abandonment) and I could not just let her leave without a little piece of me. So Country Bear found his way into her boxes and made the trip to Big D. Many moons passed and Country Bear became a long lost memory for me. I would often sit and reminisce about the good times we had, the long cries we shared, the laughter, the secrets confided, but he had found a new home and I was happy for him. Little did I know that Country Bear would come back into my life.

So fast-forward many months and Jes and I are both in the wedding of a mutual friend. As we leave the rehearsal at the church to make out way to dinner, the younger sister of the bride (who was riding with Jes) jumps out of the car and races up to my door. I rolled down my window expecting her to tell me something and got hit upside the head with none other than Country Bear. He was back in my life, though not for good.

Well my dear Jes got married not much later and I was invited to her personal shower. I knew this was the opportunity for Country Bear to make an appearance but he needed something new, something to set him apart. So Country Bear got in the mood for a personal shower and showed up in a couture under-thingies set made of beads. He was quite a sight to see and presented to the bride-to-be as a gift.

Well, I don’t have to tell you that he was a HIT. In fact, Roger (Jes’s husband) was quite impressed with Country Bear and his new outfit. There was even some talk about Country Bear accompanying the newlyweds on their forthcoming travels but he thought it better to allow the couple to have some time to themselves. See Country Bear is quite a prankster and is the life of the party anywhere he goes, so crashing someone’s honeymoon would be a bit selfish on his part and he is sensitive to things of that nature.

So Country Bear now had a new mission in life, to change his look each time he appeared on the scene. The next great emergence of Country Bear was at a game night. He was disguised as a late birthday gift for me from Jes, but what a gift he was. Sporting a new blue jean halter dress, Country Bear was stylin and profilin.

Now, I’m not one to just sit on my laurels (do girls have laurels?). The challenge was on me to really take Country Bear to the next level. A complete make-over was in store for our little bear. A nip here a tuck there, facials, hair extensions, new threads, and some counseling later, Country Bear had transformed for a very special occasion. See it was now Jessica’s birthday and she deserved the best (even though Roger told me I couldn’t get her a gift). Country Bear isn’t a gift, he is a life companion, a friend, a coveted part of the fabric of our lives (and he’s made of cotton so that fits perfectly). And so Country Bear was presented with the grandeur that only he deserves and feasted with us on yummy fondue in celebration of Jes’s birthday.




Now Country Bear, in the care of Jes and Roger, is on his first trip overseas. If you go HERE, you will see he is being presented to the Philippines. Who knows, maybe he will come back with some native wear or at least a really good tan and some souvenirs.

One is real the other is honorary but both made my day

Life is good when you throw out a random comment and friends and family respond in such a way that it actually makes your jaw drop and your heart warm.

First I got a virtual rose (note the yellow color - whee the state flower of Texas) for my desktop from my honorary big brother Ben

Then after a coffee-fix run, I was greeted at my desk by the real thing:



One of my sweet, amazing, wonderful younger sisters had sent me roses. Thank you Kelli.

I forget sometimes just how dang blessed I am to have the family and friends I do. Really really blessed.

My rental car smells weird

Just . . . .

too . . . .



busy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Proof:

If you look closely you can see my assortment of pens, the mounds and mounds of paperwork (although you may not be able to tell that the paper is about three inches thick in some places) and my saving grace - a singular snack pack of M&M's. Ahhhhh chocolate can cure almost any ailment.

No roses to smell on my desk C-Rev, but if anyone wants to send me roses for my desk I will smell them with pleasure.

It really was that good

I like movies.

Actually I need to amend that statement.

I like stories, good stories, well told stories.

The best stories take you places. They wrap you up in a journey where you feel like you are part of the interwoven lives of the characters. And these characters become someone (or something) that you know, that you are invested in. The best stories move you, they change you.

So in my quest for a good story I find myself entranced by books, magazines, newspapers, blogs, television, and movies.

This weekend I experienced a great story. And I say experienced because this story is not one to just be viewed and left in the theater. It gets inside of you, it works its way through you, and when you leave it is carried with you.

And I liked it so much I decided to go back for a second helping. Those are the good stories, the ones you can return to time after time and still be drawn into the tale.

And what great theatrical experience am I describing you may ask. Is it a new flick by Spielberg? Something from Woody Allen? Maybe a Weisman brothers’ collaboration?

NOPE.

I’m talking about End of the Spear.

Now some people will pre-judge this movie. They will say that it is a Christian flick and therefore of low quality. And these people will be WRONG. This movie is astounding, beautiful, and possesses everything that is essential to a good story. I will agree that some movies that have come from the Christian sphere just aren’t good movies. They aren't presented with excellence, with style, with all those things that make a story worth your time. This is NOT one of those films.

Haunting, might be a word I use for how I left this film. Because after seeing it twice this weekend I can’t get it out of my head. The people, the places, the sacrifices, the love, and the story itself have imprinted my mind and my heart. And this story isn’t the creation of a imaginative mind, it isn’t the workings of a team of writers with a proven format, it is the simple story of real people, real lives, and real grace.

If haunted is how I describe myself after seeing this story, then grace is the word I choose to describe the story itself.

So now that I’ve rambled on for a bit, take a chance and go see this film, go experience this story. And then come back and tell me what you thought of it, of what you took from it. For the best stories linger, they hold on to us, and we are driven to discuss them, to ponder them, to change something in ourselves because of hearing them.

Into the Mirror by Steve Sporre

“My story. My pain. My redemption. My salvation.”

No other synopsis could so eloquently and truthfully describe what is contained in Into the Mirror. There are stories in our lives that stick with us, tales or epics that draw us in. Some of them are fairy tales, some are historical accounts of days long ago, some are the fruits of great literary minds, and then there are those that are so real they could be the story of our neighbors, our family, our friends, ourselves.

Some people write for wealth, others for stature, and then some write because they have a story that must be told.

Many of you know Steve, many of you may have heard me speak of his book, and some of you may have glanced at it in passing. As of yesterday, he wrote the final chapter. Read it because it is well written, read it because I’m telling you to, read it because you are curious, read it for any reason at all. But when you are done, when you have finished, I hope that you leave it in some way changed. Great stories do that, you approach them, you experience them, and you leave them altered. It is only fitting that this is the story of the transformation of a man and that each who read it might leave transformed themselves.

Please note that the book is in reverse order. You will need to use the chapter titles on the sidebar to navigate your way to the beginning. Click on the earliest chapter on each page until you get to chapter one and then use the back button to manuever to each chapter thereafter.

“Because I said so”

When you were a kid did you hate it when your parents pulled this one out of their back pocket? Oh, it drove me nuts. I was a very curious child and always wanted to know the “why”.

Now I am an impatient adult and want to know “why”, “how”, “when”, and “what”.

I’ve realized that sometimes this is the only answer we can give.

And other times it is the only answer we can receive.


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WHY? A question that has plagued me for a lifetime. Why this, why that, why not, why now, why here, why him or her?

I want answers and I want them now.

Impatience is weaved into my being, a need for understanding my bedrock. And yet I live a life that is based solely on a concept that forgoes these questions: Faith (oh a topic that is yet to be fully chewed upon in my mind). Now I’m not saying faith does not know, but faith is more trusting without having to know. It is forsaking all that seems rational, reasonable, and even possible for what you believe to be true, for what you know to be true, and for what you live as truth.

The semantics of this pitiful excuse for a definition are important: Faith does not equal NOT knowing, but does equal not HAVING to know. There is the key, the concept that eludes me so often. It is trusting without having to know why. Trusting in what you know to be true, to be good, and the rest is peripheral.

And when I remove the peripheral, the circumstances, the barriers, the timelines, the human part of life, I am left with two things. Me and God. Isn’t that how it always ends up? When you strip away all the other externalities, all the stuff that clouds our minds we come down to a relationship. A one-on-one relationship between me and God.

Stripped down, bare, I end up standing before Him with my head in my hands and my heart on display. The cries come tumbling from my lips faster than I can form the words. Why is it so hard? Why does it have to be this way? What are you doing to me? When will I? So many questions, so many fears, my innermost thoughts exposed before Him, my humanity on display.

And His answer is simple. It might not be what I want to hear but it is what I need to hear.

Because I AM.

The name of God that is defined as “the self-existent One”. It is Yahweh, Jehovah. Translated into Lord, it is the subsequent basis for many other names of God. The Lord will Provide, The Lord who Heals, The Lord my Banner, the Lord who Sanctifies, the Lord is Peace, the Lord of Hosts, the Lord my Shepherd, The Lord our Righteousness, The Lord is There. All of these characteristics of Him, all of these promises, and all are based on who He is.

So that broken girl with questions pouring from her heart who longs for answers realizes it all comes down to a name.

I AM.

Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.
Psalm 9:10

Brevity has never been my strong suit. Words come in truck loads for me. And while there is much more to say on this topic, those truck loads are just piles of unorganized thoughts at the moment. So it seemed appropriate, almost perfect to put up the “this” of the week before with what it all boiled down to, or better WHO it all boiled down to.

And to you too

So you gave me a word and I thought I should in turn give you one. If I've forgotten anyone please accept my apologies and let me know.

KrisT – vulnerable (which is such an amazing thing)
Stephanie – laugh
JCol – warm
Deals – witty
Shenna – mother
Saurkraut – sassy
AimClaim – wise
Jes – true
Kristi – lyrical
Steve – layers (as in many of them, maybe like an onion?)
Sydney – spunky
Hula – fun
Holly – approachable
Cube Rev – head (ahahahahaha that really was the first word)
Amelia – community
Aunt J - servant
Green – interesting
Shelley – authentic
Jayleigh – loving
Crystal – blonde (but absolutely not at all dumb)
Anon – mysterious
Ben – brother
Dorky Dad - new

And Anon I have not forgotten my promised post on "this". It's in the processing stage, funny how something so clear in one moment can be so hard to express in words. I'm trying to get it up today, but be forewarned that it may be a hodge podge of thoughts.


Whee new people:

Lia - creative (and yet concrete)
Foo - puzzles
Maria - name (I want a name that sounds so cool)
Logan - searching (for answers would finish out that thought, what a great quality to have)

One Word

Instructions(or "challenge" if you so need the inclination to feel this is a competition of some sort):

Describe me in one word - just one (1). Pick your word and comment before you read anyone else's word.

Editor's Note: The aforementioned instructions or challenge (if you are so inclined - have to make it interesting for some people) is not a lame attempt to garner praise or pick-me-ups, if you have a word that is maybe not so glorious, by all means, BRING IT.

In all honesty, I would rather hear honest answers than what you think I want to hear (not to say that honesty must be an all out attack on my character or something). So the first word, FIRST, not the first word that sounds good. And don't worry if you offend me I'll just erase the comment. My blog, my rules. :)

See, ornery might be a word I choose for myself and well it isn't the most attractive word to choose. Really, it just sounds wrong coming from my lips but hey in the moment it seems to fit.

So come one, come all and play the game (even you lurkers out there - and yes I see you hiding in the shadows (insert old radio program tag line here - "the shadow knows" )). Step up and say something, you're anonymous so I can't really hunt you down and do anything to you and well you lurk often and with regularity so i'm pretty sure you have some sort of opinion about me. And well an anonymous opinion seems mysterious and intriguing.

Blugh

That title sums up how I feel. BLUGH.

I'm stuck. My mind isn't working the way I want it to. There seems to be some sort of barrier that I can't quite overcome. So I sit at my computer staring at the screen and draw a blank as to what to type on here that will be worth your time. So sorry blogland, I'm coming up dry. Seems the drought that has overcome my dear Texas has also overcome Kpinion.

Feel free to comment at will and on any such topic as you desire. Maybe something will spark a rainstorm in my mind.

Well, happy Tuesday.

It's worth your time

You've heard it, you've studied it in school. But have you really given it time, your time? Take a moment and read it. Take a moment and look at the words, hear the words, and then walk away from it with whatever you take with you.

Delivered on the steps at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. on August 28, 1963

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity.

But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and every molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

Question of the Week

If you're waiting on the aforementioned post on "this" I must beg your patience a bit longer (which is somewhat ironic with the topic of the post but you don't know that yet). It's hit a road block or better yet a mind block. Instead I'm resurrecting the QOTW. Let me hear your thoughts, this is a good one.

What's something you've seen that was totally surreal? Something you couldn't believe you were seeing and felt like was in slow motion.

Prodigal Me by Shane Barnard

what have i done to get me here?
unraveled and undone, i need my father
what have i done? i've followed my feet to nowhere
now i'm here! as i ran, i can run no more
prodigal me

the mountains to the west, i know they laugh at me
they know i'm scared to cross and leave this life i lead
oh my pride! i give you up a barter for my freedom
what will they think as i come stumbling down to join their lives?

i need to cross this mountain and find my way home
i seek no greater fortune, rescue me
oh unmerciful divide be merciful tonight
show me the other side
prodigal me

the mountains to the east, they've swallowed my beloved
this house completely incomplete, where is my mortar?
where did he go? he followed his feet to nowhere
please come home! you've done me no wrong

each evening i look down that road
i hope and i wait for you
and my servants they look down that road
we watch and we pray for you
master, master, who's that man stumbling down that road?
could it be the one? could it be? could it be?
master, master, it's Your son
coming home to join our lives!

i'm looking down this mountain, i see my way home
there is no greater fortune, i believe!
oh unmerciful divide you laugh at me no more
oh i've reached the other side!
prodigal me

could i be the one? could i be? could i be?
Father, Father, we're Your sons
coming home to join Your life

we've finally crossed this mountain, and found our way home
there is no greater fortune than Jesus
oh how merciful is our God who gave His only Son!
oh we worship You tonight!

I have a post in the works, giving you more information on the "this" of the "this" vs. "that" of my previous post. I want to do it justice, so I'm giving it time, check back later because I intend to get it up today. Sorry folks, it looks like this post may have to wait until tomorrow but you are still welcome to enjoy the above lyrics.

In the mean time, i put these lyrics on a post of Stephanie's and just LOVE them so I thought I would share them with you. Comment at will.

Because this is usually better than that - Updated because I am a confusing type gal

This: When three different friends (well of course they are different because if not they would be three personalities of the same friend and I can only be friends with people who have two or less personalities) come up to you after listening to a lecture at Bible study and tell you that they thought of you often throughout the lesson and you thought of you also.

That: When the same three friends come up to you and say the same thing and you never for once thought of you.

Explanation:

Do you ever have those moments when you feel like the book, sermon, devotional, verse, movie, whatever was made just for you. You realize that it isn't but for some reason in that one moment you think that this is what you needed to read, hear, see. Last night I had that experience. I just KNEW that what I was hearing was exactly what I needed to hear, what my heart was yearning to have spoken to it, what was a balm to my soul, and was God's way of speaking truth to me in such a personal way but in a very public place. With great assurance, I listened and jotted notes as I listened and my heart pondered what was being spoken. Then afterward, I had three friends come up to me and say, "I thought of you during lecture . . . . . that everything being said was just what you needed to hear . . . . . would be an encouragement to you . . . . and is just what you were talking about earlier." This was such a great comfort to me, because my friends, who know my heart, knew that what was being taught was poignant for me.

In the reverse, there have been times, when exposed to any of the above mediums, I have left empty, ellusive of any connection, and felt like nothing touched my soul. And then other people have come to me and said, "I thought of you in that" and I begin to question if I missed something important, if I wasn't tuned to what I should have been, or if they knew so little about me that they made a connection that wasn't really there.

So that is why "this" is better than "that"

Your will be done

Those four words might be the hardest words for my mouth to form, because, together, in that statement, those words take on a greater sum than their individual parts. To give up one’s will for another is a great task, it is nearly impossible. To lay aside all that you want, all that you desire, to willingly lay down your rights, your plans, is hard. But that statement means more than just laying those things down, it really says that you lay yourself down, your life, your breath, your being. Because to give your will to another, to succumb to their will you must give up all that you are to become all that they will you to be.

And it isn’t easy giving up your will, laying aside something that is so important and precious to you. Ask the parents of a dying child, ask the young couple who aches for a baby, ask the friends of someone trapped in addiction, ask the lonely woman or man who just wants someone to love them. Laying aside your will for another’s is seeped in pain; it is the evidence of the action, the depth of the commitment. For what we want the most, what we long for the most are also the things that are asked of us when we lay aside our will. The small things in life are easy to give up, to lay down, but the big things, the things we hide away inside, the dreams, the longings, the hope, those are what we are called to lay down as we take another’s will.

Jesus gives us the most amazing and haunting scene of laying down one’s will. Three of the gospels chronicle this scene.

Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me."
Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will."
Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. "Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour?" he asked Peter. "Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak."
He went away a second time and prayed, "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done."
When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing.
Matthew 26: 36-44

They went to a place called Gethsemane, and Jesus said to his disciples, "Sit here while I pray." He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death," he said to them. "Stay here and keep watch."
Going a little farther, he fell to the ground and prayed that if possible the hour might pass from him. "Abba, Father," he said, "everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will."
Mark 14:32-36

Jesus went out as usual to the Mount of Olives, and his disciples followed him. On reaching the place, he said to them, "Pray that you will not fall into temptation." He withdrew about a stone's throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.
Luke 22: 39-44

These scriptures don’t need commentary. They speak volumes more than my measly words could begin to say.

Want to know a modern day miracle? The pacemaker. Technology that is able to change the beating heart, to correct and control the muscle that is life to us. Amazing, really, when you think about it. A device, implanted into the body, that slowly but surely alters the rhythm of a heart and changes it from one rhythm to another. But pacemakers aren’t an instantaneous fix. They become part of the person, they are enveloped into their body, and are always at work to regulate and synchronize the heartbeat.

In the same way, God changes our hearts. Much like a pacemaker in a heart, He begins to harmonize our heartbeat to His rhythm. Slowly but surely with each beat it begins to take on the steady, solid thump thump of His will. And also as with the pacemaker, there is a lifetime of harmonization. Because for every time our will flares up, and our heart beat begins to thump at our own pace, He steps in and slowly brings it back to His rhythm. But we must submit to Him, we must not fight the pacemaker, for if we do then our heart is beating without a rhythm, it speeds up, it slows down, there is no constant beat, nothing to keep it steady, fixed, and harmonious with Him.

There is also pain as a pacemaker goes to work. It is altering the heart, changing it, so discomfort is a given. But pain is the evidence of change, it is the physical reminder that your heart is still beating, that life is still being lived, and that through this machine your heart has a new cadence. In the same way, when God begins to alter our heartbeat, to change it to His rhythm there is discomfort, there is pain. But that pain is necessary for us to harmonize with Him, for without the pain we are left beating to our own rhythm, out of harmony with His will, alone.

Delight yourself in the LORD
and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Commit your way to the LORD;
trust in him and he will do this:
He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn,
the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.
Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him;
do not fret when men succeed in their ways,
when they carry out their wicked schemes.
Psalm 37: 4-7

God says He will give us the desires of our heart, but He also calls us to lay down our will for His. So where does this leave me. I want what I want, but He wants me to want what He wants. So I’m back at the cross deciding whose will I want. Do I lay my will down and pick up my cross and follow or do I hold onto my will, my way, and turn my back and go. Because that is the choice we face, that is where we all end up. Everyday, I seem to end up back at the cross and everyday I struggle with the same decision over and over again. Giving up your will isn’t a once and for all thing, it is a daily choice you have to make, an hourly choice, a minute by minute laying down of my will for one that is greater.

So when the two truths of “your will be done” and “He will give you the desires of your heart” meet we have harmony, beautiful melodious harmonies. For our hearts are in rhythm with Him when we lay down our will and take up His. And when we submit to His will, when our hearts beat with His, He will give us all the desires our hearts.

In all honesty, I can type these words but living them is a whole different story. This is a struggle, a daily struggle. I like my will, I would probably rather God bend to my will, but the Lord of Creation, the All Mighty God, bends His will to no one. My heart is His, so His will is mine. This is the story of my life; simply, this is what living for Christ means to me.

Strange Day

Hi ho, hi ho

It's off to work we go.

Yes, my three week semi-absence is now over. Work is back in full swing as should be blogging. I'm planning on having something of debatable worth up later today, so with no shyness or false humility I beg for your return in the afternoon hours. I've been busy on another item so instead of throwing something up here for the heck of it, this is the post for today. But I PROMISE a good one tomorrow (and I ALWAYS keep my promises).

So in line with the title, can you name all of the seven dwarfs? Try it, I always seem to leave someone out. And then I wonder, if I had to play a dwarf which one would I be? And then I also wonder why they didn't include other dwarfs. For instance: moody, annoying, snobby, bubbly, and other such dwarfs. I mean who says that the seven named in the fairy tale are the only dwarfs out there. Really, there could have been houses full of dwarfs in that forrest and Snow White just hit one gang of them. Maybe there were even rival gangs of dwarfs who had forrest turf wars and Snow White stumbled upon a whole dwarf crime ring that she never knew about.

Uhhhhh, so yeah, it's Monday, and I'm not making much sense, but I'm betting I'm at least a little bit entertaining.

And because JCol asked

This weekend I had a craving for edamame (soy beans in the pods - hmmm with a bit of kosher salt - yummy and very high in protein and fiber I might add). So I trapsed off to my local Albertson's in search of soy pods. Now I had purchased this specific product at this specific Al's before but alas upon entering the produce section there were no pods to be seen. After a search of the frozen food aisle I stopped a stocker boy (and I use the term boy here technically because he was YOUNG, maybe, maybe 17) to ask for some assistance. (I use to work at a grocery store, Piggly Wiggly in fact - we will now pause to allow you to giggle or laugh at my expense and to make some sort of comment on the name of this specific store - ok we're back - so I worked at a store and knew that the stocker boys should know where products are located or can get their hands on someone who does). Here is an exact transcript of our conversation:

Me: Excuse me, do you happen to know if you still carry Edamame?

Stocker Boy (SB): Puzzled look. What?

Me: Edamame. Soy beans in the pod.

SB: Puzzled look now becoming perplexed look. Uhhh let me see if I can find someone in produce to help you.

SB and friend walk into the back of the produce section and find noone is there. They then yell at a passing girl to ask the location of said produce person and find out there are on break. At this point, young 17 year old SB pulls out his nifty Motorola Razor (how he afforded that on a grocery store salary I do not know) and called up the produce guy.

SB: Uh yeah, John, do we carry Effin-mama?

At this point I almost lose it with laughter as does SB's friend.

SB Friend: I don't think that is what it is called.

Me: ED - UH - MA - MAAAAA (long A)

SB: Oh, sorry, I meant Effin - Mamaaaaa (long A)

Me: ED, not EF (at this point I realize I'm fighting a loosing battle with this kid and just let him sink lower and lower into the black pit of despair in calling a soy bean pod a word that would get you slapped by your own mama)

SB: Sorry, we don't carry those.

Me: Well thanks for trying. Walks away giggling and with a bouncing step, because while I did not have my edamame I had been entertained in the produce section of Albertson's.

Hook Em Horns

Do I really need to say anymore?


Because I must share a convesation Jes and I had last night:

Me: Hey Jes I was thinking that we could each watch the Rose Bowl and we could be on the phone together so that I can teach you about football.

Jes: Uh, NO. Katie, do you really like football or do you just watch it because you know that your future husband will like you more because you watch football?

Me: Uhhh, yeah Jes that is why I stayed up last night to watch triple overtime for Penn St. vs. FSU by myself, and why I rushed home tonight to watch Texas vs. USC, again by myself. All because I'm hoping to land a man with only my football watching skillz.

Jes: Ok, just checking.

Not really a dry spell but more of a flood

Do you ever feel at the exact same moment that you have so much to say and yet nothing at all to say? I guess I live a life of contradictions. Really I think I might just be one big blonde haired contradiction.

So . . . . . . . I have nothing to write and yet so much to say. In events like this I find it is just easier to point you in a different direction.



So, on me, you may enjoy this blonde joke.
When a blonde is giving you a blonde joke it is by default good, because, well, we've heard them all.

New Year

Is there a time when things aren't new or old? Where they just are?

2005 is now last year, the old year, finished, closed, gone.

2006 is the new year, the coming year, the future, unresolved, unexperienced, untouched.

So I guess as I look toward this new year I should begin to think what new things will occur in this new year.

So here is my list of "new" things that will most likely occur in this new year.

New job/career
New living quarters
New state (maybe??)
New friendships
New opportunities
New challenges
New hurts
New lessons
New posts (definitely)