14 years ago, I was a sophomore in high school. In my English class, we were assigned to write an essay on what age we would like to live to, and why. After some consideration, I put down “30″. My reasoning was pretty simple. By 30, I hoped to be finished with school, have a job, maybe have a family. I would have experienced “the big things” in life. Today, I turned 29, entering my thirtieth year of life.

30 is a lot closer now, but my heart feels pretty much the same. I have lived a good life, in so many many ways. I have lived on both sides of the world. I grew up an Easterner (and finally got to see my Phillies win the World Series last year), but now am becoming a Midwest girl. I have laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe, and cried so hard I wanted to stop breathing altogether, just so the pain would go away. I have seen someone die before my eyes; I watched a man be born again in a downtown Chicago soup kitchen. I was a student, now I have sweet and rascally students of my own. I have friends who have blurred the lines and are now more in the family category. My days are sometimes mundane, sometimes hectic, sometimes unpredictable. My 29 years have not been all that unusual. I’m an average girl. I have done nothing extraordinary, never had 15 minutes of fame.

And I am content with my life.

If God should take me home soon, I am content. If God sees fit that I should live to 102, I am content.I can rest in His wisdom. I can cherish my life, knowing who I am, why I am here, and where I am going when I die. I am a child of the One True God. I am here to shine a light on Him. Because Jesus Christ died for me and rose again, and I trusted in Him, I’m going to live eternally in Heaven.

Thank you, Lord, for 29 years. Thank you for whatever I have left. May I glorify you.

I’m not going to hell

Pretty incredible, that, considering I deserve to go just as much as everyone else on earth.

Pastor preached on the destiny of the lost  on Wednesday night. Despite the urgency and somberness of the topic, it wasn’t a “fire and brimstone” rant. It was a simple, matter-of-fact, serious look at hell. That was enough.

Hell needs no embellishment. The message based on passage after passage of Scripture gripped me. I left with a deep thankfulness in my heart that by God’s grace I am saved from such a tormented eternity. I also left with a deep sadness for the billions who are going there because they have rejected the good news that Jesus Christ paid for all their sins and rose again so that they could live eternally with God, rather than be separated from him in the Lake of Fire.

The Bible tells us that he who believes that message “is not condemned.” (John 3:18)

Jesus did the work. I believed in him. I’m not going to hell. You don’t have to go either; the choice is yours.

See the “good news” link up top for more info.

betwixt travels

I haven’t posted in a while because I was in PA visiting my mom and 4 of my 6 siblings. Mom came back to the States to take Noah to college. If you live an ocean away from each other, you tend to take advantage of being on the same continent. It was a good time, even if it was (as always) too short. But that’s the way this life is.

Tomorrow I head to TN for my 10 year reunion. I’m loving this summer!

Onward.

“Men go abroad to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and they pass by themselves without wondering.” – Augustine

Take a minute to wonder  today.

Psalm 139:14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

slinking into the throne room

Like Adam and Eve, I often hide from God when I’ve sinned. I’ll do anything to avoid “eye contact” with my Father. I’ll read, I’ll do email, I’ll listen to the radio, I’ll do anything but turn to him. It’s so true, that verse in Isaiah 59: “but your iniquities have made a separation between you and your God”. Even as his child, I feel the wall I’ve put up as surely as if I’d built it from cinder blocks with my hands. It’s hard and harsh and cold. I hate it.

I know I’ve received eternal forgiveness for my sins, but daily I need parental forgiveness. I need to confess (say the same thing about) my sin, and have my heart cleansed by my Daddy.

I feel out of place, coming before the Holy One dirty with sin. My heart is burdened, my head is down, my guilt causes me to slink and shuffle in the shadows. Amazingly, I don’t have to do that.

Hebrews 4:16 “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

As God’s child, there’s no need for cowering in the shadows at the edge of the room. I can come before him with confidence. “Confidence”  does not mean being cavalier and careless about sin. It simply means I can be fully assured of God’s grace, mercy, and free forgiveness whenever I am in a “time of need”.

And that time comes around an awful lot.

graced in a graceless world, part 2

I was thinking more about the lack of grace in the world, and how deeply the concept of “undeserved favor” goes against our human nature. How many times have I heard “there’s no such thing as a free lunch”? We are all skeptical of something we didn’t earn, something we don’t deserve. “Where’s the catch?” we ask.

We don’t naturally “get” grace.

People who hear the good news of free salvation by grace through faith for the first time are waiting for the catch. “Nah,” they say, shaking their heads, “I’ve still gotta do something. I’ve gotta at least pray a prayer, or get baptized, or go to church, or be kind to my neighbor. There’s no such thing as free lunch, you know.”

Free lunch? Maybe not. Free salvation? Yes, it’s true.

Others try to sneak works in the back door. “Well, it’s free, but if I go out and murder someone, then I’ll lose it.”  Sounds to me like you’re just trying to pay your way after the fact. You can’t.  Jesus already paid for every sin (and all of ours were future at that point). He paid for the pack of gum you stole in 1st grade. And if, God forbid, you take a life some time in the future, he paid for that sin, too.

“For the wages of sin is death” Romans 6:23a

Jesus paid that wage when he died in our place. As he hung on the cross, among his last words were:

It is finished [paid in full]” John 19:30

Grace is not deserved and, amazingly, it’s free because of the cross. The payment has been made.

Believe it, and you will know grace in a graceless world.

graced in a graceless world

The longer I live, the more experiences I have with “gracelessness”. The world is ugly, mean, blunt, self-serving and unforgiving, which makes sense as it pretty much reflects our collective sin natures.

That’s what’s so amazing about God’s grace. Whenever I encounter the world’s lack of undeserved favor, I need to be reminded how graced I am. Every second I spend out of hell “is gravy”, as I heard a preacher say recently. I have absolutely nothing to complain about. My eternal destiny is heaven, my time on earth is a vapor (and often a beautiful vapor at that).

I love those moments when I see his grace in my circumstances and through other believers. I’m unspeakably grateful that it is in spite of ugly, mean, self-serving, unforgiving me.

that’s SALVATION

We are smack dab in the middle of VBS here in southeastern Wisconsin, and it’s such a joy to share the Good News with these young’uns. Each day, we have a “thought for the day”. Yesterday’s was: “Believing Christ died, that’s history; believing Christ died for me that’s salvation!”

There are few sweeter things to hear from the mouth of an exuberant 4-year-old.

that you may KNOW

Last night a bunch of us went down in the “frigid” air (60s! in July) by the Lake to hand out tracts and strike up spiritual conversations with Festa Italiana goers.

A big part of me would have liked to just stay home and hide under the covers rather than stick my neck out for Jesus Christ, but there are people out there on their way to hell. When I think about it in light of eternity, what’s a little derisive laughter and sneering? Millions have been killed for their testimony.

Anyway, one of my favorite ways to start a conversation is to ask, “Can I offer you some good news about how you can know for sure where you are going when you die?” based on  1 John 5:13: “I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know that you have eternal life.” (emphasis mine) No religion in the world can offer such certainty. God’s Word can guarantee heaven because salvation has NOTHING to do with our works, but is based entirely on the finished work of Jesus Christ, God incarnate, who died the death we deserve and rose again.

The idea of “knowing for sure” catches some people’s attention. If they are not believers in Jesus, they don’t have their eternal destiny settled in their mind or in reality. They are dangling on a precipice over eternal damnation.

They must hear. They must believe. Then they will know they have everlasting life.

God planned out my family in a very unique way. There are six of us kids, and at some point each year, we are 10 years apart from one of our siblings. There’s Luke (30) and Emily (20). Then me (28) and Noah (18 next month), and Pete (25) and Daniel (15).

Pretty cool, huh?

Another ten year tradition continues this weekend. On 17 July 1999, I graduated from Rift Valley Academy. Tomorrow, Noah will walk across the stage at Centennial Hall and receive his diploma. I am so proud of my little brother (who towers over me).

It’s never easy living an ocean and continent away from home. It’s days like these that are the hardest.

Crutch? Nah, think ventilator.

I laugh when I hear people say that Christianity is a crutch, because though that sentiment is meant to be an insult it’s actually the understatement of  . . . well, eternity.

It’s not my crutch. It (or He, Jesus Christ) is my entire life support system. Without him, I’m dead. I’m helpless. I’m hopeless. I’m hellbound. But since I trusted solely in His death in my place, He is my life (Colossians 3:4).

Just a crutch?? Ha!

Isn’t the All-Star Game just so much fun?

It’s going on as I write, and I’m rooting for the underdog N.L. (of course). They haven’t won an All-Star Game since ‘96. Last year they lost a nail-biter on a play at the plate in the 15th inning. Good grief!

I’m also feeling somewhat vindicated for voting for Shane Victorino in the Final Vote (he of the single and game-tying run in the 3rd).

OK, back to the game  . . . ah, baseball.  Happy sigh.

“The mark of a good teacher is that . . .

[she] is teachable.”

That’s something my pastor said in his message yesterday from Titus 1:9.  I admit, I hate criticism and correction (my parents can attest to this). But I believe the Bible when it tells me that instruction and reproof is necessary and a good thing (see 2 Timothy 3:16-17).

He’s still working on me, and I’m still learning to take it with the right attitude. Good thing one of God’s attributes is patience!

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.

- F. Lehman

I John 1:19 We love because he first loved us.

Are we to love God? Of course! But the emphasis of Scripture is clearly on his incomprehensible love for us.

Our love for him is flimsy and changes by the moment; his love for every one of us sinners is as steady, infinite, and eternal as he himself is.

July 8, 2009

a.k.a. 07/08/09, is this year’s sequential date!

Wrap your arms around it and squeeze the life out of this unique day. You can slog through tomorrow, but today, Carpe Diem!

(And I’m just kidding about tomorrow.)

Es Pan Yule

So, I’m studying Spanish. I avoided the learning the language with all my might through high school and college. Not that I really had anything against it, but EVERYONE studies Spanish, and I wanted to be different.

Duh, Katie.

There’s a reason EVERYONE studies Spanish. A lot of people in this country (and in my city) speak it. This fall I will be transferring to a school smack-dab in the heart of the Hispanic section of Milwaukee. Many of my kids won’t have good English proficiency. I’ll work with an interpreter, but my days of avoiding Espanol are officially over.

My friend Erika from grad school agreed to be my L.A. (language assistant); in essence, she’s my Spanish teacher. And I’m learning little by little how to hear and speak basic Spanish. Much of what I’m learning is directly related to classroom activities. I know how to say “Be quiet”, “listen”, “come here”, “walk”, and”stop”, among other things. These are essential phrases, as any educator will tell you.

It feels good to exercise the 2nd language part of my brain. Now if only that pesky Swahili would stop sneaking out.

2 months? seriously?

Inertia is a powerful force. Once I start writing, it’s easy to keep going. When I stop . . . well, it’s extraordinarily easy to stay stopped.

I just didn’t know I’d stopped for so long. Time to get the ball . . . or words . . . rolling again. As it is summer break, my goal is to write daily, or nearly daily, again through the end of August.

Tomorrow: my thoughts on Spanish. Betcha can’t wait, huh?

See ya then!

ache

Tonight I want to go home – real home, with my Savior. I want the tears of a million losses, some small, some way too big, to be wiped from my face by the One with eternally nail scarred hands. I want to see Him, to gaze on His glory. I want to never say goodbye again. I want to never sin again. I want to rest.

I’m tired and my heart hurts.

It’s not a depression. I’m not suicidal. I don’t have a death wish. I simply desire with all my heart and soul to be where I was intended to be, as I was intended to be, with whom I was intended to be.

And I take comfort in knowing that it’s only a matter of time.

Philippians 1:23 ” . . .I desire to be depart and be with Christ, which is better by far . . .”

thinness

Author Doris Lessing once said that she was “preoccupied by a feeling that words are too thin for our experience”, and I would tend to agree with her. Language is a wonderful gift. Words are treasures, but they are truly as thin as the pages they are printed on. 

I’ve become aware of this over the past few thousand days, as I have spent most of them far from home and the faces dearest to me. We miss so much when all we have are words. Experiences can never be fully – or even mostly – shared, by words.

Last night, I went to the beach at Lake Michigan with some friends.  It was a warm day in Milwaukee, the first in months, so we got out to enjoy it before the temps plummeted back into the 40s today. We played two-hand touch football and talked and laughed. The wind was wild, whipping sand into my eyes and hair. I could smell the lake and marijuana from somewhere down the beach. The guys grilled up brats and burgers. Someone brought fresh strawberries that were big and sweet and perfect. My brat seemed to be equal parts meat, ketchup, bun, and sandy grit. It tasted like summer. 

I read what I just wrote, and it feels so not what happened. The night was much more vibrant than my words. And even if you never thought about it before, I’m sure you’ll agree with Ms. Lessing and me. Think about your life, your experiences. Words are just too thin, aren’t they?

Still, these little semi-meaningful squiggles on the screen are what we’ve got, so I’ll keep sharing as best I can.

an earthquake every 2 seconds???

They are building a median in the street by my apartment, which apparently requires an irritatingly regular pounding of the ground. My building is literally shaking every couple of seconds. I’m guessing 3.78 on the Richter Scale.

Good thing I bought Tylenol on my way home from work. My head appears to be trying to match the pounding outside.

Missing Harry

If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you know I love Phillies baseball. Today the legendary voice of the Phillies, Harry Kalas, died at the age of 73. Fittingly, he was in the broadcast booth prepping for this afternoon’s Phils-Nats game at the time.

I’m sad. Very sad. I was surprised by the depth of my feelings when I heard the news, and the logical side of me kept telling me it was goofy to miss – so much – someone I never met. But then I realized that Harry wasn’t just the voice of the Phillies, he was the voice of my childhood. Even now, in my late 20s, whenever I hear(d) his smooth comforting voice (my brother Pete described it as “a warm blanket”), I slid back into little girl land.

I lost that today. 

A while ago, I wrote this poem – it pretty much sums my thoughts up.

Summertime Lullaby

On those nights when the heat overwhelmed

And the stickiness of the air made it hard to think,

Dressed in my thin cotton nightgown,

I’d sit at the table and wait for Daddy

To flip the switch on the radio

And turn the dial to my

Summertime lullaby.

 

But the voices that I heard on my way to sleep

Didn’t sing softly in mesmerizing tones, didn’t sing at all.

They shouted and chatted and groaned and joked

And when they talked, I was there

As the ball thunked – “He struck ‘im out!” – into the catcher’s mitt

Or squirted between the shortstop’s legs

Or was “OUTTA HERE! Home run, Michael Jack Schmidt!”

And in my young mind the dream was always alive,

No matter what the standings or how late it was in the season,

Back when the Phillies and Harry and the crew were my

Summertime lullaby.

 

Now I’ve moved on and discovered that no one else

Quite gets it right – not the way they did, the way they do.

So I still listen in from half a country away and

Something in the familiar rhythm of the game comforts me

And takes me back to when I was a little girl

Sitting at the table and waiting to hear

The latest version of my

Summertime lullaby.

selfish anxieties

I have discovered of late that most of my anxieties in life don’t come (first) from a lack of faith but from selfishness. I can’t remember a time that I ever feared that God did not hear a prayer of mine, or that he would not answer. I believe that he is my Father. I believe completely that he does answer the prayer, no matter how small (popsicles – see the previous post) or how big (salvation of a friend). 

Still my heart is often anxious. I’m selfish. I’m afraid that God won’t answer the prayer the way I want him to, with the timing I want, or in the place I want. I know in my heart he will give me what is best for me, but in my myopic selfish moments, I don’t want his best. Too often, I want what I want, even if what I want is not what’s ultimately the best for me, as decreed my an omniscient God.

Yikes. There were a lot of “I”s in that paragraph. That’s why I’m thankful for grace – grace that is greater than all my sin, all my wretched selfishness, all my foolish anxiety. 

Ephesians 1:7-8 In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight”

asking God for popsicles

My friends Pierce and Natalie got married today in a beautiful gospel-proclaiming, Jesus Christ- honoring ceremony. It was in the low 50s during the afternoon, with partly cloudy skies. That was a definite blessing, because this being Wisconsin in early spring, the weather is pretty much a toss-up. Today’s meterological niceties bump up against tomorrow’s wind and sleet and 4 inches of snow.

During prayer time at church on Wednesday, my friend Julie prayed specifically for “temperatures between 50 and 60 and partly cloudy skies [which are good for pictures]“. And God answered equally specifically. When I left home to head out to the wedding, the temperature was 50.4 degrees, the sun was shining between the clouds, and I imagined Him smiling.

He is my Father after all, and like any father, he delights in heaping blessings on his children. So why not ask? And what do little children ask for? Yes, they may ask for the “big things”, like food and clothing, but they often request those special little items.

“Daddy, can I have a popsicle?” “Daddy, can you read Fox in Socks to me?” “Daddy can you push me on the swings?” “Daddy, can you make it between 50 and 60 degrees and partly cloudy on Saturday so it’s nice for the wedding?”

Nothing is too big for God. And nothing is too small, or too specific. As today’s events clearly show, my Father loves giving his children popsicles.

Psalm 68:19 “Blessed be the Lord, who daily loads us with benefits, the God of our salvation!”

this I know

Today was not a good day. This morning, I was barely 4 hours into the work week and I was already feeling beaten down, idiotic, and incompetent. This feeling is to be expected occasionally when you’re in your first year of a profession, so I wasn’t surprised. Still, I definitely needed encouragement.

During lunch, I grabbed my Bible from my desk drawer and turned to my favorite book whenever I’m in a brokedown place – the Psalms. I opened up right where I needed to be:

Psalm 56:8-9 “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book? Then my enemies will turn back in the day when I call. This I know, that God is for me.”

Now, my circumstances are nowhere near as dire as David’s when he wrote these words, but that beautiful truth is just as true. I love knowing that whoever is against me, my GOD is for me.

Hockey (of the “Field” variety)

Today I was talking to one of my friends about field hockey. We got on the topic whilst discussing tennis, in which skirts are worn and I mentioned that there is another sport where women wear skirts. Sadly, my friend had never heard of field hockey despite coming from Minnesota, which is like the capital of ice hockey in America or something. Of course, green sports fields not located in domes are hard to come by in the Great White North, so I guess I can’t really blame her ignorance.

That said, hockey was beyond a doubt my favorite sport in high school. I discovered it in 10th grade during P.E. class and became somewhat obsessed. For the unintiated among us, field hockey is played on a soccer-like field with a round ball (which weights a bit more than a baseball) and wooden sticks that are flat on one side and rounded on the other. You can only use the flat side for contact with the ball. The object is to get the ball into the goal which is a good deal smaller than a soccer goal – maybe half the size. Pretty straight-forward, no?

I never made the actual school team, but had a great time playing intramural hockey on the dusty field as well as the grittier version we played in the gym on Sunday nights. During those games, the ball skittered at high speeds across the floor and few people wore shin or mouth guards. The boys played too, which always added an element of danger. I well remember the sharp clack of the sticks hitting one another and the blister-inducing rub of the taped-up wood in my hand. I also still have the tender area on the bone just above my ankle where someone swung hard, missing the ball but making excellent contact with my shin. 

Ah, hockey. I miss it.

Happy Birthday, Mr. President!

That’d be the 16th President. 

He’s 200. 

And this is what he said back in 1863:

“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

Storm

I don’t often put my poetry on here for various reasons, but some of my dear ones are going through a tough time, and this one expresses my heart:

Psalm 34:18 “The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

There are days when God takes this child

Through a storm so strong and wild

That the pain blinds me

And the disappointment binds me

With cords of numbness

And confusing lostness.

I weep through the rolling thunder,

As my storm-battered heart wonders

How is this trial ever going to end –

Will my upset world make sense again?

Yesterday I saw a clear blue sky

With whispers of clouds that floated by.

Today it turned dark shades of gray

And I’m afraid – I’ve lost the way.

 

Then a tender voice I hear,

Whisper gently in my ear,

“Do not fear My little one,

I know that you can’t see the sun,

All you feel is waves and wind,

But trust Me, child, I know the end.

I have brought you to this place,

You’re surrounded by My grace.

You’ve no one to trust but Me alone,

So rest, My child, I’ll take you home.”

I look around, and there I see

The oceans of His love for me

They spread about me, vast, deep, and wide

I could not measure them if I tried.

So in this dark and dreary day

I’ll trust in Him, He’ll lead the way.

He alone is truly good

And these things that are not understood

Pale as I grasp this verse anew

And know deep down that it is true,

“Whoever trusts in Him

Will never be disappointed.”

- from Made for Eternity: Reflections on Time and Timelessness © 2006

 

how to say absolutely nothing with as many words as possible

My sister sent me this dire message last night:

help me understand my college assignments! From tonight’s reading: “It follows from this that to understand a text must be to understand both the intention to be understood, and the intention that this intention should be understood, which the text itself as an intended act of communication must at least have embodied.” huh?

To which I replied:

It follows that my implicit reasoning for expressly expressing my thoughts to you is in order that you may infer all inferences that you wish to infer, regardless of my intention (or lack of direct intention {though presumably, at the very least, an inkling of intention would be noted in the reasoning with which I embarked upon this current communique}) and my desire that the meaning of my expressly expressed thoughts would in no way be obfuscated by the sudden and unintentional (though, it may be possible that in some ways it was intentional) logorrhea that has poured incessantly (although, cessation may be soon be in the offing) from the fertile lexicon of my cerebrum.

Hope this helps.

The scary thing is, writing intelligent sounding drivel ain’t all that hard . . .

Thank you, Mr. President

Nearly completely lost in the adoring (worshipful?) coverage of the pre-inaguaration events is the fact that today is Mr. Bush’s last day in office. This makes sense for a few obvious reasons – we are a forward-looking country, the media loves (loves, loves) Barack Obama, and the media hates (hates, hates) George Bush.

So I want to take this opportunity to thank my President on his final day. I’m not one of those who agreed with everything he did. I cringed a few times. But, Mr. Bush, thank you.

Thank you for taking on the nearly impossible job of leading our nation. Thanks for being tough on terrorists. Thank you for protecting the youngest among us. Thanks for not always doing the popular thing, but what you thought was the best thing. Thank you for supporting Israel. 

Tomorrow Mr. Obama will become my President. My prayer is that in four years, or eight years, I will have much to thank him for as well.

And though we’ve never deserved it, may God continue to bless this land that I love.

Baby, it’s COLD outside!

Ah, this is the time of year when it’s good to be a Philadelphia sports fan, but not good to live any further north than, well, Texas. I was walking to work this morning when the air was still and the ambient temperature (i.e. not including wind chill) was six degrees. And I found myself thinking, this isn’t all that bad. That is until you add another 6-8 inches of snow by Wednesday, the mercury loses sight of zero (on the wrong side) for a while, and the wind kicks that “real feel” temp down to -40. 

I’m just sick of global warming. Stupid greenhouse gasses. We need to cool off already!

a microcosm of life’s changes

This evening I went over to the Marquette University library and checked out Good Morning, Little Fox. 

And thought about how doing so perfectly shows the dramatic shifts in my life over the last year – from grad school to elementary school, from spending most of my days with adults to spending most of  my days with little ones,  from heavy reading on speech sound development and language disorders to watercolor pictures and simple rhymes.

It’s been a good change.

the Philadelphia sports complex

It’s gone . . . at least for now. After the Phils took the World Series in October, I no longer feel like we can never ever win anything. 

So, despite the extremely low prospects that the Eagles will break through and win the Super Bowl in a month, it doesn’t feel like such a crazy idea anymore. After all, lightning struck once, so it can strike twice . . . .

Right?

a choice

My failures and the hardness of life in a disappointing and sin-sick world  - these are the things that often capture my mind when I have too-long breaks. Because they are difficult to dwell on, I attempt to drown them out with many “doings” that are not necessarily productive or profitable. But sometimes the music is off, the DVDs are on the shelf, the books are closed, and the only sound I hear is the humming of the refrigerator.

And I think. 

In those moments, I have a choice – to contemplate those dark details of sin and self . . . or to contemplate God. The former leads to despair and disillusionment. But the latter leads to a restful ease, a quieted heart, for in focusing on God (and particularly on my Savior, Jesus Christ), I focus on the best, most glorious, righteous, and true Being.

The things of earth grow dim in that Light.

Good verses

to start a new year on:

Philippians 3:12-14

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. 

Happy ‘09, friends – Maranatha!

Don’t know whether to laugh or cry

First, it’s an interesting linguistic error. I’m guessing this individual pronounces Jews with an s sound at the end instead of a z sound. Actually, I’m 99% sure he does.

Secondly, it’s getting really old, this hatred of Israel; several thousand years old, in fact. And what does the Bible have to say about it?

Genesis 12:1-3 Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. 2 And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. 3 I will bless those who bless you, and him who curses you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” 

This promise has never been revoked.

not me

I recently started teaching Sunday School, and not because I’m so adequate or spiritual. There was a need, I was asked, and here we are.

Thus began some intense humbling. Pastor suggested I start a series on the attributes of God for my seven year olds. OK, I thought, sounds good to me! What better to teach these little minds than truths about the one true God?

It’s one thing to know it’s a good idea, it’s another to actually study it out and boil down God’s infinite characteristics into something that can be consumed by second graders. As I started looking up verses on God’s holiness – the first attribute – I started to get a tiny bit of a sense of Isaiah’s response to seeing God in his throneroom. 

Truly, to quote the prophet, “Woe is me!” In modern terms, that’d be, “I’m in deeeeeeeep trouble!” The more I read about God and his holiness, the more I am aware of my stinkiness as a sinner. No wonder Isaiah later wrote about even our “righteous” acts as being “filthy rags”. 

But, oh how wonderful to realize the beauty that is my God. To have the wonderful privilege to be reconciled to him because of his Son’s work for me. And to joy in the fact that he is utterly not me. 

He is holy.

Weather Transplant

My version of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” is pretty much the same as the original, except for the following phrase:

Please don’t have snow or mistletoe/Just a view of the Great Rift Valley

So of course I was dreaming of a green Christmas . . .

But this is Wisconsin. There was about a foot of snow on the ground when I woke up on the 25th and the temperature hovered near zero. I forewent (is that the past tense of forego??) my Christmas Day walk as I’ve had enough of braving the elements already this winter season. Sigh. Mom sent pics of their Kenyan Christmas, and I vicariously enjoyed the green.

Then a funny thing happened. Last night we had a thunderstorm. Weird. And this morning when I took my trash out, I was shocked at how unseasonably warm it was. In fact, my first thought was, boy it feels just like early morning in Kijabe after a rainstorm. I ran back inside and looked up the weather. Mid-fifties/rain. Then I looked up the weather over there. Tonight in Kenya, the temps would fall to the . . . mid-fifties – with a chance of rain. 

I put my light jacket on, left my hat and gloves inside, and went out for my slightly delayed Christmas walk. It was just like being in Kenya – well, except for the mounds of snow and ice. But the heavy rains from the night had melted much of the snow in areas, and there was green. 

Some might think today is the lousiest weather day we’ve had in a while. It’s dark, rainy, foggy, muddy. But for one homesick girl in Milwaukee, this brief weather transplant  is just fine.

Thank you, Lord.

The World is Dirt

I know, it is literally dirt, but I’m obviously talking in a more figurative sense here.

It’s like when you drive down a dusty road in the back of a pick-up truck and the dirt and grime fly into every crack and wrinkle of your skin and hair and your mouth is just caked and dried with the stuff and your snot turns reddish-brown – or what ever color your dirt may be . . . gray, perhaps? (Sorry about the last reference, but it does make the idea a little more vivid, eh?) 

What do you want most of all upon arrving home? Yeah, a refreshing shower and about a gallon of water to drench every crevice of your mouth and thorougly rinse out that nasty dusty flavor. Some nice cool sweet tea would do the trick, too.

So, our days in the world are the ride in the pick-up truck. We come home with a layer of dirt clinging us – all that human philosophy and fallenness that we encounter (from inside us and outside us) – and we need a shower and some sweet tea to wash it all away. We need the “renewing of your mind” Paul speaks of in Romans. 

Has your mind been refreshed lately?

Warming up on a cold Wisconsin day; a how-to guide

 After spending 45 minutes outside in below zero windchills (Why? That’s a long story that involves a clumsy grip due to thick gloves, a slippery bus pass, a sudden gust of wind just as the bus came, and . . . well, you get the picture – I missed it while retrieving the pass, had to wait for the next bus, and oh, I guess you know the story now.), it is important to get warm. I would recommend the following:

1. Make a steaming hot cup of coffee – preferably with special seasonal eggnog creamer.

2. Curl up in bed.

3. Watch the 2008 Phillies highlights DVD. What better to bring along a little warmth than to enjoy the summer-y game of baseball?

4. Dream of places like  . . . . Kenya.

2 hours later, only my toes are still a tad chilly. Hurrah for homeostasis!

stunning

Sometimes I get shocked again by the fact that I am one whom Jesus loves. I hear it all the time, but sometimes there’s that stop-dead-in-my-tracks moment when it comes at me from a new angle (and considering the fact that it is an infinite love, there’ll be forever new angles). In that moment I am awed and humbled afresh. Me = crummy sinner. God = holy. I have nothing to offer; he offers everything. God became a man, died, and rose again so that by simple faith I could live forever in his heaven.

And all I can think is: Jesus. Loves. Me.  

Wow.

Family foto fun all across the world

Just for fun, my mom sent this picture of my brother Noah in Kenya to us Morrison kids on this side, and asked us to “please submit a caption for this picture”. Here were the results:

Luka: This is a very rare sight indeed, the Pajero allowing a human to get this close.

Me: Just a split second too late, Noah realized the front bumper of the car might not be the best rugby tackle dummy.

Pete: noah skillfully avoiding mom’s “dinner dishes radar”

Em: Noah, a little too eager to ride shotgun, shows off his calf muscles.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love my family’s sense of humor?

The true meaning of . . . Target?

Last night I was watching that good ol’ Charlie Brown Christmas special. The no-frills animation and barely-acting vocal talent is classic. I’m always amazed that I get chills when the Linus comes on the stage and proclaims the portion from Luke 2 on the birth of our Savior. No music, no drama, just an understated recitation of the first part of the gospel for all to hear as “the true meaning of Christmas”. I’m even more amazed that this still gets airtime on the secular networks.

Of course, the jolt back to reality came when the screen switched from the Peanuts stage to the Target stage where little children were singing the praises of holiday bargains at the big box store. Alas, commercialization is still with us.

But for a little relief, here’s that wonderful passage (in the Old King James, which is how I always like to hear it):

Luke 2:8-13

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.’ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, ’Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.’”

“unscrupulous”? are you kidding me?

After work today, I was browsing the books at my school’s library when I spotted the Nancy Drew series. Like many girls growing up in yesteryear, I’d done my share of perusing that young “sleuth’s” adventures. Feeling a bit nostalgic, I picked one of the oldies (i.e. the originals, not that modern day garbage) off the shelf and skimmed through the pages. 

I must say I got a good chuckle out of  the heroine’s stilted speech mannerisms. At one point, I read something along the lines of, “‘I must report this incident to the authorities,’ Nancy said to herself”. In another place she describes a certain man to her friends  as being “unscrupulous”. Seriously, when was the last time you heard an adult use that word in normal conversation, much less a teenage girl?   Strangely enough, these books were written for young adolescents and pre-adolescents. I’m trying hard to imagine my kids being able to wade through this kind of children’s literature from several decades ago. It’s not working too well, and part of me is sad for that. 

The weird thing is, although I know most of the odd words went over my head, I realize now that learned a lot of vocabulary from books like Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. Or at least I was exposed to a lot of good vocab. Today’s kids books seem to be so dumbed down or smart-alecky. They just don’t write books like Freckles, Rifles for Watie, Stuart Little, or, well . . . even Nancy Drew’s adventures for children anymore.

Makes you want a little more “unscrupulous” writing, doesn’t it?

that’s one way to think about it

“I’m gonna die, you’re gonna die, and it’s gonna be sweet, dawg!”

That’s what my friend Brian said (or rather, exuberantly declared) while we were on our way to church,and I know that out of context, it  seems  . . . odd. But we were discussing the inevitability of death and how we believers can talk about it candidly and without fear.

We are quite literally immortal until the Lord calls us home. David states in Psalm 31:14-15a, “But I trust in you, O Lord; I say, ‘You are my God. My times are in your hand.’”  At the “time” of his choosing, we’ll walk through that door called death into his presence, where we will remain for all eternity.

And yes, Brian, it’ll be very sweet.

There’s a book I’ve known about

for as long as I can remember. It’s been long out of print and the only reason I know it is because of my Grandpa’s nickname for me. All my life he’s called me Katrina van Ost after the title character in the 1934 novel, Katrina van Ost and the Silver Rose. I know little else about the book, but that name has always been a special bond between the two of us. 

Last week, I finally looked it up and found it on Amazon for the reasonable price of $10. So I bought it. 

Today, the package arrived in my mailbox from Virginia. When I opened it and pulled out that weathered book with the silver rose on the cover, I thought how nice it was to meet the “original” Katrina after all these years.

Thought you’d like to know too, Grandpa.

This being Wednesday,

I took a nap. I like to take a nap when I get home from work on this day because it keeps me alert for church at night. I knew I was dead tired when I was startled from my deep sleep by my alarm an hour and half into lala-land. Only 12 days of work left before Christmas (pardon, winter [you know how it is]) break. 

As of last week, I’m just three months in, but I’m weary. Weary of seeing little ones with big problems I can’t understand or handle. Weary of not being able to share with them the one thing that matters in eternity. I’m not downcast or discouraged; just plain weary.

That is why this is so like a drink of cool water on a hot day:

Isaiah 40:28-29

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and to him who has no might he increases strength.

Onward . . . in his strength.

contentment with . . . calamities?

2 Corinthians 12: 10 For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

According to the American Heritage Dictionary, a calamity is “an event that brings terrible loss, lasting distress, or severe affliction; a disaster”.

I haven’t had much experence with calamities. But I do know in the face of one, I’d feel very weak. Good thing that in verse nine we have this promise from the Strong, Sovereign One:

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.

back again

I took the month of November off from blogging, if only because the rest of my life was so “on”. That, and the juices had run dry. Or something.

Anyway . . .

It snowed today. It seems like the weather in Milwaukee switches to winter on 1 December, as if it’s saying, “Oh, it’s December? That means SNOW!” 2 years ago today, we got a blizzard. Last year today, we got a bunch of snow. This year today, it was a few inches along with 30mph northwest winds. 

Batten down the hatches, troops. Winter’s back again!

(Me too.)

‘80 – ‘08 (symmetry, Phillies style)

On 2 April 2007, I wrote a post about baseball’s opening day:

Besides the first day of spring, this is probably my favorite “lesser” holiday. On this day, the games count. On this day, I am always certain the Phillies will begin their march to their first World Series championship since they won it three weeks before I was born back in ‘80. On this day, “next year” is finally here.

Unbelieveably, “next year” happened yesterday. I was sitting in church as Pastor wrapped up the evening message, and my phone started buzzing. The caller ID told me my friend Abigail was calling. And I knew. There was only one reason she’d be calling her die-hard Phillies fan friend on this night.

The first person I called after church was Dad. He and Mom and Daniel had gotten up at 3 AM to watch the game in Kenya. “We won the World Series, Dad!” “I know!” he said. “Dad, we won the World Series!” The conversation went on for a couple more minutes. I think those were the only 6 words I said. Over and over. It just didn’t seem real and I was trying to convince myself.

My calls to Pete and Luke and my grandparents went pretty much the same way. We were all deliriously incredulous. After all, we’re the Fightin’ Phillies. We grind out seasons in mediocrity, in near-contention. We lose 10,000 games. We don’t go around winning World Series every year or two. We win it all maybe once a century.

I thought it might be happening for the first time when Brett Myers worked that walk and Shane Victorino hit that grand slam against CC Sabathia. Then Shane and Matt Stairs hit their homers to silence L.A. And when even Joe the Pitcher hit a home run in the Game 4 of the Series, I really thought this was the year.

It was. We waited 28 years for October 29th, and despite Game 5’s historic 46 hour rain delay, the Boys of Philly’s Summer pulled it off at 9:58PM.

And like I keep saying, we won the World Series.

Since I last wrote . . .

the Phillies decided to go to the World Series. And with their hard work and the assistance of the Brewers and the Dodgers, they made it.

I’m a little happy right now.

oh, the irony

I was born in November of 1980, 3 weeks after the Phillies won their only World Series. Due to my dad and extended family, I’ve been a die-hard Phillies fan all my life, on both sides of the world. I bleed white and blue with red pinstripes.

I became a Brewers fan in April 2007 on the first day of the season. I sat down by my radio and turned it on as the Brew Crew kicked off their year. I missed baseball and the Phillies were far away and Milwaukee was convenient, so I literally decided on Opening Day to root for the Brewers, come what may.  And I’ve kept up the cheering over the past 2 seasons, with one small caveat. I’d be a Brewers backer unless they interfere with Philadelphia. The arrangement has worked out well on both sides. I got a new team, they suddenly got good (not that I’m claiming any credit). This year, they made the playoffs for the 1st time since ‘82.

And who do the Brewers play in the first postseason series? Yup. The Fightin’ Phils.

I didn’t even blink. Let’s go Phillies!

O say, can you see? Not yet, really, but . . .

One of the nice things I’ve discovered about getting up at 5:17 is that at 5:29, the radio station I wake up to plays the national anthem – a different version every day. I love The Star Spangled Banner. It never fails to give me goosebumps, even before I can see anything “by the dawn’s early light”.

Wow, what I have missed by sleeping in ’til 7 all those years in grad school!

Forever 27

That’s my mom. It’s her birthday today . . . or it was. She lives in Africa where it’s already the 20th. But for the sake of my time zone, we’ll call it today.

Slight issue: I’m 27, too. But that’s ok, ’cause every year since I was little Mom turned 27 again (amazingly enough).

I’m thinking of carrying on that particular family traditon.

Happy Birthday Mom – I love you!

y precedes x

That’s what’s written on a post-it note by my desk at work to remind me that before I can have right relationships and interactions with those around me (x = the horizontal axis), I need to be in right relationship with my heavenly Father (y = the vertical axis).

It’s a good thing to have brought back to mind as a sinner dealing with sinner – first things first!

Note to self: Don’t count on 14 year old boys for sentimentality

When I was last home, my sister Emily and I were listening (in the presence of our brother Daniel) to Ingrid Michaelson’s song “Far Away” which starts out like this:

I will live my life as a lobsterman’s wife on an island in the blue bay.
He will take care of me, he will smell like the sea,
And close to my heart he’ll always stay.

Being a girl, my first thought was “that’s really sweet”.

Daniel’s first thought (or at least what popped out of his mouth): “Yeah, he’ll smell like dead fish.”

Oh, brother.

Politics! (kinda)

If you haven’t noticed, I generally stay away from the political arena on this blog. I have my opinions and I do enjoy politics to an extent, but I know they are devisive, and there are far more important things that I’d like to use my confrontative/persuasve blog post quota for (i.e. the Gospel).

But a new development in the political world has caught my eye . . . or ear. As a wannabe linguist and someone who does speech/language stuff (I’m having word-finding issues) for a living, I have a certain fascination with accents. I can’t “do” accents like some, but I enjoy a little analysis and/or playful mockery (at least when it comes to my mid-Western friends).

That’s why, when I first heard Governor Sarah Palin speak, I could hardly listen to what she was saying – I was focused on how she was saying it. Her accent isn’t typical in that it’s not exactly Standard American English or Southern English or anything that’s easy to place (there apparently is not a true, identifiable Alaskan dialect).

On the Mr. Verb blog, there’s been a discussion going on about the Mrs. Palin’s accent – it appears to be a benign non-poiltical conversation, which I appreciate. I particularly liked the following analysis by poster “Wishydig” (warning: you are entering the land of linguist-speak – reader beware):

. . . some of the features I’ve noticed are the chicago onglide of æ: a slight tensing and perhaps raising of the ‘bit’ vowel. I thought I heard some pen/pin merging too so maybe just a general raising of front vowels. slightly simplified /o/ but not quite as simplified as the Minne-Kota /o/. Also what sounds like (occasional) Canadian raising on the /aI/ diphthong even before a 0-coda or before voiced consonants in a word like “supplies”. And the easiest feature for SNL to mock: dark rhoticity and shorter pre-R vowels in words like “here”. . . not that SNL should mock it of course . . .

Next on Political Accents with Katie: The Influence of  the Mid-Atlantic dialect on Senator Biden’s Production of Plosives (um, kidding)

See how fun politics can be?

what’s really important

Job 23:8-10 “Behold, I go forward, but he is not there, and backward, but I do not perceive him; on the left hand when he is working, I do not behold him; he turns to the right hand, but I do not see him. But he knows the way that I take; when he has tried me, I shall come out as gold.”

I’ve started carrying around Bible verses in my pocket on an index card as I have found that in new (read: scary) situations, it helps to have the Word at the ready to get my focus back on the Lord. The above passage was one of my verses from last week, and was particularly encouraging as I recognized that it’s not important for me to know all the ins-and-outs of God’s workings. He doesn’t have to answer to me, after all. What is crucial (and oh, so comforting), is that he knows my path . . . and he controls it.

Finally . . .

Yesterday, Kenya earned its FIRST ever Olympic gold medal in the marathon, courtesy of Samuel Kamau Wanjiru.

Hongera, Bwana!

I must say, it was very cool to hear the Kenyan National Anthem during the closing ceremonies.

“them” is “us” now

I used to think of educators in the typical way kids do. Teachers acted mature, they were proper, responsible, and polite, they weren’t awkward in the way I always was (am).

This week, I became one of “them”. And as I did so, I realized that these math and 1st grade and special ed and English teachers and my fellow SLPs weren’t all that different from our students. In the classrooms during orientation and training sessions, there were the chatty girls, the back seat slouchers, the clowning guys, the know-it-all devil’s advocate types, and people who left their time cards at home. It felt . . . well, like high school.

I think it’d be an eye-opener for our students to see us like this. I guess in some ways, we really don’t change. We are who we are. We just get more responsibilities, more education, more experience, and then someone hires us, and we start getting paid to be on the other side of the desk.

And that just feels really weird right now.

Day 1

So, life is moving through it’s phases. My brother Pete is now married to Melissa. The fam (4/9 of it, anyway) returned to Kenya last Tuesday. The rest of us are scattered across North America, and we have resumed using email & Skype as our international communication tools. I keep starting to call Mom’s cell phone, then remember that our normal has changed again, and that she and Dad and the boys are 8000 miles away. Sigh.

Speaking of new normals, I started work today. Real work. As in I’m not a student worker anymore. These first days are orientation, of course, but I am getting paid and that is a definite improvement over the last couple months.

I’m terrified about the day after Labor Day when school starts while at the same time chomping at the bit to meet my kids. I guess most first days feel that way.

Ain’t this life a wonderful adventure?

08-08-08, weddings, and other matters

The Very Symmetrical Day of this year – I love it.

Also, Happy Olympics . . . Go Kenya! Go USA!

I’m currently in PA, getting ready for my brother’s wedding after being in a wedding last weekend in MN. My oh my – ’tis the season for babies & weddings galore.

On an entirely different note, a quote from Dennis Rokser, found in the current issue of the Grace Family Journal:

It is important, and interesting to note that there is not even one passage in the entire Word of God that specifically states that a sinner must “repent from his sins” to be saved or redeemed. Why is this? It is because Jesus Christ has already “died for our sins” (an integral part of the Gospel). His propitiatory sacrifice has forever satisfied the righteous demands of a thrice, holy God.

Thus, the real issue today is not the SIN issue, but the SON issue, namely, “what do you think and believe about Jesus Christ?”

He who believes in Him is not condemned but he who does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God. (John 3:18 )

Oh, I do love the clarity and simplicity of the gospel!

oh freedom

“Freedom is living within God’s guidelines.” – Chet McCalley (from a message on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood – http://www.wordoftruth.net/subject.htm ) Wow, does that fly in the face of the world’s definition of freedom!

Romans 6:18 “and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness.”

In essence, we believers are free slaves.

Name Games

I’m at the stage in life where my friends seem to be having babies in bunches, and so the topic of baby names is quite in vogue. Today I checked a book out of the library called Bad Baby Names by Michael Sherrod and Matthew Rayback which details the highs and (mostly) lows of names found in the U.S. Census records. I’ve chosen some of my favorites as a sample. The following are all actual names of American citizens, dating back to the late 19th century.

Warren Peace

Ima Bumm (Is that better or worse than her fellow Ima, Ima Butt? I’m(a) not sure.)

Hades Fryher (surely a darling little girl)

Jump Jump

Doctor Love

Ura Scholar

God Brown (not a lot to live up to there)

Mahershalahashbaz Sturgeon

Good Dog

Hell Hess (who’s name is bad enough, but get this – her hubby’s first name was Christian. As the authors stated, “That’s marital irony for you”).

Parents, I implore you. Think twice before naming your child a cutsie name. They’ll thank you for it. Post Office, Cholera Peace, and White Bread would all agree with me. Really.

joy-stealers?

“Don’t let what you want steal the enjoyment of what you have.”

I recently came across this quote my mom sent me, and it was the kind of statement that is convicting and encouraging at the same time. Discontentment can indeed steal my joy, while contentment in the Lord and his abundant blessings (both now and for all eternity!) is the most joyous life there is.

fearfully and wonderfully

Today I held a week old baby in my arms. She was beautiful – from her the top of her downy head to her miniature fingernails to her little feet that fit comfortably in the palm of my hand. I could have stared at this handiwork of God all day.

I love the fact that something as big as a star in the sky and something as small as a newborn point us to the same loving Creator. We need not look far to find God; atheists sure have a problem.

How to Negotiate 101

 

The following is an item I found in my stash of old letters. It was written several years ago from my three youngest siblings to our mother (who photocopied it and sent it to me), asking for permission to buy a fancy toy from a neighbor who was moving back to the States. I have done as little editing as possible.

Dear Mom,

These are the reasons we would like to buy the Lego ship:

1. It has a lot of gear – like a compass, a wheel that moves the rudder, sailors in uniform – etc.

2. The money we would like to spend on it is ours, so we feel we should be able to because it is our money after all.

3. J. is going to college and is trying to sell the ship. if we buy it, it might give him some money sort of like Pete was selling stuff for money.

4. If we do get it we will not argue over it, or at least we will try not to argue over it.

5. The ship would provide lots of fun for us, especially with how big and realistic, and good it is.

6. Because it is a complete set, it would be nice to have because it is whole and the parts are not missing. This would make it more fun because we don’t have to replace parts.

7. It would also be a nice replacement for our homemade, [illegible], multicolored, ships that do not have real equipment and are litterally [sic] shagalabagala [Swahili term for messy, chaotic, etc.]. We say this because our “ships” are not complete our men are mismatched, our things are different colors, and we don’t have all the supplies

8. The ship could also be fun to share with other kids who visit and love Legos like the Ks.

9. Lastly if we decided not to keep the ship any more when we grow older, we could sell it or give it away to somebody who could enjoy it.

Love,

Emily J. Morrison

Noah Morrison

Daniel

P.S. We are sure this is how we want to spend our money. We would really enjoy the ship even if it is 1000 shillings.

 

They got it.

9 years

9 years ago, my life plans were pretty set. I was going to be a doctor. I was going to pay off my loans somewhere in the rural U.S., far far away from any city. Then I was going to move back to Africa to live and die.

9 years ago today, I received my high school diploma.

Now, 9 years later, I am not a doctor; I’m a speech-language pathologist (which, by the by, is a profession I did not know existed 9 years ago). I don’t live in the boonies; I reside near downtown in the largest city in Wisconsin (which, by the by, is a state I probably couldn’t have even found on a map 9 years ago). And though I hope to visit on occasion, I very well may never live in Africa again (which, by the by, is not an easy thing for me to contemplate).

“The heart of man plans his way,
but the Lord establishes his steps.”

Wow – I’m living proof of Proverbs 16:9!

an appropriate reminder (thanks, Mr. Pastis)

The All-Star – pardon – The All-Night Game

15 innings, four hours and fifty minutes of baseball. And I watched it all, into the wee hours of this morning, a luxury afforded to few others than the unemployed-until-next-month, I suppose.

It showed me again why I love the game, which started out slow and scoreless in last evening, but built up to an nail-biting, error-plagued, close-outs-at-the-plate, sleeplessness-inducing affair that stretched out til today.

I’m a National League girl, so the end result wasn’t what I could’ve wished for, especially with the Phillies‘ Brad Lidge giving up the go-ahead run when the Brewers‘ Corey Hart’s throw home was a tad late, but it was an epic as far as I’m concerned. It’s a good thing they’ve made the Game count, otherwise, it probably wouldn’t have gotten that far, and  would most certainly have been less exciting. The American League will once again have World Series home field advantage. But don’t worry, NL fans. Say it with me now . . .

There’s always next year.

all my own

I told my friend, Emily, this weekend that sometimes I feel as if I live in the quotes of other people because their words say what I’m thinking so much better than I ever could. The following is an exception, however. It is thoroughly my quote. 

You see, we were fooling around on Saturday night with those magnetic words (and random prefixes and suffixes) that you put on refrigerators. Basically, we turned them upside down and chose several without knowing what they were, then tried to make grammatical sentences out of them. My first effort was:

“As an entertainer, chapterly sit between each device.”

Profound, no? So profound, indeed, that I don’t even know what it means . . . but it is grammatical. This illustrates an interesting linguistic point – that a sentence can be absolutely correct in its grammar, while at the same time, it is absolutely meaningless. Ah, the joy and mystery of language.

On the original note, I think we can now agree that I should stick to other people’s quotes rather than creating my own, right?

happy thought

“she spoke with lips that love to laugh” – Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, trans. Simon Armitage

I like that description. It makes me smile.

wait-y matters

“I took a course in speed-waiting. Now I can wait an hour in only ten minutes.” – Steven Wright

Wish it were true, but in the meantime, I’ll delight in that for which I wait:

1 Thessalonians 1:9-10 “For they themselves report concerning us the kind of reception we had among you, and how you turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead, Jesus who delivers us from the wrath to come.”

my favorite similie

I read the following quote in Steven Pinker’s The Stuff of Thought (which is one of those fascinating mind-benders that language nerds like me enjoy immensely) and thought I’d share. It’s from an actual high schooler’s paper. . .  he should’ve gotten some points for creativity at least.

“He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.”

I think I might slip this little “gem” into a conversation someday.

“just to take him at his word”

Do I really believe the promises of God? When he promises to give ”peace that passes understanding” (Philippians 4:9) as I bring my worries to him, to “supply all [my] needs according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19), or to “withhold no good thing from them who walk uprightly” (Psalm 84:11), do I rest in his Word?

Not enough. I tend to push aside the all-powerful, all-caring, all-sufficient God who “owns the cattle on a thousand hills” (Psalm 50:10), and carry the weight of the world on my shoulders and in my heart. The problem there is, this fading flower (Isaiah 40:6-7) of a human was never meant to lug  so heavy a burden.

Oh, for grace to trust him more.

Happy (Real) Independence Day!

Actually, it is. According to http://hnn.us/articles/132.html,

“America’s independence was actually declared by the Continental Congress on July 2, 1776. The night of the second the Pennsylvania Evening Post published the statement: “This day the Continental Congress declared the United Colonies Free and Independent States.”

The announcement of said declaration was made on the Fourth, hence the date on the document.

By His grace, that’s 232 years of freedom. May God continue to bless these United States with his undeserved favor.

If you are squeamish, you might want to skip this post.

One of the “nice” things, I suppose, about unemployment is the freedom to do things spur of the moment. Take yesterday – I’m walking down the street and seen a sign – “Blood Drive – Walk Ins Welcome”.

So I walked in. And gave about 1/16 of my blood. I still find it amazing that even with that much taken out of me (and it sure looks like a LOT in that 700mL bag), I can still function normally, with no ill effects (save a bruised arm). I was told I could look away as the needle went in, but I never do. If some sharp metal object is going to be invading my body, I want to watch if at all possible. The tubes carrying the life giving stuff away from my veins rested gently on my forearm, and I felt the warmth on my skin, which struck me as strange for some reason. The blood itself was not red, of course, but a deep purple, untouched by oxygen. And weird as it may seem, I think it’s beautiful. Truly, the life is in the blood.

I was thinking about believers and our relationship to blood, particularly the blood of Jesus Christ. In many ways, it must seem odd to the world that this blood is so valued by us, that we sing songs about it and give thanks to the One who shed it. But when a person truly understands that “without the shedding of blood, there is no remission of sins”(Hebrews 9:22), and that Jesus didn’t just die, he died for me and you, the idea of blood really does take on a preciousness which is hard to describe in mere words.

it would be easy to get upset

Soaring Gas Prices

Soaring Food Prices

Presidential Election

War in Iraq and Afghanistan

North Korea = Nuclear Power??

If you’re like me (and most of the rest of America), one of these five phrases (if not ALL of them) made you a little unsettled, a little nervous, a little perturbed. Things keep piling up, piling on, getting worse. I sometimes wonder how people who don’t have the Lord sleep at night – and I just listed a few universal issues . .

Yeah, getting upset would be really easy right now, but for this:

Philippians 4:6 “do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God, And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Psalm 37:25 “I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken
or his children begging for bread.”

How comforting to be unforsaken as the world tumbles down.

 

a perfect summer evening

Last night, I went out with friends. We had a picnic supper of BLTs, chips, strawberries, and sweet tea while listening to Jazz in the Park. We then played sand volleyball for an hour and a half until it got too dark to see and hiked down to the lake to hear the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra play for free. We got there with the concert almost over, but their finale of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” was well worth the trek. As it was the first night of the world-famous music festival, Summerfest, they had what’s referred to as the “Big Bang” to kick things off – fireworks! And I didn’t get home ’til nearly midnight (quite the aberration).

OK, seriously, does it get any better on a summer night than that??

I’d've

The old 50’s song, “If I Knew You Were Coming” (I’d've Baked a Cake)  (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ss941vaoe_A) started me thinking about contractions, and how I can’t imagine life without them. I mean, I cannot. Consider never using another contraction again. This is easier to do when writing, much harder to do when speaking. Talking gets clunky when we take out the contracted verbs and negatives.

Singing does too:

. . . I would have baked a cake, I would have baked a cake, I would have baked a cake . . .

Contractions are they’re good, especially lovely double ones like “I’d've”. And the song ain’t all that bad either.

boggles my mind

I rediscovered the Boggle on Saturday night. It’s one of those games I remember playing as a kid at the kitchen table with Mom and my brothers, but I hadn’t played it in years. I forgot how much fun it was, but when you combine letters, obscure words (“boded”, anyone?) and a 3 minute time limit – wow! It’s great!

Also, when there’s the “th” letter combination right in the middle is helpful as it doth bringeth back the Olde English feel to things.

Psalm 27:13-14 – I found these verses to be very encouraging this morning, especially as I’m . . . waiting. (I always seem to be doing that!)

I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living!
Wait for the Lord;
be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the Lord!

continental connections

Last night I had the wonderful experience of eating supper with a friend from grad school, her husband, and her Argentine in-laws. The food was fresh from scratch South American cooking, and English and Spanish flew about in equal quantities, much to the delight of my always-anxious-for-anything-international ears. We talked, via frequent translation, of Africa, languages, school, work, and a recently stolen lawn mower. They wanted to learn some Swahili words, and after going over only a few phrases, Swahili was proclaimed to be much easier to pronounce than cumbersome English words like “siblings”. I find that whenever my mind hears another language, Swahili is on the tip of my tongue. Of course, this is rarely productive when talking to someone from South America . . .

After dinner, we watched a World War I movie in which actors occasionally dialogued in French or German. And there we were, a farm girl from Iowa, her Argentine family, and the girl from Kenya, sitting in a living room in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, watching a film that took place in Europe.

And those continental connections sure felt like home to this alien and stranger.

It’s the most happiest day of the year

That is, according to psychologist Cliff Arnall, who has actually developed an equation demonstrating variables that makes this, 20 June, the happiest day of the year. The following quote is from an article at ajc.com:

“Apparently it’s the combination of brighter evenings, childhood memories, and the prospect of summer holidays that puts the best possible spin on today.”

So . . . feel any better?

Even more wonderful than sunshine, good memories, and holidays, though, is this promise from  Romans 4:

“Blessed [Happy] are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven, and whose sins are covered; blessed [happy] is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin.”

Hallelujah!

comfort music

As I write this blog entry, I’m listening to comfort music. Just like we eat certain kinds of food because they are comfortable, so we listen to music that comforts us.

I was thinking about why I have certain songs that I play over and over again, and why my iPod has such a weird mix on it. One of my very kind friends described my music collection as “eclectic” (which I think is nicer than “weird”), and it is that. I have about every musical genre, including rap, folk, classical, pop, country, hymns – and some songs that don’t fit really well in any category. I imagine that most people have “eclectic” collections.

But why?

Sometimes, a lot of times, I’ll add a song because it reminds me of a place or a time or a friend. I might not have otherwise liked and listened to it, but it has meaning attached. That’s why Horowitz’s rendition of ”The Stars and Stripes Forever” bumps up against the Kenyan song “Chonga Viazi” which in turn precedes the thoughtful ”How Deep the Father’s Love” which is incongruously followed by “The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything” which leads us, oddly enough, to “Canon in D” (that’s on shuffle, by the way).

And that’s why I have numbers like ”Hey There Delilah” in my repertoire. That one is only in there because when I was home last summer, Noah was picking it out on his guitar. It reminds me of my brother, and I smile.

It’s my comfort music.

some Santa clauses for your consideration

I woke up at 4 this morning thinking about Santa Claus. Yes, him. Despite the fact that summer, not winter, is nigh, and there are about a zillion other things I could/should think about if I happen to awaken in the wee hours of the morning, it was the Jolly Elf  on the tip of my brain.

I’ve been listening to the enjoyable audiobook memoirs of a girl growing up in rural Indiana. I finished it last night before going to bed, and in the final chapter, the author writes about when she received a much wished for gift at Christmas, complete with a handwritten letter from – you guessed it - Mr. Claus himself. The story was told in a very touching, sweet way, but early this morning I awoke to find myself contemplating the aftermath.

Millions of kids are told about Santa’s existence by well-meaning (and well-trusted) parents, and of course these young’uns believe the story. They have no reason not to. And in most cases, Santa has taken over the role of God - we know from that old holiday tune that he’s all-knowing, and pretty close to being omnipresent and omnipotent too. He is a really good guy to believe in.

Imagine the kick in the gut, then, when these kids are at recess with a slightly wiser friend who (smugly) disabuses them of their belief in Santa, revealing to them that they’ve been lied to their whole life. Ouch.

It reminds me (on an infinitely larger scale) of friends I have who have been saved out of religion. Some were told all their lives that you can get to heaven because of your baptism or good works, etc., only to discover that salvation is by the grace of God, apart from works, in the work and person of Jesus Christ. That revelation stings too, but it is a needed sting.

I realize it is probably one of the biggest barriers to a person placing their trust in Christ, and only the Spirit of God can break the walls down. May we be used of him to (kindly, gently) disabuse people of their faulty beliefs, and point them to the Light.

pomp and circumstance . . .

There it is – a month ago tomorrow. I figured since I spent a lot of time on this blog looking forward to that day, it might be nice to take a look back to 18 May. (And I think, good grief! Is that for real?) It was great to have both my parents (as well as a brother, my dad’s parents, and two sweet college friends) there for the momentous occasion. Thus ended my formal education, but it figures I would find myself back at school in the fall – after all, my friends call me a “lifer”.

I take that as a compliment.

time on your side

“Not much to do when you got time on your side/You sit and think about your wasted life . . . “

I don’t exactly agree with the sentiments of this song that Emily Jane White sings, but I can relate. In the last month I’ve gone from student with two part time jobs to unemployed to employed to unemployed again. It’s a long story which I won’t go into on this blog, but suffice it to say that I currently have a lot of time on my hands.

Job hunting for summer work has proved fruitless to this point. I haven’t stopped looking, but have resigned myself that I might not be employed until the end of August when I start working for the school district. Which leaves me with . . . time – about 2 months of the precious commodity.

And unlike the lyrics above, I don’t want to waste it. I want to use it, to redeem it. (Ephesians 5:16) I want this “time on my side” to be used to glorify God.

So I’m going to start blogging daily again (that’s my goal anyway). And I’m planning to study in preparation for my job in the fall, memorize Scripture, go for walks by Lake Michigan, enjoy Jazz in the Park, listen to audiobooks from the public library, among other things. I’ll have a schedule.

It’s not what I thought this summer would be, but it’s what God has for me. He’s changed my plans before, he can change them again. That’s why this life is such an adventure.

So, onward!

in response to Daniel’s second comment after my 14 May post

barely

cap’n'gown

Yipes, ’tis for real. I got them yesterday, along with my hood’n'tassel. I woke up at 4 AM, too excited to sleep. I even flipped on the light to make sure they were real. They were. And I’ll be wearing them on Sunday.

Joyfully.

Also at 4 AM, I read Romans 4. Verses 18-21 reveal Abraham to a stunningly faith-full man, who believed in a God, who to this day, and through all eternity, is stunningly promise-keeping.

“In hope he believed against hope, that he should become the father of many nations, as he had been told, ‘So shall your offspring be.’ He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was as good as dead (since he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah’s womb. No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised.”

May I be that trusting, believing in hope against hope, fully convinced of my God’s abilities to do what he has promised.

Final final

I finished graduate school last night, taking the last exam of my educational career. I sat there for a few minutes after completing the test, staring at it, not really believing that I was done. I didn’t feel sentimental or nostalgic – it’d be hard for anyone (except for some hard-core statisticians) to get worked up over a final on quantitative analysis, confounding variables, and nonparametric tests. I got a little emotional on the phone when I called home afterward; there was such a sense of relief, an overwhelming sense of “doneness”, and a deep sense of gratitude to the Lord for bringing me through.

Hard to believe, this.

So now, I begin a whole new journey as a productive member of society. In August, Lord willing, I’ll be a Speech-Language Pathologist in a public school. It’s nice to be employed (or to be “pre-employed” until I officially sign the contract).

In the meantime, I’m applying to the zoo. Seriously. I’m doubtful that I’ll actually get that job, but if I do, I’m sure I could teach the lions a thing or two about protecting their vocal cords.

Onward.

Psalm 150 seems so appropriate right now (ok, it’s always appropriate):

Praise the Lord!
Praise God in his sanctuary;
praise him in his mighty heavens! 
Praise him for his mighty deeds;
praise him according to his excellent greatness!

Praise him with trumpet sound;
praise him with lute and harp!
Praise him with tambourine and dance;
praise him with strings and pipe!
Praise him with sounding cymbals;
praise him with loud clashing cymbals!
Let everything that has breath praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord!

hilarity ensues

A 1999 Letter to the Editor of National Review on the clunky term, “Congressperson”. It is best read aloud.

Dear Mr. Buckley:

Ms. Ellen P. Ward’s letter to you regarding the use of “Congressperson” when referring to a member of Congress does not go far enough. Since the last syllable (son) refers to the male gender, the politically correct term of address for a female member of Congress is “Congressperdaughter.” This, then, brings into question the use of “female” to refer to a member of the feminine sex. Again, the politically correct term should be “feperdaughter” (God created them male and feperdaughter). This gives rise to other absurdities, such as “woperdaughter” for “woman,” “huperdaughterity” for “humanity,” “woperdaughteracles” for handcuffs used on “feperdaughters.” It then makes a work written by a “woperdaughter,” a “woperdaughteruscript.”I’m sure that I need not belabor the point.

Sincerely,William F. Brna Monongahela, Pa

Mayday! Mayday!

No, really – happy May Day to you all.

The trees are budding, so spring is here. Yes, even in Wisconsin.

Happy sigh.

Planting Weeds?

You won’t find crystal

In a Styrofoam cup,

Just like you can’t swim in concrete

And you’ll never fall up.

And you can’t get to Heaven

By your good deeds

Just like you won’t grow flowers

When you’re planting weeds.

“And to him who does not work but believes in him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness.” Romans 4:5

Football bashing

No, not really . . . I do love my Eagles, but I sure got a kick out of George Carlin’s comparison of baseball and football.

“Baseball is a 19^th century pastoral game.

Football is a 20^th century technological struggle.

Baseball is played on a diamond. In a park – the baseball park.

Football is played on a gridiron in a stadium (sometimes called ‘Soldier Field’ or ‘War Memorial Stadium’).

Baseball has the 7^th inning stretch.

Football has the 2 minute warning.

Baseball has no time limit. We don’t know when it’s gonna end. We might have extra innings!

Football is rigidly timed and it will end even if we have to go to sudden death.

Finally, the objectives of the 2 games are totally different:

In football, the object is for the quarterback, otherwise known as the ‘field general’, to be on target with his aerial assault, riddling the defense by hitting his receivers with a deadly accuracy in spite of the blitz, even if he has to use the shotgun. With short bullet passes and long bombs, he moves his troops into enemy territory, balancing this aerial assault with a sustained ground attack which punches holes in the forward wall of the enemy’s defensive line. . .

In baseball, the object is to go home. And to be safe - “I hope I’ll be safe at home!”

Good stuff.

scientific supremacy?

I just read Dave Berg’s article at nationalreview.com on Ben Stein’s new film Expelled, which exposes “Big Science” (i.e. nearly all institutions of “higher” learning in the U.S.) and it’s stonewalling of any discussion regarding the possibility that evolution might not be true. I found this statement by Mr. Berg to be particularly revealing, as he gets to the crux of the issue.

“The film’s endeavor is to respond to one simple question: ‘Were we designed, or are we simply the end result of an ancient mud puddle struck by lightning?’

Big science doesn’t like that question because they can’t answer it. Underneath their antagonism toward explanations that suggest an intelligent cause, lies a fundamental egoism. Science wants to deny any evidence of a supreme being precisely because it wants to be a supreme being.”

The apostle Paul would agree with that idea. He wrote the following in Romans 1:21-23:

“For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things.”

Big Science, you lose.

A new favorite song – soothing & sweet

I could not do without Thee
O Savior of the lost,
Whose precious blood redeemed me
At such tremendous cost.
Thy righteousness, thy pardon
Thy precious blood, must be
My only hope and comfort,
My glory and my plea.

I could not do without Thee,
I cannot stand alone,
I have no strength or goodness,
No wisdom of my own;
But Thou, beloved Savior,
Art all in all to me,
And weakness will be power
If leaning hard on Thee.

I could not do without Thee,
O Jesus, Savior dear;
E’en when my eyes are holden,
I know that Thou art near.
How dreary and how lonely
This changeful life would be,
Without the sweet communion,
The secret rest with Thee!

I could not do without Thee;
No other friend can read
The spirit’s strange deep longings,
Interpreting its need;
No human heart could enter
Each dim recess of mine,
And soothe, and hush, and calm it,
O blessed Lord, but Thine.

I could not do without Thee,
For years are fleeting fast,
And soon in solemn oneness
The river must be passed;
But Thou wilt never leave me,
And though the waves roll high,
I know Thou wilt be near me,
And whisper, “It is I.”

- Frances Havergal

The pope makes me mad

Ok, not mad in the sense of insane, and the pope doesn’t really make me feel angry. It’s more that the whole idea of this man, (yes, man)  being worshipped by people around the world, and this country in particular right now stirs me up, gets under my skin. The hullabaloo in the media has been rather magnificent – you’d think that Jesus himself had stepped on to American soil this week. Hmmm.

I’ve heard Catholics say that they don’t worship this man, that they just “venerate” him . . . strange - it looks a lot like worship to me. They bow, they kiss his hand, they are thrilled just to “breathe the air he’s breathing” as I heard someone say on the radio, they call him the “holy father”. The “holy father”? The only person we should call Holy Father is the One who is the 1st Person of the Triune Godhead. The pope is neither holy nor anyone’s father. He is not some mediator between God and man. He is a sinner in need of a Savior just like everyone else in the world.

I have a friend who recently got saved out of devout Catholicism, and his eyes have been opened to the lies and the folly associated with that system of religion. He was the one who brought up the “holy father” deal last night, and it got me thinking about how many millions and billions of people are being deceived by another wolf in sheep’s clothing; deceived right into a tormented godless eternity.

Religion is one of Satan’s favorite tools, no doubt about that.

The Fourth Question

Where am I going?

I think this is my favorite of the four major life questions because it fills my heart with sense of peace to know the answer. I’m not being proud in saying that – I have read what the Bible says on life after death and I’ve staked my eternal destiny on the One who promises everlasting life to all who trust Him alone. (John 3:16)

I’m going to Heaven. How about you? Are you going too? Or are you one of the billions who are currently on their way to the lake of fire (i.e. the very real Hell)?

You can  know the answer to this question, one that nags at the mind of every person in the world. Click on the “Good News” link to the right. It’ll tell you the whole story.

The Third Question

Why am I here?

To have a good time, go for it, get everything I can, die with a lot of toys.

No?

Ok, then. I’m here to leave a legacy – to be so nice and good to my fellow man that I’ll have 1000 people at my funeral who’ll give one heartfelt tribute after another to the wonderful person that was me.

Sounds good. But again, no. The true answer is quite antithetical to how most (all, actually) humans conduct themselves.

John the Baptist said it very well. In fact he summed up what a person’s whole life is to be about in one sentence.

John 3:30 “He must increase, but I must decrease.”

We are here for no other reason than to bring him glory. Unbelievers live very unfulfilling lives because they can’t glorify God in their separated-from-him state. They live life to bring glory to themselves. Sadly, believers all too often do too.

I know I forget why I’m here. Daily. Hourly. I rarely remember “He must increase”. It’s “Katie must increase”.

But when I come around to the right way of thinking, there’s God’s grace, his mercy, his forgiveness.

Psalm 17: 7 I will give to the Lord the thanks due to his righteousness, and I will sing praise to the name of the Lord, the Most High.

 

 

The Second Question

Where did I come from?

I touched on this during my discussion on the first question, “Who am I?” in regards to the sad belief in the flukes of evolution, but there is need for expansion. The answer to this second question is simple. In fact, the answers to life’s most important questions are all straightforward when you know the One from whom all life flows.

I did not come to exist in some random way. I was tenderly and lovingly ”knit together in my mother’s womb”. Before time began, the Creator had my whole life planned and organized. He arranged my specific combination of DNA to originate with Adam and Eve and be passed down through thousands of years and countless generations of parents and eventually form the person that is me. I am no accident. I am unique. To acknowledge that is not to be proud. It’s actually very humbling and worship-inspiring to recognize my origins and to realize that I am indeed “fearfully and wonderfully made” by my awesome God and Father.

Psalm 139:13-16

13 For you formed my inward parts;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. 
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.

And that’s the beautiful story of where we all came from.

Resuming posting

Attention, please.

I am resuming posting on this blog after a two week hiatus/sabbatical during which spring came (kind of, ’cause we got a foot of snow on the first day), Easter came and went, and I had a school break. Of sorts.

I started a series on The Four Most Important Questions in Life . (I know, I know. It was a month ago.) I hope to continue with #2 tomorrow.

See ya then.

Here we are . . . ALL of us (!!!!)

1998

2003

Drumroll, please . . . .

13 March 2008!!!

um . . .ok, everyone ready? Dad, is your hair ok?? . . . ok . . .2008!!!

Now, let’s all wave goodbye for another 5 years!

The First Question

Who am I?

Ask most of your friends who they are, and you’ll often get a blank stare or a “Huh?” or an answer such as “I’m a (fill in the blank) parent, a student, an accountant, a laundromat owner”. Their identity is wrapped in what they do because they really don’t know who they are.

If you asked an evolutionist to describe who he was in his very essence, he might say, “I’m a (random) conglomeration of billions of cells that are a product of my ape-like ancestors, which in turn were a product of a string of creatures in various stages of evolution that trace their roots way back billions of years ago to a couple of (chance) proteins in some (fortuitous) primordial stew that (accidentally) smacked into each other (coincidentally) and –zing – (somehow) a spark of life was produced.”

How touching. But that’s not me.

Who am I? First and foremost, my life is in Christ and he lives in me. My identity is completely wrapped up in my Savior, and not in what I may or may not accomplish in life.

Colossians 3:3 “For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.”

Galatians 2:20 “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

I am a child of God through the blood of his Son. I am accepted and blessed in the Beloved One, Jesus Christ. I am a citizen of heaven. I am a not-chance one – God himself knit me together in my mother’s womb.

There is such security in knowing the answer to this most basic of questions.

Leapin’ along

I don’t have much to say today, but I wanted to post on Leap Day, just ’cause I won’t get a chance to post on it for another 4 years . . .

Speaking of 4, I’ve been contemplating life’s 4 biggest questions. Important as they are, these questions are ones that majority of the people in this world have no idea how to answer. I think I might be starting a little series addressing them, so stay tuned.

One Year

It’s snowing today. Or raining. Not sure which one, really. Still, it’s thinking weather out there.  And this is what I’m thinking today.

I’m gonna start a blog . . . .

That’s how this whole thing began on 25 February 2007, so Happy Anniversary, and thanks for reading.

It’s funny, because as far as the weather goes, it’s pretty much the same as it was on this day last year. I think it might be raining tonight, then snowing. And that snowfall will most likely send us over the 80 inch mark for the winter.

Been a lovely winter here. We seem to be breaking weather records left & right. It’s either snowing furiously or the windchill is -25. But our 80+ inches of snow pales in comparison to the 109.8 inches they got in ‘85-’86. Um, 1885-1886, that is.

On 21 Feb, Jim Stingl, a columnist for The Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel, had this humorous take on that Wisconsin winter, and the current one:

“Plentiful snow back then was known as excellent sleighing weather. ‘Mrs. George Lord’s sleigh ride party comprising about 20 couples went to the insane asylum Monday evening and, notwithstanding the intensely cold weather, report a very pleasant time,’ The Milwaukee Journal reported.

We’re all going to be sleighing over to the insane asylum if this winter doesn’t let up soon.”

Indeed. But there is light at the end of the tunnel: spring training games kick off this week.

The Life of an MK . . . or is it?

My sister Emily’s Facebook profile includes the following in her “About Me” section. Maybe someday I’ll post something that better reflects our actual experiences, but for now, you can get all the misconceptions all in one place.

 I’m from Africa, and yes, I’m white. I grew up in the jungle. It was kind of rough because we had to live in mud huts, but after a while you get used to the chickens wandering in and out. We ate a lot of exotic stuff- monkeys, beetles, that sort of thing. It was hot, because it was Africa, and everyone knows Africa is wicked hot, so I didn’t wear that many clothes most of the time, except when riding elephants, because it’s more comfortable sitting on them when you have jeans on. We don’t have any roads there or electricity, and I didn’t learn how to use a computer until I got to college. However, my education was extensive in other areas. For instance, I am fluent in African, and I know how to make excellent roof thatching out of banana leaves. It was a pretty adventurous existence. Sometimes tigers would come by at night, and we’d have to stay inside our hut for a bit until they passed on. It was a good life. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

Yeah,  that’ll do for now.

On being a sinner

It’s awful being one of those, isn’t it? The longer I live and the more I read God’s Word, the more I see the ugliness of my heart and my thoughts and my deeds and my words. Don’t worry, this isn’t going to turn into a gut-spilling confessional – the wide world web isn’t the appropriate place and I’ve spoken to Someone about the particulars already. If you are a believer in that Someone, you, my fellow sinner, know how it is to suddenly or gradually recognize our unholiness before the pure and holy King of the Universe. To realize that:

A. I am not a good person. (Romans 3:10)

B. I deserve to be in hell at this very moment. (Romans 6:23a)

Not a pretty picture, eh? Yet these two points are absolutely true of every single person (i.e. sinner) walking this earth. That’s why it is so unbelievably miraculously wonderful that that Someone, that pure and holy King is also something else.

He is, as I heard recently a pastor say in a message, “the Friend of sinners without condoning their sin”. He is the Lover of the unlovely, of prostitutes, crooked judges, candy bar thieves, drunks, disobedient 5 year olds, serial rapists, and Katie Morrison. He, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, has provided his own righteousness and deliverance from hell to each believing sinner on the basis of his death for us and his resurrection. And that’s (you guessed it)
grace.

pursuit

Psalm 23:6 “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.“

My sister sent me this little commentary on the word “follow”:

“The Hebrew word is ‘radaph,’ and can be translated as ‘to pursue, hound, or chase.’ I think it’s such a cool picture! God’s goodness and unfailing love does not meekly follow, trailing along behind us. It aggressively pursues us, hounds us, and chases us down.”

What a precious thought – he is active in his faithful pursuing of me, even when I’m so unfaithful in pursuing him.

good news

From today’s Nation (a newspaper in Kenya):

“The government dropped its demands for a re-count and a new tally of the presidential votes, while the ODM leadership gave up pushing for the resignation of President Kibaki, a re-run of the elections, or a new election in a year’s time. It was agreed that the only option was a political settlement that would bring together the government and ODM sides in a regime whose task would be to enact far-reaching constitutional, legal and institutional reforms over a three-year period. The public breathed a sigh of relief as President Kibaki and ODM leader Raila Odinga shook hands — for the third time in two weeks — and members from both sides exchanged pleasantries.”

Thank you, Lord.

Please keep praying!

Scrabble & “seats seven”

(I wrote this post over Christmas break, then kind of forgot to post it. . . better late than never, I suppose.) 

The other night I played Scrabble with my mom. The game amazes me. I think about all the connections my brain is making as it manipulates words and letters – it’s actually an extremely complex process that I have come to appreciate all the more as I have studied language.

Of course, the way I play, I often end up putting my mind through extra and unnecessary contortions trying to figure out how to use all seven tiles on one play, only to end up playing “N-U-T” on the triple word score for a whopping 9 points. Hey, you gotta play with what you got, right?

Last night, it was time for another type of competition as our family took a trip down to see the Flyers play hockey vs. the Maple Leafs (Leaves??). They won, 4-1. It was the first time we’d gone to a major sporting event as a family in 10 years. We picked up my older brother at his apartment and headed into Philly in our Mercury minivan, which “seats seven”.

Ha.

Ten years ago when most of us were a good deal smaller, that might’ve been true. It’s not anymore. My littlest brother is as tall as my dad, my little sister is taller than both my mom and me, so there’s pretty much zero wiggle room. As one of the smaller family members, I had the privilege of sitting in the 3rd row, middle seat. Ah, there’s nothing like a little family bonding time, eh?

And there’s nothing like sitting in the backseat of the family car to makes you feel like a kid again.

a very white day

Psalm 147:16 “He gives snow like wool; He scatters the frost like ashes.”

We sure got given a whole lot of wooly snow today in southeast Wisconsin – over a foot right now, with more coming down. When I walked out the door on my way to work, I thought, This is about the whitest day I’ve ever seen. The unplowed, nearly impassable roads are white. The sky is white. The trees are white. The buildings, thanks to the howling winds, are white with the driven snow. Windows are frosted from top to bottom.

This morning, I lay in bed at 5:45 and listened to the nostalgic drone of school closings, remembering when I was young and I sat next to the radio on winter mornings, rooting for them to say the name of my school. Snow days, as any kid knows, are a wonderful unexpected gift.

So, thanks, Lord, for giving us this gift of snow. It’s beautiful.

Aliens in America (and in this world in general)

Last night my sister, Emily, and I bonded over a song, one you’ve probably heard if you’ve watched TV at all lately. I know, it’s a corny way to come across new music, but it’s the tune that plays during the latest Mac laptop commercial – “New Soul” by Yael Naim. (The song’s on YouTube, if you want to take a listen.)

The first time I heard it, I liked it’s whimsical jauntiness, playful trombone, and stick-in-your-head-all-day quality. But there was something else that resonated with me, something which I didn’t recognize ’til I was listening to again it as I got ready for bed. The lyrics start out like this:

“I’m a new soul, I came to this strange world hoping I could learn a bit ’bout how to give and take /But since I came here, felt the joy and the fear, finding myself making every possible mistake.”

Hey, wait a sec! That pretty much describes me the first couple years after I came back to the States for college. New? Check. Strange world? Check. Wanting to learn? Check. Joy and fear? Check. Making Every Possible Mistake? Well, it sure felt like it.

Even 8.5 years into my adult life in the US of A, there are times when I still feel strangely out of place here, not unlike most MKs. We may look American, sound American, and (mostly) act American, but inside, we aren’t really American. We have too much of “Other Place” in us. Someone has called us “hidden immigrants”.

I suppose for all it’s discomfort, this “belonginglessness” isn’t a bad thing. We kind of get a head start on understanding the concept of being “aliens and strangers” on earth (1 Peter 2:11). And as much as I ache for people and places in other parts of the world, I never ache so much as when I ache for heaven. Heaven is home. It’s belonging. It’s with, not without. On that day that the Lord has chosen, I’ll end my sojourn and I’ll be with Christ. Home. Forever.

That’s what I was made for.

the opposite of tarasso

A friend gave me a Bible promise book for Christmas and I find myself turning through its pages frequently as I face different trying situations. Some situations are difficult due to the day-to-day stress of life, others are hard because there are no easy answers, no quick fixes, no instant healing balm for the deeper pains in my heart. But what better place to turn in any trial than to “the God of all comfort” and his Word?

Today was a “deeper pain” day. The news out of Kenya breaks my heart. I see my country with its cities, villages, and families being torn apart literally and figuratively. People – children – are being burned alive. I cried as I read the newspaper account, saw the picture of a little boy cowering with wide, terrified eyes.

When I got home tonight, I opened up my promises book to the segment with verses about “peace”, and there was John 14:27: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.”

Now I’ve read this verse so many times before. I’ve been comforted by it before. But this time I realized I didn’t really get what “troubled” means, so I grabbed my trusty Strong’s Concordance off the shelf and looked up the word.

5015 tarasso (in the passive)”to be disturbed, terrified, confused, to be stirred up”

That Greek word seems to, in a tragic way, describe Kenya fittingly at the moment. It also perfectly describes, in the opposite, the attitude of heart God wants me to have. He’s telling me, “Katie, do not let your heart be disturbed. Do not let your heart be terrified. Do not let your heart be confused. Do not let your heart be stirred up.”

Psalm 37:1 “Do not fret because of evildoers . . . . trust in the LORD and do good . . .”

And as I trust in the universe’s King in the midst of my grief, my heart is at rest.

Please join me in praying for peace in Kenya, as well as for comfort for those who have lost loved ones and those who are displaced. Pray that many would get saved as a result of the turmoil – that the unrest may bring them to see their need for peace with God through the work of Jesus Christ.

 

inevitabilities

From the Flying McCoys comic strip:

Yeah, I got a kick out of that creativity.

I’m reading a book called 10 Questions Science Can’t Answer (Yet) by Michael Hanlon. It’s quirky and fascinating, and the questions (which are the chapter titles) are stated in an offbeat way that are meant to catch your attention. For instance, the query, “Do animals have cognitive abilities?” is stated, “Is Fido a zombie?”

As I was perusing the table of contents, I was struck by the question, “Can I live forever please?” The chapter is a treatment of a series of some of the most troubling scientific questions, questions like “Why do we age? Why do our bodies break down? Why do we die?”

Scientifically speaking, we know how we die and we know everyone eventually succumbs to something. If you ignore the Bible, you’ll believe the ratio of person born: person dead is 1:1. Of course, if you ignore the Bible, you also won’t find the answer to the why of dying.

It’s sin. Romans 5:12 puts it out there pretty clearly: “Therefore, just as through one man sin entered the world, and death through sin, and thus death spread to all men, because all sinned . . .”

I’m pretty sure you won’t find that explanation in any medical textbook. Scientists have gone down some pretty strange trails trying to figure this whole death thing out, and they’ve come up empty (which is what normally happens when you ignore the clear teaching of God’s Word).

But I do have an answer to Mr. Hanlon’s somewhat facetious question, “Can I live forever please?”, an answer he probably would never expect to hear.

Yes, sir, of course you can.

Just as the Bible holds the answer to the why of death, it also speaks wonderfully to the how of eternal life – it’s “the free gift of God . . . in Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Rom 6:23b).

See, for those of us who have accepted this gift by simply trusting in God the Son who died in our place and rose again, death ( the separation of our soul and spirit from our body) is merely the door that we walk through from life on this planet to life forever in the glorious presence of God.

And the promise of life on the other side makes the whole inevitability of death a whole lot easier to swallow.

Taxes, on the other hand . . . . J

 

space

“If the empty space in atoms were removed, the entire human race would fit in the volume of a sugar cube.” – Marcus Chown, The Quantum Zoo.

In other words, we are overwhelmingly made up of, well . . . emptiness. It’s hard to fathom that, considering how solid everything looks and feels. I love statements like this one because it stretches my mind to it’s limit and then leaves my ability to understand far behind. This is a good thing, because then I see my smallness, and as I have written before, I need to be reminded of my smallness again and again. I get far too big-headed far too often.

My mom recently went to California and while there, saw and touched one of the largest trees in the world. She remarked on what a worship experience it was, as she praised the Creator of this magnificent plant. (It is that, though it sounds strange to call a redwood a plant, as if it were a wildflower or some sort of classroom foilage.)

It’s never a bad thing to be reminded of our tininess in light of our God – the One who “determines the number of the stars; he gives them to all of them their names”(Psalm 147:4 ESV). So much for those star name registries – my Father has already named each one.

Wow.

Up and at ‘em

Well, I should be back to a more regular blogging schedule now that the craziness of traveling and the craziness of studying for/taking the national speech-language pathology exam and the craziness of getting settled into my medical practicum are all behind me.

I think “a more regular blogging schedule” hopefully means a few posts a week . . . we shall see. I have a lot of thoughts going through my head as I embark on my last semester in school.

Right now, I’m enjoying the thought of Jesus Christ as the bright morning star (Rev 22:16). As my pastor described last night, that star is the one that shines the brightest just before darkness turns to dawn – the herald that night is ending and glorious day is about to break.

It’s a beautiful and fitting picture of our Savior.

“Therewith be content”

I used to struggle with the concept of contentment. I thought it meant I could never want anything. Of course by that definition, I was not content. Ever.

But then I realized that the Bible speaks of desires, and not in a disparaging way. The Psalmist writes about God granting us “the desires of [our] heart” (Psalm 37:4). The apostle Paul wished he could be with the beloved believers in the different churches he wrote to. He also “desired to depart and be with Christ”(Phil 1:23). Yearnings are part of being human. They are part of the way God made us. If we never wanted anything, we’d be sticks in the mud, going nowhere, doing nothing. That’s rather problematic. Also problematic is the other end of the desire spectrum, where our wants control and devour us.

This middle ground is where contentment comes into play.

Contentment is not the absence of longings; it is being unconsumed by one’s longings. It is the peaceful acceptance of what God has for me in the present, trusting him that his provision is adequate (and so often, far far better than simply “adequate”).

And, like Paul, we can learn the “secret” to being content: reliance on the strength of Christ. (Phil 4:12-13)

“May we dwell in unity, peace, and liberty”

My other homeland, Kenya, is in turmoil. This country, which since its independence in 1963 has been an oasis of peace and stability in an often volatile region of the world, is being torn apart by post-election violence. It hurts to see the images, to read the horrifying accounts of “ethnic cleansing”, to have no answers. I’m concerned for my friends and for the future. I wonder how and if it can all be resolved.

And I turn to the One who has the answers, to the One who knew this was going to happen and is completely sovereign. I turn to the God of all peace. I pray for peace in Kenya. I pray for peace between the Luo tribe and the Kikuyu tribe, between supporters of Odinga and supporters of Kibaki.

I pray for ultimate peace for the people of Kenya - the peace that comes as a result of simply believing in Jesus Christ’s death for our sins and his resurrection. That is only way to gain eternal life, and the only way to a right relationship with God and a right relationship with those around us.

This morning I remembered that Kenya’s national anthem is actually a prayer, and a very appropriate one at that. In closing, here’s the first verse of the English version:

O God of all creation,
Bless this our land and nation.
Justice be our shield and defender,
May we dwell in unity,
Peace and liberty,
Plenty be found within our borders.

Amen and amen.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig!

I am home for Christmas, and it’s not just in my dreams . . .

John 1:14 “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

Broken

This is a poem I wrote a while back when I was in the middle of a very difficult situation, but had to keep going about my daily routine. It’s an example of my own Lamentations, my acknowledgment that the life we lead here on earth can be so very hard at times.

Life doesn’t stop for a broken heart.

It doesn’t slow down just because

It hurts to breathe, think, talk, eat, write.

And it doesn’t let us off so we can

Cease living for a while

‘Til the pain ceases stabbing every thought

And we can once again laugh without

Wanting to cry.

No, life speeds on,

Careless and carefree,

And there are dishes to wash,

Papers to write,

Meetings to sit through,

Clocks to be punched,

And the broken heart is

Left crumpled and torn

In a corner of our life

Like an old sweater

That there’s no time to mend.
 

Sweet promises

I’ve been reading in Jeremiah of late. It’s a tough book to wade through. It’s full of righteous judgment upon judgment upon judgment against rebellious Israel; each one sad and painful. But then, I come to passages like this one in chapter 32:37-41 (ESV):

“Behold, I will gather them from all the countries to which I drove them in my anger and my wrath and in great indignation. I will bring them back to this place, and I will make them dwell in safety. And they shall be my people, and I will be their God.  I will give them one heart and one way, that they may fear me forever, for their own good and the good of their children after them. I will make with them an everlasting covenant, that I will not turn away from doing good to them. And I will put the fear of me in their hearts, that they may not turn from me. I will rejoice in doing them good, and I will plant them in this land in faithfulness, with all my heart and all my soul.”

My heart rejoices greatly in that.

Why should I so delight in promises made thousands of years ago to this tiny chosen nation? After all, I am not an Israelite. These promises are not for me, a Gentile member of the Church.

I love these truths because they reveal the God I serve as a compassionate, covenant-keeping God. He loves Israel with an everlasting love. And despite their past and present rejection of him and of his Messiah, these promises will come true. I will see them come true.

And I will marvel at such a wonderful Savior, such a faithful King.

Dread (Thoughts on Death)

I don’t dread my own death, only others’. It’s selfish of me, I know, but I don’t want to have to be the one to deal with the pain, the mind and heart-breaking loss. I dread the phone call, the burn of tears on my eyelashes, the crazy disbelief, like the time when I was little and Dad and Mom told me a friend had died in a car accident and I just kept thinking they could put her body back together again and she’d be OK. But life, once broken into a billion pieces by the mallet we call death, can’t be fixed.

Not yet anyway.

And the dread I feel sometimes overwhelms the hope – the settled assurance – that the lives of those I love are in the most capable, caring hands in the universe. Their times, as well as mine, are His to determine. He knows when, or if, we will die. I need to rest in that fact that when tragedy strikes my fragile heart, His grace will be all sufficient. Still, I long for, ache for, live for, the “if”. I desire with all my heart to be of the generation of believers who never died, but were instead raptured to live forever with our Savior, to be free from dread, to be free of sin, to be free of decay, to be free eternally from death.

An appropriate goodbye

Today I said goodbye to my kids. The last thing I heard as I walked out the classroom door was their laughter. It was a fitting end to the few special months I was privileged to spend with these little guys. I laughed with them every day.

A lot.

This morning was no exception. When my supervisor announced that this was my last day, she told them I was leaving and that I was going to be working at a hospital (my medical practicum starts in January). The kids were quite impressed, based on the chorus of wows. Tommy, apparently, was especially impressed. As he walked out the door, bundled up in his heavy winter jacket and Packers hat, he threw his arms around me, buried his head in my stomach, and said, “Bye, Miss Morrison. Have a good time at the doctor’s!”

And I laughed.

Finality is a funny thing

I wasn’t really thinking about it yesterday when I walked into class, but I was thinking a lot about it when I walked out. It was my last class session of the semester. On Friday, I have my last day at my practicum. By this time next week, my semester will be over. I have just one final on Monday. Then in January, I begin my last semester in school. Quite possibly the last one ever.

Wow. That snuck on me. I think I get so used to routine, just getting through the day or the week or the month. And then, wham! what I’ve been doing is over and it feels extremely sudden. I hit that last date hard and get mental whiplash. The end of something is sneaky in a very subtle way. I never expect to be surprised at how quickly it comes, but I always am.

I’m looking out the window now where it’s snowing in the deepening dusk. I’ll be going out a walkin’ in it soon, which will be a nice end to the day.

And for the end of this post, here’s a great statement of trust in the LORD by King Jehoshaphat when “a great horde” was coming against Judah:

2 Chronicles 20:12b “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.”

I’ve been lost

In Kenya when you haven’t seen someone for a while, you might say upon encountering them again, “You have been so lost.”

And I have been.

But I’m back to wish my faithful (???) readers a Happy December. Last year here in Milwaukee we had a blizzard on the 1st of December. This year the new month has brought with it a lovely wintry mix, i.e. snow and stinging ice pellets driven by 25 mph winds into one’s face. It was a perfect day to play football. Truly it was a fun time, because of the following  combination of factors:

December. Snow. A Saturday afternoon. A pick-up football game with good friends.

What more could you ask for?

(Perhaps me, actually blogging more than 5 times a month, ala November? I’ll be working on it.)

Blissfully ignorant

His real name’s not Harold, but due to privacy issues, I probably shouldn’t broadcast it over cyberspace. Calling him Harold gives you the gist, because I’m not talking about a 73 year-old man here. Harold is 5. He’s one of my kids. One of my favorites, actually, which is kind of surprising considering what a distraction he is in the classroom. He rambles on incoherently about everything and nothing, he rarely raises his hand, he is a whirl of constant motion, he has little concept of classroom etiquette and social norms. Sadly, the other kids have noticed he’s a little odd.

But I love the rascal. Everything Harold does is done with a sweetness and sincerity and abandon I’ve rarely seen. His wide eyes take in life enthusiastically (if a tad cluelessly) and he usually sports a charming huge gap-toothed grin. His hair is usually matted down in places and sticking straight up in others, adding a bit of Norman Rockwellian whimsy to his persona. He laughs easily and hands out hugs just as freely. Everyone – teachers, classmates, the substitute - is ”my friend” (even if they don’t necessarily think so).

Last Monday as the children were coming into the room, I saw that some looked a little draggy. I began asking them one by one if they were sad or happy. When I got to Harold, sitting in the center of the room Indian style, his back straight, eyes wide, I asked, “Harold are you sad today?”

“No, I’m HAPPY!” He leapt to his feet.

“Harold, why are you happy?”

He flung his arms wide. “I took a shower today!”

“You took a shower?”

He was nearly jumping up and down with barely corralled energy. “Yeah! And then I came to school!“

I sat there and laughed. A shower and school. Two very good reasons to be happy.

Harold is going to be leaving us soon for another classroom where he can get the kind of special education he needs. I’m going to miss that sweet little boy with the old man’s name.

I’m going to miss my friend.

Milwaukee shines

There’s one good thing I can say about having to leave home a bit before 6:30 AM to catch a bus – you surely do get to see Milwaukee’s beauty. Seems that during other times of the day, creation is drowned out by the noise and bustle or it’s wrapped in darkness.

But in the early morning, Milwaukee shines. I nearly forget I’m in a city. On Tuesday, the heavens boisterously and exuberantly declared the glory of God (Psalm 19), with the rising sun warming the undersides of feathery clouds to the tune of brilliant oranges and pinks. I started singing at the bus stop, joining the chorus of the skies.

A little while later while riding through a residential section of town, the trees were glowing. It was the perfect combination of soft light and fall leaves. This year there is a lot of yellow on the trees. And when that early sun hits those leaves just right, the word “burning” becomes extremely appropriate. I find it difficult to study my articulation textbook at that point.

I’ve started getting off the bus a stop early so I can walk through a little park on the south side. The combination of relative quiet and crunchy leaves and frost-encrusted grass underfoot has proved irresistible.

Yes, Milwaukee shines. And I worship the Creator of beauty in the city.

9862 Days

or, 27 years. As of yesterday, that’s how long I’ve lived. Somehow, it seems like it should be longer. More days, I mean.

You mean I haven’t even hit 10,000 days?  It’s a reminder again how short this life is compared to eternity. My life span since 1980 is like the tiniest plop, blip, blot, speck, compared to unfathomable vastness of timelessness. Actually, it’s less. It is so insignificant. And yet, what happens here in time influences eternity future.

Amazing!

I’ve asked this before and I’ll asked it again: is your eternity settled? Do you know where you will spend it? Don’t push the question aside. Consider forever. Consider that we are all sinners who deserve to spend eternity in torment in hell, separated from God. Consider that the one true God became man – Jesus Christ - died on the cross, taking that eternal punishment for us, then rose again. Consider the fact that he offers salvation from hell as a totally free gift. Consider that the only way to obtain this gift is by believing (depending) solely on the work and person of Jesus (not by any works we do).

Consider the TRUTH. Then believe it and live forever.

Look at me

Sometimes during my therapy sessions with one of my 4 year olds, I feel like a broken record. Mandy is on the autism spectrum, and lately we’ve been working on the social aspects of language, in essence, eye contact.

This is how I sound:

“Mandy, look at my eyes when I am talking to you. . . good looking . . . no, do not look at the computers . . . Mandy, where are my eyes? . . . good looking . . . no, do not look at Ms. B . . . . look at my eyes . . . good looking . . . no, do not look at what the other kids are doing . . . .” and so on.

See? Broken record.

Yesterday, I couldn’t help but think that this is what the Lord is like with me. He is so patient and yet so persistent with his reminders: “Katie, look at me . . . no, don’t go looking at the world’s distractions . . . no, don’t go looking at what I’m doing in your friends lives . . . look at me.”

‘Cause in reality, I’m an awful lot like Mandy. My eyes wander. I need those constant nudgings, the finger on the chin guiding my gaze back to the Savior.

Hebrew 12:1-2 ESV  “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, 2 looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”

X marks the spot

Now that wasn’t all that hard, was it?

Just what I needed to hear

We sang this one on Sunday and it was  great: 

Safe is my refuge, sweet is my rest,
Ill cannot harm me, nor foes e’er molest;
Jesus my spirit so tenderly calms,
Holding me close in His Mighty arms.

Chorus: Oh! what wonderful, wonderful rest!
Trusting completely in Jesus I’m blest;
Sweetly He comforts and shields from alarms,
Holding me safe in His mighty arms.

Pressing my tear-stained cheek to His own,
Hushing my grief with His sweet gentle tone;
Touching my heart with His healing balms,
Holding me still in His mighty arms.

Tempests may rage, sin’s surges may beat,
Ne’er can they reach my sheltered retreat;
Free from all danger, from dread alarms,
Resting so safe in His mighty arms.

- Winfield MaComber

The Life Uncertain

I like knowing things. If I know something, I cope easier because I can outline in my mind the steps that I need to take based on my knowledge of a situation. I’m a serious ducks-in-a-row addict.

So when the Lord, in his infinite wisdom and kindness, gives me a trial, he generally includes a hefty dose of uncertainty. Oh, and a nice dollop of waiting. Uncertainty and waiting – those two words pretty much sum up my trials.

Like the one I’m in now.

And I know why he gives these tests to me – because when mind is full of wonderings but my hands are tied, my only hope is in looking up to my wonderful Savior in whom there is rest and peace.

As I remember the Lord, I find great joy in the truths of songs like this gem by August L. Storm:

Thanks to God for my Redeemer,
Thanks for all Thou dost provide!
Thanks for times now but a memory,
Thanks for Jesus by my side!
Thanks for pleasant, balmy springtime,
Thanks for winter, summer, fall!
Thanks for tears by now forgotten,
Thanks for peace within my soul!

Thanks for prayers that Thou hast answered,
Thanks for what Thou dost deny!
Thanks for storms that I have weathered,
Thanks for all Thou dost supply!
Thanks for pain, and thanks for pleasure,
Thanks for comfort in despair!
Thanks for grace that none can measure,
Thanks for love beyond compare!

Thanks for roses by the wayside,
Thanks for thorns their stems contain!
Thanks for home and thanks for fireside,
Thanks for hope, that sweet refrain!
Thanks for joy and thanks for sorrow,
Thanks for heav’nly peace with Thee!
Thanks for hope in the tomorrow,
Thanks through all eternity!

Why I Love Writing, Reason Four

I love writing because it is unnatural as far as communication modes go; we acquire spoken language, but we must be taught how to read and write.

Despite it’s lack of “naturalness”, our brains display an amazing ability to grasp and master written language in its various forms. There are many different orthographies (writing systems – think Roman [we use this in English] Hebrew, Chinese, Arabic, Cyrillic, my personal favorite, the IPA, etc.), but given time and study we can learn to read and write in any of them. Then we put little black squiggles and straight lines and dots on a white page and suddenly they mean “I love you” and “duck” and “stroganoff” and a zillion other words and ideas.

That’s pretty incredible. Yup, I love writing.

Pimple: Thoughts on the Greatness of God and the Insignificance of Man

Dr. John Whitcomb, speaking of the foolishness of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11:5):

“‘Then the LORD came down to see the city and the tower which the sons of men had built.’ By the way, do you know how far down God had to come to find the tower? Psalm 113 says he has to humble himself to find the universe! And then he passes through all these billions of galaxies, each with billions of stars and finally finds our little galaxy called the Milky Way, which has 100 billion stars, and then he finds one star called the sun and around it there are nine little dots called planets and the third one isn’t so big. It’s called Earth. And then he comes and finds an infinitesimal pimple called the Tower of Babel.”

Neon Pink vs. Green

Taking a break from my “reasons” series . . .

Ephesians 4:17, 18 (ESV) “Now this I say and testify in the Lord, that you no longer walk as the Gentiles [unsaved] do, in the futility of their minds. They are darkened in their understanding, alienated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, due to the hardness of their hearts.”

I’m currently reading a book on the wonders of science called The Canon. The author, Natalie Angier, is a talented and engaging writer, and that, along with the fact that the subject matter is awe-inspiring, makes for a mostly enjoyable read. I say only mostly enjoyable because Ms. Angier, like most people in the sciences these days, does not hesitate to enthusiastically and frequently bash anyone who believes in creation as being unscientific and by inferences (if not outright labeling), unintelligent.

She, like most evolutionists, finds strength in numbers (as if that is a cogent argument for or against a position). One passage that particularly struck me was the following:

“David Baltimore recalled an MIT scientist . . . who was one of the last remaining critics of the theory of the origin of the universe that is now almost universally accepted by astronomers and indeed the entire scientific community. ‘He didn’t believe in the Big Bang,’ said Baltimore, ‘and he was in everybody’s face about it.’” (p. 34)

The first thing I thought was “Poor guy. He was actually right.” Now I don’t know who he was, or what he actually believed as far as creation vs. evolutionism, but he was right on when he denied what everyone else proclaimed. How frustrating it must have been to be one of the only ones in his field who thought the Big Bang was a hoax. I’d guess it was that dense frustration that drove him to get “in everyone’s face”. It would be kind of like everyone in the world believing that grass is bright pink. You know know know know it’s green, and you try to tell people, but they smirk and keep living blissfully and ignorantly in their neon –pink –grass land. You’d get a little hot under the collar too, eh?

Why I Love Writing, Reason Three

This:                                                                         

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.

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.

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It’s the challenge of a blank page and a flickering cursor.

Why I Love Writing, Reason Two

Back from a little hiatus – a wonderful trip to Duluth for a God-glorifying, saint-encouraging Bible conference on Zechariah, Christology and some various other topics. Take a look at the Duluth Bible Church link to the right – they have MP3s of all the messages. I’m spiritually recharged and physically beaten down, but that sure is better than the other way around!

Onward in our “series”:

The second reason I love writing is because I am such an awkward speaker. I know, I know – considering my field, you’d think I should be a great and fluent conversationalist. Hardly. I fumble over my words, I am too blunt, I can’t think of the right thing to say or the right question to ask. I envy friends who carry on conversations with ease (and can do so with total strangers). Pragmatics (how we use language socially) is the weakest linguistic link for me. I’m an awful debater – most of my responses in defense of a position are barely above the level of “I believe that . . . just . . . just . . . BECAUSE.”

With writing, I have time to frame what I want to say. Words that elude me when I’m on the spot find their way onto the screen as I type. When my thoughts are given a chance to percolate and form coherently, writing ends up being my best communication mode.

Why I Love Writing, Reason One

Oooh, a series – how long it’ll be, I don’t know . . . but on with the my reason number one:

I love writing chiefly because writing is language. I revel in language, I live and breathe language. I don’t just think on language when it’s absolutely necessary to do so. I teach language, I critique it, I find joy in it. Whether I’m telling my 4-year-olds that the letter M makes the “mmmm” sound (as in Mmmmiss Mmmmorrison) or reading the book of Isaiah, I find much happiness and wonder in sounds strung together in words strung together in sentences and paragraphs.

In case you hadn’t noticed, language is near the top of my list of favorite gifts God has given mankind (note: for obvious reasons, it’s not at the top). I’m sad for my colleagues who think that language evolved because an ape or two felt an urge to start grunting meaningfully. That’s got to be depressing. I’m glad I know that my loving Creator created language so we could communicate deeply, not only with one another but also with him.

The more I learn about language, the more thankful I am to the Lord. He is awesome.

My despisal of writing

“A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.” – Thomas Mann

Indeed. Being a writer sometimes seems to be more of a curse than a blessing.

I hate writing. I hate the frequent compulsion I have to write, especially when an idea strikes me at a time when I can’t write (e.g. I have a test to study for) or when I really don’t want to write (e.g. at 1 AM when my body is begging for sleep but my mind insists on thrashing restlessly with thoughts that beg to be put down on paper).

I hate writing. I hate the fact that my apartment can be a mess, but my writing must be pristine. I hate obsessing over every word, every comma. I wish I could be like non-writers who throw together a paper or blog entry in a functional, presentable way, but don’t care if it is beautiful as long as it gets their point across. I believe Mr. Mann would agree.

I hate writing. I hate when it don’t turn out like the way I wanted it to when I thought of it first. I hate when the melody of words I heard in my mind crashes into a cringe-worthy cacophony of broken notes on the screen. The second sentence in this paragraph is an hyperbolic demonstration of this sad occurence.

So, you may ask, why do you write? You’re pretty average, pretty run-of-the-mill as far as writers go. You’ll never make real money off it. You’ll never earn a Pulitzer.

I know. And here’s the answer:

As much as I hate writing, I write because I love to write (but the explanation of that is gonna hafta wait for another post).

And you know what?

I’m OK. I really am. The Phillies are about to go down 0-2 in a best of 5 series, and I’m not totally devastated. Disappointed? Yeah, I’m that.

But today I got to spend the morning with my little guys, teaching them syllables, laughing at their antics, scolding when they weren’t listening, and exulting when Josh finally said “ee-yellow” rather than “ee-wellow”. After that, I came home and there was food in my fridge, and my little apartment was a nice temperature, and my clothes are now all clean and smell nice and fresh from 70 minutes in the washer & dryer in my building’s basement. Hey, that’s a pretty fine day, wouldn’t ya say?

And even if it hadn’t been such a nice day, even if I overslept and missed the bus, even if I got puked on by one of my kiddos, even if Josh persisted in say “ee-wellow”, even if I had only bread and water to eat in a too-cold apartment and had to drag my laundry 8 blocks away to wash it (all that along with the Phils losing) . . .

You know what?

I’d be doing far better than I deserve. It’s only by God’s grace that I am privileged to live the wonderful life that I do, with a settled past, a joyful present, and an amazing beyond amazing future.

1 Timothy 1:17 (ESV) ”To the King of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.”

Puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?

Fixed

1 Peter 1:13 “Therefore, prepare your minds for action, keep sober in spirit, fix your hope completely on the grace to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

Hope here doesn’t mean “hope” as we tend to use it today, when one might say ”Boy, I really hope the Phillies beat the Rockies in the NLDS” (which I do, by the way). Hope in the Bible speaks of a calm assurance, an absolute settled confidence in something that is true. And what better “something” to fix (focus unswervingly) our hope on than the undeserved favor, the grace, that is now ours as believers and will be ours upon Christ’s return.

The Philadelphia Phillies are the 2007 National League East Champions

‘Nuff said.

“Just” a verse today

 1 Peter 3:18 “For Christ also suffered once for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh but made alive by the Spirit.”

3 to go

From my 2 April entry- baseball’s opening day:

“Besides the first day of spring, this is probably my favorite “lesser” holiday. On this day, the games count. On this day, I am always certain the Phillies will begin their march to their first World Series championship since they won it three weeks before I was born back in ‘80. On this day, “next year” is finally here.”

And amazingly enough, 159 games later, the dream still lives. The Phightins are phinally in phirst – tied with the Mets. And I’m pretty much as nervous as all get out.

It’s a 3-game season now. Go Phils!

Changing Lightbulbs

A couple days ago, one of the lightbulbs in my “kitchen” blew out. (I put “kitchen” in quotes because, you know, I live in a studio apartment, ergo my “kitchen” is only distinguishable from my “living room”, “dining room”, and “bedroom” by a strip of linoleum.) There was enough light without that bulb, and in my laziness, I didn’t get around to changing it until the next morning.

Boy, what a difference! I hadn’t realized how dark it had been until the new bulb flooded the room with light. And, yeah, I saw the clear spiritual lesson.

Many people don’t realize the deep darkness they are in until the “light of glorious gospel” (2 Corinthians 4:4) floods their hearts. You will only truly see, spiritually speaking, when you have trusted in the Light of the World – Jesus Christ, the Son of God who died on the cross in our place and rose again.

Otherwise, you’ll be like me in my “kitchen” – in the dark, and not knowing how dark it really is.

“I think that athesists believe in God so much it drives them crazy.”

The speaker at church on Sunday made the above statement. He then continued, and I paraphrase, ”I don’t believe in the Tooth Fairy, but I don’t spend all my time forming Anti-Tooth Fairy Organizations and trying to prove she doesn’t exist.”

See, we all have a God consciousness. No one is born an atheist. They have to be taught that there is no God. And even in the most staunch atheist, there is a niggling fear that God exists. So they keep coming up with fallible “reasons” (or actually “sillinesses”, as there is no reason in them) to assuage their hearts and minds.

What does God say about these people?

Romans 1:18-23a ESV

“For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them.  For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse. For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened.  Claiming to be wise, they became fools . . .”

Two points here: A). They suppress the truth – they know it is true, they know there’s a God, but they push the facts down. B.) They became fools.(i.e. They aren’t wise.) See also Psalm 14:1.

Conclusion: Atheists are utterly and completely foolish. (Feel free to quote the One True and Living God on that.)

The “Joy” of Resumes

I’m in the midst of putting the finishing touches on my resume (and an accompanying cover letter). It’s not a fun process. I can’t get over that faint uncomfortable sensation that I’m just bragging about myself. Blech. I’ve heard people say something along the lines of “If what you’re putting down is true, than you’re not bragging.”

Riiight. A couple of pages of “Lookit what I’ve done!” in 10.5 font can’t help but feel a little boastful to me. Guess it’s this world we live in, eh?

Onward.

Psalm 94:18-19 ESV

“When I thought, ‘My foot slips,’
your steadfast love, O Lord, held me up.
When the cares of my heart are many,
your consolations cheer my soul.”

I have many cares in my heart these days. Cares about school, cares about the afterlife (um, the after-school life, make that, because my afterlife is completely settled), cares about my friends, cares about my family, cares about the people I’m around from day to day.

How true it is that God’s consolations comfort my heart. He reminds that he’s God, and I’m not. He reminds that he’s sovereign and I’m not. He reminds me that he loves me more than anyone else in the universe does. He reminds me that that steadfast love of his will hold me up when my feet slip.

And that is a great great comfort.

Talk about convicting

I read the following on an atheist’s website some time ago. It’s interesting and saddening to see this perspective:

“I always thought that if Christians really believe that I am going to burn eternally because I don’t believe what they do, they should try a little harder to covert me. Could it be that most of them don’t truly believe all this nonsense?”

What can you say to that? We ambassadors aren’t always the best ambassadors.

Short and sweet

My little’uns are just that. I ask you, is there anything more wonderful than having a four year old boy look up at you with bright shining eyes and absolutely butcher your name?

“Mih Marrnin [translated: Miss Morrison], please help me,” he said, and my heart melted a little. In fact, I’m surprised I have any intact heart left, what with all these delightful and diverse small people I have the privilege of working with these days. They do tend to get to you.

Onward.

Comfort from Hosea. Hosea? Yes, Hosea. Even as he proclaims judgment on their rebellion, God also proclaims his tender love towards his forever-chosen people, Israel.

Hosea 11:8-9

How can I give you up, O Ephraim?
How can I hand you over, O Israel?
How can I make you like Admah?
How can I treat you like Zeboiim?
My heart recoils within me;
my compassion grows warm and tender.
I will not execute my burning anger;
I will not again destroy Ephraim;
for I am God and not a man,
the Holy One in your midst,
and I will not come in wrath. 

The Definition of “Emergency” or, a Brief Study in Semantics

Emily G. (driving): Can you open the Lifesavers for me?

Me (opening the Lifesavers’ wrapper): Do you ever drive with your knees?

Emily G.: Only if it’s an emergency.

Me: What qualifies as an emergency?

Emily G: Well, if I’m eating a sandwich.

So there you have it, ladies and gents. According to Emily G., Emergency = Eating a Sandwich.

I have emergencies rather frequently.

Onward.

Despite record low outdoor temperatures (and the not significantly warmer  sleeping areas), the retreat in Minnesota this weekend was wonderful.

Some of the most encouraging verses from an amazing time in the Word were these:

1 Corinthians 1:26-31

“For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.’”

Isn’t that just great? The Lord gave this foolish, weak, lowly girl the opportunity to simply be a witness of his grace yesterday at my practicum. It was humbling and joyful all at the same time – to be given the opportunity to speak forth the amazing truth of the Gospel – God’s greatest gift of salvation – is a gift in and of itself.

What’s that chattering noise?

My teeth.

This is the weather forecast for where I’ll be tomorrow night. At a retreat in northern MN. In unheated cabins.:

“Partly cloudy in the evening then clearing. Widespread frost after midnight. Lows 22 to 27. West winds 10 to 15 mph becoming southwest around 5 mph late. “

Summer? What’s summer?

Onward.

Another description by God of himself:

Isaiah 45:22-25

“Turn to me and be saved,
all the ends of the earth!
For I am God, and there is no other.
By myself I have sworn;
from my mouth has gone out in righteousness
a word that shall not return:
‘To me every knee shall bow,
every tongue shall swear allegiance.’ 

“Only in the Lord, it shall be said of me,
are righteousness and strength;
to him shall come and be ashamed
all who were incensed against him.                                                                                                                                                       

In the Lord all the offspring of Israel
shall be justified and shall glory.”

Amen.

A not-so-tragic September 11th.

For me, an average American living hundreds of miles away from New York and D.C., today doesn’t feel as sad as the 6 previous 9/11s have.

For the first time since 2001, this day hasn’t felt burdensome. It hasn’t felt so close to the horror and disbelief and the helpless ”where will they hit next” feeling of that Tuesday 6 years ago.

That’s not to say that I’ve forgotten, or didn’t feel an achy twinge when I remembered what day it was as I turned on the radio this morning. It’s also not to say that many others are not still experiencing tremendous grief. When the terrorists struck, they killed nearly 3000 people, but they wounded millions more. They wounded those close to the tragedy extremely deeply, but the shrapnel of those murders also pierced the hearts of Americans and freedom-lovers around the world.

Today I realized that my scars were healing. Though they’ll always be there and the tragic images will be seared into my brain until the day I die, today feels normal.

It’s September 11. Just another ordinary day.

Onward.

How grateful I am that this is my God.

Isaiah 46:9-11 (ESV)

“Remember this and stand firm,
recall it to mind, you transgressors,
remember the former things of old;
for I am God, and there is no other;
I am God, and there is none like me,
declaring the end from the beginning
and from ancient times things not yet done,
saying, ‘My counsel shall stand,
and I will accomplish all my purpose,’
calling a bird of prey from the east,
the man of my counsel from a far country.
I have spoken, and I will bring it to pass;
I have purposed, and I will do it.”

An apple for the teacher

It came in a brown lunch bag with “To: Ms. Morrison (written neatly) From: Jake (scrawled in little boy’s handwriting)” on it. Is this it? Am I official?

I guess the big red apple I got on the first day of my school practicum proves it.

See, these kids don’t know that I’m just a student, too. They don’t know that I’m a novice, that I don’t really know what I’m doing, that I’m actually little intimidated by the whole thing.

Yeah, to little Jake and his nearly 30 classmates in our combined K-4/Speech-Language classroom, I’m just Miss Morrison.

One of their teachers.

Onward.

James 1: 2-4  ”Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

Count it all joy when you can’t find your keys and you’re late for the bus. Count it all joy when your paycheck isn’t cut because someone in payroll misfiled your timecard. Count it all joy when you feel out of place. Count it all joy when you are unbearably homesick. Count it all joy when you stub your toe. Count it all joy when you’re reviled for sharing the gospel. Count it all joy when your computer crashes. Count it all joy when you miss someone. Count it all joy when you’ve studied diligently and you still get a C (or D) on the test. Count it all joy when you’re stuck in traffic. Count it all joy when your friends just don’t “get it”. Count it all joy when you show up but your luggage doesn’t. Count it all joy when your teacher is spouting off humanistic nonsense. Count it all joy when your expectations aren’t met, when your hopes are dashed, your dreams are unfulfilled.

Count it all joy because you know the end of the story.

He’s at the 40, he’s at the 30, he’s at the 20, he’s at the 10 – TOUCHDOWN!

Rugby is the sport of choice for the men in my family, so what do you do when you move back to the States, and everyone is talking football and playing football?

You have to learn to make do.

My brother Daniel did just that – he’s started playing linebacker on his middle school football team, and when an opportunity arose during their game on Saturday, he seized it. According to my mom, who called me excitedly from the game, there’d just been a fumble. Daniel scooped up the pigskin and ran it in 60 yards for the score, with my family screaming encouragement as he sprinted down the sideline.

Way to go, buddy – not bad for the kid from Africa.

Onward.

Psalm 103:1-5

Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and all that is within me,
bless his holy name!
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits,
who forgives all your iniquity,
who heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit,
who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
who satisfies you with good
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

I think my favorite part of this passage is “redeems your life from the pit”. May I never forget how huge a pit I’ve been saved from, and all the little pits he saves me from day by day. Indeed, bless the Lord, O my soul.

A little bored with your meat? This oughta spice things up.

This is how far the world has come: you can buy rattlesnake meat on Amazon.com. Or you could at one point – unfortunately for all those of you who find yourself wishing for something other than beef and chicken and pork and giraffe and frog legs, it is listed as “currently unavailable”.

Here’s the link: http://www.amazon.com/Rattlesnake-meat-Medium-2-5-pack/dp/B000NNKJRS/ref=pd_ts_gf_1/002-3135675-2443208?ie=UTF8&s=gourmet-food

And here’s what they say about it: “Rattlesnake is light and chewy,with a delicate flavor that resembles chicken.” (That must be true. After all, what doesn’t resemble chicken these days?)

Onward.

This hymn by Civilla D. Martin is a beautiful portrait of a believer’s identification and acceptance “in the Beloved”. Wow – it’s a beautiful truth.

“In the Beloved” accepted am I,
Risen, ascended, and seated on high;
Saved from all sin thro’ His infinite grace,
With the redeemed ones accorded a place.

Refrain

“In the Beloved,” God’s marvelous grace
Calls me to dwell in this wonderful place;
God sees my Savior, and then He sees me,
“In the Beloved,” accepted and free.

“In the Beloved”— how safe my retreat,
In the Beloved accounted complete;
“Who can condemn me?” In Him I am free,
Savior and Keeper forever is He.

Refrain

“In the Beloved” I went to the tree,
There, in His Person, by faith I may see
Infinite wrath rolling over His head,
Infinite grace, for He died in my stead.

Refrain

Scuse me . . . what was that phrase again?

I wrote a post a little while back on the naming of vehicles, specifically about my enjoyment of the practice in Kenya. Who would have guessed I would have seen a van here in downtown Milwaukee that would make me chuckle just as much?

It was one of those medical transit vehicles and was called “Divine and Able Transport”

Now, we have two possibilities here -maybe their service is so good, they feel free to call themselves absolutely Divine and, yes, also Able to Transport you . . . or maybe they just misheard /misinterpreted /misquoted the saying “divine enablement”. You decide (though I personally am leaning toward the latter explanation – and splitting my infinitives in the process).

Onward.

Speaking of divine enablement:

2 Corinthians 12:9-10  But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

As if we didn’t know . . .

Another splendid definition from Terminology of Communication Disorders, Fifth Edition. And I quote:

“burp Belch”

Does it get any better than that?

Onward.

Isaiah 26:3-4 

You keep him in perfect peace
whose mind is stayed on you,
because he trusts in you.
Trust in the Lord forever,
for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.

When our mind is stayed, fixed, on the everlasting rock, how could there not be perfect peace? 

Fun with Metacognition

Metacognition: ability to reflect on thinking in general, i.e. thinking about thinking. (Terminology of Communication Disorders, Fifth Edition).

To illustrate, consider the following conversation:

You (noticing me sitting outside on a bench, looking very pensive): Whatcha thinking about?

Me (startled from the depth of my metacognizing): Oh, you know, I’m thinking about thinking. I’ve never really thought before, but now that I think on it, I think I’m gonna start this whole thinking thing really soon. I mean, think about having actual thoughts! That’s gotta be cool.

Oh, yeah - this metacognition stuff is serious mind-bending fun.

Trapter 1

Thus began my brother Noah’s fictional story of a boy moving to Kenya – I beleive there were 4 “trapters”. He wrote it a while ago, in early elementary school, and it is a story that has become an integral part of our familial dialect -we still use his phrase “jet-legged and eggsalsted” whenever we are really tired. It just seems to fit.

As a supposed linguist/soon-to-be SLP/wanna-be orthographer, I find his spelling both endearing and very logical: “trapter” for “chapter”, “eggsalsted” for “exhausted”. Hey, they really make sense.

If only all our English spelling was that easy. And whose idea was it to spell it P-H-O-N-I-C-S, anyway? We aren’t really Greek anymore . . . are we?

Onward.

I’ve heard people say that there is no God, but if there is, he must be unimaginably cruel – an assumption based on all the heartache aned evil in the world. As I read through Isaiah, though, I see the exact opposite; I see a God who is righteous in his judgment of man’s sin, who is just in destroying the wicked, but who is gracious beyond measure. For after the judging, comes this:

Isaiah 25:8-9 “He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the Lord has spoken. It will be said on that day, “Behold, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us. This is the Lord; we have waited for him; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”

He is not unimaginably cruel. He is unimaginably kind.

Singin’ in the rain, just a’singin in the rain . . .

We are smack dab in the middle of a very soggy week here in Milwaukee. Feels a little like a rainy season migrated from Kenya over to here. 

And honestly, the rain doesn’t bother me. I’m not gloomy. It’s actually been very nice and cool, if a little dark. I guess I think back to times when the rainy season in Kenya didn’t come and the earth cracked and crops died. Rain is a blessing.

I miss the rains down in Africa.

Onward.

Ephesians 5:8 “for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light.”

Even when the sun ain’t shining!

Starting off

Today my sister started college. Well, orientation. Actually, she’s going to be going on a pre-orientation backpacking trip starting tomorrow. Sounds like something she’d do.

I called her this morning, thinking I’d leave a message on her voicemail while she was on the plane flying from Philly to Columbus, but I actually caught her at baggage claim, which was a pleasant surprise.

“Did you think I’d be going to college at the same time as you?” she asked.

No, I did not. If you had told me 8 years ago that I’d be living in Wisconsin with a year of graduate school left, I might not have believed you. That wasn’t in my plans. Silly me.

Proverbs 16:9 “The mind of a man plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps.”

I wonder where Em will be in 8 years. She’s at the beginning of this adventure, and I’m excited to see where the Lord directs her. 

Before I hung up this morning, I remembered getting off my first domestic flight and somewhat confusedly looking around for the customs and immigration sign. I almost told Emily that there were no customs, but then I stopped. She’s smart. She knows. And if she doesn’t, she’ll figure it out.

She’s a grown-up now.

What’s in a name?

One of the strangest things we humans do is name our vehicles. I know several people who have named their cars. Bessie. The Silver Bullet. Ye Olde Bucket of Bolts. You know how it is.

When I was younger we had two cars; two station wagons to be precise. And we named them. Woody was a boat of an Oldsmobile and had that good ol’ wood paneling, while The Pup was a little maroon Chevy wagon. It sure cleared up any confusion regarding which car we’d be using.

Dad would say, “Get in The Pup,” and we would. I kinda miss The Pup. But that’s beside the point.

The point is, some people (or places) have this vehicle-naming thing down to a science (an art?).

Take Kenya. There, they not only name the vans (“matatus”) used for public transportation, they also proudly splash the names in bright colors on the sides, the front, or the back. My sister kept track, bringing a list of the best back with her.

Among my favorites:

“Flossy the Biomagnetic Force” (I think this is at the top of my list)

“Princess Daina [sic]“

“Tolerance of Women” (not to be confused with another, “Tolerance of Ladies”)

Onward.

Weddings have been on my mind quite a bit lately. My cousin got married this month. Two close friends of mine got married last weekend, and two more close friends are getting married in 8 days. I love weddings. Especially weddings between believers who are walking by faith and growing in the Lord. 

Pastor preached on “The Greatest Wedding Ever” last night. That marriage ceremony will take place between Christ and his bride – us. The church. Revelation 19 is an awesome picture in the truest sense of that word. Here’s part of it:

Revelation 19:6-8 “And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, saying, Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour to him: for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made herself ready. And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints.”

What do I say to that? Only that it is incomprehensibly wonderful. What a glorious, gracious God we have!

Comfortable

I realized today how comfortable I am. It hit me when we were having a goodbye party for a departing co-worker.

I thought, “That’s gonna be me in 9 months.”

I’ve lived in the same little apartment for 2 years. Worked at the same place for 2 years. Gone to class and clinic in the same building for 2 years. I’ve reached a really nice point in my life, a nice routine of work, school, relaxation.

And then suddenly, today at about 12:25 pm while I was standing upstairs in the “goodbye gathering”, my mind switched into transition mode. It was as if I saw a bright orange sign flashing “Big Changes Ahead”. Not that I haven’t already thought about graduation, moving, finding a “real” job, or any of the other challenges coming my way, but today it really started to sink in.

In some ways, I’m going back at square one, where I was two years ago, getting ready to move, clueless about where I’d find a job, clueless about what this whole grad school thing was all about.

In some ways, I’d like to stay in this comfort zone. I can’t. Time is pushing on ahead, and the Lord is taking me further into this adventure that is life by faith in him. And like any adventure, it isn’t always easy. But it’s his best for me.

I’ll take that over “comfortable” any day.

Quite the kafaffle

Someone asked me this weekend what that word meant. I learned the term from my roommate and it has become part of my own vocabulary.

I think the meaning is self-explanatory, and pretty close to being onomatopoeic.

Still, here’s an example of it’s use in context:

“I woke up this morning, instantly realized that I’d overslept, and now had only 3 minutes before I had to be at work. Unfortunately, I also realized at about the same time that I had left my bathroom faucet on all night (with the sink plugged), and had a major flood in my apartment. I reached for my phone to call my building manager and my boss, but my cell battery was dead and my charger was ruined in the flood. This was turning into a major kafaffle.”

Note 1: The above narrative is not based on actual events. 

Note 2: I spell it “ka FA ffle” because that’s how I say it. This is a spelling variant I have decided that I am ok with. The dictionary spells it ka FU ffle.

Pleese rememmber tu allways youse speling veryasions responsiply. Thangx.

Onward.

As I’ve stated before on this blog, according to the Bible, salvation is not a reward for good people but a gift for sinners: Romans 5:8 “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Now add to that another truth: Christianity is not a crutch for the weak – it’s a stretcher. No, actually, it’s an entire life support system. Earlier in Romans 5, it says, “For when we were still without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly.”

That pretty much goes against everything this “be-independent-pull-yourself-up-by-your-own-bootstraps” world will  tell you. But in truth, we are all weak. We are all helpless. We are all need the Savior.

Will you trust in him today?

Life’s running amok (or, I just like the word amok and wanted to use it in this post)

I’ve recently discovered that reading one’s work schedule in an astute way can be very helpful in avoiding unexpectedly stressful situations.

Take yesterday as Exhibit A of this new-found truth.

While at work yesterday morning, I heard that the person scheduled to work the 2-6 PM desk shift had called in sick. “Oh,” I said, thinking the remainder of the day was free, “I’ll take the shift.”

And take it I did. Armed with a mind fresh off vacation and some reading material, I settled in at the desk ready to help any patrons who came my way. It was a slow afternoon as far as questions were concerned, but I was pleasantly surprised when I looked up from my book to see the computer clock reading 5:50PM.

“Good,” I said to myself. My eyes were feeling a little dry and irritated, and I was tired from my late plane trip the night before. I was thinking of going home, doing some unpacking, and getting to bed early. I reached over and flipped open the schedule to see who was relieving me and working the 6-10 shift.

“Katie: 6-10pm”.

Oh.

So, I was my own relief. And relieved I was. Felt like a whole new person when the clock struck 6.

Yes indeed, it helps to read the schedule right. 

A short forever

The last time I blogged was two and a half weeks ago - which feels like a very very long time. 

Highlights from the time at home:

1. The kids. The tall, big, grown-up kids who somehowly replaced the little ankle-biters I once called my siblings. I enjoyed Emily’s maturity, Noah’s honesty, and Daniel’s puns. I enjoyed their rediscovery of America – cars that actually follow traffic laws (“Hey, they stopped at the stop sign even though no one else was there!”), Wal-mart, complicated cell phones, smooth roads, dishwashers, Toasted Oats. I enjoyed throwing a sprinkling of Swahili into our conversations. I enjoyed the instance when we saw 11 Corvettes in a row on a Lancaster County road (they’d been hoping to see a Corvette in America). I enjoyed running with them at the nearby park. I enjoyed the fact that the boys ran a “warm-up mile” extra slow for me.

2. Family and friends. Besides my younger siblings and parents, I also got to see my older brother, Luka, both sets of grandparents, and a plethora of aunts, uncles, cousins.  One cousin got married on Saturday, so right there were 14 relatives. I also got to catch up with a few friends, including one from Moody who has been transplanted from CA to PA. Poor girl (weather-wise, of course).

3. Rhode Island. We spent three glorious vacation days with some of my parents’ friends at their house overlooking the Rhode Island Sound. We traipsed all over the place, got tan (me) or tanner (the rest of my African family), picked 30 pounds of the biggest blueberries I’ve ever seen, learned how to eat lobster, ate fish that was purchased straight off the boat, found pretty rocks and sea glass, went sailing on actual sailboats, had picnics on the rocky beach, visited the house our friend grew up in which was built by a Pilgrim (as in the came-over-on-the-Mayflower kind, which for history buffs like me & Emily was extremely exciting), watched sunrises (not me so much) and sunsets (yeah, that was more me). Plus, the kids spent hours jumping off high dives into the ocean. And I didn’t check email the whole time. 

Seriously, the best vacation ever.

Driving back through New York City in Friday afternoon traffic? Not quite as much fun, especially for poor Dad. Glimpsing the Empire State Building through the smog was a small consolation after we went 10 miles or so in an hour.

4. Just hanging out. Walking into the kitchen in the morning and getting hugs from Dad and Mom. Playing soccer with Noah. Enjoying Em’s 4th grade writing assignments as she sorted her things. Cheering on the Phillies with Daniel. Laughing around the dinner table. Trying to teach the boys how to load the dishwasher and use the garbage disposal. Watching We’re No Angels, an old favorite. And so on. You know, ordinary-except-for-the-fact-that-everyone’s-in-the-middle-of-a-major-transition family life.  

And that “just being there” with them was all I really wanted.

So, now I’m “home” again in my little place in Milwaukee. I’m back at work, but not quite back all the way. That’ll take a little readjustment.

After all, dear reader, I’ve been gone a short forever.

Together

 At the airport with my no-longer-little sister

 The fam (missing Pete in Sudan)

1090 Days

I’m glad I didn’t know it would be that long when I said goodbye the last time.

But now the wait’s just about over, and you’ll have to pardon me if I take a break from blogging (though I may have some happy pictures to post pretty soon).

Until then . . .

Thanks for reading.

Today

Countdown? What countdown? 

Outwardly, I’m going about my business – running errands, clipping coupons, calling Luka to make sure we’re on the same page concerning airport pick-up logistics, tidying my apartment, paying bills, finishing up clinic business, watching the clock to gauge how close Dad & the boys are to landing (about an hour at this point) in the States, printing off my boarding pass for my flight to Philly tomorrow.

Printing off my boarding pass for my trip to Philly tomorrow.

Yeah . . . inwardly, I’m pretty much bouncing off the walls.

Leaving on a jet plane

Day 1

That number looks so very lonely – happily lonely, of course.

As I type, five members of my family should be on a British Airways plane at Jomo Kenyatta Airport getting reading to take off. Their scheduled departure is in 5 minutes. Dad & the boys will arrive in the States tomorrow (!!), while Mom & Em will spend an extra day in London to see Les Miserables and take in some of the sights (or maybe get some sleep). And in 48 hours, I’ll be flying, meeting Mom & Em at the Philly airport where Luke will pick us three up.

It feels unreal, writing those words. Like my mom told me in an email last week – they’re “just words” now, but reality will hit soon enough.

Pretty amazing.

Psalm 144:15b “How blessed are the people whose God is the LORD!”

He is my God, and I am so blessed.

The REAL Lovable Losers

Day 2

10,000 losses. That’s right. They’re losingest team in professional sports history, and the first to reach 5 digits in the loss column.

And, of course, they’re my team.

Last night the Philadelphia Phillies reached that ignominious number in phine phashion, phalling 10-2 to the Cardinals. The game phinished in phitting phutility: last year’s NL MVP Ryan Howard struck out.

Yeah, you gotta love ‘em. And we still do.

Onward.

And now for something completely different:

My pastor just started a series on the basics of the Christian life. The first couple messages are on the chief goal of this life we believers live, and that is to live it all to God’s glory. So . . .

To God be the glory, great things He has done;
So loved He the world that He gave us His Son,
Who yielded His life an atonement for sin,
And opened the life gate that all may go in.

Refrain

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord,
Let the earth hear His voice!
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord,
Let the people rejoice!
O come to the Father, through Jesus the Son,
And give Him the glory, great things He has done.

O perfect redemption, the purchase of blood,
To every believer the promise of God;
The vilest offender who truly believes,
That moment from Jesus a pardon receives.

Refrain

Great things He has taught us, great things He has done,
And great our rejoicing through Jesus the Son;
But purer, and higher, and greater will be
Our wonder, our transport, when Jesus we see.

Refrain

Somebody, please explain:

Day 3

Yesterday, we saw this sign on the trail when we were hiking at Devil’s Lake (which despite it’s name, is actually a beautiful demonstration of God’s creativity).

I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a moldy buttress before. . . but maybe you have?

On top of the world – my dear friend Julie & I 

As I learned in Photography class, this is what they mean by leading lines - I got photo-ed at the end of the hike. And no, it’s not a death wish.

Can’t forget the requisite band shot:

Bill, Mike, Jeff, Caroline, me (Julie was the photographer)

Such a fun fun time.

Onward.

This pretty much sums up my thoughts from yesterday:

Psalm 8 “O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens. Out of the mouth of babes and infants, you have established strength because of your foes, to still the enemy and the avenger.  When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?  Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. You have given him dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under his feet, all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the heavens, and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the seas. O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!”

She did it!!

Day 4

Today my most favorite (and, of course, only) sister Emily joined the ranks of high school graduates as as she received her diploma from Rift Valley Academy!

Congratulations, Em – I am so proud of you.

Psalms 126:3 “The LORD has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.”

Indeed!

Pete, Mom, Em, Dad, Daniel, Noah

Anticipation

Day 5

I remember my mom saying that the best part of a vacation is always the first day – ’cause you’re there and you still have it all in front of you. I’d add that another best part of any big event is the part that’s just a little bit before, too.

Seeing those Brewers tickets on the bookshelf a little bit before game day. Waiting on your supervisor to approve your final diagnostic report so you can sign it and put it in the file for good. Counting down the last few days until you see your family for the first time in years. Enjoying the confident assurance, the Blessed Hope, that at any moment you may be swept up to Heaven by Jesus himself.

I long for the fulfillment and the realization of my hopes and dreams. But something in me delights in the sweet anticipation, that lively feeling of “not-yet-but-it’s-a-comin’!”

Blind

Day 6

Funny how my sister sent me a quote that fit nicely with the Scripture passage I was thinking on today:

“There is as we are aware, a philosophy that denies the infinite.There is also a philosophy, classified as pathologic, that denies the sun. This philosophy is called blindness.” - Victor Hugo

2 Corinthians 4:3-4 “And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing, in whose case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelieving so that they might not see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.”

I struggle very much with that. When something is so clear and so beautiful to me, I struggle with the fact that it is so repulsive and foolish to those I share it with. Lately, I’ve seen no “fruit” when witnessing. It’s been all stone walls and static.  Not that I’m surprised – as my pastor told me once, “Blind people don’t see very well, Katie.”

And not that the lack of encouraging responses from those who hear the Good News should in any way discourage me. My job is not to save people, to change their minds. My job is not to witness solely so that I can see the fruit. My job is to be a faithful ambassador, proclaiming the gospel of grace, leaving the convicting, the drawing, and the saving to the One who has opened the once-blind eyes of this particular sinner. 

Can I just tell you how much I love vocab words?

Day 7

Further cementing my status in this world as a nerd (to go along with the Biblical truth that I’m also an alien!), I recently enthusiastically printed off the 28 page vocabulary list (9 font, usually 2-3 columns of words per page) that I need to study for the Speech-Language Pathology Praxis Exam I’ll be taking several months from mow.

I began the painstaking process of finding the correct definitions of these words. And it’s (dare I say it) . . . fun. Not always. It can get tedious after several hours. But I get a kick out of quizzing myself as I shuffle through my SLP dictionary or utilize one of my favorite websites, dictionary.com. I relish the jargon’s solid feel in my mind and throat and mouth, and the fact each term is a reminder of some class I’ve taken in the past 5 years. I like the variety and scope of the words, which mirrors the variety and scope of my field.

So, now I’m off to tackle some more vocab. Yeehaw!

. . . but not too much:

Ecclesiastes 12:10 But beyond this, my son, be warned: the writing of many books is endless, and excessive devotion to books is wearying to the body.

A little run-in with the Department of Justice

Day 8

Just got back from spending a day at the Attorney General’s office in Madison.

OK, so it was only our yearly trek with the Funding Information Center to get foundations’ tax forms submitted to the AG that we had not found online. We worked well as a team, got to listen to lawyers discussing a case in the next cubicle, finished our task in good time, and had a lovely lunch of something I can’t pronounce properly at an Italian restaurant I can’t pronounce either. And we got back in plenty of time for the All-Star game tonight. Good Times.

Onward.

Philippians 1:27-28 Only conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or remain absent, I will hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving together for the faith of the gospel;  in no way alarmed by your opponents– which is a sign of destruction for them, but of salvation for you, and that too, from God.

“The Garden”

Day 9 – single digits!

Abby, age 4, discussing the thrill of seeing the N.L. leader in home runs at a recent game:

“And Prince Fielder, he almost hit the ball all the way out of the garden!”

I hereby recommend we rename all places where baseball is played ”gardens”. No more “ballpark”, “stadium”, “field”, “dome”, or any of those other terms which are often ridiculously preceded by corporate sponsorship. Baseball is a very idyllic game. “Garden” is a rather idyllic word. It’s a match made in Cooperstown. Hey, I know it might take a while to catch on.

Until it does, though, I personally will be meeting you down at The Garden by I-94 where we’ll catch the Brewers playing nine.

Onward.

My favorite verse of this hymn is the last one: “Freely bestowed” – Amen to that!

Marvelous grace of our loving Lord,
Grace that exceeds our sin and our guilt!
Yonder on Calvary’s mount outpoured,
There where the blood of the Lamb was spilled.

Refrain

Grace, grace, God’s grace,
Grace that will pardon and cleanse within;
Grace, grace, God’s grace,
Grace that is greater than all our sin.

Sin and despair, like the sea waves cold,
Threaten the soul with infinite loss;
Grace that is greater, yes, grace untold,
Points to the refuge, the mighty cross.

Refrain

Dark is the stain that we cannot hide.
What can avail to wash it away?
Look! There is flowing a crimson tide,
Whiter than snow you may be today.

Refrain

Marvelous, infinite, matchless grace,
Freely bestowed on all who believe!
You that are longing to see His face,
Will you this moment His grace receive?

Refrain

Dry

Day 10

This morning I woke up dry. Dry physically because the muggy heat had seemingly removed all moisture from me, and dry spiritually, longing for the living water from God’s Word. I’m glad it’s Sunday.

This morning’s message was from Phillipians 3 on knowing Christ. What really struck me was the part about “the fellowship of sharing in his suffering”, i.e. what is described in Isaiah 53. Here are four things Pastor noted:

1. Despised

2. Rejected

3. Man of Sorrows

4. Aquainted with grief

Quite the list . . . and this is what sharing in Christ’s sufferings may entail. I am grateful to live in a country where I probably need not fear death for sharing the gospel. Realizing what Jesus went through and relying on his strength can help me to face the minor persecutions of being mocked, whispered about behind my back, left out.

If my Lord was despised and rejected, should I expect anything less when sharing him? Man has not changed since Jesus lived on earth. Ridicule will happen. He will be with me.

Strangely, I don’t feel so dry anymore.

7 has always been my favorite number

Day 11

In case you missed it (ha!), today is 07/07/07, aka this year’s Very Symmetrical Date (VSD) - seems like we’ve had a lot of these lately . . . because we have. In the middle and end of the century, it’s symmetry once a decade (2/2/22, 3/3/33, etc.), but at the start, we get them every year (01/01/01, 02/02/02, etc.).  2011, we’ll get four VSDs: 1/1/11, 1/11/11, 11/1/11,  and of course, the Most Symmetrical Date (MSD) of all - 11/11/11. It is the MSD because it has the maximum 6 numbers, and all are exactly the same number. Our last “yearly” VSD will occur on 12/12/12, after which we will once again be relegated to our decade-ly celebration of VSDs.

Ooohkay, that came out a little more nerdy than I meant it to.

Onward.

Ecclesiastes 9:10a “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.”

I always find things to do, but so often, I do them haphazardly and half-heartedly. I do them to do them, to get them done. I find this especially true when I am completeing a task that I really don’t want to do. This verse doesn’t differentiate between things I want to do and things I have to do.

It says, “Whatever.”

Snap Pea Crisps

Day 12

One of the librarians brought this unusual snack in to work today. Never in my life had I thought, “Hmm, baked snap peas – now those would be a nice treat.” But this morning I learned that they are quite tasty (and addictive). If you ever come across any, try them. You won’t be disappointed.

I’ve always enjoyed it when people are innovative with food. The other day I read an article in the paper about  companies around here that are making strawberry and blueberry and apple bratwurst.

I mean, I know this is Wisconsin, but blueberry brats? What’ll they think of next?!

Onward.

These words speak for themselves. Enjoy and rest.

Jesus, I am resting, resting,
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.
Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee,
And Thy beauty fills my soul,
For by Thy transforming power,
Thou hast made me whole.

Refrain

Jesus, I am resting, resting,
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.

O, how great Thy loving kindness,
Vaster, broader than the sea!
O, how marvelous Thy goodness,
Lavished all on me!
Yes, I rest in Thee, Belovèd,
Know what wealth of grace is Thine,
Know Thy certainty of promise,
And have made it mine.

Refrain

Simply trusting Thee, Lord Jesus,
I behold Thee as Thou art,
And Thy love, so pure, so changeless,
Satisfies my heart;
Satisfies its deepest longings,
Meets, supplies its every need,
Compasseth me round with blessings:
Thine is love indeed!

Refrain

Ever lift Thy face upon me
As I work and wait for Thee;
Resting ’neath Thy smile, Lord Jesus,
Earth’s dark shadows flee.
Brightness of my Father’s glory,
Sunshine of my Father’s face,
Keep me ever trusting, resting,
Fill me with Thy grace.

Refrain

“You’re a girl. You can multi-task.”

Day 13

Matter-of-fact quote courtesy of my brother Daniel.

Currently my multi-tasking consists of typing this blog entry, watching the turnstiles for impending patrons, casting a worrying eye out the window toward the increasingly stormy sky, trying to answer the phone before the librarian can grab it at the other desk, answering questions about young adult fiction, and enviously (no, not really) peering over at the tech guy next to me playing with his brand-spanking new iPhone. Quite the impressive little ($500) gadget. He let me hold it. And he let me look up the weather on it. Oooh.

It’s 85 degrees. Guess I could’ve just stepped outside to find that out, huh?

Anyways, I suppose girls can multi-task. Thanks for the bit of insight, D-man.

Onward.

I’m reading through Ecclesiastes these days, which is a continual reminder of the fact that “nothing under the sun can satisfy a man made for eternity,” as Mr. Ironside wrote. Solomon went down all the world’s avenues trying to find fulfillment, but only ended up with “vanity”, with emptiness. 

I find that when my focus is on the eternal, I am so filled with peace and joy in the Lord that I enjoy the things of this earth more. However, when my focus is on the things of this earth, two things happen – I end up with that sinking empty feeling and I lose the joy of the eternal.

In Congress. July 4, 1776

Day 14

It’s a beautiful Independence Day today. P’raps a little on the humid side, but sunny and warm. Tonight there’s to be a barbecue and fireworks (if we can find ‘em).

It’s a nice relaxing way to celebrate freedom.

“Relaxing” is hardly the word one would use to describe that July day in Philadelphia back 231 years ago. Benjamin Franklin stated upon signing the Declaration, “We must all hang together or most assuredly we shall all hang separately.” Here in the 21st century, we must realize that they had no clue how the War was going to turn out. What the Signers did in affixing their signatures to the document was certainly bold, risky, and perhaps a little crazy.  After all, treason was a hanging offense.

But the War was won, and we are free, thanks to those many many ”heroes proved in liberating strife, who more than self their country loved, and mercy more than life!” as Katharine L. Bates put it so poetically.

Onward.

2 Corinthians 2:17 “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

Have you experienced that freedom yet? You can live in the most free country on earth, yet still be chained up in the darkness of sin, on your way to hell, without God, without hope.

You can be free. You can have hope. You can know for certain that heaven waits on the other side of death. And it’s all because of Jesus Christ: He is God who became perfect Man, then offered up his life in your place. By dying, he  paid the penalty for sins, so that we could go free. He rose again and offers salvation from hell as a gift (no strings attached, no payment on our part!) to those who simply believe – trust that he took care of all our sins with his death.

If you “believe on the Lord Jesus Christ”, you will be saved. And today can truly be an Independence Day!

Great Ironies of History, Part Two

Day 15

Today is the 144th anniversary of the Union’s victory at the Battle of Gettysburg, which marked the turning point in the Civil War. If you never have, read The Killer Angels, Michael Shaara’s novel of that great battle. At the very least, watch the film version, Gettysburg. There’s some fictionalization, of course, but they tried stay as close to the actual events as possible. 1-3 July 1863 were some pretty amazing days in the history of these (still) United States.

Now for the great irony of the day, in keeping with the Civil War theme:

Union General John Sedgwick’s last words, regarding the Confederate sharpshooters at the Battle of Spotsylvania:

“They couldn’t hit an elephant from this dist–”

Onward.

I always get chills at this verse of the Battle Hymn of the Republic (written in 1861, hence the “die to make men free” line in the original).

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free;
[originally …let us die to make men free]
While God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Our God is marching on.

Great Ironies of History, Part One

Day 16

In a little warm-up to Independence Day on Wednesday, here’s what England’s King George III wrote in his journal on Thursday, 4 July 1776:

“Nothing much happened today.”

Onward.

One of my friends recently told me, “You can’t trust the Lord for someone else.” Sometimes when you have to confront another believer or have an uncomfortable conversation with them, it’s hard to know how they will react. What she was saying is that as you go into a difficult situation you are responsible for your own heart and attitude before the Lord. They, not you, are responsible for their’s.

That was one of the best communication reminders I’ve heard in a long time.

swinging along

Day 17 – Happy July, finally!

A fun thing to do to entertain oneself is to watch people walking, especially taking note of  their arm-swinging styles. I know it sounds a little goofy, but try it. We all swing our arms when we walk – apparently it helps us with balance. Everyone has a different style.

That’s where it gets interesting.

Some people barely swing their arms, and walk kinda like robots. On the other end of the spectrum, you have the “flailers”. I passed a flailer on the way here. It wasn’t like he was purposely swinging his arms hard, like power-walkers do. It was just his natural walk, with his tan arms flying back and forth. I enjoyed his enthusiasm. Made me laugh a little.

Now, far be it from me to make fun of people for the way they walk. I’m not mocking – hey, my walk’s weird enough. I just like to notice the things we see all the time, but don’t really see.

So, next time you’re out people-watching, watch not how they walk, but how they swing their arms as they stroll along. If you’re like me, it’ll be like you’re people-watching for the first time.

Onward.

Proverbs 29:25 “The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe.”

This verse is continually convicting to me, especially in the area of sharing the gospel. Often, too often, I have allowed the fear of man to snare me, to keep me from opening my mouth for fear of being ridiculed and rejected. I want to be safe, which is ironic, since the way to be safe, according to the last half of the verse, is to trust the Lord.

The best thing to do is to step out by faith in Jesus Christ, spread the good news of grace, and let the chips fall where they may.

of aprons and wedding showers

Day 18

I’m wearing an apron that says, “Kiss the Cook”, having just completed, with my friend Julie, our first bridal shower. It was for Princess Caroline the Saved, as she is known by us, her humble maidservants. It was Julie’s idea to wear aprons – I feel very domestic at the present moment.

I was more of a help and a go-fer than anything – it was mostly Julie’s doing. She worked very hard to pull it off, and it was quite the success. A lovely time was had by all, especially the guest of honor.

I especially enjoyed the fact that each guest shared a favorite Bible verse along with their gift. My favorite from the batch:

Jeremiah 9:23-24 “Thus says the Lord: “Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, let not the mighty man boast in his might, let not the rich man boast in his riches, but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares the Lord.”

Amen.

beautiful interruptions

Day 19

Yesterday as I was crossing the bridge between MU’s two libraries, I saw the sunset out the window. It was one of  God’s stellar paintings in the sky, the thick orange blankets of clouds contrasted by that brilliant blue that’s so hard to describe. Sillohuetted seagulls soared against the evening’s artwork.

I stopped. I caught my breath. I got teary-eyed at this sight that no artist on earth could even nearly replicate. One second, I was thinking about how tired I was and glad that it was only an hour until I got off work. The next, I couldn’t tear my eyes or my mind from the sunset.

It was another one of life’s beautiful interruptions.

I especially like the ones of those that are conversation-stoppers. You know, the ones where you’re driving along, chatting about this or that and all of the sudden, someone says, “Hey, look at the moon!” or “Wow – those clouds are awesome!” or “There’s a bald eagle on the side of the road!” And everyone gets quiet and just stares for a while. Yeah, I like that.

Moments like those are so needed – they take us out of the mundane and remind us of this spectacular world we live in, of our awesome God who created such things with great delight.

And often, all I can say is ,”Wow, Lord. That’s amazing. Thanks for doing that.”

just 1 in 100 million

Day 20

I just read in Newsweek that there will be about 100 million bloggers in the world by the end of the year. That’s kind of a lot. I’m quite new to this arena of expression (though after 123 – or is it 124? – straight days of posting my thoughts, it feels like I’ve been doing it forever), and am just beginning to realize what a tiny drop in the blogging bucket my corner of the internet is.

With all that out there, I’m glad you choose to come on over to “Made for Eternity” and read what I have to say – I really do have a lot of fun doing this. And since you have 100,000,000 blogs to choose from, thanks for picking this 1.

Onward.

Yesterday, I wrote about the verse in 1 Timothy regarding honoring those in authority. Then I promptly went out and (quite accidentally) did the opposite. Here’s the story:

I am finishing up a therapy summary report on one of my clients which involves a lot of emails and drafts back and forth between me and my supervisor. Last night I meant to start out an email with:

“Trying to make progress on C’s report”.

What I actually wrote:

“Try to make progress on C’s report.” (As in, “You better step on it!”, which is real honoring. Ha.)

I didn’t catch the mistake ’til this morning when I reread the email. I cringed and sent an apology. She was completely fine, and we had a good laugh at my error. I thought it especially humorous in light of what I’d been learning from Scripture.

So, I’m putting that experience in the category of “how not to fulfill this command”. Live and learn.

Humidity

Day 21

This was Bonnie’s suggestion for today’s entry’s topic. So here we go.

A conversation between members of my family back in 2002, right after they had come from the dry coolness of Kijabe to the muggy summer of Pennsylvania:

Someone: “Boy, the humidity is bad today.”

Daniel: “What’s humidity?”

Noah: “It’s like water sitting in the air.”

That’s a pretty good description. And these are the days you really notice that water sitting in the air, sticking to your skin, making you sweaty again 5 minutes after your shower. Makes me grateful for a job in air-conditioned comfort, even if my mornings and nights are a bit on the soggy side.

Ah, summer.

Onward.

1 Timothy 6:1 “All who are under the yoke as slaves are to regard their own masters as worthy of all honor so that the name of God and our doctrine will not be spoken against.”

We aren’t slaves today, but the principle still applies, in school and on the job. “All honor”? That can be tough sometimes. I was very convicted when reading this verse - I’m very guilty of not always honoring those who are over me. I’ve had (as have all of us) professors or supervisors that have absolutely driven me up the wall and across the ceiling. Yet even these I am to consider worthy of honor because God has placed them over me. (I should add that currently I’m blessed with two terrific bosses.)

The point of this command is an extremely important one – that the name of God and our doctrine will not be spoken against. In other words – that our testimony for the gospel will not be ruined by our refusal to honor our authorities.

good news (continued)

Day 22

Thanks to those of you who posted good news in response to yesterday’s entry. It truly is a refreshing thing.

Milwaukee’s news these days is filled with stories of a corrupt alderman, murder rates, and the Juneteenth violence. You can get discouraged really quickly hearing about that kind of stuff.

So even little bits of good news, like “Hooray – I don’t ever have to take math in college” or “school’s almost done” or “I found my ID card after I lost it and thought I’d have to pay $15 dollars to replace it” are welcome. Bigger news, like “only 22 days left until Philly airport” and “the mission team had a great trip to El Salvador and got back safely” is even better.

And the news that is best and most refreshing on this hot hazy humid afternoon is that I am truly loved with an everlasting love. Yes, I knew that already. But I always need the reminding. 

Ahhh, refreshing.

Day 23

Proverbs 25:25  ”Like cold water to a weary soul, so is good news from a distant land.”

How true.

So, what’s your good news? Come on – y’all have got to have something. 

‘Cause this weary soul needs some cold water.

Reasons a baseball game is NOT relaxing

Day 24 (Note: Day 24 is the 24th -I love symmetry.)

1. Rookie Brewers pitcher Yovani Gallardo gets a no-hitter going (of course it’s broken up in the 5th, but it feels like nail-biting time).

2. There’s one baby in your section, 213. Who gets hit by the foul ball off the bat of the Royals’ Tony Pena in the 7th? The baby. A little scary, that one. (No worries – his parents got him checked out and were bravely back in their seats by the end of the inning.)

3. Brewers pitcher Derrick Turnbow gives up  the go-ahead run in the 8th. Grrr.

4. The people in charge at Miller Park think it’s a good idea to destroy 44,000+ persons’ inner ear hair cells by encouraging y’all to “Make Noise”! (Side effect: headache for the remainder of the day)

5. Corey Hart hits a homer to tie it up in the bottom of the ninth. Hurrah! Except you think you strained something jumping up and down.

6. Brewers pitcher Jose Capellan walks in the winning run in the top of the eleventh. Brewers lose to the (not-so) Royals 4-3.

“We” lost. Still, there were a lot of twists and turns that made those 4 hours extremely entertaining. And it was a bobblehead day, so now I have bouncy-headed center fielder Bill Hall glowering out at me from the windowsill.

Good game? Yes. Relaxing? Not on your life. I’m exhausted.

Onward.

As an MK, I probably couldn’t count the number of times I’ve sung the hymn “Jesus Saves”. It’s like “We’ve a Story to Tell to the Nations” – one of those good missions songs churches like to sing when the missionaries come a’visiting.

But today when we sang it, this line stood out:

Shout it brightly through the gloom, when the heart for mercy craves . . . Jesus saves! Jesus saves!

My heart is a craver of mercy. When I see my sinfulness in its sharp contrast to God’s holiness, I know I need mercy. I need to not get what I deserve. I’m thankful that Jesus saved me when I first trusted him. I’m thankful that he saves me each day in the ongoing process of sanctification.

That’s grace. That’s mercy.

Replacements

Day 25

The other day after a session with my 3 year old client, I sighed and told my supervisor that I was going to miss the little guy. She smiled and said, “Oh, there’ll be replacements.”

I understand where she’s coming from. In a  lot of ways, that’s true. This fall, I’ll be busy in a speech-language classroom full of preschoolers who I’m sure will delight me, humble me, and make me want to pull my hair out at times. I’m tremendously eager to meet those kiddos. My days in the Reading Acquisition Program last fall, and my volunteer experiences with children elsewhere in Milwaukee have caused me to realize how much I love little ones.

I love their zest for life, their insatiable appetite for exploring and discovering. I love their lack of “coolness”, their lack of desire to be cool.

And I love their individuality.

Which is why I half-winced at the word “replacements”. I know I’m just at the start of my career. I’m naive. I’m idealistic. But is that the attitude some teachers (or in my case, some SLPs) have? Is that the attitude I’ll have after several years in a school (if I do indeed end up as a school SLP)? Will my clients become small seat-warmers who fill my work-days and are simply replaced each school term?

Honestly, I hope not. I hope that years down the road I will still realize that each of my kids is a precious soul Jesus died for. I hope that I will enjoy their God-given uniqueness.

I hope I will still miss them when they leave.

It’s not arrogant

Day 26

I’ve been told that for me to say that I know for certain that I’m going to heaven is arrogant. This conclusion is most likely based on the misconception that to have such certainty, I must be saying that I’m so good, there’s no way I’m going to miss out.

That sentiment could be further from the truth. I’m not good. But I know I’m heaven-bound because of God’s Word:

1 John 5:13 “These things I have written to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know that you have eternal life. “

I’ve believed, therefore I know. It’s a simple, logical conclusion based not on me, but entirely on Christ’s work and God’s grace.

Here’s an illustration I heard in a message recently: A person is saved from drowning. Upon reaching shore with his rescuer, he joyfully tells anyone who will listen, “I’ve just been saved from drowning!” Is that prideful? Of course not. For someone to say, “Wow, you’re arrogant!” would be ridiculous. The glory would go to the savior. Obviously, the same is true the spiritual realm.

So . . .

I’m no-doubt-about-it saved – all glory to my Savior!

A runner’s heart

Day 27

I love running. I haven’t run in a long time because of certain muscles like a hip flexor that still nags me for mangling it back when I ran cross country in college (very very very slowly, mind you), and certain joints like my right knee which doesn’t like the pounding pain it feels after I pound the sidewalk a little too hard. These days, walking is my modus exercisi.

Still, deep down, and sometimes bubbling up to the surface, I love running. Many people don’t. Some think running, just running, is boring. I’ve never been bored on a run. I’ve felt like I was going to die on a run. I’ve felt like I wanted to die on a run. Running has challenged me, enthralled me, hurt me, but it’s certainly never bored me. I’m far more apt to be bored walking.

When I run, I feel fast and graceful. I know I’m not. I’m pretty clumsy and probably look more polar bear-ish than cheetah-like. But I love the breeze on my face and the steady smack of my sneakers on the ground. A few weeks ago when it was still spring, I threw caution to the wind on a grassy field back behind MU. I sprinted. Arms flung wide, I ran that for all I was worth.

It was delicious.

So, I’m thinking someday soon I’ll get to that point where I say, “Forget my knees, forget my muscles.I’m gonna go running.” No doubt, that sentiment will come back to bite me.

But when you wake up every morning to the strains of the theme from Chariots of Fire, as I do, eventually resistance becomes futile.

Onward.

Psalm 119:32 “I run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free.”

There’s no truer freedom – from sin, guilt, fear, death – then when one walks (or runs!) on God’s path.

Is it “home” yet?

Day 28

I, like most MKs, have lived a lot of places and have always had a hard time with the “where’s home?” question. Hey, forget “where’s home”. . . I have enough trouble with “what’s home”, as in what does the word even mean anymore?

So . . .

Katie’s Inexhaustive Dictionary of the English Language strikes again.

home (n.) - 1.) Heaven (the truest definition) 2.) the place where I am currently living  3.) a place (not so much these days) or a time (more likely) where I am content, comfortable, I love those around me, and I am loved by them in return (i.e. where I belong).

And an expansion:

Home is where I write when I send emails to my family. They all start with “Dear home . . . ” Home is an evening in a brown styrofoam and chicken-wire house on the edge of the Rift Valley, eating homemade baked ziti and having non-sequiter conversations. Home is a sun-splashed afternoon in Room 904 of Houghton Hall in downtown Chicago, reading O. Henry to my knitting friends. Home is surprising my siblings by coming back to PA for spring break the last time they were on furlough. Home is a Wednesday night after church, going to a coffee shop with friends, teasing and talking theology and figuring out wedding countdowns.

“I hold home inside, close to my heart, so it’s a place I can always be. And wherever I go, it’s a new start, with more home to add to me.” - a bit from my book that seemed fitting at this juncture.

Here on earth, that’s what home means to me.

It’s clever, therefore I like it.

Day 29 

“Those who forget the pasta are condemned to reheat it.”  ~Unknown

This quote works especially well with certain accents (e.g. Italian) - and you can get very close to the original that way. 

Onward.

Proverbs 18:10 “The name of the LORD is a strong tower; The righteous runs into it and is safe.”

I’ve always liked that image of the strong tower. In my mind I see a storm swirling, dark clouds, lightning, and then little me running into a huge stone fortress.

I feel very safe.

bumping into you

Day 30

It’s fun running into someone on accident. There’s no planning, no deciding, no pre-deliberation on your part or mine. You  get up in the morning and go about your ordinary. You go to school or work or the bank or the post office or to Jimmy John’s for a vegetarian sub, and you turn the corner and there I am. Of course, I’ve been going about my business, too. Then I come out of the library, and there you are.

A happy “Hey!” and “What are you doing here?” and a pleasant conversation may be all that ensues. Still, it just made my day a little brighter, bumping into you.

Onward.

This is our family song. We sang it yesterday in church, and I felt that old familiar lump, especially around the words “What he says we will do, where he sends we will go, Never fear, only trust and obey.”

I love this song because the order of things is so right: trust Jesus first, then obey. Obedience for a Christian not a blind thing. When you know the Lord and his character and his love, and you completely rest in him, it just makes sense to obey him. 

And you can be saved, you can be “in Jesus”, but unless you learn to trust and obey, you won’t have true happiness or true joy.

When we walk with the Lord in the light of His Word,
What a glory He sheds on our way!
While we do His good will, He abides with us still,
And with all who will trust and obey.

Refrain

Trust and obey, for there’s no other way
To be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.

Not a shadow can rise, not a cloud in the skies,
But His smile quickly drives it away;
Not a doubt or a fear, not a sigh or a tear,
Can abide while we trust and obey.

Not a burden we bear, not a sorrow we share,
But our toil He doth richly repay;
Not a grief or a loss, not a frown or a cross,
But is blessed if we trust and obey.

But we never can prove the delights of His love
Until all on the altar we lay;
For the favor He shows, for the joy He bestows,
Are for them who will trust and obey.

Then in fellowship sweet we will sit at His feet.
Or we’ll walk by His side in the way.
What He says we will do, where He sends we will go;
Never fear, only trust and obey.

Refrain

On my dresser sits a box.

Day 31

It’s a little round ceramic box with a little round ceramic bear on top. Wherever I move, I carry that little round ceramic box with me. It’s always one of the last things I pack (if I pack it at all), thoughtfully and carefully. If there was ever a fire, it’d be the first thing I’d grab. It is my most prized earthly possession, but not because of the box itself; because of what it contains.

Inside is a tiny rosebud. You wouldn’t know it anymore to look at it – it’s a jumble of brown shriveled petals that look like they’ve been through the washer. They have, actually. Once, I wrapped the box in a sweatshirt to protect it during a move. I forgot that it was inside it the shirt and threw it in the laundry machine. The rose came though the spin cycle surprisingly well and I managed to salvage most of it and return it to its proper place – inside the box. It’s very clean.

You’ve probably guessed by now that this is not just any rose. Oh, no. It’s a very old rose – as old as I am. This rose was the one that my father gave his little girl on the day I was born. And so whenever I open up that little round ceramic box, I don’t just see a bunch of shriveled petals.

I see my daddy’s love for me.

Starting over

Day 32

The ants were at it again. Building their little castles in the sidewalk cracks, including the specific crack next to the bottom step in front of my building. For days, I’d been watching those three little hills grow into tiny ant mountains, and for days, I’d been waiting on the inevitable. Which happened Thursday.

When I came home for lunch, the hills had been flattened, complete with a sneaker print left in the middle of the dirt pancake. It must be irresistible for some people to stomp on an anthill, just as it is irresistible for some of us to take a mini-detour just so we can step on what looks to be an especially crunchy leaf.

I knew it was going to happen. I shrugged on the inside and went off to have my peanut butter and jelly.

The next afternoon, an ant hill had miraculously reappeared. Just one, but it was tall and round and very much there.

Those ants sure are diligent, persistent, hard-working little bugs. I don’t know about you, but I always think it’s fun to see Biblical principles played out in creation. There is much to consider, much to learn.

Holistic

Day 33 

A high school classmate who writes a blog wrote about the “holistic” approach to evangelism, which involves caring for the whole person, not just for their spiritual needs. He asked for responses, so below is what I wrote with some expansion.

Jesus: “Go into all the world and preach the gospel . . .”(Mark 16:15)

Paul: “I am determined to know nothing among you except Christ Jesus and him crucified.”(1 Corinthians 2:2)

The believer’s role as an ambassador on this earth is to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ. (i.e. He was God who became Man, died on the cross for our sins, and rose again, so that whosoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life {John 3:16}.)

Compassion for people’s physical needs is indeed Christlike. That compassion can lead to a tremendous ministry. I am not at all against caring for those needs. HOWEVER, my concern is that much of today’s”holistic missions” is focused on giving people bread, or fighting for “social justice”, or giving them a vaccine, or building them a house – i.e. meeting physical needs. Let me reiterate, these things are good things, and I’m not encouraging anyone to stop doing them. But when they become the focus and the Gospel is left out, or minimized, or reduced to a mere “Jesus loves you, so here’s a bag of rice”, that is hardly holistic. It is, in truth, hardly loving. Any unsaved moral person can do that, and many do. I’m afraid that often when we aim to be “holistic”, we may end up instead becoming “unbalanced”, leaning too much in the direction of an individual’s felt needs.

We must never forget that we have something of eternal value to offer.

We need to realize that these people, for all their other needs, are on their way to hell. A lack of sharing eternal bread is a grave error that I’ve seen and heard from many (and especially) short term mission trips. To use the old illustration, you’re painting a sinking ship when you neglect the gospel – you may fill their bellies, tell them nice (even “spiritual”) stories, or protect them from the wind and rain, but have you done anything to make them aware of their greatest need? Our primary purpose, as seen in the Great Comission, is a spiritual one.

Paul was a man with deep love and compassion for others, and yet his primary focus was not ridding the world of evil and injustice. As he stated in the letter the Corinthians, his goal was to glorify Jesus by spreading his gospel. His goal was to see the lost saved from hell by God’s grace.

It was like watching a car wreck

Day 34

Actually, it was, in fact, watching a car wreck.

Yesterday, a little before one p.m., I’m crossing  in the middle of 16th St. (Jaywalking, yes. Bad Katie. Bad, bad Katie.) and I hear that awful screech of tires. Not close to me, so don’t be worrying. Down the road about 150 feet at the intersection of 16th and Clybourn. I turn my head just in time to see a red car plow into a blue car and the two cars go spinning and sliding to a rest right at the sidewalk corner. I automatically start running down the sidewalk toward the accident, but stop, realizing that A.) I don’t know CPR, B.) I don’t have my cell phone, C.) There are a dozen people closer to the scene than I am, including a public safety officer barking into his walkie-talkie.

So I save my heroics (ha) for another day. I talk to the officer a little later, and he said everyone is ok. The cars are totalled – the bumper from Red Car is still out on the sidewalk at 10:30 pm when we drive home from church.

One time when I was at college in Chicago, I saw a smaller accident from the rooftop of my dorm overlooking LaSalle. Me and my friends were hanging out, arms slung over the old chain-link fence, watching the traffic, enjoying our skyline, shootin’ the breeze, when we saw a moving car smack into a parked car (as opposed to seeing the parked car smack into the moving car). This being Chicago (I suppose), the driver of Moving Car appeared to take a moment, regain control, and then kept on a-moving down the boulevard.

I’m not entirely certain that this is the way these things are supposed to go. I am pretty sure, however that the owner of Parked Car was none too happy with the whole episode.

Onward.

I’ve just started “reading” a book called A Meaningful World by Benjamin Wiker and Jonathan Witt. I say “reading” because it is one of those esoteric books that I find intimidating and difficult to follow, yet at the same time fascinating and irresistable. The arguments are hard to be understood, but they are worthwhile.

As it’s title suggests, this book is out to show that the world is not just a jumble of meaningless particles that were produced randomly in the primordial stew. It explores everything from Shakespeare to chemistry and shows the meaningfulness of the natural world. An early quote:

“Against the materialist attempts to reduce biology to chemistry, we find instead that the latest science is uncovering more a more evidence that the elements are strangely fit for biology, the lifeless fashioned for the living.” (p.27) That’s a pretty amazing thought. Hey, could this be because there is a Creator?

Indeed!

P.S. Happy Flag Day. Or as they say in my part of the country, “Flayg Day”.

Scenes from Africa (gathered from various sources)

 Day 35

‘Cause no one else will do it for you:

Gotta love true resourcefulness:

No comment needed:

Sigh. I do miss that place.

Onward.

John 9:25b “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

The man who spoke these words was physically born blind. Jesus healed him. We who have believed in Jesus Christ were born spiritually blind (and separated from God). By his grace, he has healed us spiritually. And only those of us who have experienced this regeneration can truly understand the song “Amazing Grace”.

“I was once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.”

New things

Day 36

On Sunday, the 3-5 year old Sunday School class was learning about Day 3 of creation, the day that God made seed-bearing plants. As an object lesson, the teacher (I was the “helper”) brought in several kinds of fruit and cut them open to show the kids the variety of seeds God created. We had them touch the different fruits and guess how many seeds were in each.

Now, I can’t remember when I learned that cantaloupe and apples had lots of seeds, that cherries and peaches only have one, and that the banana’s seeds are those little brown flecks in its center. That knowledge is dry to me now. It has simply become part of What I Have Learned Since 1980. It has ceased to be amazing.

But on Sunday, I was surrounded by 7 kids for whom seeds were New. They crowded, their eyes widened as the knife sliced, revealing juicy insides, they guessed that peaches had 5 seeds and stated with assurance that bananas had no seeds. They made mistakes with carefree abandon. They asked for seconds (and thirds) of cantaloupe and peanuts.

They learned. And thanks to their enthusiasm in doing so, I was once again instilled with amazement at our Creator and his creativity.

The weirdness of JUST waiting

Day 37

This morning, I was waiting . . . just waiting. The clinic room was set up, the internet cued to the page I needed, and my lesson plan and client file were on a chair in the observation room for my supervisor to peruse. All was in readiness.

But my client was late. And I was stuck in that strange limbo of suddenly having a bit of time on my hands, but not really sure what I could do with it. I couldn’t really go and start anything, because of course the moment I did, she would show up. Yet pacing the hallway empty-handed and looking out at the sidewalk felt odd. It was almost like I was in a moving paralysis, able to wander around a little but bound by uncertainty and an undefined amount of time.

Just waiting.

Onward.

Psalm 27:14 “Wait for the LORD; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the LORD.”

Unlike my just waiting today, the wait for the Lord is not paralyzed, uncertain, or uncomfortable. When believers wait on him, when we rest in his will, his plan, his purpose, and his timing,  there is peace and joy. We can be strong and courageous when our waiting is on such a Shepherd.

Risk

Day 38

There’s an investment ad I’ve been hearing on the radio lately that starts out with this (probably government-mandated) warning: “Investments and securities involve the risk of loss.” When anything related to money, business, or economics comes up, I tune out. I’m not concerned with rising stocks, bull and bear markets (?), or any of that. Probably because I don’t get them. This morning, though, that little warning line I’ve heard a dozen or so times really grabbed me.

It wasn’t so much the investment part that made me think. I know you can lose out with bad investments. But securities involve the risk of loss? Granted, I don’t have a clue what securities are. But securities? Come on, now – how can you call something a security if there’s a risk of loss? Seems a little strange.

Maybe that’s because I’m so used to God’s economy: Nearly 2000 years ago he bankrupt heaven to make an incredible investment in the destiny of lost sinners: his Son, Jesus, died on the cross, fully paying our sin debt, so that if we simply believe in him, we receive the free gift of everlasting life, which is an eternal security that involves no risk of loss.

And that, my friends, is the way security should be.

On being an international sports fan

Day 39

Back a dozen or so years ago, which was a while before the internet reached our town in Kenya, it was rather hard to follow American sports of any kind. That’s completely understandable. I mean, do U.S. papers keep track of cricket scores in Australia? Of course not!

So I’ve gotta give the Daily Nation (one of Kenya’s newspapers) credit on that point – they did make an effort to keep us baseball fans informed. To an extent. Every day, I’d go to the library and flip through the sports to find the baseball “section”. Now granted, sometimes they did have the full standings – American League & National League, all six divisions. But in other cases, they’d only print say, the NL West and AL Central. Maybe that’s all they had room for. But when the NL East Phillies were in the thick of the pennant race (hey, I can dream), the sporadic coverage could be a tad frustrating.

These days, thanks to the wide world web and satellite TV, it’s a lot easier to follow sports. You can find out who won the Super Bowl in real time, rather than huddling around a shortwave radio the next morning to find out the results from BBC. You can listen to Phillies announcer Harry Kalas’s lively description of another Chase Utley home run (“That ball is WAY outta here!”) if you don’t mind the  game’s 2:05 AM E. Africa start time.

Indeed, people do go to great lengths at times to catch their teams live.

For example, in December 2005, a Monday Night Football game between the Philadelphia Eagles and the Seattle Seahawks was being broadcast live by ESPN (or someone) in Africa. Thrilled to be able to go watch “our team”, my 2 youngest brothers, who were on break from school, got up in the wee hours of Tuesday morning to go to the video room to watch it. Mom went along (as an adult needed to be present) and apparently got her grocery list and the whole week’s menu done during the game. She’s definitely the queen of multi-tasking.

Anyways, you can guess what happened. Murphy’s Law took over. The Eagles were utterly shellacked. 42-0. I remember watching part of the game here in Milwaukee, but I gave up on them before the first half was over and went to bed. Noah and Daniel stuck it out to the bitter bitter end. I guess when you only get to see a live game of your team every few years, you do that.

But they didn’t even get to see an Eagles touchdown. Sigh.

Onward.

Here’s the benediction Grandpa mentioned in his comment yesterday. It was the one read at their wedding nearly 56 years ago.

Hebrews 13:20-21 Now the God of peace, who brought up from the dead the great Shepherd of the sheep through the blood of the eternal covenant, even Jesus our Lord, equip you in every good thing to do His will, working in us that which is pleasing in His sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever and ever. Amen.

Let the diagnostics begin

Day 40

Yesterday and today my diagnostic partner and I conducted our first evaluations. They were about as different as 2 sessions could be. Yesterday’s evaluation consisted of two and a half hours of chasing a two and a half year old girl around the room with testing materials. We were a just a leetle tired after that one. Nothing really went as planned, the video only got half the session, and we didn’t formally complete all the tests. But it was fun and we managed to get what we needed. Also, our client had quite the excellent attention span for a person her age – it was better than mine. Almost.

Today, we had an accent reduction evaluation. Foreign accent clients are always an interesting challenge because they aren’t disordered, they have a “difference”. We get a lot of teaching assistants from overseas who learned English mainly from books (which, in case you were wondering, is among the worst ways to acquire a language). They arrive in Milwaukee, start teaching, and their students struggle to understand them. So they come to us for help. (I’m thinking I’ll write a post on accents at some point – it is quite an interesting topic. Nerdy, yes. But interesting.)

Anyway, that evaluation also was successful  - it was two hours of sitting with a very-easy-to-talk-to adult. Everything went according to plan. It all flowed nicely with no hiccups. Rather pleasant, actually.

I was thinking about how absolutely opposite (Can you have something that’s ”absolutely opposite? Or is ”opposite” superlative enough on its own?) the sessions were, yet how we came out of both of them saying, “Hey, that went pretty well.” Truly, variety is the spice of life. And also, apparently, of my chosen profession.

Onward.

Jude 24-25 Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, and to make you stand in the presence of His glory blameless with great joy, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen.

I think this is my favorite benediction in all of Scripture. I love the way Jude describes not just the incredible attributes of the Lord, but also our position in Christ, and his tender grace toward us. Awesome, in the truest sense of that word.

Nizzard Hash (a very serious book recommendation)

Day 41

Today I would like to suggest for your reading pleasure, a classic: The King’s Stilts by the venerable Dr. Seuss. This tale of noble King Birtram of Binn (as well as his stilts), courageous page boy Eric, and dastardly Lord Droon is, in my opinion, Seuss’s best and enjoys a long and honored history in my family. In fact, it is the first book I ever remember being read to me. My father actually recorded a cassette tape of his rendition of the story, and that tape has been listened to countless times.

I was just perusing some Stilts excerpts at Amazon, and with each line I read, I could hear the echo of Dad’s enthusiastic narration in my mind, pulling me back to Walnut Street, Catasauqua, PA, circa the mid-1980’s. Twenty or so years later, these memories serve to enhance my enjoyment of the adventure which includes Binn’s constant battle against predatorial birds called nizzards, the borderline-treasonous theft of King Birtram’s stilts by the evil Droon, and Eric’s dire quest to retrieve them (Before It’s Too Late, of course).

Eventually, all is set right. The kingdom is saved, and when the villian is locked up, we are given an account of his prison menu in what is one of my favorite lines of the book: “Stewed nizzards for breakfast. Cold nizzards for lunch. Fried nizzards for supper. And every other Thursday, they served him nizzard hash.”

Try it. You will like it, you will see. (The book, my friends, not the hash.)

Onward.

I definitely want this sung at my funeral. If I have one, of course.

Some day when the toils of life are over/And the saints are caught away/We will gather ’round the throne of Jesus/For his coronation day.

Chorus: I want to be there when we crown him King of kings/I want to be there when the court of heaven rings/With the happy song the angel chorus sings/I want to be there when we crown him King of kings.

All the universe will be assembled/Numberless the gathering there/Angel hosts and all the ransomed army/Glorious sight beyond compare.

Only those who put their faith in Jesus/Trust the work of Calvary/Will behold that crowning day in heaven/Day of final victory.

Hallelujah! I’m going to be there.

That troublesome “sn”

Day 42

I was lesson planning for tomorrow’s session with my 3-year-old client (Side Note: He’s the one who, totally unprompted, gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek after each session – talk about serious heart meltage.) in which we will be focusing on correct production of the cluster “sn”. For part of the session, I’ll be reading 15 “sn” words to him, so this morning I had to come up with my list.

Now, “s” by itself is a very nice. “N”, too, is lovely alone. But put the two sounds together, and somehowly you get (deep breath): snooty, sneer, snort, snit, snore, snot, snarl, snide, snicker, sneak, snoop, snake, sniffle, snap, snarky. Hmm. For whatever reason, our language seems to like using ”sn” to convey our not-so-nice ideas. I tried to find more neutral “sn” words to share with Richie, and there are some, such as snack, sneakers, snail, snow, and sneeze.

Still, we English speakers are quite obviously biased in our use of “sn”. Kinda interesting.

Onward.

Some Thoughts from the Proverb of the Day:

Proverbs 6:6-11 Go to the ant, O sluggard, observe her ways and be wise, which, having no chief, officer or ruler, prepares her food in the summer and gathers her provision in the harvest. ⁹ How long will you lie down, O sluggard? When will you arise from your sleep? “A little sleep, a little slumber, A little folding of the hands to rest “– your poverty will come in like a vagabond and your need like an armed man.

“I feel like I’m just so self-absorbed.”

Day 43

That’s the comment I overheard when I passed two girls last night leaving the library. I didn’t hear anymore of their conversation – you know how you catch bits ‘n’ pieces of others lives as you pass by – but that was a very interesting bit ‘n’ piece my ears grabbed as I walked home.

In my mind, I thought, Me too. I get in this tunnel vision rut, or I’m like a Kentucky Derby horse with blinders securely fastened. I hardly see what’s going on in the world besides what takes place in my own little corner of Milwaukee, and more specifically, in my own little life. This feels especially true during these busy summer weeks – it’s get up, go to clinic, go to work, go home, go to bed, repeat. I’ll get irritated when someone interrupts my rut, ahem, my routine. My routine. As in, it’s all about me. Hoo boy.

Last night, I was graciously and gently convicted of my self-absorption. And the Holy Spirit used a “random” comment by a stranger to do it. 

Philippians 2:3 “Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves.”

Yes, regard one another. Thanks for the reminder, Lord.

100

Day 44

This is my 100th blog entry, so I thought it appropriate to share some thoughts I wrote . . . on writing.

Word Wrestling – 16 September 06

        Writing is not easy for me. It’s hard work. More often than not, I find the process frustrating.  It usually goes something like this: I’ll wake up in the middle of the night with a half-baked idea – it’s getting crusty around the edges, but it’s still a little raw inside. There’s a great (even brilliant, I think) first line and a snazzy ending. The middle part needs some work, but I fall back asleep certain that everything will be sorted out in my brain by the time I crawl out of bed.

      Of course, it rarely is. In the morning when I sit yawning at my computer, that brilliant first line isn’t quite so shiny, the finale is shabby rather than snazzy, and the muddled middle sits and stares up at me unsympathetically with all the Times New Roman indifference it can muster. I can’t hit the delete key quickly enough. Sometimes, I only type a dozen words before realizing the futility of the effort. Other times I’ll trudge along through a paragraph or two or three, hoping with each keystroke that it’ll somehow get better, that I’ll somehow be able to salvage the mass of banality I’ve created. In either case, the end result is the same: a blank screen.

      Are there people out there for whom writing comes easily? Are there wielders of words whose essays and poems and stories always hit the target, who never face writer’s block or need a thesaurus, whose thoughts spill from mind to pen to paper in an uninterrupted flow of wit and wisdom? Or are they all like me, a word wrestler who goes to battle with grammar and semantics, challenging amorphous thoughts to become coherent and yes, even beautiful, to the world outside my head?

      I often, too often, come out on the losing end of the fight, with the score reading: Pristine Page – 1, So-Called Writer – 0. Yet, in spite of the disappointments, I can’t help myself – I keep coming back for more. Because on those rare occasions when I do emerge victorious, when oft-unsubmissive syllables and sentences stand in perfect order, when words become a backdrop for my ideas and not a distraction from them, I delight in language. I delight in its Creator. I delight in the joys of written communication. I delight in the gift of being able to share thoughts that cause people to ponder, to laugh, or to cry.

      And because there are such delights, I wrestle on.

True or false:

Day 45

Going to heaven has absolutely nothing to do with one’s lifestyle, character or behavior – ever.

(Query shamelessly stolen from Ian’s facebook profile.)

This question was brought to the forefront of my thinking yesterday when I was reading a Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel opinion column. Steve Paske wrote about how some kids in this city seem unconcerned about committing violent crimes because they believe in God and think that that will get them to heaven in spite of their actions. The author was advocating for more “brimstone” teaching in Milwaukee churches to strike fear into the hearts of the youth. While I’m all for bringing up hell in the context of witnessing – people need to know what they need to be saved from- I find some of Mr. Paske’s premises troubling.  Here’s the link: http://www.jsonline.com/story/index.aspx?id=613596

And a response to a couple of points in the article:

“Perhaps if our city’s preachers took on a more punitive persona, perhaps if city sermons reminded Christians that violent acts will result in a violent afterlife – even if they don’t think that is the case – then perhaps fear of eternal punishment might actually get kids to think twice before they pull the trigger of a gun leaving a 4-year old-girl dead.”

I am one of those who do not think that violent acts of necessity equal a violent afterlife, and I could not stomach listening to a teacher who proclaimed that.

“Perhaps the Christian God is so forgiving that you could kill someone and still stamp your ticket to heaven.”

Yes, sir. He is so forgiving.

You see, we are not saved because we are good. We are not even condemned because we are bad. Our sins truly do make us worthy of hell. But Jesus Christ paid the price for our sins on the cross – all of our sins: past, present, and future. The question that now stands before a sinner (i.e. everyone on this planet) is “What do you think about Jesus Christ?”

John 3:18 “He who believes in Him is not condemned; but he who does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God.”

So, it is not, “Are you a ‘good enough’ person, or a ‘too bad’ person?” It’s, “Do you believe that the work of Christ alone was sufficient to save you, or are you still trusting your ‘good works’(which according to the Bible are filthy rags before a holy God)?”

Am I defending or condoning the rapes and murders committed by these young people mentioned in Mr. Paske’s article? Absolutely not. Sin is always anathema. God hates sin. I am saddened by foolish and wicked acts such as the murder of 4-year-old Jasmine. Am I saying the ones who commit these crimes are going to heaven? I don’t know. I don’t know their hearts or beliefs. There’s a lot of unsaved monotheists running around today. And their actions certainly do not line up with the Christ-like life that should be the believer’s aim; in fact they are the opposite. Based on these people’s deeds, I would seriously doubt their claim to salvation. But based on Scripture, I cannot say that these sinners, whose criminal acts at times defy belief, are not indeed saved.

Because those sins were paid for on the cross, and if they trusted ALONE in that work of God’s Son, their eternal destiny is settled. Heaven is a gift for sinners; it it is not a reward for good people.

Romans 6:23 “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Oh, and by the way, the answer to the question at the top is true.

We can finally say (drumroll please) . . .

Day 46

“See ya next month!”

(This entry was scheduled for yesterday, but was preempted by the speling be.)

Since the calendar rolled over to June 2007, I was able to say that to my sister last night. For my family, it’s no longer see you the year after next after next, or next year, or later on this year sometime. It is, in fact, see you next month. After 34 months apart, that sounds awfully good.

I have refrained from bringing up The Reunion too often (aside from the countdown at the top of each entry) in order to keep from boring my faithful readers. But this milestone is a bigger deal than usual, so I took the liberty of mentioning it. Thanks for understanding.

Onward.

Free salvation now He offers/Take His gift, O hear His plea/On the bloody cross behold Him/Join His shout of victory. “It is finished,” loud He cried/O what love- for me He died/In my stead He bled on Calvary/Once for all Christ rescued me. - Ron Hamilton

In what other circumstance would a dying man’s final cries be a true shout of victory? On the cross, our sin-debt had been paid completely; the Son of God had done all the work. Satan’s head was crushed.

And so forevermore, there is victory in Jesus.

Tommorrow, Tommorrow, I love ya, Tommorrow. . .

Day 47

Yesterday was the National Spelling Bee finals. Kids from across North America, all amazing spellers, competed. The winning word in 2007?

“Serrefine”. That’s a small forceps for clamping a blood vessel. I’m definitely going to try to incorporate this new vocab word into my conversation.

Also yesterday, Mrs. Clinton campaigned for the presidency:

Guess at least one event organizer wouldn’t have won the spelling bee, eh? The timing of the error is pricelessly ironic, and hearkens back to Dan Quayle’s “potatoe”.

Speaking of ironic spelling errors, one of my undergraduate linguistics textbooks was entitled Analyzing the Worlds’s Languages. Perhaps a cursory analysis of English possessives would have been helpful as well.

Onward.

Proverbs 1:32b “the complacency of fools will destroy them.”

The American Heritage Dictionary defines complacency as a ”feeling of contentment or self-satisfaction, especially when coupled with an unawareness of danger, trouble, or controversy”.

How terrifyingly apt a term for our world today, especially here in America. People in this country are self-confident, self-trusting, self-absorbed. They are settled and happy in the life they’ve created, in the empty dreams they are chasing. They live purposely ignorant of the fact that their lives are fragile, that they are separated from hell by a heartbeat.

When it comes to eternity, these ones in such a dire situation are indeed complacent. And if they continue in that path, it will destroy them.

Believers are the ambassadors. We are the warners. We are the ones Christ has called to shake the lost from their complacency, to show them from God’s Word that they are hopeless, helpless, hell-bound sinners in need of the salvation provided through faith alone in Jesus, the unique God-Man, who died the death we all deserve and rose again.

We dare not be complacent ourselves.

THAT was awkward

Day 48

They say that the smile is the most contagious expression. I think ”they” should add that it can also be a rather awkward expression . . .

I smile a lot. I can’t help it. I’ll be trekking along down Wisconsin Ave and I’ll remember something funny, which will inevitably make me smile. It seems that most people don’t smile randomly while they walk. I do (smile, that is).

This cheerful tendency has some unfortunate side effects.

Take today, for instance. I was minding my own business, traipsing along and smiling to myself about this, that, or the other thing, which was all well and good ’til I accidentally made eye contact with a young man. Oops. Making eye contact. Smiling. Not a good combination. Of course he smiled back, with one of those do-I-know-you-and-and-why-are-you-grinning-at-me smiles. His puzzled expression only added to the ridiculousness of the situation. Of course, I started to laugh, so I did the only thing I could do.

I kept walking. Quickly. And I did not look back.

That weird encounter is similar to one we’ve probably all had: you know, the instance where you think someone is waving at you, so you wave back (sometimes quite enthusiastically). Mid-wave, you suddenly realize that they weren’t, in fact, waving at you; they were actually waving at the guy sitting 2 rows behind you. You always feel a little awkward after that. At least I do.

Onward.

Proverbs 15:13 A joyful heart makes a cheerful face, But when the heart is sad, the spirit is broken.

Proverbs 17:22 A joyful heart is good medicine, But a broken spirit dries up the bones.

These seemed to be appropriate verses for today’s entry (minus the whole “awkward” element, of course).

Climbers climb mountains because they’re there. But . . .

Day 49

“Why do writers write? Because it isn’t there.” – Thomas Berger

One of the many things that is so enjoyable about language is its infinite possibility. The combination of words and thoughts we can create is staggeringly vast. Each day we utter sentences that have never been uttered before.

The fluorescent green-striped and pink polka-dotted mollycoddle of a collie marched his way to Mars, skipped over Saturn, and tumbled head over tail back to Earth, where he landed in a swimming pool inhabited by shiny black opossums who bore a strange resemblance to Davy Crockett.

I can 100% guarantee you that that crazy, rather nonsensical sentence has never been written before in the history of mankind. I wrote it because it wasn’t there. Ever. But now it is.

Write a brand-new sentence yourself and feel free to post your creative writings in the comments section. I’m sure I’ll get a kick out of them.

Onward.

I couldn’t sleep this morning early – I wasn’t fully awake, but I was having some vague uneasiness about the impending day, so I got up and turned on some lights and opened my Bible. I read the first 4 chapters or so of Ephesians before sleep started to reclaim my brain. I find it amazing how the Word of God can slice through even my grogginess and comfort and renew my mind.

Some things I was reminded of in the pre-dawn:

I have been blessed with every spiritual blessing in the heavenlies in Christ.

I was dead in trespasses and sins, but God (two of the most beautiful words in the entire Bible) who is rich in mercy made me alive by his grace.

He is my peace.

And I can know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge.

Transportationally challenged

Day 50

I’m exhausted. Plumb tuckered out. My brain feels like it’s gone through the wringer.

Why, you may ask?

I’ve just spent a good hour or so trying to decipher the Milwaukee County Transit System Bus Schedule. It’s like trying to figure out clues on a treasure map, but the clues are in a different language. It’s tough enough trying to find the correct routes using the magic multi-colored decoder ring, but trying to figure out where you need to be when is even more fun.

“Well I could catch the bus at 6:53 at N. 12th, but then I’d be cutting it close for my 7:10 transfer at Oklahoma. Still, if I take the 6:35 bus, I’ll be waiting for 15 minutes at Oklahoma in the elements, whatever they may be. So, do I want to be risking missing the second bus or do I want to bide my time in torrential rain, hurricane force winds, and temperatures that may well dip into a range comfortable only to polar bears? Hmmm.”

Being the overly cautious individual that I am, I’d probably pick the latter.

Onward.

Yesterday I read an article by a pastor in northern Minnesota on how to respond to unexpected trials. I can’t quote him exactly, but he said something along the lines of “To expect not to have hardship and trouble in this like is to have the wrong expectation.”

Jesus said it like this in John 16:33 -  ”In this world you will have trouble.”

I’m so glad he added, “But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Remembering

Day 51

In Flanders fields the poppies grow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

- Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae

Doe, a deer, a female deer . . .

Day 52

This morning on the way to church, my friend Bill and I saw a doe and her tiny fawn. Very nearly unfortunately, they were standing like statues in a patch of shade in the middle of the road. But we stopped in time and all stared at each other for a while. The baby was beautiful – obviously quite brand-new with those little white spots on his back and legs so spindly he could hardly stand up on them. His mama eventually took off and he tried to follow, toddling along on someone’s front yard, then cowering behind a tree as we pulled up alongside.

I think Bill got a semi-decent picture of the pair - I’ll post it if and when I can. It was a sweet way to start the day.

And the day has turned out to be quite lovely, by the way. Coming home after lunch, we took a detour down by the lake (Michigan, fyi). The lakefront was a panoply of activity -kites flying, sailboats sailing, and people playing frisbee, rollerblading, and picnicking against the backdrop of the blue sky, the bluer water. I held my arm out the car window into the cool breeze and warm sunlight, as if by reaching out so far, I could somehow capture it all and take it home to save for a gray sky day.

I love days like today.

Onward.

Romans 1:16 “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto salvation for everyone who believes”

That’s the 3-5 year-old Sunday School verse this month. Today, several of them recited it with minimal assistance. There’s something pretty special about a three year old reciting a verse about the salvation and God’s power. Do they understand it at this point? Not totally. Still, it’s in their head. It’s God’s Word.

And God’s Word does not return empty (Isaiah 55:11).

The comfort of the melancholy

Day 53

I have this thing for sad music. I like it when a song brings tears to my eyes. It’s not that way with movies so much. With those, I want my happy ending. Yet I’m content to have a song that leaves me contemplative and a little wistful.

On my computer, I have a whole playlist of songs that are melancholy – songs about saying goodbye, losing a friend, taking things for granted, hard times, homesickness. Some of them I love because of a single line, others I enjoy from beginning to end.

Maybe I’m a little odd in that way, but I think I’ve figured out a couple of reasons why these types of songs get to me. Fist off, they remind me of heaven.

What? Mournful music reminds me of heaven?

Yeah. When I hear James Taylor singing Stephen Foster’s ”Hard Times Come Again No More”, I think about that time when all hard times will end. When Bebo Norman grieves the death of a friend in ”Rita”, he says, “The finest moment no man can measure, is to look your Savior in the eye.”  Mary Fahl’s “Going Home” (from the Civil War film Gods and Generals) reminds me that I am going home.

Secondly, we live in a world that’s overwhelmed by bitter, wracked by pain. Music that addresses that is honest music. Not that music that sings of beauty and happiness is not honest – I love joyous music. Gladness is also a part of this earthly life. But songs that look at our struggle and aching (without going overboard into despair) seem to touch me more. 

Because out of the melancholy, I take comfort in the settled assurance that I am going home. After all, I am saved by his grace. I am made for eternity.

Good morning, good night

Day 54

Right before I closed down the info desk last night at 10 PM Central Time, I took a quick glance over at home. This was the webcam capture at 5:59 AM East Africa Time:

You can just start to make out the images of the mountains in the gray morning, and as I walked home in the moist windswept darkness, I began to imagine the stirrings of my family as their night yielded to the rising sun. It’s imaginations such as those that make me feel closer to the ones I love.

So while they began a day, mine ended with a sleepy smile, and the whisper of “Good morning, good night.”

Mmm, grilled “shrimp”

Day 55

Did you know that cicadas taste like shrimp? Nor did I, until I heard a entomologist (insect guy) on the radio describing how he likes to grill them. Good to know, considering Brood XIII of this delicacy is soon going to emerge from the ground by the billions and start overrunning (overflying?) my part of the country, as they do every 17 years or so.

If we could get them and the flying ants from Kenya together, we could have a good old fashioned Insect Fry. Now that would be tasty.

Onward.

1 John 5:9-13 If we receive the testimony of men, the testimony of God is greater; for the testimony of God is this, that He has testified concerning His Son. ¹⁰ The one who believes in the Son of God has the testimony in himself; the one who does not believe God has made Him a liar, because he has not believed in the testimony that God has given concerning His Son. ¹¹ And the testimony is this, that God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son. ¹² He who has the Son has the life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have the life. ¹³ These things I have written to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know that you have eternal life.

That pretty much says it all.

Do you have the Son? Do you have eternal life? If you will simply trust in His work for you, you can KNOW for certain that you are going to Heaven.

Do you know?

“Blending” in

Day 56

This is “Pearls Before Swine” from earlier this week - reminds me of the good ol’ days back in Kenya. A little.

Being a cartoonist has got to be a fun gig. I’d take up a comic strip if I was a funny, over-the-top-creative person. Alas, I am not.

Onward.

Speaking of chameleons, believers shouldn’t be one of those:

Romans 12:2 “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

Are you smarter than a second grader?

Day 57

When my family came back to the States for furlough in 2002 and I flew back to PA for a visit, I figured it would be a good time to catch up on the fulfillment of my sister-ly duties, which obviously included imparting my vast stores of wisdom to my younger siblings.

A great opportunity presented itself when we came back from the library one afternoon with our laundry basket full of books, and I settled down on the couch with then 8-year-old Daniel to puruse a children’s book on ancient Greece. As we were reading about various historical figures, Pythagoras came up.

“He was an important mathematician,” I told my brother, “He discovered an important equation called the Pythagorean theorem.” I was about to continue my explanation, but before I could -

“Oh, yeah, ” Daniel said, very matter-of-factly, “a² + b² = c².”

Good gravy. I think I was still at the this-is-how-you-color-inside-the-lines stage when I was in second grade.

Proverbs 2:6 “For the LORD gives wisdom; From His mouth come knowledge and understanding.”

To speak, or not to speak, that is the question.

Day 58

Growing up, there’d be those times when my mother would ask me, “Did you leave your brain under the bed?” Because  it sure seemed like I had. At least then I would have had an excuse for the mindless things I did. (And still do. Sigh.)

For instance: talking. Too much. Without thinking. Lately it’s been occurring to me that I’m not as keen on this speech apparatus thing as I once was. After I’ve put my foot in my mouth (again), I can see that it’s way more trouble than it’s worth. The mouth, I mean. Not the foot. I still have a pretty good relationship with both my feet as I wrote about in the 29 March entry.

Yes, I know my aversion to the whole speech deal is a strange thing to hear from someone who intends to make a living helping people speak better, but seriously. James was not kidding when he said that “no one can tame the tongue” (James 3:8). It’s a scary thing.

The reason that I’m thinking these thoughts is that this morning Emily (Emily-my-friend as opposed to Emily-my-sister) and I read Proverbs 21 (i.e. the “Proverb of the Day”). Here’s verse 23:”He who guards his mouth and his tongue, guards his soul from troubles.” I really need the Lord’s wisdom to keep my mouth shut when I should.

And his courage to speak up when it’s hard.

Graduation Day

Day 59

Oh, no. Not for me. For about 2000 other MU students. For me, that day is still 364 days away, and . . . oh, there’s another good countdown. P’raps I shall take that into account when this one draws to a close.

Anyway, today got me to thinking about the ultimate Graduation Day, the Day which is drawing ever closer but for which there can be no countdown, ’cause I don’t know when it is. Might be today. Might be 70 years from now (though I hope not). What I do know is that it’s the Day when I leave this earth and “graduate” to Home. Heaven.

I can’t wait.

What, do I have some kind of morbid death wish? No way! If you know me at all, or if you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you’ll know how much joy and delight I take in life – in its big events, in its smallest details. I love life. Life is good. Truly.

Heaven’s better. Infinitely so. Because that’s where my Savior is.

A friend once said to me that for the believer, dying is just going to sleep and waking up with Jesus by your side. Is there a more beautiful thought in the universe?

If you’ve trusted Jesus Christ alone for salvation, none can be sweeter.

Would you like some Cheerios with your news?

Day 60

Preface to today’s entry: I wasn’t going to write the following story. I didn’t want my readers to pity me or think this is a backdoor way of trying to get money. It’s not. But it is a way I see God working, so I’m going to share. Okay. Disclaimer aside. Read on.

It’s not unusual for people to have breakfast with the morning paper, but today, breakfast came with the morning paper.

As is my custom on Saturday morning, I threw on some clothes and shuffled outside to get the Journal-Sentinel. When I picked it up, I saw that the bag it came in was one big advertisement for General Mills’ “Whole-Grain” cereals. I got inside, flipped the bag over and found, to my great delight, three mini boxes of cereal.

I say to my great delight, because I’m a graduate student. I am not wealthy, to understate my financial condition. I live pretty much paycheck to paycheck and things can get a little tight. Or a lot tight.

So, even though I do have food in the fridge, I still laughed and gave thanks when I saw those Cheerios and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It was more than just cereal to me. It was the Lord nudging my heart, reminding me that he is my provider. Yes, I should work hard to earn money – that’s Biblical. But at the end of the day (or in this case, the beginning), it is my God who is the One who provides for me, sometimes in very unusual ways.

Like the time he sent breakfast with the morning paper.

“His parents must be so proud”

Day 61

One of the jobs I currently do is probably the most mind-numbing job I’ve had – and like any semi-skilled hourly-wage worker, I’ve had several of those. In this one, I go through Wisconsin charitable foundations’ tax forms (990s) and extract important information, like the type and amount of the grants they have given out, their directors’ names, etc. Doing this for several hours a day can make you a little crazy. But even this oft monotonous work is not without its’ humorous moments.

For instance, last year, a co-worker found a grant – actually a scholarship – given to a young man. There was his name, and next to it was the amount of the scholarship – $0. That’s what prompted my friend to make the above comment.

Another foundation’s giving for the year consisted, in its entirety, of a lovely grant to the March of Dimes . . . in the amount of $1. Yes, sometimes the generosity can be just plain overwhelming.

Today I uncovered a grant of $13,800 ear-marked for, and I quote, “Combustion of biogas from food residuals”. Hmmm.

Onward.

2 Corinthians 1:3-5 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, ⁴ who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. ⁵ For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ.

The God of ALL comfort. He comforts us in ALL our affictions. I like that.

And then he can use us to comfort others in ANY affiction, even if we’ve never gone through that particular trial, because it is truly with HIS overarching, all-encompassing comfort.

I like that too.

Is that so?

Day 62

Last week, I had a craving for kettle corn, so I went to the store and bought these single-serve packets of popcorn for 27 cents apiece. Splashed on the front of the package was the following: “Reduced cooking time!” (And in smaller letters, it mumbled something about compared with a regular-sized bag of popcorn.)

Please. That’s advertising gimmick-ry at its worst. Really? You mean to tell me that cooking a smaller amount of food takes less time? Quite amazing.

I wonder if people actually fall for it. I suppose they do. We aren’t as bright as we sometimes think we are.

Onward. 

A wonderful song I learned in Duluth (author unknown):

Rest, the Lord is near,Refuse to fear
Enjoy His love.
Trust. His mighty power
Fills every hour
Of all your days.

There is no need for needless worry,
With such a Savior,
You have no cause to ever doubt. His perfect Word
Still reassures in any trial.

Rest, the Lord is near
Lift up your prayers
for He is strong.
Trust. He’ll bring relief
and perfect peace
will calm your mind.

Call Him if you grow frightened
Call Him.
With loving care,
He’ll lift the burden and you’ll
Rest, the Lord is near
Refuse to fear
Enjoy His love.

Jasmine

Day 63

When I saw her face on the front page today, she caught my heart. The first thing I thought was, She could’ve been one of my kids – one of those dear little rascals I taught letters and sounds to last semester.

But she wasn’t one of “mine”. This 4-year-old in a pink tank top who smiled micheveously up at me from the newspaper was the one who was jumping rope outside her house on Monday night. She was the one was who was killed in a drive-by shooting by a “gutless thug” (as Mayor Barrett called him) who only shot his intended target in the leg.

I can’t help but wonder if that little girl was saved - had anyone shared the gospel with her? Was she even at the age of accountability so that she could understand and respond by simple childlike faith to the news of Christ’s death for her and ressurrection?

These questions, along with many others, will go unanswered. People will try to answer the whys and the whats. They will talk of too many tragedies, of gang problems or gun problems, of changes that need to be made in crime-ridden areas of the city. They will come up with solutions – more police patrols, more legislation, more cracking down. But they won’t come up with a solution for man’s heart of darkness.

And what has saddened me today is, they won’t come up with a solution for Jasmine.

Jugglin’ the jargon

Day 64

As per the American Heritage Dictionary:

jar•gon n. The specialized or technical language of a trade, profession, or similar group.

Yesterday’s entry got me to thinking about what is commonly referred to as “lingo”. For the most part, we are all speakers of the same language. We can communicate; we understand each other. Then you get into a car with two engineering students for the ride to church, and though you believe they are speaking English, they may as well be chatting in Urdu for all you can understand of their conversation.

Of course it goes both ways. We all have a “second language” within our professions and special interests. I discuss things with my SLP pals that are completely incomprehensible to my engineering friends. (I know – I’ve tried explaining certain aspects of the field to them at times – with mixed results.) 

Sports are also notoriously jargon-y. Take baseball, for instance. If you are a novice wanting to learn the game, you probably shouldn’t do so just by listening to it on the radio. It’s been around for about 160 years, and is full of baffling lingo that broadcasters use liberally. “Full house”? “Sacks are jammed”? “Back-to-back jacks”? ” “4-6-3″? ”Texas leaguer”? “Double switch”? At least have someone there to explain. Or get a book.

The whole jargon thing becomes most problematic when something like the following situation arises: a hilarious event occurs in your morphology class (That’s the study of word formation – and believe it or not, funny things did happen.) so you try to tell your non-linguistics friends, certain they’ll share your enjoyment. You’re rolling on the floor. They don’t get it. Therefore, they don’t laugh.

Kind of anti-climactic when you waited all afternoon to share the joke.

Onward.

Psalm 138:8 The LORD will accomplish what concerns me; Your lovingkindness, O LORD, is everlasting; Do not forsake the works of Your hands.

As I alluded to in the previous entry, I sort of hit a road block yesterday. Smooth sailing, then WHAM. Time to rearrange my focus, to ask some questions:

Does the Lord know about this? Yes. Did he see it coming? Of course. Is the Lord the Lord over this situation? Oh, yes. Will he accomplish what concerns me? Yes. Is his lovingkindness truly everlasting? Yes. Will he forsake this child, this work of his hands?

No. Never.

So I rested.

The IPA is for me

Day 65 

There’s not a more fun way to write words than by using International Phonetic Alphabet.

I realize that, having written the above statement, I just lost half my readership for today’s entry. (Thank you to the 2.5 of you who are still bearing with me.) But I’m serious. What other alphabet can be used to write any language in the world? Not a one. The good ol’ IPA has a symbol for every sound humans produce in our thousands of languages. From glottal stops (the little catch you feel in your throat when you are in the middle of ”uh-uh”, as in ”no”) to nasals (think ”m” “n” and “ng”) to alveolar stops (“t” and “d”) to non-English sounds like clicks and trills and pharyngeal fricatives. Oh, and all the vowels, too.

Check it out here: http://www.omniglot.com/writing/ipa.htm 

And if you ever get the chance, take a phonetics course. It is seriously fun - you sit around making odd noises and attempting to correctly pronounce words that look like, using our alphabet, ”mahmoofeeseeheekah”. But not exactly like that, because unfortunately I don’t have IPA script on my computer. Bummer.

Onward.

Ever been expecting something big to happen, and then all the circumstances go in the completely opposite direction? Yeah, me too. It sure takes the wind out of your sails, throws you for a loop, knocks you down, and all the other metaphors we use for disappointment.

It’s times like these I need the Shepherd. He knows.

Where He leads me I must follow
Without Him I’d lose my way
I will see a bright tomorrow
If I follow Him today

Like a lamb who needs the Shepherd
At His side I choose to stay                                                                                                                                                           Through the night His strength I’ll borrow
Then I’ll see another day

Life is like a winding pathway
Who can tell what lies ahead?
Will it lead to shady pastures,
Or to wilderness instead?

Like a lamb who needs the Shepherd
When into the night I go
Help me find the path that’s narrow
While I travel here below

Though you walk through darkest valleys
And the sky is cold and gray
Though you climb the steepest mountains
He will never let you stray

Like a lamb who needs the Shepherd
By your side He’ll always stay
‘Til the end of life’s long journey
He will lead you all the way.

- R. Carmichael

“Old Man River” and Noah Webster in Downtown Philly

Day 66

Around the blogosphere today, millions of people are writing about their moms. It’s Mother’s Day after all, so it is The Thing To Do.

Resistance is futile. I’m joining the masses. ‘Cause whatever any of you think, I, along with my five siblings, have the bestest mom in the world. Indubitably.

Nine or so Septembers ago, I had to have an operation done in Philadelphia, so the day before the surgery, my parents and I headed into the city where we would spend the night at a hotel. My dad dropped my mom and me off and headed somewhere to do some business of some kind. It was a beautiful late summer day, and ”we girls” set off exploring the downtown area. This was before I became city-fied by Chicago and Milwaukee, so the energy and bustle were quite the experience for me.

My mom was born and raised in the area, and went to school in Philadelphia, so it was fun for her on a different level. Maybe that’s why she was willing to sing “Old Man River” on a karaoke machine on a side street. It was part of a promotion for the musical that song was in, and she really managed to ham it up. (This was made easier, I’m sure, by the fact that she didn’t know “Old Man River”.) As a typical teenager, I wavered between laughing at the dissonant echoing of her voice on the brick buildings and wanting to melt into a puddle from embarrassment.

A little bit after the karaoke adventure we wandered into a bookstore, which is a very dangerous place for Morrisons. We tend to get a little stuck. Surround us with thousands of books and it’s good luck to anyone trying to pry our eyes away. That day was a little different, because that day, we saw The Dictionary. As in Mr. Webster’s Unabridged. 25 pounds or so of words, words, words, all defined to the nth degree. Truly a thing of beauty. And what’s this? It’s on sale? For $10? What a bargain! So we bought it, of course not taking fully into account the fact that we would be lugging our well-defined words around with us for the remainder of the afternoon.

It actually wasn’t all that bad, and the day made for some fun memories with my mom. I can still see her half-laughing/half-singing that goofy song into the microphone, her eyes shining with the fun of it. It was the same sparkle I saw later when we found the dictionary and she said to me, “Should we get it? Let’s get it!”

In the scope of my life, those were two very small events, but they have been ingrained in the “special times” area in my memory. Maybe it was because of the big-city atmosphere, the warm sunny day, the impulsivity, the carefreeness.

But mostly, I think it was because I did it with Mom.

Recurring nightmares

Day 67

Is there anything odder in our experience than dreams? When I was little I kept having these awful nightmares about someone close to me getting struck by lightning as we were walking down the street. (That’s not actually a warning to anyone to stay away from me during a thunderstorm, by the way.)

These days, the dream that comes back over and over is far less sinister, but disconcerting nonetheless. In this dream, I discover at the end of a semester that I’ve forgotten to go to a class I registered for. Or I forget to show up for the final. Either way, I flunk the course and must retake it, effectively decimating both my GPA and bank account in one fell swoop.

I think the anxiety regarding forgetting a class started when I was taking online courses. There were times when I would