Charity Never Faileth

New Year's Day is for celebration. New Year's Eve is for reflection.

Today, with a year to review, I can't help but acknowledge that I have lately felt a little cheated by the direction I took for the year. It has seemed that a few of my "do the next thing" moments I've lived in obedience to the Lord have been sort of dead ends. And dead ends seem awfully wasteful.

I am, after all, a penny-pincher head to toe. Actually, more. I'll pinch almost anything before I see it go to waste. And so, if I think something's been wasted, I end up down in the dumps. (I don't waste puns either.)

Faithful as He is, the Lord has recently been meeting me in the dumps. And He has been very patient about urging me out. But it wasn't until yesterday that I kind of woke up.

I was sorting through some old notecards and found scrawled across one of them the phrase, "Love is never wasted."

Why do I obey? Because I love Him.

If I do something out of obedience...out of love...and feel afterwards that it was a waste....

I have lost sight, then, of what love is about. After all, "Love seeks not her own." If I am obedient, expecting personal benefit...I will of course take the task of appraising its final worth. With the kind of sacrifices that obedience demands, the present cost often seems a bit high.

That's only natural.

And wrong.

Only when I release the expectation of personal gain can I stop counting daily costs of obedience, and start simply pressing for the goal.

After all, I already know that one "well done" will be worth a thousand tears.

All the figures I've jotted down on my sacrifice vs. benefit slate are a little meaningless now.

Because no matter how many negatives appear on the benefit side, the hard, cold eqautions disappear entirely when seen through a lonely hill, a jeering crowd, and a cross...

That and the words "Love is never wasted."

A New Leaf

Somewhere around the end-of-August-beginning-of-September...our computer crashed.

Since then, I have been snatching odd moments on some family member or another's laptop, which has made my writing moments few. And, to finish the cliche, far between.

You'll be happy to know that I am starting my a brand-spankin'-fresh-new-year with my very own brand-spankin'-fresh-new laptop.

So hope.... Or expect.... Demand?

Oh well...

I plan to show up here more often from now on.

I Have Been Young And Now Am Old

Whenever my family meets a new group of people, we always enjoy the lets-guess-their-ages-and-try-to-remember-all-their-names game together. I think we enjoy it more than the new people do, though. After all, a seven-membered family doesn't come accross everyone's path every day. And people can be funny when they're trying to commit seven new names to memory at once. Fortunately for the general public, I answer to nearly any name that properly begins with a "kkk" sound....

As for ages...that's as good as old-time pin-the-tail-on-the donkey. Nine times out of ten, Abigail and Paul triumphantly take away the honors: people always think they are older than John and I, respectively. Remember, in a child's world, when people think you are older, you know they must think you are also more mature. Plus, it's the older child who deserves more privileges like, say, staying up until 8:30 p.m. Imagine what a blow to pride it is to think that anyone might think that your LITTLE sister gets to stay up until 8:30 p.m.

Trust me, I know. I didn't bid childhood goodbye very long ago.

Besides, most nights I go to bed by 10:00 p.m. Because I want to. But I still don't jump up and down when people think Paul is older. Because, being growed up and all, I always think mature thoughts like, "What a tragedy it would be if anyone thought that I was less mature than any of my siblings!"

I think I could get over it, though...if the age-guessing thing didn't get out of control sometimes. Most people think I'm around somehwere between sixteen and eighteen. Yesterday, someone actually guessed my age to be fifteen.

I know you're supposed to be flattered when people think you're younger than you are and everything. But when you're fifty and someone thinks you're forty-five....that's totally different than when you're in your twenties and someone thinks you're a child.

Looking closely in the mirror, I wonder what there is in my face that obliterates six years. The only thing I can find is acne.

I would claim credit for discovering the fountain of youth, but I am afraid no one will be impressed.

I am the only one impressed for I know that when I was fifteen my acne drove me to total despair. Now I rarely notice it particularly or think about it. But my change in perspective isn't found in the mirror.

Maturity, it seems, is not in the eye of the beholder.

Me & My Feet

I have very unruly feet.

Some of you who know me know that I have some...challenges...with swimming.

Some who know me well, like my sister, may think secretly that I "can't be taught."

I can swim, really. Meaning I can keep myself afloat, and I learned some "form" a long time ago which I can maintain if I am thinking about it and not worrying about things like how deep the water is.

But I can't swim underwater. My feet won't go down. They just, simply... won't go.

But when I went swimming this afternoon, I'm sure I had more fun taking lessons from my accomplished siblings than I would have if I had succeeded in underwater swimming.

It's easy," John said helpfully, while Abigail advised, "stick your feet up in the air and then...start swimming."

A few minutes later, I surfaced to the tune of hysterical giggles.

"We could sell tickets," John gasped, while Abigail volunteered to imitate me, swimming underwater.

She swam off, sticking first one leg and then the other straight up in the air behind her as she went, accompanied by much splashing and more giggles from John and Peter.

I had to laugh too. "But...you said 'stick your feet up and swim'," I defended myself, "and that's what I did."

Abigail tried again. After she was done laughing. Before she said I "couldn't be taught."

"Let me show you how you should swim underwater, but I'll do it on the surface." I watched intently. And copied her closely.

Strictly on the surface. Every attempt to go...down...was ineffective.

"Pretend you're sliding downhill on your stomach," Abigail said much later, trying a different tack.

"I can do that," I said brightly, diving in.

I came up only to hear more gales of laughter. I laughed too...ruefully. Especially when Abigail informed me, "I said downhill...that means you have to angle your body down."

"Let's play Marco Polo," Peter said.

"But I wanted to learn to swim underwater," I protested.

"A little at a time," Abigail said, grinning, but with finality.

I guess even a very good show gets old sometime.

Ha!

You didn't believe I'd do it, did you?

I really posted again!!!

Month In Review

It has been a whirlwind couple of months in my life.

Work has been rather crazy since I accepted a position in the quality department at my job in September. By the end of September, I had taken on the duties of a trainer. I worked for five weeks training new hires. Then...a week of vacation in lovely California. Followed by a move to a supervisor position last week.

I have learned...that I am very young, immature, and inexperienced.

And that having a position does not make one important.

And that I must, must, must--to continue maturing in Christ--hold Him as my highest priority. I like to think of it as a sort of undercurrent in my life which must keep flowing, whatever the surface looks like. If it stops flowing, I will stagnate. And I know the surface won't be pretty then either.

I don't like being convicted of misprioritizing.

But then...

I have rarely been so grateful for a "throne of grace."

Living and Breathing

Still here.

Believe it.

Halt!

So the other night I drove to the other end of town to buy a milkshake. Actually, I drove. Paul bought the milkshake.

The other end of town is a whole three minute's drive and the whole downtown area is very brightly lit. I was almost home...two driveways away, to be exact...when I saw the lights in my review mirror and pulled over to let a police car pass. At least, that's what I thought I was doing. It took me a minute to realize that I, the cautious and responsible, was actually being pulled over.

I have never been pulled over before so it was every bit a new experience. A rare treat indeed. The rarer the better...

So it was politely pointed out to me that my lights weren't on. (Oops!) And then I was asked for my insurance card. I pulled everything out of my glovebox, totally forgot I had an indoor light, and madly tried to find a current insurance card in the dark. I had about a dozen insurance cards...but most of them had expired in June and you'd better believe I was feeling pretty flustered. The officer laughed and said he was pretty sure I had insurance since I had all those cards...gave me a warning and sent me home.

I still find it amazing that for four months I drove hundreds and hundreds of miles in perfect peace, without a current insurance card....but once I realized I didn't have one and that I still had to drive for two days while I was waiting for a replacement to come in the mail...I was about ready to fall apart every time I got behind the wheel of the car.

I'm sure someone has a good psychological explanation for that, but all I can say is: ignorance truly is bliss! And if you drive by a car some brilliant summertime noon with its lights on...it might just be me.

Katie, Life Of

I'd hate to think I was losing any of my readers by being silent. The rub comes when I wonder if I will lose more of you by spouting nothing-worth-much instead....

But, as they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

So, here is a quick update on my life:

Family: All well

Home: For Sale

Church: Refreshingly conservative local church 25 min. north of us.

Title: Quality Coach (Quality dept. of a call center for Sprint/Nextel.)

(New) Job Description: Monitoring and scoring calls for quality, working with individual agents to improve quality, training new hires & assisting more experienced agents with learning new topics, and administrative work to keep track of progress in all above categories.

Learning: .....stay tuned

Excuses, Excuses

I promise I haven't deserted my online home. My small silence may be excused by the fact that I've moved to a new position at work. Along with a new 50 hr. per week schedule.

I'd have more to say if it wasn't bedtime...

Dust Thou Art

To all neat-freaks: please skip this post.
_________________________________

When I was little, we used to fight over the chore list. We argued over two things: dusting and cleaning floors. Who WOULD dust and who WOULDN'T mop the floors, to be precise. It's not that we all loved dusting, it's just that there was so little dust accumulation in one week that it didn't feel like a "chore" at all.

In fact, Mom didn't usually notice if we skipped that "chore" altogether.

Until we'd skipped it a few weeks running....

I remember the time we were expecting company and Mom wrote our names in the dust on the coffee table. "Katie and Paul dusted this," it read, quite legibly. Embarrassing, no?

We did the dusting for a while after that.

Recently, I'm sorry to admit, the dusting somehow slipped back off the chore list. And dust writing is back in style. Only, it's not been Mom this time. It's been the kids...

Smiley faces, ferocious piratical symbols, tic tac toe, finger and hand prints, and names. I'd like to add that John's name is nowhere to be seen. With typical foresight, he assumes that if he writes his name in dust, he'll be the one called to do clean it off.

A couple of weeks ago, I stepped out of the bathroom, glanced at the big slatted blind opposite me...and saw one smiley face too many.

I emptied all the socks in my drawer to tackle that nearly-black blind. Thirty minutes and two dozen socks later, the blind looked nearly-white again, what you could see of it through the settling cloud of gray...

I figure by the time I finish all six of the front blinds it will be time to start over.

Or maybe it will be time to acclaim one of my fine siblings Dust Artist of the Year...and wait until spring cleaning to erase their work. After all, who's to say that one house can accumulate enough dust in a month to make dusting be a "real" chore. I never did believe in wasting time on pseudo-chores.

In Favor Of Aging

I was rather grumbly when I saw an envelope from my insurance company on the counter when I came home from work the other day. I pay them six months in advance. And I don't want to hear from them between times.

I regretted my grumbliness, though, when I opened the envelope and found enclosed an "age change check."

Don't I get another one at age 25? Who said life goes downhill after 21?

Going Downhill Now (??)

I always knew that 21 is popularly honored as a significant age.

I didn't know how much so until shortly before my birthday. That was when I overheard a conversation between two people in their mid-twenties who agreed that "life goes downhill after you turn 21."

I think they meant that being old enough to drink...I mean, to drink legally....is the proper peak of existence.

Apparently, my existence is on a lower plane. Someone told me on my birthday that I should at least buy alcohol, even if I didn't plan to drink it. I just stared. Then in a flattering display of my newly birthed maturity I sputtered, "What a WASTE!! Do you know how many candy bars I could buy with that money, and actually eat them?" (He laughed.)

I was informed again on Saturday that there is nothing left to look forward to after 21. I admit, there is a side of me which finds it all rather funny. But there is a side, too, that is sobered almost to the point of tears.

It is no joke to live life in a sea of souls who can't hope for anything more than legal intoxication.

How can I ever sit untouched in the midst of such hopeless, purposeless, meaninglessness?

I, who knows each year that I am redeemed from sin. Who counts each year a year closer to Christ. Who hopes each year to be more like Christ. Who plans each year to enjoy life more because it is a gift of God. I....how can I sit untouched? How can I not mourn? And how can I be silent when I know there is a better way??

Calling All Worms

...book worms, that is.

Jaclyn has assigned me an impossible task. That's right, she tagged me with The Book Quiz. And each question demands only *one* answer.

I think all true bookies will agree on the impossibility of such a task.
______________

1. Please name one book that changed your life (besides the Bible, of course):

Actually, I have had different life changing books for different "seasons of life." Probably the one that affected me most dramatically was a biography of Rees Howells by Norman Grubb. Elisabeth Elliot's biography of Amy Carmichael, "A Chance To Die", was a monumental inspiration as well.

2. Please name one book you've read more than once:

I rarely read books only once. When I was younger, I frequently finished the last page of a book and then turned to page one to start it all over again. I don't do it any more, but I still reread...eventually. One series of books that has never grown old for me after dozens of reads has been the "Raggedy Ann" Series. (Don't laugh, it's true.)

3. Please name one book you'd want on a desert island (besides the Bible, of course):

"Survival for Dummies."

4. Please name one book that made you laugh:

I laugh every time I read "Little Men." Also, there is a scene in "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm" where R. decides to punish herself by discarding her favorite pink parasol into the family well and ends up stopping up the water supply...it cracks me up every time.

5. Please name one book that made you cry:

I can certainly feel the emotion of books, but I rarely actually cry. "Tilly" was one of the few that got me teared up.

6. Please name one book you wish had been written:

"Ten Bad Reasons To Go To A Church." I haven't thought of all ten reasons yet. But I think "we go to this church because they have good programs for our kids" will be pretty far up on the list.

7. Please name a book you wish had never been written:

I'm so with Jaclyn on this one: "Origin of the Species" by Charles Darwin.

Oh, and "Endless Night." The absolute worst Agatha Christie book ever. (This is the only book that has ever made me mad. I felt so betrayed at the end when the killer was the ONE person I never suspected in the whole course of the book!)

8. Please name one book you're currently reading:

I'm between books. I just finished (re-)reading "Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch." The kids got it from the library and I needed a good homey fix of "Mrs. Wiggs." She is such an optimist.

9. Please name one book you've been meaning to read:

Revivals of Religion (Charles Finney)
Romeo And Juliet (Shakespere)
The Path of Loneliness (Elisabeth Elliot)
The Pursuit of God (A.W. Tozer--I've never finished it)
Rob Roy (Sir Walter Scott)

10. Now please tag 5 people:

Y'all aren't very taggable, I'm afraid. But just for jollies, I tag Paul, BJ, Anna, and Amber.
___________

That's all, folks.

General Announcement

Yesterday was the day, twenty and one is the age.

Funny, I don't feel a bit older than I did the day before.

But I am so glad God has started for me another year. Whatever else my year will hold, I pray that He wll teach me to know Him better. With this, I shall be content

Instant Disaster

My parents have been out of town the past few days. And I have been enjoying privileges generally reserved to grandparents (aka spoiling the children).

That's right...they've stayed up past bedtime, gone on outings, and had treat and sweets out of measure.

I think they've had fun, but there's been no danger of them mistaking me for a real Grandma. Partly because I am far too easily irritated to be truly mature. And partly because my work in the kitchen, while usually edible, doesn't always turn out perfectly.

Take my lemon meringue pie as point in case. Since Dad doesn't care much for meringue, we make rather a big deal out of fixing this treat when he's out of town. Fortunately, Dad isn't gone often enough for the treat to go old. The kids started begging for it weeks ago.

So I bought the ingredients while at the store last week. Here, I first failed the test of true grandmother-hood. Knowing that I would be working half of the time my parents were gone, I admit that I bought pudding mix and a pre-fabricated pie crust.

It wasn't until yesterday when I was ready to actually make the pie that I realized I had accidentally bought instant pudding.

At this point, with the wisdom of sixty years in the kitchen behind me, I might have served pudding pie instead.

But being only a big sister, and having promised meringue, meringue I was determined to serve. Further, since instant pudding I had, instant pudding I would use. It would have been a waste to do otherwise.

The pudding was ready in the five minutes the package promised, but I wasn't ready to beat meringue. So, meanwhile, I stuck it in the fridge. (This, even though I knew most of the recipes instruct one to spread the meringue over hot lemon filling.) My leisure for beating meringue didn't come until dinnertime, while I was waiting for pasta to cook. Peter was grating cheese while I separated the eggs, and he took the moment to inquire why the Nazis killed the Jews during WWII.

Perhaps under these circumstances I may be excused for forgetting my rule to separate eggs only one at a time. Instead, talking away, I separated them cheerfully one after the other into the same bowl. And of course when I broke the yoke of my last egg...I had to start separating all over again, having contaminated the whole bunch.

It was about this time that I began to be sure the pie would fail. When finally I started beating the white, I was disturbed, but not terrifically surprised, to see tiny droplets of grease fountaining out of the electric mixer. The mixer would be unruly for this pie!

Taking courage, though, and figuring I couldn't very well hurt it by beating, I covered the whole mess, put the beaters on medium speed, and finished fixing dinner. I must have kept it going for around 15 minuntes.

I managed to get soft peaks out of it. Happy even with that, I spread the whites over my pudding mix and popped it into the oven to brown. I checked it more than once, with considerable trepidation.

Despite all odds, it looked perfectly lovely when I pulled it out of the oven and set it in the fridge to cool. For the first time since I saw the word INSTANT on the pudding box, I had hope for my pie.

Alas! I really shouldn't have hoped to enjoy the priveleges of grandparenthood when I have none of the experience. At least, when I am a grandparent, I shall have already learned that instant pudding separates when heated.

But I doubt my grandchildren could enjoy totally-from-scratch genuine lemon meringue pie much more than my brothers and sister enjoyed pre-fab nothing-from-scratch lemon meringue...soup.

A Time For Everything

About once a year...

Usually in the summer sometime....

I watch one of my favorite movies.

Since my parents and brother are out of town. And the kids don't stay up until eleven-thirty. And I didn't need much of an excuse anyway...

I just finished the six hour version of Pride and Prejudice.

I loved and hated every character as much as I always do. And I never can decide whether I like Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth better. But then, predictably, I conclude it doesn't matter since as a real man and a genuine lady they live happily ever after in the end...

I'd quote my favorite line, except that I don't have just one. Besides, you know, it's one of those movies where lines mean less without an exact expression of face to match. So I shall be content to hoard up for myself a share of Austenianism to last a while. To last...maybe....a year?

By Faith

I am not a fan of twisty, steep, narrow roads. Especially when there is a minorly significant drop off to the side, no guard rail, and construction every mile or so. Especially when I'm being tailgated.

Fortunately, there isn't a fan club for twisty, steep, narrow roads in the fog.

As I was inching along a twisty, steep, narrow road in the fog the other day, I was enjoying not being tailgated. I also started comparing my foggy drives with my clear drives. I was trying to decide whether I disliked it more when I could see the drop off, or when I couldn't see the drop off.

More, I got to thinking about the life of faith and how often it seems like walking by faith is like driving in the fog. After all, it often seems that my whole life is dependent on unseens and intangibles. I am always having to change my ways to stay in His way. His way is hard. And it can be awfully lonely. In other words, it's full of curves, it gets a bit steep, and Jesus Himself called it narrow. Plus, I never know what He will do next.

But then comes this simple statement of fact:

"...we walk by faith, not by sight." (2 Corinthians 5:7)

I never quite realized before that this is an either/or statement. I can't walk by faith and sight any more than I can go barefoot and wear shoes. If I'm really operating under faith, what I see won't effect my course of action. If I'm living by sight, what I can't see won't really sway my choices.

And so I must choose. Faith. Or sight.

And the key to walking by faith?

Understanding that the road is twisty, steep, and narrow. There is a drop off to the side with no guard rail. I don't always seem to be making progress. And other people would love to push me off the road. To make the trip more interesting, the fog closes in occasionally.

But I'm not driving.

And no matter what the Driver does and where He takes me, it will be right. And I will be safe.

When All Else Fails

For the first time in almost twenty years, we are down to only one freezer: the little freezer over the fridge in the kitchen. Don't worry too much. It would have been unnatural to lug four freezers through as many moves...

But a family of seven really uses more than two square feet of freezer. I mean, it's pretty bad when you can't take advantage of the sales because you can't fit it in the freezer when you come home.

Or maybe not so bad...

When I was trying to find a space for frozen vegetables in the freezer tonight, I found I had an urgent need to use up the ice-cream.

'Till Death Do Part

Dad and Mom met in January 1982. You've heard of love at first sight, right? Dad wanted to set the date as early in the summer as possible. Mom didn't want to get married in July.

They were married on August 1st.

Yep! Twenty-four years ago.

I guess my growing up home has been pretty normal. I mean, I've seen better and worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health. The other thing I've seen isn't so normal. I've had parents who have stuck together through it all.

"Wow!" "That's a loooong time!"

Those are the normal responses of my work acquaintances when I tell them my parents are celebrating their 24th wedding anniversary. Together!

I find it sad that a 24 year marriage would elicit such totally awed amazement from so many people. It's fantastic, yes! But should it be odd? When did marriage vows jump ship anyway?

I have been so incredibly blessed to witness a marriage such as the one my parents have. More blessed than I realized as a child growing up. Blessed enough to say unequivocally that I want my someday-marriage to be cut out of the same cloth as theirs.

Blessed enough to see that as human beings we view our lives through a prism called Options. Every moment we measure a list of choices and select one to live by. And for me, in God's grace, divorce can never be one of the Options.

Because that's the way God wants it.

As my parents before me, I am committed to live through better and worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health 'till death do us part...OR until Jesus returns!

Whichever comes first.

Oh, and Happy Anniversary, Dad and Mom!

Anne and I

"Yes, it's green," moaned Anne. "I thought nothing could be as bad as red hair. But now I know it's ten times worse to have green hair. Oh, Marilla, you little know how utterly wretched I am."
- Anne of Green Gables

I'd say "that makes two of us" if I didn't feel so much like laughing.

Stylin'

They call it "swimmer's hair." It is popularly believed to be caused by chlorine. It only afflicts blondes.

No, I haven't been swimming since last summer. Contrary to popular belief, it isn't caused by chlorine. And, yes, I'm very much an afflicted blonde.

I knew I'd developed into a bad case when someone laughingly told me that "it's not a bad shade of green."

It took us a few days and a little research to track down the cause: a very high copper content in our water.

I'm still figuring out what to do about it.

I am also left wondering why people pay good money for green hair. And taking comfort in knowing that I look good in hats.

The Song That Never Ends

So we are getting new carpeting in the living room.

(Pause for cheers!!! Wave goodbye to the purple and green!!!)

As we emptied the living room yesterday (again), I commented to Mom that it feels like we have been doing nothing but move for the last year and a half. It is hard to put my finger on a week in which we weren't packing something, unpacking something, moving furniture, or looking for a place to live. There hasn't been a day we haven't done without something that is safely packed away in a box somewhere.

Lately, we've had to just buy things. Even though we know we already have one...safely packed way in a box somewhere.

As some of you already know, the Lord recently made it clear that Dad's assignment to our church here in Oregon has ended. It was a shorter assignment than we expected. But, then, my expectations and God’s plan for me are frequently polar opposites.

All of which is to say that we're once again living in a state of suspense. Does the Lord have another church assignment for us? Does He intend for us to stay here? Does He plan for us to move on?

I really don’t know.

Mostly, I can only admit to being distinctively human with only a very ordinary thirst for adventure. I like to know where I’m going to sleep tomorrow night. It’s nice when next payday has a date on the calendar. And I don’t like the word “indefinite” when it comes to boxes in storage.

But how can I complain?

One of my favorite verses is Deuteronomy 8:2,3. That was where God reminded the children of Israel of the history of their relationship with them. He advises them to “remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee…to prove thee, to know what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldest keep his commandments, or no.”

Then He reminded them that He “humbled thee, and suffered thee to hunger, and fed thee with manna…that he might make the to know that man doth not live by bread only, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord doth man live.”

If God had given Israel wheat and spinach, they wouldn’t have been hungry or expected anything more. And they would have totally missed out on the manna. Especially, they wouldn’t have learned to trust God and rely solely on His word for their living.

When I feel hungry for things I don’t have, I am learning to realize that the Lord is allowing that hunger…so that He can satisfy me with something deeper, something more ultimately lasting. My earthly security has been undergoing a slow but sure change of ownership process. I have been learning to trust what doesn’t change; I have been learning to be content when other things do change. And I know that’s what He always wanted.

And that knowledge is enough.

Enough to pack another box…or unpack…or repack. Enough to buy another set of measuring spoons even though I know we have a set safely packed away in storage. Enough to move furniture (again).

Enough to thoroughly enjoy new carpeting in a house we will probably sell soon.

It goes on and on, my friend…

Color Me Conservative

You probably never would have guessed this, but I am conservative.

I'm conservative in a lot of ways, but I honestly didn't think it showed that much. I mean, lately it's like I'm walking around with a big label on my forehead, "Bearer Is Conservative."

What really surprised me was when people started mentioning it.

Like a couple of weeks ago when I was sitting at my desk at work, minding my own business. At five o'clock a.m. on a Saturday morning, my own business was yawning and rubbing my eyes. I had met the girl at the desk next to mine not too long before, our good morning exchange had consisted of agreeing that we were both tired. Now, in the early morning quiet, she bluntly popped a surprising question, "Are you a Christian?"

I turned, studied her a moment, and smiled. I answered simply, "Yes."

After a pause, I asked her, "Are you?"

"No," she said. "No. I believe in God. But...I don't have a particular religion..."

"How did you know?" I couldn't help but ask after another pause.

"Oh, I have known other Christians before and you're just like them. Nice."

Our conversation was interupted by incoming calls...and we turned back to our call center business.

Even more surprising, perhaps, was the commentary of a total stranger I offered a ride home from work one afternoon. I had never met her before the day she caught me passing out of the office lobby and asked if I was driving towards her home. I wasn't, but I hated to think of her waiting indefinitely for a ride, so I offered to just drive her home.

Pulling out of the parking lot at work, I introduced myself and Paul. Two blocks later, she turned to look at me and said adamantly, "You seem really....really....different. Really....conservative."

And a moment later we knew that we had met a non-Christian who didn't mind "discussing" religion with Christians, but didn't want us to shove our beliefs in her face.

The third encounter was in the lunch room. Paul and I were enjoying lunch together when a work acquaintance walked in. We had occasionally chatted with him. He was another of those who had sometimes used the desk next to mine.

We smiled at him as he stood in front of our table for a moment, dead silent. Then he smiled too, and asked, "Can I ask you guys a personal question?"

Paul and I exchanged glances. "Sure," we agreed.

He was silent another moment and then burst out, "What religion are you? There is no one quite like you. You're so different. You're so...conservative."

Maybe my label should read, "Bearer Is Conservative. And Proud Of It."

Is there anything quite as exciting as knowing that being different shows? As knowing that God can let your normal, everyday, workaday self radiate him to an extent that people notice? And, more...that they ASK??

It's worth every bit of pilgriming.

My Hostess Posts

So, I am visiting in Washington state and it has been great (other than getting lost in the city, as usual). I have loved seeing the mountains again, going to a wedding, seeing some of my favorite people again. Including...Janel!! I am at her house now and we thought it would be fun if SHE did a blog post for me....


****

So apparently, I got tagged too only I got tagged to tag. Let me explain. My name is Janel and I frequently make comments on this blog (much to Katie's chagrin).

She IS a lover of words (except for “cool” “sweet” “dude” and “far out”). Very easily entertained. Somewhat opinionated (don't mess with her when she gets this way, it is bad for your health, trust me, I know). A really super, stupendous, magnificent, almost perfect (but not quite) friend.

She WANTS to visit all of her friends more often. For every one to email her more often. To be let out of cyber jail.

She WISHES Well, I don't know what she wishes for, but I wish that she would make up her mind about what she wishes for.

She HATES improper English I really, quite strongly do not suggest using slang around her (but she says she only corrects people in her family...or almost in her family).

She LOVES Christ Jesus.

She MISSES me, of course!

She FEARS not a whole lot...but...sometimes spiders.

She HEARS me typing, two different fans, a dog barking, me talking to myself, the tinkling sound she is making as she plays with her watch, the clock.

She WONDERS Why she has a personality that is subject to getting lost frequently, Why she picked a crazy friend like me.

She REGRETS not emailing her friends more (or at least she had better)She HOPES To have many children and grandchildren. (I say 50 to be precise, not that any one is counting....yet.)

She PRAYS for...her crazy friends like me. :)

She is NOT perfect (like, hello, did we really need her to tell us that?)

She SINGS soprano.

She CRIES more easily about something she doesn't care too much about than about something she really cares deeply about. Yeah, me too. What is it about us girls and crying over mostly those things that couldn't matter less? Don't cry over spilled milk, girls (but I'll let you cry over it if it was made into a shake).

She IS NOT ALWAYS A scatterbrain. Really, honest, she's not. I have yet to see it...but I've been told.

She MAKES WITH HER HANDS Long blog posts. (And short ones.) Just not frequently enough.She SHOPS for everyone but herself. If there is one thing that Katie is it is unselfish. (She doesn't think it is true, but it is)

She WRITES any thing and every thing that someone might possibly read.

She CONFUSES her “family and best friends when I say things before I think it through” YUP she does.

She NEEDS to not disappear into cyber space

She SHOULD (Write more letters).

She STARTS Many things (normally they are letters).

She FINISHES Some things (normally they are letters).

In Which I Am Tagged

Sometime between falling off the face of the earth and being banished to an insane asylum, BJ tagged me. I guess until I answer I am forever frozen in cyber jail. Something like that...

Anyway, here I be.

I AM a follower of Jesus. Usually putting off some project or other. A lover of words. Friendly. Irritable when I'm tired. Easily entertained. Somewhat opinionated. An avoider of unnecessary conflict. A daughter, big sister, and friend. Blonde.

I WANT to see people come to know Jesus. A milkshake. Strong muscles without the pain of building them up. An armed guard for my tongue. My clothes that are still in storage.

I WISH I was just like Jesus. That the radio was on because I am a fan of backround noise. That my closet shelf was tidy. That the neighbors were shooting off fireworks since we aren't doing any this year.

I HATE my own sin. Socks that fall down. Improper English. Using slang. When my pride takes a fall. Acne.

I LOVE Jesus. My family, my friends. My country. Ripe strawberries. Milkshakes. Achieving goals. Reading, writing, and playing piano. Clocks and watches, especially the kind that tick. Flowers. Weddings. Birthdays. Sunsets. Clouds. Shadows.

I MISS some of the mountaintop times I've had with Jesus. The mountains in Washington. My friends scattered through the country. Being little enough to ride on Dad's shoulders. Having a baby in the house.

I FEAR failing the Lord somehow. Heights. Deep water.

I HEAR Paul typing. The computer fan. The refrigerator fan. Some firecrackers. Crickets.

I WONDER how long it will be before Jesus comes. Who will run for the Presidential election on the Republican ticket next year. If I will get lost when I visit Seattle this week. How many more times I will move in my life. How much it will cost to give my car a tune up.

I REGRET losing focus often on the Lord. Not exercising more. Eating too much sugar.

I HOPE I will live to be a mature and wise old lady. I have many children and grandchildren. I learn to braid rugs and weave baskets. I learn to keep my room tidy. I get to travel to another country.

I PRAY for forgiveness, for direction, for friends and family. Because I am commanded to. Because I love to talk to the Lord. When I'm upset. When I'm not upset. Less than I should.

I AM NOT perfect. A tomboy. Of a scientific nature. Usually hard to please. Without strong convictions.

I SING in praise to the Lord. When I'm happy. A lot. Sometimes dramatically. Making up the words as I go along.

I CRY sometimes when I know I've sinned. When I'm in pain. When I'm frustrated and upset. More easily about something I don't care too much about than about something I really care deeply about.

I AM NOT ALWAYS unselfish. Considerate. Smiling. A scatterbrain.

I MAKE WITH MY HANDS music. An untidy room. Long blog posts. (And short ones.) Long letters (and short ones). Dinner.

I SHOP for everyone in the family. Sales and coupons! Quickly. With as little money as possible.

I WRITE blog posts, letters, e-mails. All day for my job. A journal. Notes to myself if I really want to remember something.

I CONFUSE people who think that I am serious all the time. People who think I am a flibberty-gibbet all the time. My family and best friends when I say things before I think it through.

I NEED to memorize more Scripture. To pack for a trip to Washington. To eat regularly. New socks soon. New shoes soon.

I SHOULD stop second guessing my own decisions so easily. Go to bed soon. Finish this tag. Catch up on my journalling.

I START many projects. Reading a book. Early most mornings.

I FINISH some projects. Some books. Late some nights.

I TAG Bethany, Ashes and whoever else will do it. (Anna, I don't think I saw yours???!)

From Silence

No, I didn't fall of the face of the earth.

No, I haven't dissapeared into thin air.

No, I didn't hide in the closet. Even after I put so much olive oil in my hair trying to mosturize it that I smelled like olive oil for a week.

No, I don't have a good excuse for not talking to y'all lately. Other than I have been busy washing olive oil out of my hair.

Oh, and if it helps you any, my sister says I should be in an insane asylum.

Ah, I thought so. I knew you didn't want to hear the rest....

Un-Star

Have you ever lived one of those weeks in which you are shocked to suddenly realize you aren't perfect?

Welcome to my life.

Am I a Failure?

Three years ago, I graduated from highschool.

That means for three years I have been qualifying myself to answer the questions, "Did homeschooling work? Were you undersocialized? Overprotected? Was the "real world" a shock?"

As a child, I did school at the kitchen table. I didn't spend a lot of time with peers. And I was was kept from the full knowledge of what evil can be. That includes being kept from movies, songs, and magazines that were typical among others my own age.

Yes. I was sheltered.

From the shelter of my home and church, however, I was taught some fundemental truths that make me who I am. I don't know that I would have learned them any other way...

1) Evil is evil is evil is evil. I was taught to recognize and resist evil. Evil is like poison. You don't need to know the name of every poison in order to learn not to drink poison. You need only learn to read the label on the bottle and to be taught the self discipline to refrain from drinking.

2) Only what's done for Christ will last. I was taught to want the gold of life. Life is like digging for treasure. You can spend a lot of time digging and never find anything, or you can look at the map. Just because you dig a hole doesn't mean there's going to be treasure at the bottom. Some holes are worth digging, and some are a pure waste of time.

3) Others may, I cannot. I was taught that saying "no" to poison can be uncool, and that treasure hunting can be a lonely business. Standing alone is like fresh white snow. Some people respect your purity. Some people just want to walk on you and dirty you if possible. But no matter what happens, your job is to be snow. That is what you are.

It has been a couple of years now that I have lived life in the "real world."

I spend more time interacting with adults than I do with my peers. I spend more time with non-Christians than with Christians. I manage my own money and make life-impacting decisions. I love my family. I know that life is short, and I have a purpose in living. I am willing to pay a price to live my life for Jesus.

And...I'd like to homeschool my children someday.

An (isolated) Incident

There are disadvantages to doing any kind of remodelling.

Disadvantages like, you can't find anything you own. Among the items lost amid my shuffle was an unopened canister of raisins. I bought them at Wal-Mart to take as a snack to work. I had a few raisins left in my old canister which I have been zealously saving until such time as my brand new container should materialize.

There is a point to this story.

Last Monday, I had a bad headache. Dad kindly gave me two advil to knock it out. I took only one of them since that is usually enough to get me back on my feet, then I put the other one into my raisin canister. The almost empty one.

Hey, it was the only handy canister in sight.

So Saturday my new, unopened canister of raisins turned up in the pile of laundry room "stuff."

(Don't ask.)

I was hungry at the moment, so I immediately decided it was as good a time as any to finish off my old raisins. Accordingly I sat down to have a small snack.

The raisins were very good. Smiling contentedly, I put the last few into my mouth. There was something hard in the middle. I wondered vaguely what it was, but not for long....

We've Had Issues

Wonder why I haven't posted lately?

I could string off my excuses, but I'd rather count my blessings.

For one, we now have hot, running water in 2/3d's of the sinks in the house and I'm as happy as a...duck??

It all started a couple of weeks ago when I was sick in bed. And my grandparents were visitng from out of town. And we were painting the bedrooms. And tearing out panelling in the living room. And the guys came to remodel the bathroom.

In fact, our house looked--and felt--like nothing less than a disaster zone. As if someone had taken everything in the house, thrown it into the middle, and stirred it with a big spoon, then covered it in dropcloths, an inch and a half layer of dust, and some splashes of wet paint.

The situation wasn't truly desparate, however, until the hot water tank started leaking all over the laundry room floor. That was shortly before the kitchen sink started spraying water out of the back side instead of the faucet.

(In proof of human adaptability, Dad's commentary on the subject was, "It couldn't happen at a better time.")

While waiting for the hot water heater to be replaced, we happily reverted to the bathroom sink, grateful that we had a hot water heater for each end of the house. That was before the pipes underneath the bathroom sink came to a watery end. The soggy toilet paper underneath the sink and an assortment of shampoos and soaps were added to the disorganized pile of "stuff" scattered about the house, and the bathroom sink was turned off for a few days.

In the process of restoring us to civilized society, the "workers" turned our water on and off sporadically for several days.

And, incidentally, the heat in the bedrooms.

Maybe this doesn't sound very uncomfortable to you.

But I assure you we were about ready to dial 1-800-RED-CROSS.

But, not to complain. We're more or less back to normal, other than one bathroom being torn out and half of our stuff being piled together and covered in 2 inches of dust and dropcloths. And I developed a gratefulness for water that only slightly surpasses my gratefulness for paper plates.

Pizza, anyone?

Going For Gold

"Try not to let the glitter of the moment keep you from the gold of life."
- "Dear Abbie" style advice by columnist Carolyn Van Wyck to a reader of "Photoplay" magazine, 1926

How many of today's pleasures will be tomorrow's ashes?

It is worth considering.

Because glitter is pretty. And real gold is rare. And in the spotlight of the moment, it's hard to tell gold and glitter apart.

Lately, as I have settled into a new community and a new job, I have accomplished many worthy goals. And, to me, accomplishing a goal is a sparkling moment.

But have I been more focused on the transitory goals of today than on the long-term goals the Lord has for my life? For His kingdom? For my growth and maturity into one who is more like His own Son?

Yes, I have.

And in so doing, I have been cheating myself of the gold of life.

For when I feel I've done a job well, that is glitter.

But to look forward to His "well done, good and faithful one"...that is gold.

A Stitch In Time Saves Nine??

Bad news travels fast.

I do hate to be the bearer of bad news. But in this case I simply must point out that there are a few flaws in the wisdom passed down to us from yesteryear.

Sometimes, I don't think that all the facts were known when the great proverbs of the English language were coined.

First, April showers may bring May flowers, but I gaurentee you that March showers bring April weeds first. And green as the grass may be on the other side of the fence, the weeds are always greener on my side.

The weeds do, of course, prove that "birds of a feather flock together." Simultaneously, I'm glad to report that they disprove the principle that "there is safety in numbers." And, happily, we already knew that being "in for a penny" we would be "in for a pound." As they say, "forewarned is forearmed."

I can also take comfort in knowing that weeds choose not to "divide and conquer" to their own eventual ruin.

If only I could take equal comfort in the thought that "time heals all wounds." Time alone can not heal this wound. Instead, we really must depend on "many hands" to "make light the work." Sadly, there is little to show for our labor. For though diligence is called the "mother of good fortune, " in this case it is only a sad fortune that is "here today and gone tomorrow."

Despite the threat that "opportunity seldom knocks twice," I am personally convinced that the weed kingom is entertaining tomorrow's opportunities before today is even over. Of course I feel that this is a terrible "insult added to injury."

Fortunately, spring and summer don't last forever. They say "he who laughs last, laughs longest." And so I shall. All the winter long. At the same time, I'll disprove another cliche. For I am quite determined that absence shall not make the heart grow fonder.

Meanwhile, permit me to remind you that "a friend in need is a friend indeed."

Also that I have a yard full of weeds.

And misery loves company.

Back In The Day

Have you ever wondered why the climate of our nation today is so much less "moral" than it was when our grandparents were born?

Not to point fingers especially, because I don't think the shift can be pinned down to one particular cause...

But last week I was looking at a lovely selection of historical photos from our area. Among the pictures was one which was especially intriguing.

It was the picture of a highschool graduating class from 1910. Each young person is holding their diploma, and they are standing around and underneath a huge arch. The words emblazoned on the arch?

Wisom.
Love.
Excellence.
Cheerfulness.
Courage.
Industry.
Faith.
Knowledge.
Temperance.
Obedience.
Patience.
Courtesy.
Loyalty.
Virtue.
Perserverance.
Reverence.
Charity.

Tried looking at a modern highschool yearbook lately? Or newspaper snapshots of a graduating class?

Why I Shop At Thrift Stores

Usually, if I can't find it at the thrift store, and they don't sell it at the grocery store...I buy it at Wal-Mart. Unfortunately, I don't like the current sleepwear selection at Wal-Mart. And the thrift store rarely sells nightwear that is in good shape.

So, naturally, I have been arguing with myself for months about where to buy another nightgown.

This week, when my head went through the wrong hole, the argument was over.

I went to the mall.

I had a mild headache when I went into the mall and briskly steered my course toward J.C. Penny. It is really too bad I was looking for flannel. I didn't have to look long before I realized that J.C. Penny was fully stocked with springwear, with not a scrap of flannel to be seen. Not a scrap under $30.00 either, of course.

Disappointed, I headed for Ross.

Then Macy's, clear at the other end of the mall.

I had a ragging headache by the time I wearily stepped back into Penny's. I had concluded that Penny's carried the least worst of about three dozen evils, and I would try one of their nightgowns on.

You would have had to be there to believe how long it took me to find the fitting room, tucked into an obscure corner of the store. I was already frustrated when I crossed the fitting room threshold only to be startled by a loud BEEP! By loud, I mean I could easily imagine that everyone in the entire mall now knew that SOMEONE had entered the fitting room.

Meekly, I slipped back out the fitting room door (to the tune of another BEEP!!), and warily looked around for an employee to come rushing up and hustle me out...or call the police.

Nothing happened, so taking courage in hand, I peered through the opening to see if there were any instructional signs about fitting room use. Seeing none, I stepped in again (BEEP!!!). Staring at the inside wall, I found a sign which instructed me to "ask any associate to let you into the fitting room."

Guility, I dashed out. (BEEP!!!)

An older woman was standing near the door in the jeans section, and she gave me quite the quizical look. By this time, I felt like a little child. And I'm sure I sounded like one to everyone else in the store. Sheepishly, I explained that I didn't know whether I should go in and use it or find an employee. Smiling, she instructed, "Just go in."

So I did. (BEEP!!!!)

The nightgown was way not what I wanted.

Plus, I had to redo my hair after pulling it on and off over my head.

I left the fitting room (BEEP!!!!), put the nightgown back, and officially gave up the hunt. I plodded wearily back to the car.

Just as I was about to get into the car, I realized something was missing. With a sinking feeling, I realized that I had entered the mall carrying my wallet and that, now, I didn't have it. With an even sinkier feeling, I realized I must have left it in the fitting room.

I prayed all the way back into the mall. And then even harder, as I trundled back into J.C. Penny. I was in a state of breathless suspense by the time I dashed through the fitting room door (BEEP!!!!).

It was still there!

Praising the Lord, I barely heard the final BEEP(!!!!) as I escaped the fitting room, left the store for the third time that day, and went back to my car with a pounding headache.

The next day, just for fun, I took Abigail to the thrift store to look for a new dress to wear on Easter. We browsed racks full of decently priced clothing. There was a lot of variety. We could have bought a wardrobe for the entire year under that one roof. Silently, I went in and out of the fitting room many times.

Smiling, I left the thrift store with a nice warm nightgown in good shape. It cost me less than $5.00.

THIS Is The Question:

How can snails be cute when slugs are so incredibly ugly?

Stop! Read The Directions!!

I do the grocery shopping for our family.

And I take some degree of pride in how quickly I can complete shopping for seven people for one week's worth of supplies.

Yes, the keyword to this story is "pride."

Yesterday, as always, I finished shopping promptly. It was with the deepest satisfaction that I pushed my Very Full Cart into the shortest, most quickly moving line and began unloading it.

It takes a while to unload a Very Full Cart.

About a quarter of the way through my unloading, I noticed people checking my line to see how short it was, rolling their eyes and moving off. Sadly, this is somewhat normal. Did I mention my cart was very full?

About halfway through unloading the cart, I heard the voice of my checker over the loudspeaker, requesting further helpers at the checkstands.

In my final burst of energetic efficiency, I hadn't bothered to look for directional signs before getting in line. Now, hearing his distress call, I looked at the sign above my head with a sinking heart.

My face reddened. My efficiency was no more a shining halo on my head, but now a badge of disgrace the world could stare at.

For there I stood, with a Very Full Cart, half unloaded, directly below a sign that said in Big Bold Letters fit for the half-blind to read:

"Express Checkout
15 items or less."

Did you ever hear that "pride comes before a fall"?

It's true.

A Complaining Moment

It's not that I mind paying taxes...

....I just wish that my tax return would auto-file.

I don't like paperwork.

I don't like math.

And I don't like record keeping.

***

Why am I so much more likely to complain about the things I don't like than express gratefulness for the things I enjoy?

God commands me to "give thanks in all things," but half the time, I don't even bother to "give thanks" for pleasant things.

I wonder how often ungratefulness sullies my witness for Christ in the world?

Reporting From Duty

Well, in case you all haven't kept track, I thought you'd want to note that I started training for my job two months ago.

Don't worry, I had to look up the date in order to tell you. I haven't kept track either.

Are you wondering what it's like to work in a call center?

I can tell you. There are frustrating moments, challenging moments, thrilling moments, puzzling moments, relaxing moments, and embarresing moments...but there is never a dull moment!

I talk to between seventy and eighty customers most of my work days and no two calls are identical. There's more than enough variety to go around when you're handling situations like these...

A gentleman who demanded that I make his new phone arrive at his house Saturday afternoon. It had already been shipped Fed-Ex overnight, and was scheduled for delivery Monday. Fed-Ex does not deliver on Saturday.

A gentleman who downright refused a $25.00 monetary credit to his next bill.

A gentleman who called to ask if he needed to do anything to activate his new phone and make it work. He called from his new phone to ask this question.

A husband and wife team who took turns yelling at me for about ten minutes because I wouldn't give them $200.00 for an old phone they didn't want anymore.

A lady who wanted me to keep her son from paying his bill with her credit card.

A salesman associated with our company who couldn't figure out how to make a wireless headseat work.

I've been hung up on, and had people ask for my extension so they could talk to me every time. I've been accused of being unproductive and unhelpful, and I've been told that I made someone's day by being so helpful. I've been called heartless and stupid. But I've also been told that I'm the friendliest customer service representative ever.

So I guess the truth is somewhere in the middle.

I'm just an ordinary person who answers telephones for a living....and who's not about to complain about it.

Imagine!! I actually get paid for talking all day!

This is the life...

Keepsakes

I like a dash of drama in life.

So, I admit I enjoy an occasional hail storm. Escecially if I am wrapped up in about three sweaters, rolled up in a blanket, and watching it come down with a pane of glass between.

Last week we were treated to a hail storm about once every day. I would have been delighted, but since I spend most of my days cooped up in a big building far from the windows, I missed most of the show.

Please don't feel bad for me, however. John, Abigail, and Peter were so impressed by the size of the hailstones that they caught a handful and stuck them in the freezer to show me when I got home.

Life is short...preserve it if you can!

An Entirely Random Thought

Have you ever thought about how difficult it would be to invent a truly new and unique type of breakfast cereal?

In Which I Repudiate Anxiety

I'm a cautious--or maybe an arrogant--soul. I don't like to announce success and then experience failure. Maybe that's why I waited until the end of February to announce my motto for the year.

I admit, it isn't super spiritual. And it sounds rather cliche-ish. But I'm going to inflict it on you anyway...it is simply this:

"Do the next thing."

And whatever it sounds like, my motto is really a statement of surrender.

This spring will mark the third year that has passed since my highschool graduation. And I've given up trying to figure out the future.

My hunger to have the game plan for the next ten years, five years, or at least one year of the future has abated recently. God has given me bliss in ignorance. There is no way I can obey Him for ten years in one blow anyway. Obedience will always be a day by day duty. Even if He did give me a peek at the future, life would still have to be faced one day at a time. And His pleasure in me will never come from me knowing where I'm headed tomorrow; His delight will always stem from the obedience of today.

And so I am willing to wait on the future. If He shows me the road two or more steps ahead, I'll thank Him (I think). If not, that's okay too (at the moment). I know He knows, and I know I can trust Him. Either way, I'm determined to stick with my motto and tackle first things first.

And in case you didn't notice, I'm still playing it safe. This is a motto, not a resolution. Come August or September, you might have to remind me I said this.

Spring Is Expensive

I welcomed the first signs of oncoming spring this year with open arms.

So did my sister.

Personally, I love the flowers.

But much as she likes flowers, I sometimes think she loves dirt more.

The growing season is about to begin here in Southern Oregon, and Abigail has donned her t-shirt (but no shorts) and ventured forth to break up the sod for a brand new garden.

Gardening is not for cowards. Finding help desirable, she struck a bargain with innocent Peter. If Peter helps her prepare her garden, she will pay him with seeds so he can plant his own garden. He enthusiastically agreed, and the duo has managed to turn over quite a lovely little patch of sod. Barefoot, to boot.

Abigail meanwhile is faced with another difficulty. Cheap as her labor came, she must still finance the venture. For this, she decided to begin an ironing business.

This time it was innocent I who was ensnared.

"Did you say you had clothes to iron?" Abigail asked sweetly, this evening.

"Yes, but I don't want to iron them tonight." I replied, rather shortly. Abigail has been begging me to iron her clothes when I finally get around to actually ironing my own.

"I could iron them for you tomorrow," Abigail said. But before my eyes could grow wide with surprise and delight, she added the catch, "for a small fee."

At fifty cents per article of clothing, she is about to earn enough to buy dozens of seed packets. Remember, most of my clothes have just come out of storage. And I don't have a lot of extra time these days.

It's not such a bad deal in the end. Abigail weeds, worries, and revels in the dirt all summer; I wear pressed clothes and eat fresh vegtables come fall.

But I can't wait that long for flowers. I spent four dollars on daffodils last time I went to the grocery store.

It Ain't Over 'Till It's Over!

I am about as star-struck as any schoolgirl when it comes to figure skating.

To watch, that is. I tried ice-skating last fall and I loved it, but I've got news for you: it isn't as effortless at it looks! Disillusionment aside, my enjoyment in watching this beautiful sport has not diminished. I love watching it every four years when the Winter Olympics roll around.

And I will admit, there is something about the Olympics that strikes a unique cord within me. I can go weeks, months, years without thinking twice about sports of any kind. But let the Olympics come around and I don't limit my range to figure skating. I'll watch any sport that comes up...even the brand-spanking new "snowboard cross" that almost makes me want to hold my breath and turn my head lest someone be killed before my eyes.

No one was killed in the women's "snowboard cross" finals, but I did see something else that I won't be forgetting soon. I watched an American lose the gold. Why? She later explained that she fell losing her balance. At the time, the newscaster assumed that she had become overconfident after gaining a huge leading margin in the race.

Whatever the real explanation of her fall: for me, it was a warning. A warning against complacency in my walk with the Lord.

Sometimes, after I have reached one "milestone" or another in my walk with the Lord, I feel that somehow, in that moment, I have "arrived." I have "beaten" some wrong thought pattern or recurring sin. Or perhaps I have learned something new about God, something even life changing. Maybe I haven't reached the finish line; but I feel that I am at least far enough ahead of where I started that I can relax for a while.

I become complacent and proud.

And then I stumble and fall.

The Christian life has been compared to a race many times. And this week I have seen that as I "press on" towards Christ, it isn't enough to get a good start on a life of godliness. It isn't enough to be godly for a month, or a year, or two years, or ten. It isn't enough to stand on "higher ground" today than I did yesterday.

That is all good--necessary, indeed, for spiritual growth.

But I can't be forgetting...it isn't over until it's over.

"[I speak] not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect...I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Let us therefore, as many as be perfect, be thus minded: and if in any thing ye be otherwise minded, God shall reveal even this unto you."
Philippians 3:12-15

Moving Pains

Considering how much Oregon has to gain by adding new taxpayers to its ranks, one would have thought that the process of becoming a naturalized Oregonian would be fast, easy, and fun. Or at least cheap. In reality, I suppose that might have been a viable hope only if the government hadn't been involved, and if I always behaved like a responsible adult.

As it was, my hope of an easy transition was quelled within two weeks of our move. That was when I realized that I couldn't prove to the government that I was a legal resident of Oregon. I mean, normally one assumes that if one is eating, sleeping, working, and paying taxes in a place, one is therefore "living" in that place. Think again. In this crazy place, if one is living in a hotel, one must live there for six months or more before being considered a resident of the state.

So, when we moved here and domiciled ourselves temporarily in a motel while we looked for a home, we were merely "transients."

This presented some practical challenges. For example, since we were no longer living in Washington, our insurance agency there informed us they could no longer cover us. Without a valid Oregon driver's license, the insurance agency here informed us they would be unable to begin covering us.

Possibly I don't need to point out that we were at this point living in a state of acute "catch 22." But I will anyway.

And in case you missed out on the word "acute," please to note that my insurance policy happened to be due to expire around that time.

Some pitying insurance agent, bless her, was able to get us covered and we moved on with our life-in-limbo. My hopes for an easy transition only became higher with the delay.

I don't like life to be complicated.

When we moved into a house in December, I had a short to-do list.
1) Celebrate Christmas.
2) Get mail at my new house so I could get a driver's license.

That was before I learned that an Oregon driver's license is not for poor men. Or, as I was forced to ruefully concede, jobless girls. That was also before I realized that in order to get a job I would have to order a replacement Social Security Card from the Social Security Administration because my card was somewhere in storage.

I now cherish a somewhat illogical grudge against the Social Security Administration. Anyplace that makes their customers wait for longer than thirty minutes to be helped should invest in comfortable chairs.

It wasn't until early February that I decided I could pass muster with the Department of Licensing. With my first two paychecks safely obtained, a brand new Social Security card, a statement from my insurance company for proof of residency, a head full of knowledge to take the required knowledge test, and an afternoon off to spend in yet another government office, I was ready to go.

This is where the part about (im)maturity and (lack of) personal responsibility comes in. I had withdrawn a couple of hundred dollars from the bank to cover licensing fees. When it came time to go, I couldn't find the money anywhere.

Instead of becoming Oregonized, I spent most of the afternoon hunting in obscure nooks and crannies of my bedroom and moaning my unfortunate habits of disorganization.

By the time my wonderful mother, bless her, found the money...it was too late and the visit had to be put off another week.

When I arrived at the licensing office yesterday, I was calm and collected. No one could have told, looking at me, that it had taken three hair-pulling months to get everything ready to change my lisence over. No one saw my inward grimaces when I was quoted $175.50 in fees to change my lisences over to Oregon.

And when I came up with only $171.00 and had to use the ATM machine, no one knew the inward pain it gave me to pay the $1.09 fee required to withdraw the $4.50 I needed to pay my total bill.

And no one knew that I was inwardly promising myself to stick around Oregon for a good long time. Lord willing. This is not a process that human nature is designed to endure too many times in a lifetime.

This is the stuff gray hair is made of.

My "Sevens"

Some of you have probably noticed the "sevens" that have been floating, with minor variations, through blogosphere. I am taking my turn like a good girl. If you haven't done it yet, consider yourself tagged.

1. Seven things to do before I die:
Learn to obey God without question.
Go on an archeological dig .
Eat potatoes and honey together.
Visit Greenland.
Make cookies with my grandchildren.
Weave a basket.
Write a book.

2. Seven things I cannot do:
Fold a fitted sheet neatly.
Be humble.
Whistle.
Not smile when I'm happy.
Cry on demand.
Sulk.
Spell correctly.

3. Seven qualities I find attractive in the opposite sex, assuming godliness tops the list:
Gentleness.
Compassion for people.
A sense of humor.
Storytelling skills.
Good looks. =)
A far reaching vision for the future.
A strong prayer life.

4. Seven things I say most often:
"Lord willing."
"Thank you for calling Sprint together with Nextel"
",like,"
"You know...."
"Not me."
"Have a great day."
"You are/that is correct."

6. Seven movies I would watch over and over again:
Sound of Music.
Pride and Prejiduce.
Seargent York.
It's a Wonderful Life.
St. John in Exile.
Life is Beautiful.
Time Changer.

7. Seven foods I regularly consume.
Beans.
Rice.
Peanut butter (preferably with tomatoes).
Oatmeal.
Ice-cream.
Nuts.
Raisins.

Quality, Not Quantity

"We live less than the time it takes to blink an eye, if we measure our lives against eternity...I learned a long time ago that a blink of an eye in itself is nothing. But the eye that blinks, that is something.
A span of life is nothing. But the man who lives that span, he is something.
He can fill that tiny span with meaning, so its quality is immeasurable though its quanity may be insignificant."
- Chaim Potok

Rooting for The Home Team

I am not normally what you might call sports-conscious. Nevertheless, it has filtered through my consciousness that the Seattle Seahawks are playing in the Super Bowl this Sunday.

I still haven't figured out who they're playing against, but since I hale from Washington...here's hoping that the Seahawks are eating their wheaties!!

Off On a Tangent

Is it only me, or could life be accurately described as a highly complicated balancing act?

A couple of weeks ago, I posted about living a life that is different from the world. You may not have known it at the time, but I was speaking from one of my favorite soapboxes. And so, because it is a favorite subject, and because I'm still learning balance, I want to touch on the topic again and highlight some balancing ideas.

You see, I really think that many conservative Christians take the idea of living differently from the world and run with it, ignoring one important point:

"Weird" is not synonymous with "repulsive."

As I represent God on this earth, I know I'm going to have enemies. I know people aren't going to understand me or my perspective. I know that if I truly live life by God's principles, I'm going to stick out like the proverbial "sore thumb."

People are going to notice me.

The question remains. When they notice me, what will they notice? Will I be easy to talk to? Will I be friendly and kind? Will I dress attractively? Will I be truly interested in their lives?

It is easy to lock myself into a little box, remembering that I am different from the world and anxious that the world should perceive that difference. It can be all too simple to forget that how I interact with others on the personal level can affect their response to Christ.

I don't have to compromise to be approachable! I can be compassionate without denying the love and sovereignty of God! I can dress modestly and attractively at the same time. I can avoid an attitude of censure while still maintaining a zero tolerance for sin!

I love to recall that as Christ's redeemed representative, I am different. But I must also remember that it's okay to be likable. While "making people like me" is not my life's goal, I am at the same time free to let people like me. And, when they do, I can hope that God will give me an opportunity to say, "If you like me, you'll love my Lord!"

Another truth I think many conservative Christians miss out on is that "weird" is not synonymous with "ignorant."

In the comments on my original post, Nicole summarized this idea very well when she said, "Like Christ we must be aware of- but not engrossed in- the current culture of the day that we may respond to the evils with Christ's truth."

It can be all too easy, in my contentment with my different life, to become complacently unwilling to become involved with the big bad world outside. My home, church, and nice Christian friends can become a sort of coccoon. I know I'm weird, and I like to be with other people who are also weird. After all, we usually understand and accept each other.

I am often in danger of forgetting that the Christian life isn't about comfort. It's about obedience to the Lord's commands--among which is the admonition to "Go ye..."--uncomfortable to the bravest soul! It is easy to forget that my life on earth is about warfare, not easychairs; crosses, not crowns; sacrifice, not complacency. To do a good job of it, it's good to be aware of what I'm up against. And I must be able to communicate with those who are in the world in a way in which they can understand. Indeed, it is my duty to be informed about my culture!

My mission is to proclaim Christ's name, fight Christ's enemies, and love Christ's created beings. To do so, I must be informed of Christ's gospel, aware of the enemies' tactics, and humbled by Christ's discipline!

Meanwhile, if you should ever hear that I have succeeded in living a balanced life, you have my official permission to celebrate my passing to the heavenly realm!

A Dash of Realism

You've heard it said that "to every cloud there is a silver lining"?

Tonight, I shall remind you that you only identify a ray of sunlight when it shines through a cloud.

My ray of sunlight at the moment is that I only have a two-and-a-half minute commute to work.

My cloud is that two-and-a-half minutes is not long enough for the car's passenger compartment to become truly warm.

An Unexpected Blessing

The last three days have been totally unique in my history.

Those of you who know me well will understand completely if I merely tell you that I, Katie in very flesh and blood, went outside today, this twenty-fourth day of January, in short sleeves, wearing neither sweater nor coat, and wasn't the least bit cold.

Yes, January or no, our little corner of Oregon has decided it's spring....at least, for a moment. The flowering fruit trees suddenly burst into bloom on Sunday. The windows have all been open in the house. And the thermometer has hovered around seventy degrees.

It is almost enough to make me forget the ten plus inches of icy rain that has descended here in January alone, the fearsome gusts of gale force wind off of the ocean, the thick hail stones, and the fact that Sunday was probably the first full day of sunlight I've seen since the beginning of December.

I can't help thinking today about God's graciousness in tucking a little "surprise" spring right into the dead of winter...and how often He does that in our spiritual lives as well! How frequently in a dark and dreary season of life, we will find some of the sweetest blessings in life. A special verse that seems just for us in His Word, a song that rings in our heart always meaning more to us afterwards, a friendship that blossoms in the "dark days" and then stays on. The "winter" may stick around for a while, but God often has a glimmer of "spring" hiding in the middle of it!

Singing, I escaped the house this afternoon to weed in the garden. No one asked me to. The whole world was calling me outside! It was wonderful feeling the soft dirt under my fingernails, the warm air against my cheek--joining for a while in the celebration of the beautiful, if transient, "spring." A fairy tale moment!

Until my hand accidentally grasped a slug, well disguised near the roots of one of my flourishing weeds.

Then I remembered. I live in Oregon.

And it's January.

Weird By Any Other Name

I don't follow current movies and I could count the actresses and actors I know on one hand.

I don't know the popular bands and singers.

And, just for the record, I don't drink coffee.

Many people call me weird. Other people make the biggest fuss you can imagine about how "sheltered" I am. I have even been told that I don't know how to have "real" fun. (If you believe that, you have forgotten that I count pinecone throwing among of my skills.)

I don't generally enjoy being painted with a description like "weird." I mean, after all, most people don't mean it as a compliment. Besides, I feel like a perfectly normal human being.

I forget sometimes how different I really am...how that because of the redeeming blood of Christ, I am a new creature! I have a new family, a new citizenship, a new purpose, a new ruling passion, a new set of rules to live by, and the hope of a new body!! There's no getting around it. I am different. And, what people frequently notice first, I act differently.

People in the world with whom I rub shoulders tend to noice the small "lines of conflict" between my life and their own. Things like...I don't drink. I don't flirt. I don't party. And, incidentally, I haven't kept track of the latest celebrities and rock bands. These people don't understand me, and so they describe me mentally with that useful catch-all word: "weird."

Lately, after giving it some thought, I have begun to see the value of the description. Maybe I shouldn't be so uncomfortable about it after all. As I recall the life of Jesus I realize how different He was from His own culture. Maybe they didn't call Him "weird," but that doesn't mean they weren't thinking it.

Yes...Jesus was different from His world. And living a life that is dedicated to following Him means that I must live differently from my world.

Best of all, standing upon the platform of my "different life," the Lord gives me opportunities to obey Him by proclaiming His Name to the world. There is a Savior like no other who can give them not only a different life, but a different end! I can tell you about Him!

Meanwhile, I'd be glad if you would think of me as "weird."

Disclaimer: I am not anti-movie, anti-acting, or anti music. =)
Claimer: I am anti-coffee. =)

American? Proud of it?

I am a conservative supporter of "local authority." I am convinced that the federal government is a total failure at micromanaging the lives of its citizens. And the harder it tries, the worse the outcome.

But, at the same time, I understand that the federal government is not always the bad guy. It has a role to play, and it is equipped and empowered to play it. If it only would!

This very day, it seems that the highest court in our land has forgotten what I learned in elementary school. Remember? The Declaration of Independence.

"We hold these Truths to be self evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, and that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness--That to secure these Rights, Governments are instituted among Men..." (emphasis mine)

And how about the fifth amendment entitled "The Rights of Persons"?

"No person shall...be deprived of life, liberty, or property,
without due process of law..." (emphasis mine)

I'm no lawyer, but I can't help concluding from a superficial reading of these words that my federal government is supposed to protect my life and that of my neighbor.

Am I off track somehow? Today, six of the most learned and prominent leaders in America have disagreed with my surmise.

Today, I live in the only state in this nation wherein it is not only legal to kill myself, but legal for my doctor to help me do it.

Tomorrow, you may be living under the permission. After all, who is going to stop them?

And how much longer can this nation flaunt its ungratefulness for God's most basic gifts, and its rebellion against His most basic laws...and expect Him to bless it?

Evergreen Fun

A truly impressive pile of pinecones crowns the hill. A smaller pile adorns the base of a tree on the field below. Pinecones in all shapes and sizes litter the ground between. It's raining lightly and the wind is picking up, whipping my hair into one big tangle.

Abigail and John have formed a team on the hill while Peter and I secure ourselves behind a sturdy tree or two with a ditch between. The lines are drawn. The boys edge towards each other while Abigail and I trade insults.

"Why don't you come after us?" I taunt.

"Why don't you come after us?" she returns.

"Discretion is the better part of valor."

"You're too scared to come after us."

"Is that a dare?"

"Yes."

I laugh uproariously. "I am too wise and mature to take every dare I hear. You lose."

"Like I said, you're scared."

"And you," I grin broadly, "are a chicken. First class."

"This is really boring. Why am I even bothering to watch such cowardice? Think I'll go to sleep."

I yawn likewise. "Cautious defence before rash offence."

"Age before beauty." She simpered.

This was too much. I precipitately stormed the hill.

"Back, knave!"

Despite the undeniably illustrious example of my anscestors at Bunker Hill, I retreated a few moments later.

But I was not only alive, but free and relatively unharmed. Ready to fight another day. Or within the the next five minutes, as the case turned out to be. I won the next round by forgetting the pinecones altogether and taking Abigail prisoner by force.

Hey, I may have one foot in the grave, but I have figured out that there's more than one way to skin a cat.

Live and Learn

I got a new dress for Christmas.

It was not just any dress. This was a special dress that I picked out from the thrift store with a Christmas gift certificate. It is a beautiful dress.

Yesterday, I decided I should wash it. We always wash clothes from the thrift store. Since there were no washing instructions on the tag, I decided to wash it in the washing machine and then hang it dry. I left those directions with my brothers and sister, and went blithely to work.

When I returned home, I found the dress on my bed. I picked it up to admire it, grimaced because it was still wet, and then gasped in dismay.

I took it out into the light. No...my eyes had not deceived me. A beautiful dress indeed; but it looked about four sizes too small for me.

My first inclination was to mourn the six dollars I had spent on it. Remember, I'm a penny pincher.

My next inclination was to mourn the fact that I had never gotten to wear such an exceptionally lovely dress. Yeah, I'm vain.

My third inclination was to laugh.

So, I laughed. And then I mourned. And then I laughed some more.

This morning, the dress being mostly dry and looking slightly larger than it did when I went to bed...I tried it on.

As I carefully pulled it off over my head, trying not to tear it or stretch it out, and beginning to mourn anew, the dress turned inside out and I saw a tag I had missed before.

"100% Rayon. Dry Clean Only."

It looks absolutely gorgeous on Abigail.

How May I Assist You?

"Thank you for calling Sprint together with Nextel, this is Katharine. May I get your first and last name please?"

I don't want to wake up yet!!

"Thank you. May I ask for the wireless number you are calling about?"

I open my eyes, wearily.

"Thank you. How may I assist you?"

I stare at the ceiling, turn over, and try to go back to sleep.

"I understand how frustrating it can be to be improperly billed. I can help you with that..."

* * *

I have started training for the new task the Lord has set before me. Hopefully, two weeks from now I will be an accomplished, knowledgable, friendly Customer Service Representative at a Sprint Call Center near our home.

At the moment, I am merely an overwhelemed, clueless, and somewhat nervous trainee. After all, after one full eight hour day of training, I may remember to assure the customer that I can help them with their billing issue. But if I did proffer this assurance, I would be lying outright. I haven't a clue how to actually solve a billing issue.

Yet.

* * *

"Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

I shut my eyes determinedly. I WILL go back to sleep!

But my mind must finish what it began.

"Thank you for calling Sprint together with Nextel and have a great day!"

Regrets of a Penny Pincher

Reasoning in foresight:

Cost of mailing a letter on Saturday: Thirty-seven cents.

Cost of mailing a letter on Monday: Thirty-nine cents.

Money saved by mailing five letters on Saturday instead of Monday: Ten cents.

........

Obersvations in hindsight:

Cost of labor in preparing five letters Saturday afternoon: Three and a half hours.

Cost of gas for driving to the post office: Approximately thirty cents.



Grrrrrr.

It's a Technical Business

In family worship we have been reading Exodus about the building of the tabernacle. In my quiet time I am reading 2 Chronicles about the building of the temple.

Generally speaking, I would really rather read the geneologies.

But lately I have been delighting in this reflection:

Is not the Lord Who so carefully designed such an incredibly intricate and complete "pattern" for His sanctuaries on earth...Who could so perfectly plan every detail from dimensions to materials, from craftsmen to perfumes...Who has called me a living "temple of the Holy Spirit"...is He not fully and totally capable of writing the perfect plan for my life, down to the tiniest detail?

Welcome To Our Dinner Table

No one in my family is afraid to talk. Dinnertime is rarely a silent affair for us. Sometimes our conversation is friendly; sometimes, informative; sometimes, silly.

Lately, due largely to Dad's current seminary study in the deep subject of apologetics, much of our conversation has taken on a rather intellectual tone, as in the following...

Peter: "Is the first day of summer the longest day of the year?"

Dad: "No." (pause) "Did you mean to ask, 'Does the first day of summer have the most hours of daylight?'"

(a brief explanation of scientific fact follows)

Peter: "Oh! I was asking about daylight."

Katie: "Yes, the first day of the summer has the most hours of daylight."

Peter: "Just as I thought!!"

Dad: "Ah! But here is the real question: do you know that 'a priori' or 'a posteriori'?"

I would relate the thorough expose Dad provided for our benefit, and the interested debate into which we enthusiastically entered. But I don't want you to think we're too weird. We're not, really; we're just slightly...atypical.

Life: The Prioritizing Game

I hope to live a long time. But I guess we all have to face up to the fact that however long we live, our lives will have a limit. Out of the dazzling array of all the things it is possible to do and accomplish in life...I must choose only some.

Choices can be scary things. Often, saying "yes" to one thing means saying "no" to a lot of other things. It's the good, old-fashioned law of you-can't-be-in-more-than-one-place-at-one-time. And, with only one short life to live, I desperately want to be in the right places at the right times.

So, I analyze, categorize, and prioritize.

What are the most important things in life? What goals should I set in the various areas of my life? How do I accomplish these goals?

And sometimes, I over-analyze, over-categorize, and mis-prioritize.

After all, there are an awful lot of good ambitions floating around out there.

But only one God.

Am I so focused on the the things I want to accomplish for Jesus, that I forget to focus on Who He is? So busy "serving Him" that I forget that I am created and redeemed to love Him? All the world does His bidding. He has angels to "do" for Him. He has asked me to love Him. And because I love Him, to obey Him.

Am I missing out on the fulness of what my relationship with the Lord can be...because I am busy wondering what to "do" for Him??

I become frustrated when my questions don't have answers. "What are the most important things in life?" I don't always know.

Might I just possibly be asking the wrong questions?

Who is the most important One in life? What are His goals for me? How can I learn to love Him more?

"Whom have in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my life, and my portion for ever. " Psalm 73:25,26