Scammed

Omg. Today, I was reading this online article about this stay at home mom who made like 65K at home working through her computer advertising Google things. Sounds harmless, right? And I love making ads. So I signed up for it and they ask you for all this information to start an account, and there is a $1 activation fee. So I paid that. And then I read the instruction manual which is harder than rock and it was like, "Oh, by the way. You have 2 days to cancel or its $80 a month." So, OK. I read it, find out unless some computer nerd wants to get me started, I'll never figure it out - so I call the number that it says to call if you want to cancel. Some dude gets on, doesn't ask me what I want, just starts asking for information. I kept saying "so this is to cancel right?" "yep, yep, yep...i need this... i need this..." So then I re-give him all my crap. My username, password, credit card, address, phone number, etc. everything. "I can't find your account but what I can do for you is give the IT guys this information so they can find it and cancel it." "You have two days to do this. I have to cancel in two days." "Well I'll send them the form and they'll get back to you as soon as possible." Great. Now I'll have to go into the bank and cancel my credit card, too.

Today, while trying to be funny, a new friend of mine commented on a facebook response that Andy had left. It was like he was alive again - odd feeling.

It's strange to be lost; stranger still to belong.

Call it crazy, or call it my lack of ability to define happiness, but I'm ready for another move.; Maybe it's my unwillingness to define myself within an identity. I don't want to settle. And I can't figure out what I want from this life. So I'm just going to keep on going and won't stop.

Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, most of life is spent waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting,

My life is kid-lacking and unfulfilled. I need it to be next fall - pronto. This full time job of wasting time is not doing me well.

Pray I get the long-term substitute position to carry me to next fall at Glass again!

This morning I watched the sun come up over the mountains.
Just to think:
In the middle of the night, we fear this world..?

Pulled Over

I'm losing track - how many of these entries have I blogged? It must be my sixth one now. I received my first ticket last night! 1 in 6 ratio...not too shabby!

I don't even flinch anymore. Oop. Cop lights. Been there, done this. Plus, I deserved this one...so it's not like I can cry or fight it with good reason.

Tony, Travis, and Steven were with me. We just turned off 501 onto Lynchburg Expressway headed back to Brandon and Trav's. I see Brandon and Bethany up ahead and concoct this brilliant plan to catch up with and then cut off their hot, red car. Right as I was gaining in behind them, lights flashed behind me. No point in questioning, Is it me? Am I the one he's after? Because we all knew.

I have been driving 30 over on that darn highway since I first got here last July! What state has highways at 55 mph!?! That's just sick.

He pulled me over. "Obviously you know why I pulled you over tonight." I nod. "You were flyin'." My face forms a guilty grin. "Did you have anything to drink this evening?" "Oh no, we were just coming home from the dollar theater." "Are you in a rush to get somewhere?" I came up with two valid reasons, from my perspective; not so valid in his mind:
# 1. I was trying to catch up to my friend.
# 2. I come from the third largest city in Minnesota. I've learned to be aggressive in my driving. (a.k.a. we get to go at least 65 mph on our highways!!!)

-- -- Really wished I was pregnant and going into labor at this time...that gets you out of everything!!! -- --

The ultimate question: Do you have your driver's license with you?
The every-time answer: Noooo, I dooooon't..... *insert frown and fake tearful eyes*

He asks for my name, social security number, address, la-ti-da, all the normal 'shtuff' - heads to his car.

4, 5, 8 minutes later...he comes back. "I'm not coming up with anything. I've run it a few times. You have no license on file."

I was speechless. That's a new one. "Uh, I don't know...that doesn't make any sense...I've never had a problem with it before...??"

He stated he was not able to let me 'drive out of here, tonight' because it did not exist on file. Screw the dang files.

He's instantly suspicious and accusitory: "Why don't you have your license with you today??"

I explain my situation in fast Minnesotan dialect (even though I wouldn't have grabbed it anyway...never needed it before!): "Well, we were late to our movie, and I forgot to grab my purse, and it was only a dollar, so my friend was going to cover me the dollar and I pay him back so I didn't make us even more late, so I didn't go back for it.... Do you want me to have someone bring it to me?"

"How far away are you - how long would it take to get someone over here?"

"I just live up the road, _____ Apartments, I could call my roommate."

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. All 4 of us in the car are dialing, re dialing, continuously dialing Emma's number. She is not picking up.

Great. Now it looks like I lied about my license AND my roommate!

He comes back when a car slows behind us, "Is that your roommate?"

"No! I can't get ahold of her! I don't know why she isn't picking up!" (I know she's at home...sleeping!)

He questions me about my history, my former state and move to Lynchburg, have I let my license expire?

I explain I renewed it on my 21st birthday a while back and have not had to renew it since, it hasn't expired from that quite yet. He says that even if it had expired, it should be coming up in the system.

It was so wild being told my license didn't exist. It was like being told - "You were never born." - "You have no identity." - What a freaky feeling.

I was left speechless, with no explanation.

Most embarrasing call of my life: "Mom? Is dad there? I need him. ... Hey, dad? I'm here with a cop, and I don't have my license, do you have that number somewhere?"

Luckily, after some time dad finds it. We get the number. Cop goes to his car and back again. "You're fine." (he does not understand the relief!) I'm a real human! I have a birth certificate! I am real! I am registered! Pheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew! "The only thing I can think of why that was happening is that Minnesota has some lock on their system with finding that information."
Dang states and their laws.

Of course, all that hassle...I get a ticket. 82 in a 55. Go figure. I haven't decided if I'll slow down from now on or not. I suppose I better since this is an actual ticket this time and not a slap on the wrist like the past five times of cops falling for my seduction.

It sucks getting pulled over with boys in your car - that's about all I learned from yesterday.

Final Decision: I'm Staying.

I'm learning to be a bitch with adults now, too. It feels wonderful.

Today after school I went with the hip hop team down to the auditorium so that they could practice their routine for the talent show this evening. We were trying to figure out where the lights were to turn them on so that we could practice when some janitor dude came in. I was still in the back end of the auditorium looking for the swith; most of my students had gone forward towards the stage to find the lights up there. I was hopeful of help and asked nicely, "Hey there! Do you know how to turn on the lights in here?" "Um, yea," he said in a debasing tone that said instead, "Obviously, freak." He continued, "But nobody signed up to be in here today, and they need to have a teacher with them." By this time, the team had reached the stage and stage lights were starting to be found and turned on. I ignored the tone, as well as being assumed a student, and informed him politely, "Oh, I am the teacher." "Then you need to be up there with them," he snippily demanded.

The only thing I hate worse than being dealt with in a tone is when people presume the worst out of my students. "Excuuuse you," with no remorse I retorted, "But they are just fine. Now, are you OK with the lights on, or are you going to make us practice in the dark?"

"Let me go ask the lady in charge of the auditorium."

"Thank-you."

...and he never came back.

There were so many responses I wanted to say. He had attacked me and questioned my leadership. I would have been up there with them if I hadn't been wasting my time on you; The only reason I am not up there with them is because I am standing here wasting my breath on you. But the truth is, the thing that mattered most of all was not that he had charged me, but that he accused my students of being poor, bad ghetto kids before they had even the time to do something wrong if they were bad kids. I have great kids. Better than you, even. You leave them alone.

This is why I choose to stay with these kids: to help them prove wrong a world that has given them no chance.

What a rotten man.

They had to shovel in MN!

What? It's December? Isn't it supposed to be cold in December?

"Remember, remember, the 5th of November" - V

And you thought I was done there .... HA! Haha! It wasn't even my birthday yet! :)

Meet Thursday morning. November 5th:

5:30-freaking-am. Sitting down with a bowl of every-morning-routinely-grain-cereal and a flinstone vitamin. Emma creeps down the hallway like her usual sneaky silent self. "Goodmorning! Happy birthday!" All the thoughts going through my head in one split second: "O.M.G. What are you doing up?? What day is it?? It's my birthday?? Why are you awake? Why are you so peppy and happy? What is going on? Emma? Is that you? Huuuuuhhhh?????" I was too caught off guard to thank my wonderful roomy enough for getting my day off to a special start. She's too good to me :)

Lynchburg city schools are different from anything I have seen in Minnesota districts. They have periods 1 - 7, but 1st period is optional. So the really devoted and high achieving students take on early morning, 7am, bright and ridiculous, 1st period classes. I was also voted a teacher to wake up with the crazies. So, I pull in to school at about...6:55am. School begins at 7am. By the time I round the corner and come to my door, twenty-seven early morning faces are there to greet me and wait for me to key the door open and let them in.

These are not your regular students. I pull in with a morning voice, unwoken eyes, and a thrown together hairdo. These students are yelling, joking, singing, dancing, wrestling, and laughing. I have never seen such awakeners in my life.

One day a student told me, "I'm really tired today," and proceeded to tackel another's backpack and turtle it (turn it inside out). Tired. Yea. Looks like it.

I love my first period students. It's not dead. It's not silent. We are very alive every morning. And I'd choose no better teens to start my day out with each weekday.

Also, they have this idea that I have ninja appearing skills because it is a long hallway that they never see me walking down and suddenly BAM I'm there at the door with my keys appearing in thin air. They think I have the ability to teleport and defeat the logic of physics. Really, I'm just short; this doesn't occur to them. Everyday: "Ms. BEICH! How do you DO that!? Where did you COME from! Seriously. No, for real. We've been staring at the hallway. We never looked away. That's CRAZY." Teachers are magical; what more is there to prove?

This particular day was a special day. It was a different day. I had forgotten to heed Vendetta's warning. :)

Instead of letting me morph into myself mid-hallway, they met me right in the corridors. I round the corner; "MS. BEICH!!!! (one mili-second pause) HAAAAAAPPY BIIIIRTHDAAAAY TO YOOOOOOU!!!!!!! HAAAAAAPPY BIIIIIRTHHH...." My boys chase me down the WHOLE length of the hallway, screaming my birthday song at the top of their lungs. I was bright red and shaking my head, but I have never felt so important in my life. I'd choose to hear my birthday song from no other. My heart melted.

Upon entering the classroom, they set right to work on decorating the board with a large birthday cake and sign and all in the 5-minutes before the bell rang when I held to "I appreciate you all, but in your seats or tardy!" They did a fantastic job.

I couldn't love my school, my students, my life more.

All throughout the day students "Happy Birthday!"-ed when walking in the door frame to our artsy and bright classroom. Half of the periods were organized enough to all sing the song in unison during journal time. I was sure to return a "Thank-you, name!" to every special student who made my day so incredible.

What a life I have.

Birthday Extravaganzas

I received everything I could ever want for my birthday this year (except for receiving no call from my family...).

I have been so caught up in lesson plans, grading, organizing, parent emailing, instructing, and reflecting that I had not felt birthday-ish at all. We celebrated graduation/birthday before I left for Virginia this July at our last family get together, so I knew to expect nothing for my birthday. Therefore, ignoring it and forgetting about it was an appropriate reaction.

Unlike my family and me, however, others did not forget.

I was late to youth group and in a "go-go-go!" mood all Wednesday (4th), but when I got there and following our initial song and dance time, they said, "Alright, form a circle! Kate! Step on in!" Evidenced by my "B.A." bruised up album on facebook, they call me to be the leader to do all the crazy volunteer stuff anyway, so I said, "What am I doing!?" all excited to jump into the game or challenge or whatever they threw into my face. I trust them. It's usually something sticky ... licking lifesavers and seeing how many you can stick to your face in a minute ... or something scary ... standing on a table and jumping into the arms of the students and leaders to catch me ... or something adventurous ... climbing up waterfalls and sliding back down ... or something downright goofy ... pretending to pick my nose and then flicking it off onto the junior highers ... so nothing surprises me anymore (so I thought).

But they did catch me off my guard. It was my birthday ... who knew!?!

The goal was to scream-sing "Happy Birthday" as nasty and loud and annoying as they all could, while getting as "all up in my face" as possible and doing a mosh pit around me, pushing and shoving me into everyone. It was PERFECT. A mosh pit, my students, and loud-crazy voices. What more could I ask for?

I left content, nothing could beat that for a birthday present. Oh, the love! And my birthday wasn't even until the NEXT day - and they remembered! I didn't even say a THING! Wow. I'm blessed.

Still here! Still alive! Still absolutely, irrevocably in love with each and every one of my students!

(No internet at our place...so it is hard to update. But lots to say! Stay tuned...) :)

Miss him :)

"I'm going to be up all night finishing this senior seminar paper."
"Want to go to Shydes?"

You're on my side, right? I didn't deserve this, right?

Student A

And back in the 1600's they couldn't dance; they didn't have music. Do you think they could date? No. Marriage was a business contract. If I had a daughter and Cameron is my neighbor and he had a son, we'd meet up and say, "Hey - lets marry off our children and then our families would own all this land together." So marriages were arranged, and not for love...





"Aw! So you's-ayin' my woman could be butt ugly!"

a season of want

It's just a phase

Time will tell

It's Friday, but Sunday is coming

And so it goes

It's crazy how this life unfolds

A missed pill

Nothing in life is static

How much time can show




Here's hoping we can be renewed

Someone wise once said, 'If you don't have peace, don't move forward."



...does crazy anticipation count as peace???

Psalm 57

I never believed people before or realized until this year how important it is for you to find yourself as a person before beginning a relationship. This year I became my own individual: I have a job, I am responsible, I clean my own toilet, I make my own means, I have my own bedtime, this is the kind of music I enjoy, this is what I do for fun, these are my ministries, these are the days I run and work out, this is what I believe, these are my friends, this is who I am. I am established. I have my own life and now I have something that I can invite someone into. In college, you have no idea what you want your life to look like or where you'll be. I had no idea if I would be teaching, working in the hotel business, sitting at home depressed :), continuing on for a masters, going to Bible school in England - whatever! If I had a boyfriend before now, he would have shaped me into being his life -- I would be but a shadow, a follower, a leech.

This is me. This is what I do. If you want to fit into a part of that, feel free. Let's do it.

I love the fact that I am here making my own meals, dancing around to my own music in my own house that I paid for with my own money. I love the fact that by the time a boy weasels his own way in, I will have my own pots and pans, fly-swatter, vacuum, stereo, everything. I have something to offer -- something to give.

I know that I have established myself as an individual that gives to the surrounding community. My students know me and like me. My parents trust me with their children. My pastor supports me and is proud of me. My hip-hop team laughs with me (and teaches me how to move!). I have friends, I have interests, I have admiration from my community that I have a place in. And I would expect the same from any man I would choose to date; it is the number one clue into who you are getting involved with if they are known and respected in the community.

I love the fact that I know who I am and that he will too before he commits to cherishing me.





I am confident that the Lord will fulfill his plans for me.

Lover, love me.

Healer, heal me.
Lover, love me.

Cause I'm so tired of living for the kind of love that only lasts for a while.

The pain. The shame.

So I fall on my knees to get back on my feet again. and I cry out for you - would you please speak to me.

Healer, heal me.
Lover, love me.

Cause I'm so tired of living for the kind of love that only comes and goes.

But your love. Your love lasts forever.

I am the one who's been forgiven much.

You ever just get blown away with God's love?

The My Epic concert last night was phenomenal. Passionate screaming out, making sense of this life. When the music would die out and a tiny, packed, sweaty, stinky room full of men and women crowded in together would continue to sing on with the lyrics, I would stop and close my eyes. I wanted to hug every single one of those people...my brothers, my sisters. I get so excited for heaven some days. The music will be incredible. The concerts phenomenal. The crowds packed in. We'll all be together - we won't be missing Andy.

I had Tom on one side and Kavin on the other. Watching those boys worship was a blessing to me. I can't believe we all get to carry on like that forever. It'll never grow old. We'll be beside each other forever.

Teachers Show Up To Work...No Matter What

Apparently it takes two days for a goose egg to fully bruise over. Today I am a raccoon...and I thought the worst was over. This is also accompanied by a new swollen lip from falling over in the porch swing with two other beautiful girls: a hilarious moment that I would not take back. Since breakfast is not going down easily this morning without blood interfering, I get these additional moments to blog my thoughts. ...And to prepare for a whole day of brutal teaching.

It's a Calling

4 outta 5 hyped up days: not too bad 'a ratio.

I learned today the importance of accepting bad days. They come.
Some days my students are not going to listen to me or get stuff done. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday I came home stoked. I love my ghettolicious school, my crazy students, and the diversity in my classroom. Thursday I came home wanting to cry: I failed them. I lost my patience, got frustrated, and looked down on them. I failed them. They dished me attitude and I dished them defense. We got nowhere. I wondered how such a change could happen over night. The beginning of the week, I never wanted to leave. Thursday - I was checking 'easy' schools for openings. Where did I go wrong?

I have three sections of advanced students that love school, love English, and love the material enough to listen up when I give them information via lecture, discussion, or another method. I have two sections of students that the world has given up on.

Example 1:

Student - "Don't worry about it."
- "I am worried about you. I want you to pass this class."
Student - "Hellll yea, I like the sound 'a that!"
(peer laughs)
Student - "What?! Most teachers don't care if you pass or not."

I have students telling me they are stupid. They can't get it done on time so what is the point in trying. They don't get it. My class is gay. They hate teachers. They don't want to be there. They don't like me. This is shit. Why can't I give them the answers. They hate english.

Yesterday, I told myself: "These students don't want to work; we'll never get anything done. They'll fail their SOL tests. They won't listen to me. We just spent 45 minutes logging on to computers and not going to a single website. They aren't doing anything. I can't get them to move. This is pointless. Where are the students who want to try." I gave up on them. I looked at a student who gave me attitude and told myself "I can't make her do this. I hate this defiant and lazy class." I judged her and formed a picture of who she was in my head: the pygmalion effect at its best.

Today in the computer lab, doing the same exact instructions that were given yesterday, I got to the heart of it. This student was confused and discouraged. I helped her find a website and gave her a pep talk on how much I believe she could do a decent job on this and score herself some points, and she began...

Some days these students will not be pushed. Some days they have had it. Thursday we went to the lab and nobody touched the mouse unless I was right above them (and I can't be above every single student at every single moment! we need smaller class sizes!). Today was no different in my part, but I connected with every student and they DID IT. They worked, they succeeded. We got our timeline project done in one day - we pushed hard.

Some days are just bad days. Period.

You Are The Lifter Of My Head

I have enjoyed my summer in Virginia so much that the start of a school year tomorrow makes for a bitter-sweet time. Nothing beats 20 hours of work mixed with 90 hours of play, yet I was called to teach and I am excited to begin the crazy, stressful, painful, hilarious, tender, challenging, ridiculous, phenomenal, incredible school year. So many friendships are just beginning to blossom, and I fear regression after so much progress. My life for the next five months is: school, work, sleep, school, work, sleep, school, youth, sleep, school, work, sleep, school, work, sleep, WEEKEND (of papers and resting)!!! school, work, sleep, repeat. The days will begin to fly by. My patience will be tested and my time with the Lord tried. The guitar practices will skimp up. Books will take longer to get through. ...And, lives will be touched.


Tonight the Lord blessed me on my way home from youth. I was fighting my way through a mess of emotions and thoughts and sighed as I rested my head back against the headrest at a stop light. It was not a bad night, but fears and disappointments and failures were catching up with me. When in my peripheral vision, I caught sight of frantic movement. My head was lifted to the sight of two of my wonderful youth group students: one going into 7th grade and another moving up with the high schoolers entering 9th grade. These boys had their entire bodies leaning out the window, grinning ear to ear, and were waving like maniacs in attempts to get my attention. I looked over and couldn't help but beam. Their dad was driving them home from youth and also glanced over to smile approvingly at me. I waved back, silently thanking God for blessing me with this encouragement and wishing these boys knew how deeply and irrevocably that I love them. What better way for a teacher to begin a year?




This is what makes it all worth it. This is why we do what we do. This is what we work for.

You know you're getting old when...

Saturday I am devoting the entire afternoon to going through billions upon billions of pages of facebook-ness and deleting my life to make it "pg" rated for my students/employers. Awh, the secret life of a teacher. ;)

To The Tune Of: "No! There's Bob-cats!"

Teasing about a future love affair of hers.

No! He burps!

hahahahahahahahaha

Grace and Redemption

All of my old best buds are returning home from their missions. (and I am not there to hear reports). It is a weird feeling knowing that this one part of my former life-and-self no one will ever be able to relate to. I can only try to explain it to someone someday, but it'll always be out of touch.

I can't believe I haven't seen these guys in TWO YEARS!!! (absolutely Nothing and absolutely Everything has changed.)

I can't believe all the ways life could have gone up till now.

I can't believe my life as it once was.

I can't believe I've been led here.

I can't believe my heart is captured once more.

Here's To Not Being Flicked Off On L'burg Roads!

A Former Minnesota Memory to say thank-you for driving tonight:

I leave the house to go to Wal-Mart for some sunglasses. (Wal-Mart is just across the street, mind you…). Two seconds later I call home:

"Hello?"
"Mommm-ay!"
"Well! That was fast. Did you forget where Wal-Mart is?!"
(Playing along): "Yea, I accidentally left my GPS at home--dang it! I'm lost."

I was NOT actually lost, by the way. (I'm not THAT terrible--just close…). I had only wanted to check if I should pick up another gallon of milk. It's just funny the things I am known for:
- Being a loser with directions
- Having ice cream for every meal
- Going barefoot or sandaled through snow all winter long

Feelingless Thoughts to Commemorate Andy

Numb. Numb as this very day last year when I received the phone call: Natie's voice telling me there had been a tragedy. Numb as I was all that following week, feeling like the worst little sister for not being able to find my tears.

I am known for being the girl who draws from an endless pit of joy - smiling in the midst of all we face. What if its just because I'm too numb and emotionless to find my true devastation. I can logic and reason through everything, I can talk about things, I can understand it, but no emotion comes.

Nonetheless, I give you my stream of consciousness:

A random person's grave got flowers today because I couldn't be near to Andy's.

Give me words to speak; don't let my spirit sleep. Cause I can't think of anything worth saying.

Amazing how we go visit famous peoples' grave sites as if they are still there and not off somewhere else all this time. It's not like they are just sitting there - they've been away and gone, face to face with the eternity engraved on their hearts, for years and years.

I went to visit Andy one more time before the move to L'burg. The scribbled down thoughts I have recorded are skewed at parts - but I can't deny that they were felt - true or not:

- I sat by his lump in the ground for a few hours. I kept thinking: "He's right here! Right down there! Here he is! This is Andy! We're so close! I could pull back some of this ground and reach down and touch him!" As if he could hear me. As if his left behind, mutilated body was really "him."

- I can't believe it has been nearly a year since last summer. Since the incident. How quickly the tears return. (I wish they would return as quickly today, too)

- You forget how final things are until you're face-to-face with them again. This dirt is so fresh. Only a few spots of hopeful color sprouting up from all of the brown.

- How fast a life can change. Like the day she found out she was pregnant. Or the day we got the phone call Andy was dead.

- He is in the most undeveloped part of the graveyard; as if to say "here lies those unexpected ones we never thought would die." So young they hadn't even reserved a spot in the ground yet. The accidental area. The "oops, here's an extra plot of space" area.

- Someone had begun digging a small hole into the dirt on top of his crushed body. Was it to see if he was really down there? To try and reach him again? He's so close. He's right here.

- Eerily, I didn't want to push down on the dirt too hard; I didn't want to accidentally step on him - as if extra pressure would hurt his fragile body. Like he could feel. (The ridiculous ideas our minds construct...)

- There's only one first time for everything

- Why do I still need healing? It has been a year.

- God, be with us. Elohim.

Today is Andy's deathday. Miss you, Ace.

Today is Andy's birthday. Miss you, Ace.

All Things In Their Time

I'm just realizing of how little importance it is to know your friends' emails anymore. Email is on the road to the obsolete! I sent out an email to inform everyone about my (soon to be) boot from the WSU email servor so they can reach me at my new gmail account....come to realize, I didn't even have anyone elses' emails! We all just message on facebook now. You can do mass messages, public postings, chatting, whatever! It has everything! And if you reeeeally need to know it, everyone's email is listed (in the general info. section) as well.

Oh, the wide world of facebook!

Further Locker-Room Remembrances:

Have you ever noticed how hard it is to not look at a person that you are trying to have a conversation with? You are at a sleepover, getting ready to crash on the sofa for popcorn and a chick flick starring some hot eye-candy, and your friend gives you a “Don’t look; I am about to change!” warning that you hear and confirm. The comfy-cozy pants are coming on!

Ten seconds later, your friend starts up a sentence about how hot Ashton Kutcher’s tush is on a scale of one to ten (the answer is eleven, in case your curious mind got sidetracked there…) but is forced to finish with a: “ Awwh! I told you not to look!!!”

You turn full-swing circles, round and round, trying awkwardly to figure out why you forgot so quickly and where to bat the eyes to now. Your mouth mumbles a million embarrassed and confused apologies.


Oh, humans. We never change.

The Pleasant Locker-Room Atmosphere:

It always amazes me how fast women get naked in the locker room.

Two seconds out of the pool and BAM! Boobs everywhere. Now, granted, the old argument that we all know what breasts look like because we all have them: We all have boobs. But really…where did that ridiculous justification even come from? No two people look the same. No two boobs on one woman even look the same, hardly! I’m still getting used to my own anatomy, and it is very, very awkward to be in a room full of flaunting, naked, saggy, old bodies. How hard is it, really, to just put a towel over yourself as you change?

Because the only other person that needs to see that is your spouse.

Morning After A Migraine:

Because who needs to get wasted when you inherited chronic migraines?!

Alarm sounds.

7:58.

7:58 pm? or am? I look around. Relatively bright; seems like morning. Ok: what day is it? Sunday? Church? Monday classes? Tuesday classes? Am I late for something? How much did I sleep through? What happened? When did I fall asleep? Ok… think. What’s the last thing I remember doing..?

I laugh at the piles upon my floor—layers thrown down in the process of undressing (only a few made it off before collapsing into bed, jeans and all): A computer; folders; books; hair pieces; glasses; purses; gloves; scarves; who knows that else is buried under there!

Some people live like this (everyday!). I can’t wait to be done with whatever I have to do on whatever day it happens to be to sort through this mess and pick it up again.

My keys are not in the pile, of course. After much panicked, frantic searching, I find them still in the door lock where I left them whenever I collapsed the night, or nights, before. I send up a short blessing that my roommate is a trustworthy friend. So much a friend, in fact, that keys-in-door-lock sent him a familiar message of sickness in the house to be respectful of. He had complied.

My breath is rancid because I could not find my toothbrush in the rush to hit the sacred pillow the night preceding. Of course, even had I a brush in hand upon my stumble into the room, my body would not have allowed me the basic decency of sticking a cleaning rod in my mouth to flush-out stinky germs. The stomach is a selfish organ: things are done his way. Risk wasting too much time before closing those pained eyes and you’ll start to become faint and nauseas… and that is only the beginning, my friend.

Walking to class is a chore. One foot. Then the next. Close your eyes as you go; only opening them peeks to be sure you are still following the sidewalk to Minne.

Once in class, the lecture either takes five minutes, or five days. There is no normal, balanced feeling. This depends on my mind and its ability to be unfocused enough to survive.

A shut-eyed trot back to bed. Sleep, and repeat.

7:58.

7:58 pm? or am? What day is it?

whores and angels

still has an unhealthy hatred of men

The Baby

There are some perks to being the youngest child: Teaching your brother and sister, five years your senior, to facebook for the first time...what each application means...and when they sign up for text messaging, having them come to you for help figuring it out. The simplest things. As my dad would say: I'm a big fish in a little pond!

Lessons From The Night:

- Nearly a year later, one may still have an "Andy-Day";

- No, God isn't real enough to me: A band of boys came in late last night to the hotel harrassing me and I prayed God would send my co-worker in early...why didn't I just pray God would protect me? Duh;

- Not a good idea to eat sweets at midnight-thirty right before heading off into a nightmare-filled slumber;

- Never shave your legs in the shower when you are angry;

- Needing someone to be 'on my side';

- Non-believing people make the better friends.

Girl, this living's not so hard as it seems

She's just waiting for the summertime, when the weather's fine
She could hitch a ride out of town, and so far away
From that low down, good-for-nothing, mistake-making fool
With excuses like: 'baby, that was a long time ago'
But that's just a euphemism, if you want the truth -
He was out of control


But a short time's a long time: when your mind just won't let it go


Well, summer came along and then it was gone, and
So was she, but
Not from him
Cause he followed her

Just to let her know: her dreams are dreams, and all this living's so much harder than it seems

There's a scene on "Return to Me" where Minnie Driver secretly dumps out a bottle of water for a picky guest, fills it from the tap, and sticks a straw in it. Today, I was tempted. So very tempted.

Less Than 2 Months Thoughts

- Packing what you need vs. what you can do without for a whole year is stressful. Can't afford too many mistakes!

- The whole four-zip-codes-determining-status thing doesn't make sense. I see ten zip codes and an 01 church next door to an 04 church.
Or is it area codes? There are two of those?

- They call their pastors 'reverends' like in 7th heaven. I can get used to that...

- Why on earth do they make butter in lil' square gold wrappers that they also use to cover chocolate??

-
Me: Whoa! I didn't know that some baptist churches have pastors who still wear those weird robe things.
Mother: Well, you're getting into the Southern Baptist churches there. Some Baptist churches are very strict where you can't drink or dance. Well...I should say...not that you should be drinking or...whatever...You can't play cards and dance there.

- Virginia looks like a snail; Lynchburg like Spain and Portugal with a sideways heart on top.

- You just can't talk about a place you haven't experienced!

- Finding an apartment fifty bajillion miles away via la intra-net is impossible...

- WHOOT WHOOOOOT 2 MONTHS TO A STATE FULL OF NEW HOT MEN!!!!!!!!!!!! :)

I work with a boy that tries to flirt by being a jerk. It took me a little while to figure it out -- a pretty good clue that it's not a useful method. You think they'd realize: It didn't work in 7th grade it still doesn't work in the twenties!

Play it loud enough, keeps the demons at bay.

For those of you who need to know: I remain a nutcase.

I've had too much time to myself driving this week. I can't yet be trusted to be left alone with my own thoughts, and since this trip was only a few minutes shy of an hour as opposed to the four-hour treck from Marshall yesterday, I left my Ipod (Zeke!) at home. Every other song on the radio was a "Shydes Song," which still makes me lose it, or a country love song about booze and feeling up women. I scanned and scanned growing more and more frustrated and sick and at the last moment on the verge of a major break down (which, by the way, I decided to call someone so I wasn't alone and could be given some perspective, but found I had also accidentally left my phone, Petey!, at home). I was hot flashing, angry, and desperate. Ok. What. can. I. do. Do I have a CD player with me? -checks cubby- No. -checks around on the floor and inbetween the seats- Aha!

I found (get this) young Amy Grant's "The Collection" cassette tape from like freaking before my brother was even born (!) and popped it in as my last resort. Cheesy 80s drum beats...jazzy keyboard do-dads...hilarious.

But it did the trick.

Where do you hide your heart?

Leave your cares behind you.

Love's coming back.

Emmanuel.

I have decided.

In a little while.

Sing your praise to the Lord.

The past few nights of haunting dreams have found me in desperation to leave this state.

The past few days of breakfast, brunch, lunch, coffee, dinner, and dessert dates has left me wanting to stay forever. You are all engraved upon my heart.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

Yesterday while sitting at P.K. Egan's restaurant in Canby next to a group of people that included a young boy, about ten years old, and a bigger-boned lady, we over hear a loud, "Maybe you swallowed a watermelon seed and are growing a watermelon inside of you and that's why your stomach is so big!" Instant red filled the lady's cheeks as she scanned the room to see who was paying attention.

Luckily, we were sitting with a friend of hers who was able to tell us that she is, in fact, expecting. (We all let out a big, audible "ppheeew!")

Kids are so blunt.

Mr. B

Driving home from Canby today, Nathan and I were a bit whipped from the Junior High all-nighter event at the YMCA. At one point, Nathan started driving to the shoulder of the road, eyes closed, and so he let me take the wheel. After switching places, I sang to Twilight and he fell into a deep slumber within a minute - twitches and all. Of course these are the times our thoughts take over.

I snuck some peeks at Nathan as he was soundly sleeping to the right of me. He had his arms crossed mummy-style and jaw slightly open -- a sight I am all too familiar with. It brought me back to January of my 7th grade year, waiting for him to wake up. I remember he sat mummy-style, not moving, for.ev.er. Later in his healing stages, he would have slimy teeth and lips with caked on white chunks from laying idle and never moving his mouth (handsome, I know!). You'll be glad to know that he didn't have that same condition this time :) But I can still remember exactly what it looked like.

I remembered Kyle's voice questioning why God spared Natie and yet took Andy. Same situation. Same crash. Same side. Same. And way, way, hugely, drastically different.

I would be no other place. I would be no other place than driving my exhausted big brother and I safely back home from a day with God. I know.

I know not why Andy left us so young, but I will never ever question why God spared Nathan. He has no idea how much I need him. His steady plodding faith. His strength and courage. The way his students revere and admire him. We walk into a restaurant, "It's Mr. B! Mr. B is out there!" we hear from the back kitchen. The way they strive to be like him. To learn from him and take after him. I know. I am the same way.

He has no idea what I've seen this year - the places I found myself in. He has no idea that in a world that beats me down and finds me lost, I always look to him and know there's more. There's more to this life. A steady man in a chaotic life.

I need his refreshing light everytime I forget.

I love my job. (really).

A bunch of 80 year old men thinking you're hot stuff because you wipe tables.

Mr. Overton: Kate! You married?
Me: Noope! Not for a whiiiile!
Mr. Overton: Got a boyfriend?
Me: Not today!
Mr. Overton: Wellp. Those West Virginia boys are going to be all over you!
Me: Ha ha. Well thank you, Mr. Overton!

Mr. Schlimik: Got a boyfriend, do you?
Me: Not today!
Mr. Schlimik: WEEEllllll!
Me: Good boys are hard to come by these days, you know!
Mrs. Schlimik: Yes! You are very right!
Mr. Schlimik: Well, I'll tell you a little secret. Forget the young ones... You need to marry a rich old man!!
Me: I'll definitely keep that in mind, Mr. Schlimik!

Mr. Bealt: Sure is a good thing you're learning those skills early! Make a good housewife!

Mr. Anderson: You sure keep things nice here! I'll take you at my house! You forget how much you take for granted when your wife dies!

My Boss: Didn't I just tell you to quit flirtin'!

Men never change. Independent, my ass.

Regardless - I love my 80 year old breakfast club.

I just want boys. Boys. Boys. Boys. PLEASE, GOD! Give me boys.

Curiosity.
Adventure.
Exploration.
Lack-of-sit-still-ability.

The four-year-old neighbor boy gave me a dandelion today. I was about to "ooo, aww" at the sweetness of heart when he chirped, "You can pay me, if you want to!"

Sly. Smart and sly.

What a bright future he has!

Lessons in Gilmores

The other day I was telling Em and Danny that I'm not sure if I can marry someone really smart, because I'm dumb (as in, Chad just taught me New Jersey was not a city in New York a few weeks ago...), but I can't marry someone dumb because I'm somehow successful and get awesome grades and awards and stuff (don't know at all where they come from...) and I know I'll be strong and independent and have a future that makes people think you're smart. Dilemma! What's a girl to do!?

Anyway, so. I just finished an episode in Season 5 of Gilmore Girls. Loralie was looking frantically around the apartment for her keys that were discovered by Luke in the door after much hassle. My no-longer-roommate would testify to the amount the scene relates to my life. I whined at him nearly every day for my lost keys that made me late for nearly every class. (They are so small and so hard to hold on to!) I realized today that I, like Loralie, may appear "dumb" and ditsy on the outside - lack of 'street smarts', if you will - while in reality I can accomplish a whole lot. Loralie is a remarkable woman - I am impressed by her character. And she's also really dumb sometimes...

There is hope :)

Life's Blessings

I love life. I can't wait to teach. I love grammar. I love boys with strong hands. I love hippie hair. I can't wait to hike in the mountains and swim in the ocean and tour DC and NYC and Boston and everywhere possible. I can't wait to chaperone dances and go to my students' sporting events. I love cooking and baking for people. Hosting parties. I can't wait to meet all my new Virginian friends. I can't wait to have a cheap, skimpy apartment and get by on mac and cheese. Leaks. Breaks. Adventures. Panic. I love talking about Andy. I love how he lived. I love knowing he's with Jesus. I love wanting to scream about it from on top of mountains. I love my family. I love my body. Clean shaven legs. Fresh haircuts. Well-fit jeans. I can't wait to have babies. I love this season of life. I love adventure. I love dreaming. I love fresh air. I love that nothing in life is static. I love people and diversity. I love living.

Transitions.

Remind me not to be too "loving" of a parent when I grow up someday...

This morning around, oh, 8-8:30a, I got up to go to the bathroom. 8:30a people, we're not talking like...4a in the morning or some abnormal hour for people to be up and moving around!!! I'm on the pot when my mom knocks on door all frantically. Even worse, I hadn't shut the door and made it 'click' completely because I never expected someone to try and join me! The door cracked open even further making my privacy in this house even more shot.

Katie?!? What's the matter??
Uh...nothing...? I'm going to the bathroom!!!!!

CAN I NOT PEE IN MY OWN HOUSE, PEOPLE!!!???!!!! Parents are far too illogical when their children move back home. Like, do I need a reminder to turn off the lights every single night? Do I need a play by play of where my parents will be at every second of the day to follow and when I will bump into them? I've had my own house in Winona for over a year now and somehow, the lights always got turned off every night! I am not the common denominator in that equation, rentals!

The Questions of Life

It's funny how the same questions you ask going into college are the ones you ask coming out of college. We've learned, grown, changed, and yet we still have the same deepness calling out within us.

Who am I going to be?

What am I going to do with my life?

Where should I go?

Who will my friends be?

Will I be happy here?

Where does God fit in this puzzle?

What is life really even about?

What am I living for?

What do I want from this life?

How am I going to make this all work?

Adieu

I am leaving Winona a changed woman.

As I drive down the road, saying goodbye to every shop and every tree, the infamous Sugar Loaf, and the much-frequented-after-midnight Perkins, I set my gaze steady on the bluffs ahead. I just want to be with Jesus. That's all I care about anymore.

I look back on the past four years. Experiences I never imagined having. Places I never thought I'd go. People that shaped each moment of my each day. I try to imagine college without that person, without that store, without that moment, and the whole system falls apart. Not a single piece can be changed. Nothing added. Nothing taken away.

Another closed up chapter.

2nd House Boy

Meet my new roommate. Chad just said a sappy goodbye and made me bawl. New Roommy comes up the stairs to move in with gateraid in hand and biffs it on the top stair. Full out body slam into the ground. The embarrased laughter begins. "Just so you know, new roommy, I have done that about...oh...fifty bazillion times. And every time, Chad is home. And every time, Chad comes out of his room and looks at me like this: *rolled eye smirk*." New Roommy offers me a gateraid. New Roommy and I are going to get along very, very well.

Thumper.

I've been getting less and less patient with other peoples' complaints lately. Maybe it's because I'm overly sensitive. Or maybe it's because my life has dealt me hell and I have to sit and listen to people who have no idea about it grumble about some stupid little thing. Your life sucks? Go jump off a bridge. I've never been so utterly alone, with the ones I love most having turned their backs on me without even stopping to think. I'm trying to keep myself above water; I can't support the rest of the world too. So do me a favor: if you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all.

All Things Money

Why is God blessing me like this? I don't understand. I should be cursed and brought low - not aided. I have used my money in selfish ways and been an unfaithful steward. I taught a class on godly spending and I failed at my own instruction. I understand forgiveness and mercy - but grace? Not only do we not get what we justly deserve, but we get what we don't deserve.

Lord, forgive me my heart.

i hate men i hate them i hate i hate lord i hate.

My Heart Turns Violently Within My Chest

I am so. sorry. My heart aches deeply for you. God is weeping over you - You were not supposed to be hurt this way. God is in pain with you. God wants you so desperately, He will do absolutely everything to win you over. Be in his arms. Feel his love - His sincere love. His constant, never-changing love. Selfless love. You are not alone. This is not your battle. This is not the end. We have the final victory - please believe.

I'm going to have one hell of a time figuring out who I am next year.

A World Without Men.

I talked to a friend of mine tonight who was found giddily singing the Beatles's song about meeting a girl and falling head over heels. He proceeded to tell me that he saw a girl that had the prettiest smile and he wanted to run across the street and tell her how beautiful she is but "the line between romance and creeper is very, very thin" so he decided against it.

My first reaction after gaging in my throat is "Oh, please!" Then, I scanned myself to try and place myself on the scale--would anyone do that to me? say that about me? how is my smile?? am I beautiful too?

Later, I began to wonder why my natural reaction was thus. Jealousy? Anger at past hurt? Feeling inadequate? Not pretty enough? Disbelief in his interpretation of the story?

I continued on metacognitively and have since come to the conclusion (at least for now) that I have a love-hate relationship for men commenting on women's appearances. Is it really even a compliment when a boy says a girl is beautiful? Did she do anything to be pretty? No. She was birthed out of her mother's vagina with a squished head and fluid all over. Some people were given 'good' genes. Each culture, region, and time period thinks one gene should be more praised over another. So to praise someone for being 'beautiful' has nothing to do with that person at all - you're technically just saying God is real.

One could argue that some work for hours in the morning to 'create' the media's view of beauty and that is what the boys could comment on - but then instead of saying, "You are pretty," they should more appropriately say, "Your make up and hair curler and foundation worked well this morning. Great use of your resources." The tools are effective at beauty, not the girl.

Either way, it isn't even a comment on the girl - just her genes (which she can't control) and her style (which she didn't invent the means to fix up) and her society (if at that time it says that type of girl she is is 'in').

Personally, I feel "alright" by media standards. I'm dec. But I still want to rip off my skin when boys talk about how "pretty" that girl is across the room or how "hot" is a certain type.
Spare me.

You only get one - unless you're a womanizer and you decide to live it up now and die cold and alone and unhappy - so save the compliments for her (and come up with better ones!) and leave the rest of us alone. We have enough comparison issues on our own.

I love Winona. I would recommend this school to anyone in the world. But right now, Winona is choking me. I can't find a place to study. I can't find a place to bawl my face off. I can't find a place to meet God.

my heart is awake.

how do we handle the situation?


in lieu of eternity.

not a big deal

though outwardly we are wasting away inwardly we are being renewed day by day. renewed? you freaking crapping me? not quite how i'd describe my change from yesterday. and the day before that. and the day before that.

fault. it is my fault. always my fault. i could have just been talking to you instead. i could have been saving babies. i could have been freaking giving money to the hungry.

renewed. hilarious. that's a good one.

good lord. (understatement)

take away my anger and pride enough to want to be in your heaven.

House of Healing

fault. such a crazy mind game.

i'm back for another week in the "healing house"

Graduation

Today marks the first day where I can actually say I am sad for graduation. Before today when people talked about how sad they were to be getting done with college, I always nodded and said, "Yea...it'll be sad to leave." But not until this moment can I actually say I feel truly sad about it. Sad enough to shed tears. Sad enough to call up friends. Sad enough to procrastinate for two hours to live through past moments with my roommate.

I just sat in the alumni house kitchen with Chad and chatted on countertops for TWO STRAIGHT HOURS. We talked about how we've noticed that we have actually become roommates over the course of the year. At the end of the year housing banquet, we were gabber-gabber-gabber! all fast paced and interacting while others watched us in awe. Chad describes it by turning his hands into talking puppets of us each going crazy back and forth. Yep, we're roommies. This is our last two weeks of being roommates - and it will never be this way again. Sad.

Before this I have thought, "yea, its sad - i'll miss people - but seriously. I CAN'T WAIT TO TEACH!!!" and moving and researching VA - it was all 99% excitement. But today with Chad and my long chat and talking about graduation and future plans and our feelings about it and on and on for two hours...And with this being the second to last night class with my favorite CALT majors in the entire world - the people who have studied hard with me for three years, laughed, cried, shared first experiences, shared last experiences, shared my world - my best friends...I'm sad.

I've noticed we're all starting to stay later after every class. We lolligag in our seats and proceed at a crawling pace down the long hallways. We stop at the doors and continue on for a while with our conversing. We make more plans - nearly every night a new idea. Our last attempts to hold on. To make the most. It's sad.

Here begins a long two weeks of up and down emotion.

My Protective Roomie

I decided after this weekend that any boy who wants to date me will have to pass the Chad-Proof-Test.

15 Hours

15 hours crammed in a van full of his best buds. 15 hours of memories and laughter. 15 hours of mourning.

I cannot imagine how people go through loss without hope.

There are days I fall into that trap of lies. Today was one of them.
A certain person is crabbing at me to take care of something that I do not feel is my responsibility. A group breaks a lamp at the house and drama that I cannot handle rises. I do not feel like finishing this assignment or going to your class to hear your lecture today. I just want to tell everyone to bug off - he's gone. None of this matters. I feel unable to move. Unwilling to try. Getting out of bed is an impossible feat. Sleeping away hours much more plausible. Giving up acceptable.

I remember this is the path of those without hope. I remember the stories of his life. I remember our joy in repeating old stories. I remember what we live for. I remember: "The truth is, it's just for a short time." I remember we'll laugh together soon.

15 hours in a van comes back to me.

Him.

Every time I get caught up in settling, I remember you.

--Hope--

Come to the lover, you who want, and you'll want no more.

Irony.

Yesterday I told God I wasn't going to worry about money.

Today Rayford died and I'll need to buy a new car, I found out they sent me three letters for the same scholarship, and all of my "pending" funds online were processed from my weekend shopping spree with the girls... and I'm budgetting to move to VA. Oof. Looks like I'll not be getting TV, internet, phone, ANYTHING in my apartment next year!

Oh, what a sense of humor our God has!

Love on me, my lover

I have so many changes to make in my life, God, it's overwhelming. Total renovation - Step by step, I guess. Make me new from the inside out. I want to die to myself and be for real. I want to give everything I have to my students--my time, money, resources, hope, joy, strength. I want to build them up and inspire them. I am so selfish - help me to give it all up for your work, Lord. Help me to hold fast and to THRIVE. I want to thrive for you, Lord. You have blessed and rewarded me beyond belief with things I never did deserve. I barely give back anything. Help me to see life from your eyes and find my purpose and strength and joy and HOPE in you alone, Oh God. I love you.

Find your eternity in each moment. - Henry David Thoreau

Scandal in the House

This time it was a "Clash!!! Wobble..wobble..wobble.." [silence] of a dropped and rolling plate as opposed to the "Clump-clump, clump, clump, clump, clump, clump-clump oooooooyy!" of my feet going heels up down each of the individual wooden stairs.

My wonderful roomy, as usual, comes out of his room to check up on my status of survival.

K: "Yes. I did just fall down the stairs again. AND! I ruined my dessert." *Points to chocolate bar smashed on floor*

C: *Rolls eyes and smirks*

K: "You should know this by now..."

C: "It's a Wednesday night, Kate!!"

K: "Yea, and I think I do better with alcohol."

C: "That's because I carry you up the stairs!"

What would he do without me to take care of??? Life becomes less boring.

For Andy.

http://www.ourrisingsound.com/2007/10/03/john-mark-mcmillan-performs-how-he-loves-us-at-the-call/

Watch this video. I get it.

My Friends are Dropping like Flies

Death is just a natural part of life, so they say.

Thoughts of a Pensive Spirit

What a confusing stage of life. It's a dead night here at the hotel and my thoughts wander. This semester has brought on many changes. For the first time since freshman year, I get to have fun in college without the overwhelming weight of twenty credits and fifty after-school volunteer programs. I find myself going out for an evening of fun nearly every night, yet there are times when I come home all laughed out and lay in silence and wonder, "What am I doing? What a wasted night." I understand that each day is a gift from God, meant to be enjoyed...and yet, life lived only for myself has left me empty and dry. I do not know where I am supposed to be or how I am supposed to invest myself into others. I know what to do as a teacher, as a wife, as a mother...but in this stage of nothingness--what am I to do?

Stagnant.

What a nasty word.

I don't necessarily like who I am becoming. But I don't necessarily like who I was either. Everything in life is a balance, they say.

An old mentor was asking after my life in the past year. How do you describe a year in a sentence? How do you really answer, "How are you?" At any given moment, I AM fifty billion emotions and senses and thoughts and experiences. How do you explain that to another?

This respected one believes in me - wants to see me 'thrive.' I don't know what that looks like. I feel like a let down. I can't answer, "How are you?" ...but "How are you not?" I'm certainly not thriving.

I want to thrive. But I don't get it. And I'm scared. And directionless.

Is this all a natural part of the self's preparation for leaving a stage behind to head to the world?

I'm blabbering. I am blabber - it's how I process. I need to figure out who I want to be and do it. I love lists. They are measurable. Where do I start?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4L3k6zc9Ugw

A fountain for the thirsty
A lover for the lonely

This is our God.

He will wipe away your tears
And return your wasted years

This is our God.

"To err is human, to forgive divine" - Pope

It's amazing how little you can hurt someone by holding a grudge. At the time, you feel they are affected by your cold looks and sharp words when in reality it is only the holder of the grudge that gets deeper and deeper into his own muck.

In my crown financial class last week we were talking about the plethora of physical ailments that a certain man has suffered. It is believed that these conditions came from years and years of unforgiveness towards a dispute with his brother over land. No way. Cataracts because of unforgiveness?


Splitting families, increasing risk for heart failure, and adding to the number of unhappy days...this is the power of not letting go.

Yet despite the knowledge we have of the facts...holding a grudge does not really hurt the other like we want it to and instead only hinders our own ability to live...I still can call it no less than divine to be able to forgive.

How hard it is to want another's happiness while withholding your own.

Pope said it all. To forgive is to be an angel.

My closet is the best hiding spot for tears.

It is true that most of life's problems can be subdued in the light of eternity. Small toils and snares compared to what we are living towards.

Today I learned that this has its drawbacks. Sometimes I just want to tell people, "Shut up. My brother just died." I remember the Sunday a week after Andy's death. Nathan and I had been planning a trip to Warped Tour, tickets and all. There was no point in not going, it wouldn't help anything, so we headed there. We listened to the "Weirsman and Beichfunkel" CDs on the way up and back. Nathan was stronger than I was at being able to handle it. I guess we mourn in different ways. We got to Warped Tour and did not have tickets because they had been left in Marshall after the funeral. Most of the admissions workers did not listen to us and gave us the eye of judgment. One man let us in, whether he believed the "sob-story" or not is your call. We got in and people would try to tell us stuff or drunk people would come up to us with funny jokes. Normally we would be lighthearted with the best of them. On this particular Sunday, we just wanted to be left alone. Nathan said we should make shirts, "Our best friend just died. We don't want to small talk." Sometimes you just want people to leave you alone. (I guess it has since been a reminder to treat others as if they need more love than ever on any particular day. We just never know what people are carrying).

Tonight in the library, I felt so dejected that I started to get physically sick. I don't need your snippy comments, I have enough crap of my own. Jerks. (You never know how much of an effect what you say will have far into the future...). I needed to get out of there and into the fresh air and sit down. After a lot of slow breaths and meditations of "You are so good to me," I am finally calmed in spirits. It's weird how the pains of your heart can affect you so--even on the outside.

Rentals.

Katie: Mom, can Mike come over tomorrow while you're gone and fix my computer?
Madre: Are you going to have sex?
Katie: Nooope!
Madre: Are you going to be tempted to have sex?
Katie: Nooope! But we might do drugs...
Madre: Well, drugs don't lead to babies. Ok, then.

Every lament is a love song.

I remember you like yesterday.
I still can't believe your gone.
I remember you like yesterday.
And until I'm with you...I'll carry on.

Dreaming Again

Spring break. Class was cancelled today - a "snow day" on the day before spring break...only in Minnesota. By the way, I'm still in sandals. I decided to live vicariously through my dreams this week and then bring you all back souvenirs from my vacation - Rochester, Minnesota. (oops! I said where I live. Now stalkers can find me. Maybe I should post my social security number as well...)

This week I am lying in a hammock between two trees. Curled up with a loved one, the sound of the lake waters pushing up the shore lulls me to sleep. I stay awake only long enough to gaze at the stars and dream of the heavens. The bugs are being drawn from my flesh to the light on inside the lake cabin. After a while they do not bother me. Thinking there can't be anything better than this.

This week I am tossing a frisbee around the yard. A few failed attempts and demonstrations before we move on to a new sport. Footballs are bigger, but do not fit in my hand. Next, a baseball. At the completion of an intense game of croquet, we pause briefly for brauts, and then close the screen door to begin a long game of Settlers. How could I love anyone more?

His guitar strumming is in time with the golden sparks dancing up to the sky from the fire pit. The sound of the swing set creaking to the right. Laughter from the neighbor's porch up the hill. A small firework goes off. The singing begins. Thinking nothing is missing from my life.

This week I wander through the woods with a friend. An adventurous hike to nowhere, as I like to say. Been at this school for nearly a year and still find new land to discover. We pull tree branches out of the way and crawl through bushes, mud up to our knees. His parents honk at us from the highway in confusion; we are walking back to campus disgusting and happy. Entirely wanting nothing.

His voice on the phone. Week after week. Holding each other together, we remember his life. We remember our own. "I'm two for two!" he says. We cry together and discuss where we will go from here. Time progresses and the calls are less frequent. The truth is, it's only for a short time.

The sound of rain pitter-pattering on the top of the tent.

Healthy pains after an intense work out.

Spooning on the couch with your dog.

Confidence in a difficult task ahead.

Dancing on top of countertops.

Surrounded by comfortable faces.

Cold ice cream melting into warm brownies.


Where will you be this week?

Ridic.

"The best things in life are stupid."

That is how the old saying should read.

Target breadsticks? A dollar more and less seasoning.

Mnms? A dollar more and less in the package.

Boys? Self explanatory.

Humbled

You know, I was thinking tonight, "Why didn't this happen three years ago? Why now with three months? I don't have enough time..."

I realized that had I three years, I would waste 2.95 of them anyway, and only get serious with the last remaining days. Time is urgent now. This is the time I'm given.

Time is a funny concept. I might not even have .5 left. I could only have tomorrow. Or tonight. Who knows what time will dictate. We only have right now. We only have today.

Lord, be King over today.

I need you to show me supernatural. I believe.

Prayer For You Tonight.

You'd think after a suicide and two accidental deaths, I'd be able to encourage those facing loneliness and despair.




I still have no words.


...life is short?

3am.

3am. can't sleep. turns on computer to write. (dangerous. 8am class and long day ahead. but what choice does one have? my mind will not quit to slumber.)


I need to marry someone rich so that I can give. give. give. give.


Give it all away. I want to give my parents the $5,000 they need so that my dad can get a hearing aid and listen to his children on the phone and his grandchildren cry. I want to pay the insurance on our house so that it is secure. I want to assure my parents with a large travel check that this summer will not be the last time we meet until heaven. All I want from my husband for the Christmas gifts of all my years to come is the promise of saving what we can to bring my parents out. Hope.



Money is the root of all evil. Money is the source of hope. Dichotomy. Irony.




If you've ever read realist literature, especially from the age of the Great Depression, than you are already familiar with the story of my father.

Driving home from a wrestling tournament on Saturday, the chronology of life and fate from his post-IBM-layoff period of life was recalled for me. One decision after another to turn right when the success would have come to the left. One week away from so many possibilities. One unsuccessful attempt at rebuilding after another.


The cursed plots always come to pass on the most beloved characters.

A series of bad luck has befallen on one of God's greatest men. Coming to a series of forks in the road, with the free will to choose either path (no direction granted from above), he kept choosing one side only to find the other would have brought us comfort.




The most hard working, worthy man is brought down by old age revealed in the grey appearing on top of his head and slower cognition not allowing him to keep up with the demands of a new and unfamiliar career.

Life is not fair. Who is more deserving? This man gives his all to every company he has ever had opportunity to serve under. Working all day in dark environments, past closing time, he finishes up his tasks at work only to come home and hack away at the computer all night typing in notes of what he has learned for today. Never a devotion greater displayed.




We learned our lesson eight years ago. Now, soon, can we find rest from our burdens and not greater heartache? What more can we do? Reminds me of the David Crowder song.
I am trying to trust that you love him more than I ever could. I am trying to trust that one day the hope we long await will reveal itself to us. I am trying to trust that day by day, slowly, you will strengthen his heart and encourage his spirit.




Send us our miracle.


I want to take it upon myself. I want to deal with this pain, not him. Not the man that stretched himself thin all my days to bless me. Not the one who would give his heart and soul for his children, his wife. Not the man whose one and only desire is to support his family and feel fulfilled in his masculine role. To feel important. To feel sufficient. To feel useful. To feel enough. Not this man.


If I could, I would write him a check for all that I have.

But this would only carry us a few months. Instead I must sit and wait. Like him. Try to speak words of grace and peace. Try.







How much more does your heart break for him?



Hold him, Lord.


(…I can't seem to end this post. My prayer won't end. It will never end until a miracle comes. And even then it won't end as we never cease to sing your praise. We sing your praise now, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer.


We also sing in pain and despair. I need you to be here now.)


Rescue is coming.


Please, God, let it come.









Humble, unstoppable, tears fall.

Be Blessed and Bless.

Old cliches: You don't know what you've got till its gone. Don't kick a gifthorse in the mouth. When you have a bunch of lemons, make lemonade.

The faith of one: Logic. Wisdom. Chosen. Secure. Pained.

The faith of another: Child-like. Proud. Giving. Stretched.

One hard to love: Strong. Confident. Easy. Blessed.

The beloved: Quiet. Firm. Anticipatory. Taken.

My long blinded faith. Disgraceful and proud. Foolish. Unthankful. Challenged. Broken. Remorse. Blind. Blind.

You may never understand this post. It has been the thorn in my flesh for twenty-one years. By the grace of God, may I pull out the splinter and let it heal with a neon pink and yellow-polka-dotted bandaid.

I post for me. A sign of repentence and remembrance. A covenant.

Just another story. You are not just another story to me. You will never be a story. You were real. Holy crap. They don't know you. They don't know why I'm crying. God be praised that your story continues to be shared. But you are NOT a story. You are not a moral lesson to be tossed out. God! We love you. We miss you. You were here. You were ours. You were real. You are not just a name. You are his now. You are ok. You are alive. I believe this. God, I miss you. I'm still praying for your family. You are their son. Their brother. Their youth pastor. Their best friend. Their roommate. That doesn't change. You are. You left us, but you're here. I know this. So much more than a story. They don't know. They don't know anything.

I need you so much closer.

I haven't cried over Andy in a good, solid month. I hate how time heals. (Ha! Seems crazy, I know.) Time. Healing. Think about that. Some lessons we forget too quickly. Last week the Lord did a crazy work in the midst of my busy day and I thought to myself, "I am going to make an oath to myself NOT to forget this moment so that I can praise Him." Sunday we had an opportunity to share what God has done in our lives..."Crap. What was it he did last week again? There was something...It was cool...Crap!" I've already expressed in blog posts the things I don't want to forget about Andy. His servant heart. His humor - constantly relating to others in whatever way works for them. God! He's so close. Heaven is not far! I know this! Life is short! Why do things slip our minds so? It kills me.

"There is so much more we would like to say about this. But you don't seem to listen, so it's hard to make you understand. You have been Christians a long time now, and you ought to be teaching others. Instead, you need someone to teach you again the basic things a beginner must learn about the Scriptures. You are like babies who drink only milk and cannot eat solid food...We are confident that you are meant for better things, things that come with salvation. For God is not unfair. He will not forget how hard you have worked for him and how you have shown your love to him by caring for other Christians, as you still do. Our great desire is that you will keep right on loving others as long as life lasts, in order to make certain that what you hope for will come true. Then you will not become spiritually dull and indifferent. Instead, you will follow the example of those who are going to inherit God's promises because of their faith and patience" (Hebrews 6).

I need you so much closer.

Confidence

Walking through town with a head up, smile on.

Not having time to mess with makeup for months - you still feel beautiful.

Entering through a door knowing you have something to offer a room full of students.

Why is that kid sitting alone? My name's Kate.

Crying once, in August, and leaving it behind.

What the heck. One more chocolate.

Admitting doubts. Honestly.

Standing up to a boss, declaring your worth as an employee in her company.

Baileys is bomb. So is that old anglo-saxon word 'damn.' Your mom doesn't think so.

Waiting. Patiently, earnestly, knowingly.

Letting go of that padded bra and dark lipstick.

Turning off your light, homework undone. Your sanity is more important.

Playing pool with a group of people you just met -- scratched again!

Praying for your roommate. Outloud.

Dancing ridiculously. In public.

Receiving an email from a worried parent to give his daughter a call. She thinks you're lying.

Going out to lunch alone when your schedule does not match up with others'.

Singing wonderfully loud, off-tune notes, in a game of "Rockband" for the first time.

Loving your family. It hurts.

Wearing tanktops around the house, even on your bloated days.

Spending healthy time in solitude - saying no is sometimes good.

Needing no more than the love of the Lord. Finally enough.

Telling a friend your opinion. You might lose her.

Walking to the pool in a swimsuit. You carry your towel this time instead.

Teaching a fifty minute lesson on sixty minutes of shut-eye.

Telling a boy in your life to shape up and start treating you with respect. Another to leave you alone. He's done enough.

Forgiving others of the things you so easily forgave yourself.

Writing, "so glad the Lord healed you. remain faithful to him," in a card to a classmate.

Moving across the country.

Living with a future secure in the Lord.

I've grown.

Drama

I've never been one for drama. Let me try that again. I HATE DRAMA!!!!!!!!

Maybe God forgot to put that female trait into my mixings. A couple situations lately have led me to test my patience.

I don't know how many billion versions of the "I have a stalker" speech I've heard. Everyone has a stalker. Women were made to reflect the beauty of God's image. Duh! You're going to turn some heads. Duh! Some boys take things too obsessively. Live with it. You're not the only one.

I also have a hatred of the conversations sprung from beginning stages of an unclaimed relationship. We all get married if we choose to. Be yourself--you'll have to eventually show your true colors to that person anyway. If you like him, like him. If you don't, maybe you shouldn't flirt with him all day and tell your girlfriends at night how bad you feel for him for trying so hard with you when you're not even remotely interested.

I like to live in the open.

Be honest with yourself. Be honest with others. It lessens the drama.

I probably create my own drama by being a drama-hater, but to each his own character flaws. (Or should I say, to each her or his own character flaws, being language nowadays has to be all uber sensitive so nobody gets hurt).

Plagued by Dreams

Something is not right in my heart.

Wounded

I have a scar on my right arm up near the elbow. About an inch long, a white scrape from a nail on a 2 by 4 that I was nailing into the floor of a demolished house in the New Orleans. I love this scar. In the summertime, I look down at my skin and there it is...I smile.

Some scars are good. We are proud of them! Showing off our bruises and scrapes to one another evoking "oooh"s and "awhh!"s. Proof that we have traveled. We have served. We have lived.

There are other scars. Scars that effect us deeply. That which we carry with us for the rest of our lives. We try to hide these scars, but they too effect other people.