Fighting Against the Wind

Hey hey hey.

So...

What would a blog post from me be without beginning with an invocation to the muse of apology?

I'm sorry for not writing, for building up a teensy tiny following and then dropping whomever actually read this like you're hot, and for completely abandoning this field. I was blogging all summer for Camp Phillip, and then as summer drew to a close I left Camp in a screaming whirl to come directly back to MLC. The semester has been in high-tilt full speed since then. I've been left with barely time to sleep, much less to think flexibly enough to pull my brain away from mile splits and book reviews to consider the dense complexity of feeling and idea swirling about me. Basically, I have been too busy to get my own thoughts straight for myself in daily life, and didn't want to pose anything here that hadn't been thought through. No one wants to listen to an idiot's rambly patterings about thoughts as empty as a soap bubble.

However, today I had this meaningful moment of clarity while on a run with BH - a moment worth sharing, I think.

As we left the city limits of New Ulm in our dust, I had this weirdly calm epiphany set to music of the regular "slap, slap, slap" tempo of our feet on the pavement accompanied by the twirling orchestra of a cacophony of leaves.It was a blustery day a la Winne the Pooh, (you've all seen that episode, I'm sure of it...) and the first half of our run was straight into the wind. We were heading down Garden street - arguably the straightest street in New Ulm - so the wind was going to full-blown in our faces for exactly half the run. The whole team had been kind of hurting since a tough hill workout on Monday, and so trying to get limber when there were 5 miles, straight wind, and a load like bricks on my mind was no small mental feat today. You know those weeks when it's like the "terrible, horrible, no good, all bad day" - for 7 days in a row? Even though it's homecoming week here at MLC, which is always fun, I've been identifying with Hot Chelle Rae's first line more and more as this week has worn on. The fact that it was Thursday and there were still seemingly insurmountable things to do before the long-awaited weekend would get here was just. Plain. Frustrating.



We ran. We ran. I have come to love running (thanks to being in cross country this year,) not only for the physical high of knowing you're young and actually can push your body to do things you thought were impossible, but for the time it gives you to order your thoughts. Life becomes this tangled, scary web sometimes, but running eventually makes you break free. It's an exercise on more than one level, and today as we drafted and leaned into the rush, eventually the load I was carrying lightened.

Thunk.

The gusts got bigger. As we passed the cemetery, there was one huge burst of air that almost counteracted our momentum, and we all laughed and yelled into the wind. The force was such that I screamed and could hear nothing but the wind roaring in my ears; it stole my sound downwind.

We ran. We ran. The group was spreading out like it always does. It was just BH and I.

We ran. We ran. And then, WHOOSH - a gust bigger than the one before. This time we were on our way up an incline, and with all that wind I felt helpless. I was working so hard and going absolutely nowhere. I was so frustrated it was almost comical, so we hollered to high heaven and I punched the air. Was it going to help? Was the taunting wind going to be hurt by my feeble jabs? Was I going to go any faster because of it? Could I catch the wind with my hands, force it to sit in front of me like a naughty schoolboy, and tell it to knock off this bad behavior? No no no no no. In the boxing match of Katie vs. Wind, I lost before the starting bell had finished ringing. There's no use punching wind.

We kept moving our feet up and down, up and down, when blessedly, the highway ducked into shade and finally bent -BAM! Around the corner - sunshine. Stillness. We looked at each other, and with a little "whoop!" of delight we flew the last few meters to our turnaround - I've rarely been so happy to see the backside of a "No Passing Zone" sign. We ran up to it grinning. I hit it.

"If I came all this way I'm gonna SMACK that sign!"

BH smiled. "Well, at least do it properly!" She waded into the high grass at the base (the sign itself was like 7 feet off the ground), jumped, and slapped that sign til it rang, wobbily.

Aside from the wind, the run today was not hard. We ran pretty slow. There have been much more taxing workouts. But I can tell you I rarely felt as fulfilled as I did listening to the drummy thwacking of that sign today.

Thunk.

I realized that I am guilty of thinking that punching at the wind is doing something. I've been going uphill on sore quads, trusting myself enough to think I can do it all on my own. I can do my homework by myself. I don't need a partner to run with. I can work, have a social life, pursue dreams and hobbies singlehandedly. I can deal with past hurt. I can bear my own guilt. I can get my own forgiveness. I can find my own way. I can make my own, convenient truth. I can deal with my desires and get what I want just fine, thanks. When troubles rush like wind, I can handle it. I'm Katie. I'm tough. I'll punch it all. I'll conquer. Bring it, wind. I'm ready.

Really?

Because anything done by myself is punching wind.

Totally useless.

I always self-righteously guffawed when, in a Sunday School lesson, the foolhardy children of Israel "forgot" about God, "did evil in the eyes of the LORD," and got punished for worshiping some idol or another. I snorted in laughter - "How could they FORGET? Why do they keep on falling away? Do they not remember what God did for them? He PARTED THE RED SEA, people! Duh!" Giggling, giggling. I would never be so foolish. Pish.

Really?

Because I'm a daughter of Israel. I'm a child of the Promise. And every single day, I forget.

I forget that "The LORD is a warrior; the LORD is His name" (Exodus 15:3). I forget that "He trains my hands for battle; my arms can bend a bow of bronze" (Psalm 18:34). I forget that I am in love with the God-Man who forfeited a place more perfect than I can imagine to come down to earth so I could stab His hands to a tree and cackle as His blood stained the sand. So that He could face the fire and brimstone of hell to save me from wormily rotting, loveless, for an eternity. He came so that He could rise again. So that He could delight in me, live with me forever, keep me as a precious, cherished bride. I forget that. I forget that, when I have seen Him part the Red Sea in my life, answer my prayers, show me His power day in and day out? "Duhhhhhh."

Life roars cruelly in all of our ears. It's part of sinful life on earth; we're all up against a force that I realize daily is more dynamically evil that I used to comprehend. It's depressing when you find out the innocent world you believed in for so long is fraught with frightening shadows where sureity used to slumber. Doubt drowns us. Hurt crushes. A year goes by, and you find yourself in a place that on September 30th, 2010, you never thought in a million years was possible. You scream, but no one seems to hear. And temptation either violently fights you full in the face, or sidles up to you in moments of vulnerability, caresses you in its irresistible hands, and seduces you like a frog in a pot.

We punch and punch, but we'll never get away. The only thing we can do is place our FAITH in Christ. All we need is to trust that He's our bend in the road, that He's our relief. Though we forget He's running with us every step of the way, the Author doesn't forget about you. Did you hear that? Every footstep. All we can do when the wind is roaring is run to the cross, gleaming like your silver turnaround, and lay our heavy load of bricks at the base - but He's there with open arms. He'll take it. He forgives you. Every. Single. Time.

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunk... THUNK!

Don't fight against wind. Trust in the one who has power over the wind and waves, both literally and figuratively (Mark 4:41). He loves you. If you feel awful, unlovable, beaten, weary, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad - He loves you. When you feel like your work is worth nothing, He loves you. He gives your life meaning. We sin every day, and He loves us. He has plans for you. He protects you. He bridles the wind.

"How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?" - Psalm 13:2

"The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still." - Exodus 14:14

When we turned around and the wind was at our backs, we flew back to school much faster than we ran out there. Not only physically were we lighter, but mentally and spiritually, I was lighter as well. As we closed in on the last two blocks, without saying a word, we both picked up our pace. We ran. Nope, we sprinted.

Drop those bricks. Stop fighting the wind. Be still, and trust the Warrior who loves you to death and hell and back.

Thunk! :)

"Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, His understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. The will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." - Isaiah 40:28-31

Yum! Beef!

Hello! I spent a week in rainy Waco, NE on a TCW trip with three of the best girls you could ever meet and I feel compelled to write about a different kind of "meet"-beef.

Bear with me.


The people we met during our week on those flat, corn-filled plains of Nebraska were awesome (HG especially,) as is always true in my experience with TCW trips. I've been on three now, and each has brought me into contact with truly interesting people I always end up learning from. TN had Janice and Jerry, AZ had Elroy (bless his heart) and Waco, Nebraska had 256 people and a whole high school staff of dedicated teachers to learn from.

As a future teacher, it has just been personally interesting to see different academic settings after a year of education classes as I anticipate getting a call someday where I will have no control over the type of classroom in which I will work. I worked over spring break at St. Marcus, an inner-city Milwaukee school that faces such a high demand that they are doubling the size of their school and hope to have two full classes per grade level in the coming years, which stands in sharp contrast to Trinity Lutheran School in Waco. I forget the exact number, but I want to say there 30 students in grades K-8 in Trinity - quite the difference from St. Marcus.

Nebraska Lutheran High School is also located in Waco, Nebraska, and we hung out a lot with the teachers there last week. I used to think when I attended Wisco that I went to a small high school, but NELHS teachers and students alike were baffled when we talked about the size of Wisco; I think I remember one teacher commenting "they have more teachers there than we have students here!" Again, the number is a little shady in my head, but I'm pretty sure NELHS serves about 70 students.


Could you live in a town of 256 people?


I've been in small towns before and I thought I knew a lot about them, but I realized I knew nothing of small towns until this TCW trip. Waco made New Ulm look like New York! :) There's one restaurant in town called Hunter's , but aside from that the only other businesses in town seemed to be a small hair salon and the post office. Unlike in Wisconsin where I know of train tracks but rarely see trains on them, the tracks in Waco get a LOT of use - a train seems to rumble by ever 5 minutes, honking their horn. Loudly. Even at 3am.

Oh, and there are a few llamas in Waco too.

It was great though. I would really like to live in the country someday, but Waco would be a little too small for me unless I had a family - it would be an excellent place to raise children. Where would they go to get in trouble? The next town over that has 7,000 people and a Walmart? Ooooh, I'm scared of what they'll get into there... not. As a single person, however... not a lot going on. It might work for some people, but I could only live in such a small town long-term if my family was located there.

However, the sense of community was really endearing in Waco, and that's something you definitely lack in a city. Sure, in a city you can still find your niche, meet your own people, discover your personal sense of community through your activities or groups or what have you, but you're still one meager social bubble bouncing around with many other social bubbles and differing communities. You're one of many. You don't know your neighbors. And it's not always safe. But in Waco you always leave your doors unlocked, you can feel free to go over and pick some of Cory's rhubarb to make your special strawberry-rhubarb pie (Thanks again, Lois!!), and can tell where everyone is by where their cars are in town. You stop in the middle of streets, know everyone by name, can recognize when two girls go for a run that they are "strangers" to Waco, and do you know what? I hear you might even meet a girl in Waco, Nebraska...

(please watch that video hahaha... I don't know why but the guy's hat makes me laugh)

We met lots and lots of nice ladies in Nebraska, (based off this trip, I'm inclined to think there are actually ONLY ladies in Nebraska because we very rarely saw menfolk of any kind,) and MAN - CAN THOSE LADIES COOK! This TCW trip almost didn't happen because of a mixup at the Kingdom Workers offices, so the congregation didn't have much notice at all that we were coming - only a day's notice, actually. They did not let this stop their food though, no siree - Bethel Lutheran church came through with a "Tour de Force" of hot dishes, enchiladas, and all manner of amazing home cooked meals for us four all week long. I seriously always gain like 15 pounds on these TCW trips because we're fed so nicely, and this was no exception. Everyone's generosity and hospitality feeding our hungry little mouths for a week was phenomenal and makes me rather sad at the prospect of eating only Camp and Caf food for the majority of the rest of the year (not that either one of those places has bad food... it's just not home cooked, you know?)

One thing we did notice about the food though was that we only ate beef all week. Now, this is NOT a bad thing by ANY means - but sometime around Thursday when we were regaling all the great food we had crammed in our stomachs up until that point, we realized we had not one meal with chicken, pork, or fish - every meal consisted of some kind of beef! Even at Runza's, the only options had beef in them. No other meat. Just beef.

beef.

I mentioned this to my mom once I was home and she said, "Well Katie, what do you expect? On the plains everyone grows corn, then they let the cows EAT the corn, and then the people eat the cows. It's the way of life out there. Duh." To which I responded, "Mom! Geez, when did you get to be such an expert on the Nebraskan agriculture system?" "I just... know things," she said airily as she left the room. "But they don't even have one chicken out there to peck the corn?" I called after her. She just blew me a raspberry from the hallway. (I love my mom, have I ever mentioned that?)

I guess I'm just ignorant, but apparently Nebraskans are known for liking their beef... which we all got hearty helpings of last week. But last week, I also got some hearty helpings of some major spiritual beef.

A lot of us on this TCW trip were feeling troubled by some reason or another, and it was freaking us out. I know I personally haven't been sleeping well the past couple weeks because of strange dreams, and it was not only emotionally frustrating, but spiritually frustrating. I just felt plagued and didn't understand why God wouldn't just hurry up and protect me already - why wasn't this weird bad stuff stopping? Hadn't I prayed about it enough? Didn't He say He would make my life good all the time? Isn't He my Staples "Easy" button? What's the deal, God?

While God CAN do anything, He never said life would be easy. And He definitely is far more than just a quick fix when I'm in a bind, something that the girls on the trip with me really reminded me of again last week. I feel really blessed to have friends I can go to with problems and receive such level-headed spiritual support; I don't know what I would do sometimes without that reminder to turn to God and His loving promises in the Bible.

"No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so you can stand up under it"

I Corinthians 10:13

"Even in darkness, light dawns for the upright... surely he will never be shaken... He will have no fear of bad news; his heart is steadfast, trusting the LORD. His heart is secure, he will have no fear; in the end he will look in triumph on his foes"

Psalm 112:4,6,7-8

The only real truth lies in the spiritual beef of God's promises.

As we knocked on doors this week, it was both saddening and encouraging to hear people's responses to "do you have a church home?" Some said, "Yep, we're Methodist," and politely shut the door. Others shuffled their feet, shifted their eyes and said, "Well, I should, but..." And worst of all, some said, "Save your literature - church isn't for me." It was saddening to think that perhaps some of these people who shut the door on us were literally shutting the door to heaven on themselves as they chose to ignore God's saving Gospel message, choosing instead to embrace the darkness of unbelief... but it was also encouraging when we ran across people who didn't have a church and seemed receptive to the idea of coming to Bethel. God's Word is powerful and effective, and who knows if all it takes to get someone into heaven is a brochure stuffed in their screen door?

All that time spent walking up driveways gave me time to think, and I was reminded of something MB (who ironically at Camp has given me the nickname "beef" and delights in calling me that ad nauseum)told me as I asked him for advice on whether or not to transfer to MLC. When I asked if he thought transferring was a good idea, he said "Katie, there's one thing needful. I'm not going to tell you to go to one or the other, but there's only one thing important in this world, and I think you know what that is."

"'Martha, Martha,' the Lord answered, 'you are worried about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better [listening to God's Word], and it will not be taken away from her.'" - Luke 42:41-42

The only thing we need in this world is beef. Not chicken, not pork, not even spiritual fish can take it's place - all we need is the saving message of Christ's life, death, resurrection, and subsequent redemption from hell. That's it. A job, marriage, dreams, travel - those are just things we do to fill up our time on earth as we wait for heaven. Our main goal should be telling as many people about Jesus as we can while we enjoy our time of grace on earth - all else is just superfluous. When you start pulling a Martha and worrying about many things, just remember - there's only one thing needful:

BEEF!

Thank the LORD for Waco, NELHS, and SG, AZ, and KC - they're just the re-focusing I needed before summer starts for real. One week! AHH!! :)

One thing's needful; Lord, this treasure, teach me highly to regard. All else, though it first give pleasure, is a yoke that presses hard. Beneath it the heart is still fretting and striving, no true, lasting happiness ever deriving. This one thing is needful; all others are vain. I count all but loss that I Christ may obtain." - CW 290

Tooxa!

Wearing His Shirt

I can't sleep. This one week of my life that I don't have to be up at 8am every morning I have gotten tons and tons of sleep, at that is why I find myself at 3:30am bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Good thing I'm going on a TCW trip to Nebraska tomorrow otherwise I would have a ANOTHER full WEEK of free time - TOO MUCH REST AND RELAXATION! Idle
hands are the devil's workshop, as they say. That's too true... really, being busy is the best. Keeps your mind off of weird things.

Anywho.

I'm sitting here in my old childhood bedroom, but it's funny because my brother Greg has been living in here for the past two or three years. Instead of the girly purple haven it used to be for me in high school, now it's part storage hovel, part man cave- instead of Orlando Bloom on the wall there's a Sunday ticket poster in its place, instead of perfume lining my dresser there's Oldspice on the desk, and instead of decorative chairs and swoops and poufs, there's gray storage boxes and dumbbells lining the walls.

It's a little chilly so I'm wearing one of his sweatshirts... which is funny because it's so BIG. Greg's like 6'5 and wears everything in XXL sizes, but I really like wearing over sized clothes. I think every girl loves wearing huge, baggy boy's clothes because it makes them hopeful that someday they'll have a husband and can wear his huge, baggy clothes. I hope someday that FH (Future Husband) will lend me lots of his clothes to snuggle around the house in and use as pajamas. It's my sentimental dream that someday, some mornings I can wake up and make him bacon and eggs while wearing his t-shirt, give him a cup of coffee and the newspaper at the breakfast table and kiss him goodbye before he jets off to work.

They say to really know someone you should walk a mile in their shoes, so what happens when you wear their clothes?


It's comforting to have big, baggy boy sweatshirts wrapped around your shoulders, but it's even better when those sweatshirt sleeves have arms in them and they're still wrapped around you.

Whenever you're lonely or tired or hurting or scared and you want those literal (or figurative) strong arms cuddled around you, know that no matter where you are, you have them.

"I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God. For He has clothed me in garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels."

- Isaiah 61:10

No matter where you are or whatever convoluted situation you find yourself in, God has you wrapped in His saving robe of righteousness. He died to cover our sinfulness with the red blanket of His blood, and because of that we get to go to heaven - and all we have to do is believe His promises! Why is that such a hard concept for us to remember? I've had like 15 years of Lutheran instruction in school. I've heard the saving message of the Gospel maybe a million times - "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life" (John 3:16). And STILL! Still I doubt and forget His love for me!

Why God doesn't take that sweatshirt of forgiveness away from all of us, I do not know. I would certainly not have patience for me and all my sins... praise the LORD for His warm, comforting, over sized coverall of love!

It's great living life wearing His shirt.

(And guys, if you really want to make your girl go nuts for you - lend her a sweatshirt. Believe me. It works :)

"You are all Sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus"

- Galatians 3:26-28

Strongly Vulnerable

Sorry I haven't written. The end of the semester was really crazy, filled with literally hundreds of chicken McNuggets, waterfalls, frogs, scabs, exams, late nights talking about Star Wars, softball, hugs and tears and packing and talks... and even with a little bit of studying wedged in there, the chaos didn't leave a lot of time for self-reflection or blogging. But now that I'm home again, my former frantic pace has slowed somewhat. There's less distraction and more clear thoughts, and lately I've been thinking a lot about the contrasts between strength and vulnerability.

Like a previous post where I contrasted kindness and niceness, strength and vulnerability seem to be characteristics cut from the same cloth even though at first glance they appear in opposition. Aren't they total opposites? Light and dark? Princes and frogs? Hot and cold? Isn't strength - whatever variety in comes in, emotional, financial, spiritual or otherwise - preferable to "wimpy" vulnerability? To be vulnerable is to be weak, and that's bad, right? RIGHT?

A few weeks ago especially I was thinking about strength and what it means to be a truly strong person - it's not something I ever consciously made an effort to think about, so it was interesting what I came to realize after searching around a little bit.

When I think of the word "strong", I think immediately of Schwartzenegger-level biceps. Power suits adorned with Armani ties in a paneled board room. Sawyer from LOST holding a gun at an Other with a dagger-filled glare. A gladiator. Muhammed Ali boxing and boasting. (Thanks NW). Power tools. Rocks and boulders. The first thing I think of when I think of strength is brute force.

But force can't be true strength, because when I think about it more, what comes to mind when I think of strength? The more I think about it, I think about AZ's faith and how she shares it with me in addition to living it in her daily life. I think of my mom smiling as she put her wig on because she was bald from the cancer. I think of my dad going to work every day to provide us with the life we lead. I see strength in a friend who's willing to talk it out with me when I'm a mess of emotions, I see strength in the person who you can count on when it's 3am and you have no one to turn to, and I see strength in the giver. The sacrificer. The protector. That's true strength. I don't often see true strength demonstrated by the guy with the biggest muscles or the most money strutting around on TV. True strength is something far greater than that.

"There are two ways of exerting one's strength - one is pulling down, the other is pushing up" - Booker T. Washington

"It takes more courage to reveal insecurities than to hide them, more strength to relate to people than to dominate them, and more "manhood" to abide by thought-out principles than blind reflex. Toughness is in the soul and the spirit, not in muscles and an immature mind" - Alex Karas

About a month and a half ago I re-read "Wild at Heart" by John Eldredge, and in that book he covers the same topic of true strength. (It's also an overly catchy song by Gloriana that I have stuck in my head as I write this...) I would highly recommend this book to everyone even though it's technically written for guys; the main concept is that true strength is born of adversity, true strength is not just being outwardly, brutishly strong, and true strength is perfectly modeled by God.

How can you be strong if you've never gone through anything difficult? I know in my personal experience, the times I learn the most about life, love, and God is when I'm in a fight, I have a decision to make, or I've been disappointed by something. It's plumb easy to float along in life when you're getting good grades, flourishing at your job, and succeeding at your interpersonal relationships, but take that all away for one reason an another - and how does that change your relationship with God? Those knees that were doing the happy dance in the sunshine of good times get worn out praying at night. You bargain with God like a genie - "God, make him care about me!" "God, help me pass this test!" "God, if you just get me through this, I promise I will..." All it takes is a breakup, a setback at work, or a poor test grade and suddenly, the Guy that you ignored except for a half-hearted hymn-sing on Sunday becomes your be-all-end-all, the Friend from CW 411... until things are good again. Then, it's the same old routine.

"Strength is born in the deep silence of suffering hearts; not amid joy" - Arthur Helps

We get so angry with God when trials come into our lives - "why are You doing this to me?!" But sometimes, though we don't see it at the time, God's just pruning us, shaping us for further ministry that He wants us to do for Him while we're here on earth. Perhaps by giving you trials He's trying to test your faith; after all, He did it all the time in the Old Testament. "Abraham - please murder your only son, okay?" "Noah - build a huge boat you probably don't have money for." "Jonah - time to go to Ninevah!" "Job - your family is going to die, your house is going to be destroyed, and you're going to lose your livelihood - stay strong in the faith, man!" These situations seem irrational. Illogical. Impossible. But what doesn't kill you makes you stronger (at least according to Friedrich Neitzsche), and God promises He'll never tempt you past what you can bear (I Corinthians 10:13). Moreover, His discipline may not be pleasant at the time, but He is treating you as a beloved son when you face trials of all kinds. (More on that in a future post). On the whole, true strength is born out of adversity.

"Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us" - Romans 5:3-5

"If God sends us on strong paths, He provides us with strong shoes" - Corrie Ten Boom

(I'm upset with myself since I'm trying to discuss too big of a concept to be nailed down or explained entirely in a blog post... sorry that this will a terribly inadequate exam of true strength.)

Anyway, it turns out, being strong means... almost being the opposite of what most of us would think. Strong means being "weak". To be strong, you also need to be... vulnerable.

"That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." - II Corinthians 12:10

It doesn't make sense that strength should be in anyway tied to "weakness", but it should be said now that vulnerability is nothing like being weak. The boldest example of this is Christ on the cross. Though He is the strongest being in every way that ever existed, He wedged His glory into a vulnerable human form, died to save us... and rose again. The way Jesus gave up His life for us doesn't seem strong if we were to objectively look at the facts on paper. God? Dead? It seems that Jesus was not powerful enough to avoid getting murdered by feeble people. Death is conceding to humanity's curse; to die seems weak. Isn't that the opposite of strong? Moreover, He had emotions! He cried! What a wimp... right? Throughout His life it is recorded that He wept at a friend's grave, laughed, was sarcastic, kissed people, and got angry enough to turn over tables. He was pretty open with how He felt. He was pretty vulnerable. "Aren't people with feelings weaklings? Doesn't strong mean not crying? Holding in all your emotions?"

Far from it.

Our Savior may have been physically weak as a man when He died, but He was in no way a wimp that day on Calvary. He was and remains the strongest Man ever - strong because He was willing to use His power for our benefit instead of His. He was strong enough to be vulnerable.

"True strength lies in submission which permits one to dedicate his life, through devotion, to something beyond himself." - Henry Miller

"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever" - Psalm 73:26

I had a great talk last night with my sister about being open with people, and how that seems to be a really hard thing not only for the both of us, but with nearly everyone we've met. To be truly be open with someone means trusting them completely - and that can be a scary thing, especially when you're not sure if you like the things you see inside yourself. It's frightening because really opening up yourself to someone opens up the possibility that you could get hurt - badly. But you'll never know the depth of life's emotion until you can be vulnerable with someone, until you can scream and laugh and cry and be all the colors of your crazy with another person. My man C.S. Lewis says it best:

"To love at all you must be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."

I know I do a pitiful job at being vulnerable a lot of times. Sure, show me a cute engagement photo and I'm putty in your hands, but for other things I've realized that I'm too independent. I don't satisfy people in relationships like I should because I have a hard time showing them what I'm really like, fearing that what they see behind the curtain won't measure up to their expectations of me. I'm too prideful to ask questions and too stubborn to be shown the way- all things that could be cured with a little old-fashioned vulnerability. Asking questions, letting down my guard? That's truly strong.

Being alone instead of running back to sure security and a shoulder to cry on takes strength. Doing the hard thing takes strength. Confronting obstacles as they roll into your life takes strength. Changing and living and trusting? It all takes strength, but it's not sweaty man-strength - it lies in vulnerability. And true strength only comes from the Holy Spirit.

In the end, the only strong thing to cling to that exists to help you overcome every insecurity is Jesus Christ's undying, eternal love and saving work on the cross.

Strongly vulnerable?

Vulnerably strong?

"... the joy of the LORD is your strength" - Nehemiah 8:10

Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

Hey there. Lately I've been feeling a need to write a blog post about the difference between being nice and being kind. I had a great talk with HR today that touched on this subject and she really got me thinking. I've been playing around with the thought that two relatively generic words that seem as similar as "nice" and "kind" can mean drastically different things, and recent life events have done nothing but perpetuated this thesis of sorts in my mind.

As I sat down to write this I was trying to come up with a witty title about the words "nice" and "kind" but instead the word "sweet" got stuck in my head. And then the old nursery rhyme came back to me:

"Girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice
Boys are made of snips and snails and puppy dog's tails."

Where this came from, I cannot tell you. Regardless, the thought left me wondering so I did a little Wikipedia search. An excerpt from a book called "Mother Goose: From Nursery to Literature" by Gloria T. Delamar said that these two lines are part of two stanzas of a poem called "What Folks are Made Of." They were most likely written by Robert Southey, (1774-1843) a British poet and historian who mostly wrote long epic poems. If you know me well you know I have a sweet tooth for old British literature, so if I didn't like Mr. Southey already for the mere fact that he's dead and he's British, Lord Byron's quoted opinion of Southey was, "His prose is spot on."

And it is. I thought it was so cute that I'm posting it on here.

What Folks are Made Of
Robert Southey

What are little babies made of, made of?
What are little babies made of?
Diapers and crumbs and sucking their thumbs
That's what little babies are made of.

What are boys made of, made of?
What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails and puppy dog tails
That's what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of, made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice and everything nice.
That's what little girls are made of.

What are young men made of, made of?
What are young men made of?
Sighs and leers and crocodile tears
That's what young men are made of.

What are young women made of, made of?
What are young women made of?
Rings and jings and other fine things
That's what young women are made of.

What are our fathers made of, made of?
What are our fathers made of?
Pipes and smoke and collar's choke
That's what our fathers are made of.

What are our mothers made of, made of?
What are our mothers made of?
Ribbons and laces and sweet pretty faces
That's what our mothers are made of.

What are old men made of, made of?
What are old men made of?
Slippers that flop and a bald-headed top
That's what old men are made of.

What are old women made of, made of?
What are old women made of?
Reels and jeels and old spinning wheels
That's what old women are made of.

What are all folks made of, made of?
What are all folks made of?
Fighting a spot and loving a lot
That's what all folks are made of.

How cute is that? And very true to life. I think some of the truest expressions of human emotions can be found in children's literature and other "simple" nursery-rhyme type songs and poems; they somehow express a profundity of life so rich and grand in such elementary linguistics. I like the way Mr. Southey thinks.

There were a couple words I didn't know in this poem. First of all, what in the world is a "snip?" I thought at first "snip" in this context was a name for random bits and baubles - similar to the English colloquial phrase "ditzy crap." At least that's what we call the bits and baubles that sometimes clutter up the Strommen house... but I was wrong. "Snip" is actually the old slangy term for "eel." Who knew? Still, eels are no better to have inside boys than "ditzy crap." So there's that. Also, being a young woman I apparently am made of "rings and jings and other fine things." Sweet. But really? I'm a single lady so no rings for me... and I don't have fine things since I am a broke as broke can be college student... and what are jings? Google said its a "relatively uncommon Chinese family name," it can be a name that means "crystal, calm and quiet, energy, perfect," a name for acupuncture channels... the Online Slang Dictionary says it's another way to say "dang it" and it's also a kind of middle eastern shrimp. Mr. Southey was referencing none of these things when he composed this poem, in my opinion at least. According to WordReference.com, "jings" is also a Scottish expression used to express surprise. Seeing as the author of this poem was from Britain, it is feasible that the phrase could have trickled its way from Scotland down to Bristol and that Southey would use this phrase to express that young women were always full of surprises. Words. I love em.

I just love how the poem ends - "Fighting a spot and loving a lot, that's what all folks are made of." Hopefully it's not the other way around; Loving a spot and fighting a lot doesn't seem like a good way to live life. Fights and altercations always happen, but, again, in the words of the spiritedly wise HR, "Never give up loving hard."

What are you made of? Are you full of jings and snips? Quips? Quirks? Qualms? Bits and baubles?

But really... what are you made of? What defines you as "you?" It's an interesting thing to ponder, one that oftentimes makes me feel poorly about myself. We can put on whatever mask we want for other people on the daily play of our lives, but ultimately, if we hang out with ourselves enough we get to know us pretty intimately - and inwardly, we're all pretty crass. To borrow the words from TLC as covered lately on Glee, we're all "damn unpretty" when we look at what constitutes the base essence of ourselves, brimming with snips and busting with jings.

HR told me today that she thought "nice" is a word we can use for the surface-y, socially polite aspects of friendship or acquaintanceship. You're nice when you nod in the hall. You're nice when you open a door for someone. You're nice when you pick up trash, say palely complimentary things to people to make them feel good, and walk with people places. But being kind? That's a whole new ballgame; not too many people I've met bouncing around in life are truly kind.

Kind is nice taken to a whole different level - the third level, if you will (I just watched INCEPTION today - ahh!) Kind approaches a level of goodness and purity that's highly unstable and nigh impossible to attain in faulty, flaky human beings. A nice person says "hello"; a kind person asks "how are you doing?" and is really vested in the reply. A kind person denies his or herself for the sake of your happiness and well-being, mental or spiritual or physical or otherwise. A kind person is someone you can call, rain or shine, and trust your dependence on them is not in vain. A kind person offers to drive you from Madison to Milwaukee on a Friday night when you need it (KD that's you!). A kind person is the person that country song laud and the Bible asks you to be. I don't want you to think I'm saying being nice to others is a bad thing; quite on the contrary. Nice and kind are words from the same family and concepts of the same class - but kind is a higher caliber of nice.

Are you made of nice? Probably. Are you made of kind? Probably not. I know I'm not. It's hard to be this kind of person because... it's difficult. It's not fun all the time; it is not easy. You have to do things you don't want to do. You have to be unselfish, and at their core, everyone's selfish. True kindness is an Everest. It's tough to get there. But it leads to real love.

You might find someone here who loves you for your jings and tolerates your snips. This person might want to be with you always. They might be eons past "surface-y nice". They might be as kind as they come. And you might spend a lot of time with them. You might even marry them. But you know what? Eventually there will come a time when they'll let you down. It happens with friends too. You might have someone who brings joy and companionship and fun into your life, but when push comes to shove they might leave you alone with the soldiers as they head for shadowy safety of the Kidron hills like they did that one time to that one guy. No one is prefectly kind. But you know what else? That one guy totally is.

"For the LORD will not reject His people; He will never forsake His inheritance" - Psalm 94:14

"This is the message we have heard from Him and declare to you: God is light; in Him there is no darkness at all" - I John 1:5

"I will tell of the kindnesses of the LORD, the deeds for which He is to be praised, according to all the LORD has done for us - yes, the many good things He has done for the house of Israel, according to His compassion and many kindnesses" - Isaiah 63:7

God never fakes niceties to our faces or uses us for His selfish purposes. Instead, He genuinely, kindly, for whatever unknown reasons He has, chucked His Son down here to save us from our utter un-kindness. We didn't treat Him kindly. We killed Him. And He's still abundantly kind to us every day, with all our snips and jings. That's a conclusion even more mind-blowing than Inception's. Take some time and think about what you're made of - and ask Him to help you be the kind of servant He want us to be.

What is our God made of, made of?
What is our God made of?
Grace, peace, and kind, a love constantly shined
That's what our God is made of.

Out In The Open

Happy late Easter!
Hopefully you had a refreshing and spiritually uplifting time with family and friends and Jesus this weekend, that you stuffed yourself full of jelly beans and novelty chocolate, and that artificial grass is perpetually stuck to your floor. All of these things sound like the making of a really great Easter song. Why are there no secular Easter songs aside from "Here Comes Peter Cottontail?"

- side note: I found out funny things about my Dad this weekend. Apparently for school when he was little he had to sing "Peter Cottontail" and we still have it on tape. My siblings said they heard it and at one point he screws up, making his little baby voice get all choked...and he starts crying because he messed up! If you knew my Dad better you could more fully understand how hilarious and heartbreakingly cute that is. Picture the fluffiest blond hair and the biggest 4-year old blue eyes and blue suspender shorts with a puffy bowtie... Man I love my Dad. I'm glad these stories about parents come out into the open every now and again. okay. end side note -

This Holy Week was really awesome. I mean, it always is, right? Best week of church of the year, what with the waving branches and communion and great hymns and tenebre services and lilies on Sunday morning. Good stuff. But below the pomp and circumstance, the truth of what happened that week 2000 years ago always expresses itself to me differently year by year. We can hear "He is risen! He is risen indeed!" 21 years in a row and I still don't get it. I don't think we as humans are supposed to understand how God gave His son over to such a crude human fate as death to save us - it's illogical. It's impractical. Most of all, it's confusing.

Something that happened over Easter really opened my eyes to how painful Jesus' death must have been for His family, earthly and heavenly. A family at Grace by the name of Trotter had the unthinkable happen - their two year old daughter mysteriously got very sick very quickly and died on April 12th, 2011. Her name was Clara. They have three other daughters, aged 6, 4, and then there's a younger baby girl too I think. I'm not sure about their daughter's illness or how it all exactly happened, but Mr and Mrs Trotter were there, bright and early at the sunrise service on Easter Sunday. They buried their little girl a week ago.

Anyway, they went up to communion holding two of their daughters and it really made a statement, to me at least. Mr. Trotter is the president of the congregation, and I think he was a good example to everyone at Grace that even in the midst of tragedy, worshipping God is vital. As Mr and Mrs Trotter stood up in front of church holding their daughters I couldn't help but think that they were holding on to everything they had left - and bringing it all before God. I think it would be terribly heart-wrenching to get up, dress your remaining children in frilly dresses and cart them off to a church bedecked with flowers to listen to arguably the happiest story in the whole Bible proclaiming Jesus' miraculous rise from His tomb when you know that your little girl is moldering in hers. If I was that little girl's mother I would still be in bed. How do you get happy after that? How do you go on with your life?

Can you imagine how Mary felt? Jesus was her miracle baby, the Son she could not explain, and she had to watch soldiers flay the skin from His back. Think about how worried your mother used to get about you when you were little and skinned your knee - and now picture how your mother would feel if she watched you die? If she helplessly watched crowds chant for your murder, and finally couldn't tear her eyes away from you as you were slaughtered on a hillside? Think about how terrible Mrs Trotter must have felt when there were only 3 Easter baskets this year instead of 4. Think about how it feels to know you are separate from someone you love, and you have no way of bringing them back to you. You have no way to talk to them again. You have no way to hear their laugh or hold them again. The wretchedness of losing a child truly is a pain unlike any other, and we have to remember Jesus was a baby - a baby that died.

I don't have a child of my own and can't come close to understanding that kind of emotional trauma; I can't understand how as a mother you get up and put on a smile and go to work and keeping being a mother to your other kids. I don't know how you stop the tears. I don't know how you stop being sad - I don't think you ever do. Time heals, even though that pain probably only resides to a dull throb. It never goes away. There's nothing more hopeless.

How to people who don't know the Gospel message cope with this kind of tragedy? Because though the Trotter's may grieve now - grieve forever, maybe - they can have hope. They know that Jesus didn't stay dead, that He rose in three days as He continually promised, and that someday they WILL see their daughter in heaven again. They can be sure about this. There's no reason to doubt it - she's in heaven. And all those who believe in Him will be as well!

"Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance..."

(John 20:1)

"... suddenly, two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, 'Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; He has RISEN!"

(Luke 24:4-6)

That's literally the best news you can ever tell anyone. HE HAS RISEN! In that phrase lies the completion of prophecy, validation of thousands of years of faith, and gives the reason why we can get out of bed after tragedy and say "I know that my Redeemer lives." It's the reason we go on, it's the reason we live - the empty tomb! It's emptiness means the grave is not our final destination. It means we get eternal paradise instead of 6 feet of dirt and a box in the ground, or worse, eternal separation from love and joy and God for all eternity. That tomb's open. He has risen!

Why don't we tell people this all the time? Why do we instead cave and let opportunity after opportunity to share the gospel with our family, friends, and strangers walk right by us every day? KC reminded me this weekend something that our teacher Mr. Greschner said in high school - to not tell people the Gospel is the same as straight up telling them, "I hate you." Do you hate your family and friends? By no means! Then why don't we tell them about what Jesus did more openly? Because we're afraid we'll look dumb? Not be "cool" anymore? Suffer social consequences? When you do that, you hate the people you claim to love.

Right after the Bible tells us Jesus rose, He gives us a direct command:

"Therefore, go and make disciples of all nation, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you." - Matthew 28:19-20

We have to tell people about this amazing news! The clock is ticking! Souls need saving and God Himself tells us to get His saving message out in the open.

The tomb is open.

He is Risen.

Now get that message out there.

Happy Easter!

If God is For Us

"For those God forknew He also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those He predestined, He also called; those He called, He also justified; those He justified, He also glorified. What then, shall we say in response to this?

If God is for us, who can be against us?

He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all - how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things?"

Romans 8:29-31

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes, it feels like the world is out to get you. Nothing's right, and nothing seems to be able to fix your problems. Not even the Bible seems to work and God seems far off - and far too big and busy to care about your petty little life. People can be mean, and life is not easy. Hobbes says it best: "Life is nasty, brutish, and short" - Leviathan

DEEEEEEEPRESSING.

When the world stacks up against you, though, it's great to know God is in fact very vested in your daily stuggles - and that everyone hated Him long before conceiving you was even a thought.

"If the world hates you, keep in mind it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do NOT belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. This is why the world hates you." - John 15:18-19

Ohhh, so THAT'S why the world hates me! Duh :) I like how blatant God is sometimes.

If God is for us, who can be against us?

"Do not put your trust in princes, in mortal men, who cannot save" - Psalm 146:3

"The LORD is a warrior; the LORD is His name" - Exodus 15:3

This part of the semester really sucks, especially when at MLC we're all like a DAY away from Easter freedom and a brief reprieve before the slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am of the end of the year, but don't lose hope! If God is for us, who can be against us? He's fighting for you. AZ reminded me today,

"I have loved you with an everlasting love" - God, Jeremiah 31:3

God's great. He'll help you conquer your foes today, no matter what face or form they take. We song a song sometimes at Camp that comes to mind now:

"Hey! You!

Get outta my way!

You ain't gonna make me sin today! I said

"Hey! You!

Get outta my way!

You ain't gonna make me sin today!

Because I've got the power of Jesus!

Flowing in my spiritual blood

And now that He has redeemed us

It'll be an overflowing spiritual flood"

Subsitute "you" with whatever sin or worry or stressor is dragging you down today. He'll fight for you; He promises. If God is for us, who can be against us today???

One Year!

What a difference a year makes! Last year I lived in Madison, WI, in 410 Luedtke Slichter, I spent my time with lattes in coffeeshops poring over my dog-eared edition of the complete works of Shakespeare, and I rode my bike everywhere. I lived with a girl who loved dogs more than people and I ate quesadillas for dinner nearly every night. A year and 350 miles of distance later, while I still wonder if my new roommate loves dogs more than people, everything else is different. I live in Minnesota, I spend my time almost exclusively on campus with friends poring over the Bible as a textbook, every night I can look forward to eating some caf surprise or another with a loving group of people, and my feet are more than sufficent to get me where I need to go. (Except for McDonald's, we use Baby to go to McDonald's...)


Today, Sunday April 17th, 2011 is the one-year-versary of me deciding to transfer to MLC! Coming here has been by far the biggest decision I've ever made in my life, and it's a neat retrospective view 365 mere days later - and a true testament to how God operates for the best. I'm feeling reflective.

What was your life like exactly a year ago today?

On April 17th, 2010, I woke up early to go to a farmer's market in Madison with some dear friends. The night before I had talked seriously with a friend about transferring and he had me pretty darn convinced that staying in Madison was a far superior idea than transferring to MLC. I had hemmed and hawed and tossed and turned and spent most of the night of April 16th wide-eyed in bed, staring at my ceiling and hoping it would give me some answers.

In the morning, none had come. If you've never been to the Saturday morning farmer's market in Madison, you definitely should go sometime, especially in the spring. This particular spring morning was full of sunshine and promise, with tulips waving on the Capitol lawn and the air thick with the smell of cheese bread. After a quick stop at Starbucks on State to see NM and grab a soy chai latte, I met up with my friends and started perusing the berries and flowers and necklaces and vegetables and... the more I walked around, the more I thought to myself "Yeah! Katie, c'mon now, look where you get to go to school! Isn't this such a priviledge? Isn't this such a joy? If you were accepted here you're definitely supposed to go to school here; don't be delusional. He was right, stay in Madison."

The whole time, two of my friends were walking ahead of me and arguing amongst themselves about whether or not I should actually transfer schools. Their opposing viewpoints were the verbalized thought cycles I had been running cagedly through for 3 weeks since a TCW trip to Arizona where the idea to transfer originated; their words were like a heated ping pong tournament. Zing, zing, zing, zing, what to do? Stay or go? This decision was going to have major implications on nearly every aspect of my life - who my friends would be, what profession I would acquire for life, potentially my future husband - heavy stuff. That was one conflicted day at the farmer's market.

After awhile it was time to head back to Slichter and my daunting pile of afternoon homework, so I said goodbye and started the 35 minute walk back to my dorm. It was weird, but as I walked back I felt farewell in the air. I walked by all the old familiar spots - the Terrace, the piers where I would sit and journal, Helen C White Library, up and over Bascom, and finally a mosey down Observatory to the building I called "home" for two years. All these thoughts were still swirling, swirling, swirling, and I had never felt more confused in my whole entire life. When I got up to my room I found a rare situation - my roommate who almost perpetually was in the room was gone for the afternoon and I had some unexpected free alone time. I sat down and asked out loud, "I have to go, right? I'm supposed to go to MLC? Even though Madison is so great?"

No answer; I wasn't even sure of whom or what I was inquiring of. I stood up and asked again, "I have to go to MLC, right?" I started pacing and pacing around our minature carpet.

Pacing.

Pacing.

I finally sat down and said some kind of prayer like "God, this is in your hands, I just am so confused that I really clearly need You to tell me what to do. Tell me what to do, please!" With that I opened my eyes and there on our end table was a piece of paper that was blank and simply said "Yes!" I think it was a memo urging me to vote "Yes!" for Madison's "Big Red Go Green!" campaign or something, but all I saw was "Yes!" and I can't explain it, but I knew right then and there that I had to go to MLC and I would kick myself forever if I didn't. I think that's the feeling I'm going to be looking for someday when I'm contemplating who I should marry: They say when you know, you know, and some day I want to be as sure about my future husband as I was about my decision to come to MLC. I've never had such a feeling of utter knowing-ness; God answered my prayer and made my decision really clear for me.

One year later, I still believe with all the wisdom within me that moving to MLC was the right thing. Every day I wake up excited at the prospect of teaching someday - this choice helped me discover what my true passion in life is. While I miss my friends in Madison terribly, God's led me to awesome people at MLC that I perhaps never would have been fortunate enough to meet this side of heaven, and I know already I always will be grateful for the impact they've had on my life. MC's finally taught me how to assert myself; she's given me some backbone and moreover, she's been a continual source of joy in my life here. CS has taught me about relationships, NW has taught me indirectly how to continually care for someone and love life for what it is, MH has opened my eyes to what genuine kindness is, JH showed me how to be a friend in all circumstances, and DP has taught me more about how to be patient and more about myself than I could have ever expected. One year later, I'm overwhelmed by how blessed I am to have met all of them - and we'd all still be strangers if I was still at Madison. God certainly has a plan!


The musical Rent's hit song "Season's of Love" says, "How do you measure, measure a year? In daylight? In sunsets? In midnights, in cups of coffee? In inches? In miles? In laughter, in strife?" Hah it's a tad cliche, but it's stuck in my head as I'm writing this. I don't know appropriate benchmarks for assessing the success of individual decisions because the sad fact is, humans are shortsighted. Blighted. We can't see past Friday night to quote Brad Paisley, and we're so cemented in the here-and-now that we don't stop enough to appreciate or try to understand how God is working out His will in our lives for His glory and our good. It's just so crazy to look back on past decisions and try and untangle the webs we weave, to analyze and see how little choices like where to go on spring break freshman year or weighty decisions like what profession to take up can have on the entire course of your life. I think that's called the Butterfly Effect if I'm not mistaken? (Which is also the name that movie I still have to see...) It's all way over my head.

Anyway, today I was just feeling reflective and wanted to express my thanks to God and people at MLC and elsewhere that have effected my life. We're all part of a highly complicated adventure that thankfully, is far beyond our control. What a difference a year makes! After a long winter and lots of ups downs, I'm just feeling alive again. Maybe it's spring. Maybe it's contentment. Maybe it's God answering prayers. Whatever it is, I'm optimistic.

THIS SONG PERFECTLY SUMS UP EVERYTHING!!!! LITERALLY EVERYTHING! I hear ya, Sara Evans.

God's got plans. Aren't you excited to see what He has in store for you?

"Cast your bread upon the waters, and after many days you will find it again" -Ecclesiates 1:11


Also - HAPPY ONE YEAR TO MY BEST FRIENDS, SG AND BH!!!! What a year, hey?

Habitual Blogging

Hey.

So.

Um.

I haven't blogged for 3 months?

I didn't even remember my password to log on here. I feel like a tool. I'm also fighting the urge to apologize and justify the reasons why I haven't written but that's a) boring and b) there's already stuff in here about that so I'm going to cut the crap and tell you some things!

I'm working at Camp Phillip again this summer! I was rather undecided this fall about whether or not I should return to camp for a motley crew of reasons, but I'm going back after all. This year instead of counseling and life guarding I'm the part-time photographer, office worker, staff assistant(ish), and blogger! It'll be interesting to work at such a familiar place with such an unfamiliar role. 43 days! I figured if I'm blogging all summer I should warm up a bit - get back into the habit?

I've thought a lot lately about habits. Good or bad, it's really hard to break them because they're so ingrained in us. I had to break a good habit lately rather abruptly, and it's been tough. When you're so completely used to living one way, to totally change routines and break up comfortable stability is no easy task. It's not fun. It's far more akin to hell. I heard once that to make sure a new habit sticks, you have to practice living that habit for 30 days. That's what I'm trying to do at least - we'll see if that's true! If it's a tough habit to break, I have a feeling it takes more than 30 days, and you'll probably always have a tendency to go back to old ways. Speaking of habits, if you're looking for a GREAT book to read, try "The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People" by Stephen R. Covey. It's one of my favorite books I've ever read because it's so darn applicable to everyday life. Reading-wise I've been on a huge non-fiction kick this semester. I read this for the first time when in high school I got the teen version of this book as a birthday present, and even though I think a majority of "self-help" books pander to laziness and selfishness, this one is great. The premise is that people who are successful in any aspect of life all seem to inherently follow these 7 habits:
1. Be proactive
2. Begin with the end in mind
3. Put first things first
4. Think "Win-Win"
5. Seek first to understand, then be understood
6. Synergize
7. Sharpen the Saw (Soul time)

I think aside from the Bible, this is the book that has contributed the most to my personal life philosophy. Good stuff. Check this book out or if you hate libraries for some inconceivable reason, I'll lend it to you. I have to go to work! Good luck with habit breaking or habit up-taking.

This is what the LORD says: "Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls."

Jeremiah 6:16

Apologetic Rambles... Doesn't That Sound Like A Good Band Name?

Hello again. Although in my last post I promised I was going to again return to "regular" blogging, have I failed again? Oh heck yes. I had all of Christmas break to ponder and pen masterpieces and read and reflect and blog... and I watched 7 seasons of Friends, effectively turning my brain into absolute mush. Why do such a thing?

Couple reasons. First of all, I felt that anything I would write would be contrived, preachy, and blase' as of late due to life circumstances. I, the omni-journaler, hardly wrote a word of self reflection over Christmas break. Nary a peep. If you asked me who Katie Strommen was for most of December, I would answer "no clue". Sometimes I just don't write in my journal because it is too plain hard; sometimes waves of emotions are so strong they are better held at bay because to give them ink time on a page would unleash an ocean that would never be satisfactorily defined, never appropriately explored - a writer's worst nightmare is inadequate work. So. I had plenty of things I wanted to journal or blog about, but I was so out of touch with myself that it would have been a bunch of surface-y mumbo jumbo if I tried to express it on here.

Second of all, one of my core personal philosophies is a philosophy of passion. What is life without passion? It's dead. Colorless. Not worth living. Passion gives life meaning, passion makes me get out of bed in the morning, passion and care would fix a lot of problems in the world, and passion is an intrinsic part of belief, (I'm currently speaking from a semi-secular point of view and not necessarily about belief in our Lord and Savior Jesus. Stay with me here.) If I wrote anything just for the sake of writing but I did not believe it, if I did not wholeheartedly think and care about the words I was saying, there would be perhaps more words in more entries on this blog, but they would be totally frivolous at best, and at worst, they would be hypocritical. I think that in this life, you gotta be all in. We only get like 80 years here - live it up! Carpe Diem! Why do anything for the sake of just doing it? Why waste any time? Live, and live to the utmost.

HR told me one time, "Katie, never stop loving hard" and I love that she said that so much I toyed with the idea for 3o seconds of getting it tattooed under my armpit where every other girl seems to be getting tattoos these days. (I won't, my tattoo days are over, never fear...) Love hard. Good motto, right? Love is hard, but only because it is the strongest emotion out of all of them, and that much emotional currency balanced on such a volatile scale seems well poised to inherently do some damage. Anger can blaze, jealousy can worm away your soul, sadness can crush, but love will always conquer these. Never stop loving hard - never stop loving your friends and family hard, never stop loving things you're passionate about (writing) hard, never stop loving who you are hard, and most of all, never stop loving your Jesus hard. To do anything less and go through the motions is hypocrisy, the trait I hate most in life (and sometimes practice the most in life...) Never stop loving hard.

On this topic, have you ever gone on thinkexist.com? I love their quotes on there. With the whole carpe diem-mentality I try and practice, I often look up quotes to reinforce what I'm thinking about, and here are a couple good ones:

"Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinions of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for yourself. Act for yourself. Face the truth."

-Katherine Mansfield

"You've got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on in the process"

-Ray Bradbury

This is an incredibly lengthy tangent trying to describe why I haven't written - like I said, I always feel the need to apologize, not only to you but to myself. Oh hypocrite Katie, regular blog posts my butt... :)

A couple other things happened over Christmas that made blogging hard. Most obviously, my Uncle Skip died after a bout with leukemia. He was a strong Christian man so I have no doubt of his hereafter, but events like this always make you feel sorrow for the people left behind. Uncle Skip wasn't really my uncle - he was my mother's cousin - but that side of the family is closer to us Strommen's than the other side of our relations, and the looks on the faces on the three daughters and wife he left behind are enough to make anyone feel bad for awhile. Death always also raises tons of other questions about your own existence as you stare at that polished urn and, with a sucker-punch, remember that urn is all you are. We're only ashes and we're only here for a hair's-breadth of time - why are we wasting our time with pointless quibbles and squabbles about this and that? WHY?! Most importantly, does it not just ASTOUND you that someday you are going to die? Doesn't that absolutely blow your mind? We all live like we have forever, but forever may be up tomorrow. You're going to DIE. I'M going to DIE. Ethel down the street is going to DIE, the grocery clerk is going to DIE, and in 60 years, everyone you are sitting in a classroom with right now with probably be moldering in their graves or at least well on their way there. People stop breathing and we put them in a box and shove it in the ground and then slowly forget about them.

"Most people can do extraordinary things if they have confidence or take risks. Yet most people don't. They sit in front of the telly and treat life as if it goes on forever."

- Philip Andrew Adams

"To die will be an awfully big adventure"

- Aristotle

Life is so weird.

As if that wasn't enough to keep my brain occupied all break, my friend's lives are very dramatic and being home always throws us college students into the midst of potentially very hurtful family dynamics they can avoid whilst at school... throw in family Christmas parties, a WELS College rally, New Years, coffee dates all over Milwaukee, and making time for like 50 people you really want to see before going 7 hours away for another 4 months, and there was hardly any downtime to breathe, not to mention think. Christmas vacation? More like ChristmasSTRESSOUT. Phew. Just thinking about it all again is making me stressed!

Anywho, then I came back to MLC early in January and I'm in my second week of school already, but life has simmered down to a much more manageable pace. Kinda. The same stressors are definitely still there, but just living on your own when you can confront your own issues on your own time and in your own way make things so much more do-able... not having to ask your mom to borrow the car reaffirms that yes, Katie, you ARE an adult and can make your own choices, and that invaluable to me. Pride much? Ahhh, resolutions are calling my name.

So now it's 2011 and I have successfully just rambled on here with no form or structure, just passionate feelings. Normally I like posts to have somewhat of a thesis or overall, unifying theme to them, but for once I thought I'd give the ol' "stream of consciousness" method a try. This is the product. To catch up:
1) I haven't written for over a month because:
a. I wasn't personally reflecting and was not in touch with my personal life
b. I hate when I write things that I do not feel passionately about
2) Passion! Passion in life is grand and great and lovely! Passionless life and just going through the motions is hypocritical.
3) Never stop loving hard.
4) Quotes about risk and life and love!
5) Death is weird and makes you go swim in the well of deep, morbid thought.
6) We're all gonna die
7) Christmas was stressful but I am back at MLC and life is good.

Hmmm yes that's about it. Thanks for dealing with these apologetic rambles. Which leads to the title - band names! Lots of really juxtaposed things make terribly awesome band names. Apologetic Rambles? Or Apologetic Ramble? Awesome name. A couple days ago at lunch we decided "Bloody Lemons" would be a swell metal band. I think "Midnight Trampolines" is a legitimate awesome band name - it's copyrighted here so now you can't use it! I just think it's funny that these days, anything can be band name - "The Stale Pretzels?" Indie. You could go all day. I got a guitar for Christmas and I'm gonna be a big deal in 5 years... so I'm gonna need a great band name. Got any for me?

"But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong" - I Corinthians 1:27