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

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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

Emma? Or Manuel?

Raise your hand if you love Christmas songs! Cool, I like that you all raised your hands. I love them too... but I don't love them if they are played too soon.

I feel like I notice it more and more every year that Christmas merchandise creeps into shopping malls and window displays earlier and earlier - really, do we need to be looking at men's ties with cheery ornaments on them before we've even gone trick-or-treating? The answer is NO. The same thing is true with Christmas songs on the radio - if you play them before Thanksgiving, it makes us all really sick of them by the time December 25th rolls around. It could even breed resentment in people toward "Jingle Bells" and "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" - which is APPALLING.



The greatest thing for me about Christmas is anticipation. Christmas day in and of itself is a wonderful thing, but I what I appreciate more are how during all the days between now and the blessed 25th, humanity oozes goodwill and peace on earth in a geyser gush that is capped and seemingly locked away in a vault for the rest of the year. Charities get a boost. Families come together for just this one day out of the 365. Tight-fisted pocketbooks spring open. Miracles happen. Lifetime movies happen. Sickening Kay Jewlers commercials happen. While the stress of the season might get some people down, the extra tinsel, Christmas trees, gifts, ice skating, mistletoe, hot cocoa, gingerbread houses, cookies, card-giving, bright-eyed children, and crooning Frank Sinatra carols floating around in the holiday atmosphere of late November-December just warms my soul. I live for the buildup of wrapping presents, cleaning the house, making Dad's Christmas candy in the kitchen, rolling out sugar cookies dough with the siblings, watching "A Christmas Story" and rejoicing yet again when Ralphie gets his Red Ryder BB-gun... I love the anticipation.

Last year in Madison I didn't have the chance to go home until the late evening of the 23rd as an ominous snow storm was creeping over Wisconsin, and there was a very real danger that I would not be home in time for Christmas Eve. Envisioning spending the "most wonderful time of the year" stuck in Room 410 of Slichter hall with not even JH to silently keep me company... it was more than I could bear. I safely made it home, but it was somewhat depressing - I had absolutely no anticipation time.

All the joy of the season for me had been sucked out by incredibly stressful Bio 101 exams and 12 page American Lit papers. Little to no Christmas spirit warmed this girl's non-anticipatory heart. BAM - Christmas Eve and Day flew by in a blur, and while time spent with family and friends devoid of homework cares that so plagued me before was refreshing, I went through the whole season with very little spiritual development. I heard cheek-chapped 2nd graders toothlessly recite Luke 2, as all good little Lutherans do: "In THOSE days, CEASAR Augustus issued a decree, that a CENSUS should be taken of the enTIRE ROman WORLD. THIS was the FIRST census that TOOK PLACE while QUIRINIUS was GOVERNOR of SYRIA. And EVERYONE went to his OWN TOWN to REGISTER. So JOSEPH..." I sang my favorite Christmas hymn "Where Shepherds Lately Knelt" (CW 54, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X06XFOSq7eM&feature=related) at good ol' classic Grace Downtown. I went over to Grandma's, I set out milk and cookies and beer and cheese for a Santa that I knew didn't exist, (as well as a banana for Rudolph... can't forget about him, poor guy!) and I opened presents. I went through the motions, and while those motions were lovely, they didn't mean very much to me last year.

I'm happy to say that this year is different - vastly different. And in many ways. If you would have told me last year that I would be taking my next winter exams in Minnesota I would have laughed until I got a stitch in my side, for one thing. But spiritually, this Advent season already means a lot more to me. In fact, Christmas has been revolutionized. Why?

'Cause Jesus was a baby.

I don't know why I never understood this before. Because I heard the joyful Christmas story proclaimed over and over again, pounded into my skull since infancy, that this incredible detail just lost it's luster?

JESUS was a BABY.

Have you ever seen a baby? Like really really seen one? A fresh one, straight from the... ? They are so very ugly. I know when I have a baby someday I will instantly dehydrate after gazing upon my child because of the tears of joy I will shed at the little bundle of joy, but we all come out as wrinkly little aliens. We can't move or eat or do anything but be scarily fragile and cry a lot. How the human race has survived this long, I will never know...

Jesus. Was. A. BABY.

Can we talk about babies for a second? BABIES. Dear Lord. Those are crazy enough in and of themselves. Those who know me know I say this all the time, but people, do you realize you hold within you the power to make a PERSON? Through your God-guided actions you play a starring role in creating a soul. A SOUL. Something that was not there before. Something out of seemingly nothing. I've always loved the image portrayed in Psalm 139:13-14 -

"For YOU created my inmost being, You knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well."

Let's take the image of a dresser. A dresser is a lot less complex than a person, no? If I wanted to make a dresser all I would have to do is stroll over to Home Depot, buy some tools, nails, lacquer, lumber, go home, set up shop in my garage, and have at her. After some concentrated effort, boom - I have a dresser. The dresser may even last me for many years. How lovely. But I had to do a lot of work to have this dresser. Even If I had gone to Home Depot, made the same purchases, and then mixed them all together in my garage and let it sit for 9 months, when I open the door and take a peek it will all be exactly how I left it.

NOT SO WITH BABY-MAKING, folks! Not so at all. If a person wants to make a baby, they already have half the materials necessary - no need for a trip to Home Depot. And if they have a spouse, they have all the materials. Hooray. The list of items needed for a baby is far less than the items needed for a dresser - and inherently cheaper, too. (Although, now that I think about it, to get the spouse you might have to spend a little money on dates... but roll with this analogy, will you?) After a little concentrated effort, boom - you have a baby! You didn't have to sand it. You didn't have to lacquer it. You just mixed it up and let it sit for 9 months, and you have something that will last many years - like around 80 years. A mom has mysteriously cooked a creature with fingernails, eyes, a heart! A brain! Hormones and lymph nodes and a bone structure, oh my! Even as glorious and weirdly awestruck this may make you, creating a baby has made far more than incomprehensibly complex bodily systems - the man and woman two-become-one-flesh thing has crafted a soul. Something eternal, something infinite. A simple act of ultimate earthly love knit together the stuff of Heaven (or hell, I suppose) in a lowly, sin-ridden self.

Where babies come from blows my mind enough as it is. NOW, let's even amp this wonder up a notch.

JESUS WAS A BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A human baby. A wrinkly smelly alien baby. And not probably a cute one at that, since the Bible says Jesus "had no beauty or majesty to attract us to Him, nothing in His appearance that we should desire Him"(Isaiah 53:2). He was not a tubby golden winged cherub, and He most certainly did not grow into the hottie that we see pictured in European art and in most of our churches. When Christ came down to earth, He came like a regular Joe instead of a Brad Pitt. Too often humans paint and mosaic Him up to be this incredible stud with rippling abs laying oh-so-handsomely on the cross, but, correct me if I'm wrong, He wasn't. He is the One who created beauty. From Him comes all attraction and even sight - He invented hormones and the sexual attraction we all have. He could have come as something far sexier than an alien baby! He could have blown our minds! I know we glorify Him in art because we want to do His glory majesty, but He was an average guy.

He walked a lot so I don't want to go so far as to surmise He was fat, but He was probably pretty unkempt - "He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces He was despised, and we esteemed Him not"(Isaiah 53:3). He didn't have a regular shower to frequent due to His nomadic ministry - "Foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay His head"(Luke 9:58). He probably had pimples in His teenage years. And scars from popping them. He probably got roughed up in carpentry and playing with the other guys growing up, so He already had scars and the like. He was dusty. Dirty. If we passed Him in the street back then we wouldn't have cat-called or whistled at Him. He was nothing special outwardly.

By choice.

For YOU!

For me.

I just cannot wrap my head around how God - something so divine, so majestic, so far beyond any semblance of human comprehension - squashed His terrifyingly eternal majesty into a wrinkled little baby. A baby!!! How did His glory fit? Isn't the juxtaposition of the penultimate source of all manner of goodness and light in the cosmos and the lowest form of human life imaginable revoltingly mind-blowing? Doesn't it go against every physical, moral, mental law the human race has?

And not only was He born as a maggot-bound human, but He was born in a manger. A cowshed. A stable. A stall. A barn. A barn?! Not even you or I was born in a barn, despite what our mothers might yell at us when we exhibit poor table manners. We had the luxury of being born happy and healthy in a sterile hospital with trained experts standing by, blinking in the brightness of earth at around 8 pounds, 20 inches. We were instantly clean, warm, and wrapped. We had plenty to eat. We had instant vaccines. We had it good. What did He have at His birth?

Straw?

Nativity scenes are always displayed so serenely, but was the original nativity scene so pristine? BY NO MEANS. Mary, likely a 14-16 year old virgin, had to give birth IN A BARN with no epidurals, no ice chips, no local Jerusalem-area Lamaze class, and no sterile anything. Childbirth connoted a much grander fatal danger in those days, so as Mary was thrown in waves of labor pain, the thought of bleeding out on the straw in front of a man she barely knew and whom had probably never even seen her naked before constitutes a bunch of stress. And I know Mary serenely pondered all of the First Christmas events up in her heart, but if you picture it from her point of view in the heat of the moment as she's pushing out Jesus to this cold, hard world... it ain't pretty. She's experiencing childbirth for the first time, and Bethlehem was too crowded to even give Mary and Joseph a hotel room. In the words of Stephanie Tanner, "HOW RUDE!" I'm sure she was stressed about it being her first time. She's not married, so how do you think that looks to people, eh? Socially, she's in quite the unfair pickle. She's probably freaked out of her mind still at the fact that she's pregnant and her and Joseph never even did it - that doesn't seem normal - and she's little! She's a freshman in high school! And she's not even at home for all of this!

But Mary doesn't die. She succeeds in giving birth to Jesus, Savior of all. In a barn. With only Joseph to hold her hand and the oxen to oogle the orgy of blood and gross who-knows-what associated with childbirth. She's a simple woman giving birth to a simple baby boy in a simple barn. This scene could have taken place anywhere in the early Mesopotamian world. I bet 20 other babies were born that night in the area. Girls and boys, little Nicodemouses and Annas and Emmas and Madisons and Manuels. (Well, maybe not Manuels... they were Jewish after all, not Mexican. Once again, for the sake of a witty post title, roll with me here). It's simple, right?

It's simply Immanuel.

Immanuel, or "God with us". God WITH US, here! On earth! God left the popular cool kid lunch table of heaven, pulled on our weird clothes, and settled in for 30 years at the nerd table. He took Himself out of paradise - for us. With us. One of us.

This makes Jesus unlike any other idol, any other prophet, any other god. How many of those were willing to give up their glory for their subjects? Jesus' love was great enough to bring Him through a womb to our world - our world that murdered Him upon arrival. It's terrible and we all should obviously carry huge amounts of guilt for being human, being one of the same kind who killed the Lord of all, but God did this for our benefit. He did this for our good! Because Jesus, Immanuel, lived here with us,

"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have One who has been tempted in every way, just as we are - yet was without sin" (Hebrews 4:15)

His incredible humbling is an incredible blessing for us and gives such incredible comfort. He knows how you feel when you feel like you don't belong. He understands stress, He understands betrayal and loneliness. He understands it fully, better than anyone, and the great thing is that even though Immanuel died here, He also rose 3 days later and ascended into heaven so that someday we can go spend time in His world. For forever.

And the best part? He is still our Immanuel. He is still here on earth, in every particle of everything and all around you, all the time. He promises. We can trust Him.

So start getting excited people. Start getting excited that He's coming! Start preparing your hearts to try and comprehend His indescribable love this Christmas season. Enjoy the carols and the earthly, acquaintence-y love, but please, look past that. Look past the cliche' well wishes for "joy" and "light" and "happiness" that the over-marketed world jams down your throats. Look past Santa and misteltoe, eggnog, bad sweaters, and Christmas bonuses. Dig past tradition, dig past complacency, and dig into His word to find the runty little baby in a bloody little barn that came to save your bloody rotten runty soul.

Start getting excited to comprehend His salvation and what faith in Him is all about.

Ask the Holy Spirit to help you notice Immanuel in this world and share His love with others.

And start anticipating Easter where we'll nail Him to a cross yet again, and marvel at His plans, His love, His undying truth. Marvel at Him, the humble alien baby who created all things.

Marvel at Immanuel.

Happy Advent!