Celebrate With Me!

A year ago, on this very day I posted a blog about my dear friend who we lost to cancer.  I almost considered not writing this blog because it's essentially the same.  However, this time I chose to focus on the reason to celebrate for and with him on this day!

Five years ago I watched one of my dearest friends lose the fight to cancer and life as I knew it became oh so different-a true pain of reality struck me for the first time.  I was seventeen years old and he was sixteen-SIXTEEN!

            In the moment of loosing him, the thought of loosing him was almost too difficult to bear.  At sixteen, you should be just beginning your life, getting your drivers license, going on dates-not spending weeks at St. Jude’s hospital for treatments. 

            The best thing about Tyler Bartlett was his sweet spirit, bright smile and his gorgeous blue eyes.  While Tyler was literally fighting for his life, he lifted the spirits of so many people in his room.  All I remember thinking is, “how in the world is he doing this?  How can he be so happy?”

            In the moment of seeing him so sick, I realized his life had drastically changed when he was diagnosed with this awful disease, but he never let it affect his life.  In fact, it encouraged him to live louder, to be a witness and servant for Christ.

            Then suddenly as this sick reality of the world hit me so hard, I realized that life as he knew was about to be oh so different-and not in a bad way.

            A year after Tyler died, my mother passed away from cancer and while she was sick she would remind me constantly, “I will be healed, either here on earth or ultimately in heaven.”  Those words still ring in my ear as a promise of complete healing for my mother and Tyler.

            And though it took five years to fully realize that Tyler did NOT lose his fight to cancer-oh no! He won, he has the ultimate victory over that sick, awful, terrible disease. 

At sixteen, I thought he should’ve just begun his life and then once again it struck me, he did just begin his life-in heaven! How measly this life seems in the grand scheme of things.

Tyler’s happiness while he was so sick was truly from his heart because he knew who held his future, and however God chose to heal him; it was at peace with his soul. 

What an example Tyler left for me-at sixteen, he had so much more knowledge and wisdom than I do at twenty-two, I believe.  His life was truly a legacy and a lesson learned for me. 

So as the rest of the world goes on with their day of May 31, my heart will not ache at the loss of Tyler from this world, rather it will ache with sorrow for his family whom I love with all my heart and is missing him daily! But today, on this “normal” day for everyone else I WILL REJOICE and celebrate that he is perfect today in the arms of Christ.

Celebrate with me and pray for his sweet family!

Love you sweet, Ty Ty!

Known Through Memories

Tomorrow is a big day for everyone, because...well...everyone has at one point had a mother and it is indeed Mother's Day. The day when flowers are abundant and squished loving hugs are taken by mom's who use their day to get as much affection as they can (because the rest of the year us kids are simply too much trouble).

As I contemplated writing a blog about how great my mom was and how much I can count on her (which I very much do), I decided to write about a woman I consider my mom just as much as all my other friend's moms: Sue Brooks.

Let me tell you about Sue Brooks. She is loving, feisty, brave, intelligent, beautiful and wonderful. These things I know about her not because we have met, but because she lives in stories and joy filled memories that Kenze tells us as we go about our lives living in the same apartment together.

I remember the first time Kaitlin and I went to Kenze's house, and we cried together as we read letters and articles written about this great woman. She was an educator. She loved her students, especially Kenze (who received her only "b" from her mother's class). She was not without humor, because I can only imagine seeing her grab Kenze's arm and race toward drunken tailgaters in order to form a fake friendship for free food (you'll have to ask Kenze about that one). When Joseph was being scouted by football coaches, Nick Saban himself showed up at Mrs. Brooks classroom. When asked to wait outside, Saban said, "do you know who I am?" Not to be questioned, she said "do you know who I am?" Haha! How can you not love this woman?

What breaks my heart is that I did not get to meet her before she passed away, but it has been my utmost joy to know her daughter. I know Kenze would not have been the same without the way she was raised, loved, and (sometimes) punished. Kenze Ruth Brooks is an example and living representation of who I believe Sue Brooks was, and still is in heaven.

One of the most commonly uttered phrases in our apartment is "I cannot WAIT to meet your mom in heaven." And that is truly how we feel. We all love her just as we love our own moms. She is a part of our family and will always be. Today Kenze graduated from SFASU, and without a doubt I know Sue was up there shouting and pointing and bragging to the Lord about how beautiful and wonderful and intelligent her daughter is and will continue to be.

Kenze, I love you so much and so does she.

Sue, still can't wait to meet you :)

yours truly,

Katherine

All I Want for My Birthday..

            On my 18^th birthday, I was persistent for only one present; mom and dad heard it daily, “all I want for my birthday is a Mac computer-Mom! I don’t just want it, I need it!” She’d laugh and say, “Oh, Ruth!” I knew, in the back of my head, I would get one.

            Saturday, the morning of my birthday, mom told me to get ready.  She was so sick from chemo and looked completely worn, but was still going to make it a memorable birthday.  I wanted to be excited because it was my birthday, but to this day I can still recall the heavy-hearted feeling that hovered over my day.

            Just like I knew I was getting a Mac; I knew, in the back of my mind, that this could be my last birthday this could be my last birthday with her.  The mixture of excitement of my 18^th and the dread of the unknown future was almost overwhelming.

            As we drove into a shopping center, I saw the Apple store- excitement was back! But as we walked up the sidewalk, mom stopped at a door before the Apple store.  As we walked into the James Avery jewelry store, with a quiver in her voice, mom asked the sales woman, “Can we look at the Remembrance rings, please?” I am embarrassed to say in that moment, I was so blinded by disappointment that I didn’t notice the quaver in her voice.  Now, years later, I look back at the vivid memory and can hear the tremble.    

             It is a dainty, simple, silver ring with my birthstone in the middle. How appropriate! My last present from mother is a ring that I can remember her by for the rest of my life!

            Today, on my 22^nd, I am spending my fourth birthday without mother.  And like a four year old, I long for and desire to have a birthday party with mom.  Moms are the only other people, beside you, who are just as enthusiastic about the presents you get, she is the one who sings the loudest (and off-key), and she is always the one to cheer the proudest when you blow out all the candles on your cake.

            Unlike my 18^th birthday, I do not want a materialistic present like a computer.  All I want for my 22^nd this year is a birthday with my mom.  As I type this blog with my Mac computer, I chuckle at the thought of “absolutely needing it.”  Because like the computer that I absolutely needed, I want one more birthday with mom and “I don’t just want it, I need it!” and so much more.

             

            

Life is too short and so precious, my friends. 

               

 Kenze

Why Me? (A Piece by Mom)

              When I went home for Thanksgiving, I found mom's "junk drive" as she used to call it.  As I was looking through all documents, most filled with teaching ideas, I ran across a couple writings she had written for a class.  They were all so touching and I can only hope to be as great of a writer as her one day.  So, I thought why not share her writings?
             She wrote this after her father died in 2007, just two years before she passed away.  The feelings that she expresses, I could not express any better.  The same hurt she describes is still so close to my heart. 
        

"Why me?  This question is such a trite one that parents often hear from their children when thing don’t go their way.  And this is no different in my family.  “Why does this have to happen to me?” my teenager has asked on numerous occasions.  Replying with a serene voice and a comforting hug, I give the oh-so-typical maternal remark that does little to soothe the pain; nonetheless, the “right words” are not as nearly as significant as my presence in the midst of the storm.  Recently those tables were turned, and I became the child questioning “Why me?” However, no parent’s calming words or embracing arms enveloped me.  Instead just emptiness and a deep void in my life.

On Thanksgiving 2007, I was visiting my father in M D Anderson Cancer Hospital in Houston, Texas.  My father had battled cancer (5 different types for 11 years).  Chemo…radiation…hospital trips became the new normal for my family.  Often we (my brothers and sisters) had been “called in” because Dad was “not going to make it this time.”  However each time he rallied back (outliving one of his doctors) to return home.  Even though I knew Dad was ill and could die, that concept was not something I had truly confronted but only placed the idea somewhere deep in the dark recesses of my mind and occasionally mulled over the thought.   In fact, we had become so accustomed to “nearly dying” that we had laughed about how he would probably outlive all of us. 

 

Consequently, when I went to visit my father this particular time, I volunteered to give my mother a break from the strain and allow her a night of sleep.  Assuring her that I could handle anything my father “threw my way” (literally and figuratively), she left for some much needed rest.  Being a high school English teacher, I had brought a Texas-size stack of essays that needed my perusal.  I learned early on in my Dad’s illness that a hospital is not a place to get sleep, so I had planned ahead.  Making sure Dad was tucked in for the night, I settled down on the lounge chair next to his bed.  After a couple of hours, grading by a small amount of light had grown tedious, so I put my grading aside.  At that moment, my father raised up in his bed, looked all around the room, looked me in the eye, laid his head back on the pillow, closed his eyes, and took one final breath on this earth.

 

I could describe the scene that followed and the subsequent days but the pain that ensues is still raw. 

Seven months later, this fifty-year-old adult reverts to a child and asks the question “Why me?” I have three siblings, but I was the chosen one to witness the death of my father.  My selfishness wishes this job had been granted to any of the three.  My maturity reminds me that this responsibility is one that was randomly delegated to me.

 

Why me? still echoes in my thoughts.  Just one more time I wish the child in me could be comforted by my father’s protective arms, his calming words, his presence in the midst of the storm.  However, the storm continues to rage, and the child stands alone…..waiting……"

The peace I have is that mom is now in the arms of our Savior, giving her that hug more than a parent could ever give.  She is spending every day with her dad in heaven, the hurt and pain is no longer there.  She is absolutely perfect and I CANNOT WAIT to meet my Savior face-to-face and see her again!

But until then, here I am, waiting...
Kenze

 

 

Oh Ruth!..A Lesson From Mom

Today, like every day I was thinking about and missing mom.  Though it has been 3 years and 3 months, not one moment goes by that she is not in my heart.  For those of you who did not have the privilege of knowing mom, she was a rather quirky lady-yes, I get it honest.  She was a teacher, so every conversation that I had with her had some kind of lesson, usually one that kicked me off of my pedestal that all high school students put themselves on because I thought I belonged there.  If it wasn’t a life lesson, it was a grammar lesson; at the time it was so annoying, but I know where my commas belong.  Her famous quote was “commas are like vowels in wheel of fortune; they aren’t free so use them wisely.”  Quirky! But it stuck. 

A lesson I remember so vividly is when a frog got caught in a coffee can lid outside of our house.  My brother, Matthew is a huge lover of animals; when one was in trouble he had to do something about it.  Now, please don’t ask me why there was a coffee can lid in our yard; and furthermore, I could not begin to tell you how a hole got in it, but mind you two boys were always rummaging around in the yard with destruction in mind.  

I distinctly remember this day, it was cold outside and Matthew came in the house with an upset look on his face.  He told mom and dad to come outside and help.  Being the nosy sister that I am, I pranced behind them halfway hoping he was in trouble.  As we rounded the corner of the house I saw a frog stuck in a hole in a coffee can lid.  Matthew picked it up desperately wanting to help the little guy out.  The coffee can lid had separated the frog from something he wanted; so the frog put his head and front legs through the hole and began to eat.  As he ate, his stomach got bigger; he then tried to get his entire body through the hole, leaving him stuck.

Without hesitation, here came the lesson on sin. I was always amazed as to how quickly she could spit these lessons out.  The frog saw something he wanted, though there were other things around that he could eat, he desired that particular thing.  “Sometimes when we submit to our selfish desires, sin gets us caught in a trap, like the frog.”  Of course the lesson lasted much longer with many, many Bible verses to back her up.  Romans 6:23, For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ.  Had my brother not found the frog, it would have died.  Again, quirky, but it stuck!

You are probably wondering if the frog survived his sin and the lengthy lesson we (even dad) all received-yes he lived.  After being smothered in vasoline, they finally had to cut the lid to release him.  It was a long and tedious escape-one that I would have given up on and let the frog meet Jesus that day. 

Mom and I went back in the house and I said, in a cocky tone (poking fun at mom’s lesson), “well, I hope that frog learned his lesson.”  Mom replied, “Oh Ruth, that frog is just like you.  You know it will get you in trouble, but you return to it anyway.  We just need to be so thankful for a savior so full of grace and mercy because if He weren’t He’d leave us stuck in that hole.” 

Ah yes, knocked off of my pedestal once again.

Kenze 

It's nude, not naked.

Yes people, I think it's due time that you realize the difference.

Nude. Naked. Nekkid. Unclothed. Their birthday suit.

I am an art student. I have taken drawing classes, 2D/3D design classes, painting classes, digital media classes, photography classes and art history classes. To my delight, the average person is only focused on one specific class, usually with horror: figure drawing (also known as the class where someone is naked! OoOo).

*nonchalant look on face*

Person 1: Waaaaiiit. Hold on. You mean....they don't wear clothes?!?!
Me: Why yes. They are fully nude and we draw them. It's no big deal.
Person 2: But...they're naked.

That's normally how it goes. And for the defense of all those people, the first class I took I freaked out a bit too. Surprise surprise! There are actually people in the world totally ok with their body enough to sit nude in front of a class of people staring at them for two hours. It is a difficult job, and it takes guts (but it pays). To assist this new idea, let me first explain the difference.
Naked (to artists) is a term meaning that the person was not desiring or planning on being undressed in from of others.

Nude (to artists) is when someone specifically isn't wearing clothes for art or some form of it.

So yes, while it's weird at first you get used to it. When I'm drawing I don't think...omg....she is naked!....I can see everything!!

I'm more thinking: "This isn't proportionate yet" "I need this to measure this" "knees are hard to draw" "this music the prof plays is weird" "I wish I had some coffee" "maybe a muffin too."

Indeed whilst I have seen many nudes through the semesters and have a complete portfolio of those works, it's just another art class. When I see that person they are just a person who I had class with and ended up drawing ( drawings which had to be kept from the innocent eyes of my sisters).

So next time you encounter an artist instead of pulling the classic "OMG you draw nekkid people??" just ask, "Oh, so you work with nude models?" Not only will you seem informed but knowledgable about the art community. You can do this! Besides, you never know when one of your friends might be a nude model, they might surprise you!

fully clothed,


Katherine

Kisses from Katie

So I am currently reading Kisses from Katie and if you haven’t read this book then I really recommend that you do. Basically it is about a nineteen year old girl listening to God and following through with what he asks her to do. Many people in our world today (especially a nineteen year old) would have a hard time giving up family, friends, and a boyfriend to follow God all the way to Uganda. Yet that is exactly what Katie does!

There are many things this young woman sees and deals with on a daily basis that literally make me ill. I am a very selfish and spoiled person. I get so upset because something doesn’t go my way that day or someone didn’t follow through with plans that we had made. Yet, there are people in this world that don’t have running water or they don’t have any possible means to provide for their family. Yet, I have indoor plumbing, four walls and a roof over my head. There are people dying in this world due to starvation while I go shopping because I am bored with my completely packed closet.

I am not saying that God is calling everyone to Uganda, but maybe give that shirt in the back of the closet to someone who really needs it, or give a few dollars of your pay check to someone in need. There are so many things that we could be doing to help people in our neighborhood, state, or even across the world.  We get so caught up in our own world that we forget that we are not the only ones that live in it. We are all sons and daughters of Christ! So I hope that we all remember today that we are truly blessed to be where we are in our lives. Things might be falling apart but at least we have someone who loves us not matter what and that he would go and DIE for our sins.

I hope that you will at least spend some time with God today and ask him what he wants you to do. This most important thing to do is OBEY with what he has asked of you. It may not be where you ever thought you would be, but at the end of everyday God has a plan to use you in some way (He just doesn’t always tell us about it).

“When you try to save your own life, your own desires, you will lose. But when you decide to put away your desires, to lose your life for me, you will find it.”                                 Matthew 16:25

-Kaitlin

Where were you?

                Last night, my roomies and I were discussing the anniversary of 9/11.  Each of us said where we were, what we were doing.  The words that rang so true to my heart was Kaitlin’s comment, “I can tell you everything that happened that day-where I was, who I was with, and how I felt.”  Eleven years ago, and we can tell you every detail of that one single day-a day that forever changed our lives and the lives of others in a single moment.

                Fifth grade, Mr. Herberger’s class, working on a group project, world geography-that’s where I was 11 years ago.  I was working with Justin Edgerton, Chase Billingsley, Emily Jefferson and Natalie Snowden.  The map mounted on the chalkboard above Justin’s head had just fallen and hit him-being fifth graders; this was one of the best things that could’ve happened all day.  Laughing commenced and Mr. Herberger immediately began to try to control the class. 

                In his raspy, smokers voice-yes, that is how I remember him.  He was tall, thin, and wore glasses that were slightly tinted; therefore, I never knew what his eyes looked like, strange.  The look on his face became so serious and suddenly the principal, my dad, came on the intercom: “Attention teachers and students, America has been attacked.  A plane has crashed into the twin towers.  Teachers, turn on your televisions.”

                Just in time to watch the second plane.  In this very moment, there were no words; at ten years old, I was devastated for America, families, friends and every person affected directly and indirectly.

                The rest of the day seemed like a lull.  My life was not changed directly, but so many peoples were and that hurt me.  As I got home, I walked in the door and the only word I could get out to my parent’s was, “why?”…Why can sometimes never be answered and couldn’t be on this day.  Years later, in 2012-why still cannot be answered. 

           To America, this was an attack.  To the people who lost loved ones, it is a loss that will forever be in their hearts.  It does not occur once a year; it’s not just an anniversary.  It is a daily sadness that lingers in their heart. 

                So many men and women sacrificed their life on this day…  Sacrifice, sounds familiar; it’s what we’re called to do.  To sacrifice your lunch is easy.  To sacrifice your life-your growling stomach is the least of your worries.  “Thank you” will never be enough to thank those who sacrificed their lives-never.

                11 years ago, on this day-which is now a day that forever changed history.  It’s a vivid memory to my generation, but just in the textbooks for those younger than us.  Erinn said last night, “9/11 is real to us like Pearl Harbor is real to the generation that was alive when we were attacked.  To us, December 7 is in the textbooks.  What we’ve been told, not experienced.”

             “Time is passing. Yet, for the United States of America, there will be no forgetting September the 11th. We will remember every rescuer who died in honor. We will remember every family that lives in grief. We will remember the fire and ash, the last phone calls, the funerals of the children. “-George W. Bush

Laughing Gas

There are many things that are placed in our way during our travels through this vast universe. Some good, some bad, but all new and with a purpose. How we handle these 'bumps' along the way only further defines ourselves and how we perceive this world. One of my bumps? A particular 16 year old boy.

When I was contacted last summer about being an attendent to an autistic boy I was for the most part, intimidated. Autism is scary. It is an entire spectrum that no one knows about. For years doctors did not even think that people born that way could be educated or independent. Even now, Nathan's diagnosis is "not otherwise specified." This two year journey has not only further broadened my respect for the unknown, but given me a lifelong friend.

No matter what the schedule is and however we adults see it, we all run on Nathan time. He cannot be pushed or prodded to do anything quickly because obviously he has to finish building his glass ceiling on Minecraft!! If we survive getting into the car without any incident, we speed away to school (or speech therapy, depending on the day). Now, Nathan's only music of choice is classic rock, so unless the station is a commercial he likes, the pestering does not stop until I have changed the station to the classics. Example:
                  N: Hey, you think you want to listen to some rock music? (and why wouldn't I?!)
                  Me: Nah I'm enjoying this country station. (how dare I)
                  N: You sure you wouldn't want to change the station for a guy with braces?
                  Me: Hmmmm now who do I know with braces??
                  N: *biggest grin possible*
And so we listen to 97.1 The Eagle. *insert air guitar and head banging*
And so our relationship is.

This is my last week with the crazy rockstar for the summer and it has been a good one. So to wrap up the summer I bring to you a short story starring the one and only Nathan S.!

Once upon a time there was a young misunderstood teen by the name of Nathan. He lived in a world where no one understood that he should be able to drink a Route 44 Dr. Pepper at all times! There to comfort him in his time of trials was his trusty sidekick, Miss Katherine. She always had a wise, if not kind, word to say. Nathan tried his hardest to make everyone fulfill his wishes. On this particular day, he dared to bring out what only The Christmas Story has ever seen the likes of: the triple dog dare. He triple dog dared Miss Katherine to honk the car horn at the car in front of her. So to appease the ill- mannered chap, she faked pushing it.

Nothing happened.

"Harder!" he demanded.

So Miss Katherine did push it harder...and it honked. This released what is most deadly to all teenage boys. Laughing Gas. For those unfamiliar with this term, another common word for this phenomenon is  passing gas or farting. Yes, it happened. Right then and there. What happened in the next ten minutes  ran together as laughs, giggles, and slight pauses for catching his breath. Then there was more laughing.
When at last Miss Katherine thought there could be no more laughter, Nathan gasped out "Miss Katherine, you better be glad that wasn't SUPER laughing gas or you'd be laughing too!" And so they were, along Highway 287, laughing together until the next adventure was to be thrust upon them and if Nathan would have anything to do with it, it would most likely involve trains, Sonic happy hour, and Elvis.

Lucky for me, this story is true. I live in Nathan's world that he so graciously allows me into no matter the misunderstandings. We get to ride together everyday whether he is giving me the silent treatment or trying to choose between Journey and Bon Jovi. Air guitars are frequently played and carrots are sometimes sneezed. Stubborn is his personality, and he could persuade an eskimo to take ice from him if he didn't like eating it so much. Negotiations are obviously imperative if he is to remain the king of his land.

So every day the young boy tries to get his way, but Miss Katherine is always careful, because an overflow of happiness might come about and with that an impending release of laughing gas.

Hate and Homophobia

Since when did these two words become synonymous? I'm not really sure. Guess I missed that memo, but the recent upstart over Chick-fil-a's recent stand on marriage really has got me standing back and looking at what I believe since I could easily be grouped in with the "gay hating Christians."

Hi, my name is Katherine. When I was very young I made the decision to give my heart to the Lord Jesus Christ. I chose to be part of something bigger than myself, and something that would require me to die to myself....pretty much daily. Unlike many, my decision was real no matter how young I was. I never had any doubts that I wasn't truly set on following Jesus. Now I am a junior in college and my beliefs are the same; maybe a bit more refined and wiser, but the same. I still believe that God created the world and sent His son Jesus to redeem the world as the final sacrifice for the sins of humanity. I believe I have a relationship with Him and am able to grow in the faith that I have. 


What I don't believe? Hate. Do I still participate in it? Yes...but not in the way you're thinking. The natural tendencies of any human, religious or not, is to dislike things different, uncomfortable, or just opposing of you. And, news flash, religion does not save you from being human. 


Many people refer to the Leviticus passage in the Bible as a reason to stand against homosexuality. Contextually, it is surrounded by rules and laws made for the holiness of the God's people before Jesus became the final sacrifice. But, in the New Testament homosexuality is mentioned again. Romans 1:28-32 and 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 both bring it up. The first passage does not single out homosexuality, but groups it with...oh i don't know....other sins? Homosexuality in the Bible is considered a sin...among every other sin. It is not a bigger or worse sin than...say...being a liar. Now before you all get your panties in a twist for me calling this lifestyle a sin, here's my point.
People claim they are born this way. Well guess what? I was born a liar, cheater, hater, gossiper, murderer, adulterer, and anything else you can think of. I was born that way, and I realized that without a Savior I would be that way my entire life and I decided to fight it. And I am not in this fight alone.

Now, while my faith dictates that I believe the entire Bible is true, I struggle greatly. I don't like having to tell people I do not support homosexuality. Some of the most interesting and beautiful people in my life have chosen this, and it's scary to think that they would assume I hated them. I could not sooner hate them than count the stars in the sky. Unfortunately, it is hard for people to comprehend that you cannot support, and not hate something at the same time.

If you do not believe there's a God, or only selectively read parts of the Bible then to you my argument is invalid or insensitive. I'm sorry for the offense, but just as you have the right to stand for your ideas, so do I. I hope collectively that my actions speak louder than any words written over the internet. I'm not here to beat my beliefs and faith over anyone's head, but I am here to stand firm in what I believe in, even if it makes people angry.

If anything, I'm writing this so no one has doubts on what my stance is on the subject, and for you all to keep me accountable on what I say. Call me out if you prefer, and I will be refined by fire.

continually refined,

Katherine

New Kind of Normal

We all have “those days” in which we can never forget.  July 23^rd marks the day for me-that one day that will forever be so clear, yet so hazy in my mind.  Three years ago, my life changed drastically and I never thought I would be able to function normally again, not without my mom. 

September of my senior year, the ‘fun’ year, my mom was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer.  She was given 4-6 weeks to live.  As you can imagine, my world came crashing down when I heard this devastating news, but immediately I thought “she’s going to be ok because I have the faith the size of a mustard seed.”  Do you know how small a mustard seed is? Super small!!  The first thing mom told me was, “You have to be my prayer warrior!”  Not for one second did I question why this was happening to our family, rather I embraced it- God is going to heal her!

I was a cheerleader, so in the fall mom took chemo on Mondays so she could be at my games on Friday nights.  In the spring, I played golf so she took chemo on Fridays so she could be there to cheer me on at my tournaments on Tuesdays.  I need to take a moment and say Wow! What a woman, what a mom!  She saw me graduate May 29, 2009-yes, 8 months past the time she was given.  She saw my nephew born on May 20!  What a blessing it was to make all the memories with her.

She was a fighter-she fought for dad, me, my brother, and her grandbabies-talk about selfless!  I never saw her cry or get down about her situation.  Instead, every Sunday at church when the preacher asked for testimonies she stood up EVERY Sunday and praised God for another day, for the cancer, for her life He has given her.  What a testimony in itself-how often do I complain about trite things, I’m not fighting for my life every day!

I would often get upset about the situation and cry to mom, like she wasn’t the one dealing with it ha!  I distinctly remember riding in the car with her and crying so hard and saying it wasn’t fair that my mom had cancer, out of all the people in the world, why did it have to be my mom? And she stopped the car and said, “Where’s my prayer warrior?  You’re being selfish.”  She began to pray, thanking God that it was her who had the cancer, not anyone else in the family.  She would take it again for everyone.  Then she looked at me and said, “Ruthie, God’s going to heal me-whether He chooses to heal me on earth, temporarily or ultimately in Heaven.  No matter what He chooses, we WILL praise Him for it because I will be healed!” Yeah! That’s my mom!!

That day came, her healing-July 23, 2009.  God chose to heal her ultimately and I praise Him to this day for her healing.  There’s still a place in my heart that misses her so much that it hurts daily.  Every mile stone that comes, I get upset that mom isn’t here to celebrate with us, but I know God allows her to celebrate in Heaven.

After three years, not one day passes that I don’t miss her, I miss her more today than I did three years ago, but good news: I can function normally (depending on your definition of normal ha) without my momma-it’s not easy, but I can.  After three years, I strive to be more like the woman my mother was and is.  After three years, my life that’s drastically changed has become my “new” kind of normal.

In the words of Robert Frost:

“I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life in three words: It goes on.”

I leave you with this verse from my favorite book,

John 16:33 I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace, in this world you will have trouble, but take heart! I have overcome the world!  I look forward to the day I get to spend eternity with my savior and my mom!

Forever thankful for a healing, loving, saving God!

Kenze B

Exploding Carrots, And All That is Nathan.

Hi. My name is Katherine. I'm covered in carrots.

I didn't think it would come to this...I really didn't. The morning started out so promising...so...veggie-less. Yet here I am. Picking minuscule orange shrapnel out of my veggie infested locks. These are situations by which my job is made up of: Nathanisms. 

Nathan is a sixteen year old boy who is ranged on the autism scale as 'not otherwise specified.' So while sometimes he's normal-ish, sometimes he's just...Nathan-ish. He has his fits of rage, tear induced dramatics, and moments of being a 'stand up chameleon'(according to him). And I! Katherine! Get the joy and happiness of driving him around to school and therapy. Most days I am purely blessed, but today I am covered in...well you know.

It was a normal day and we were sitting in the parking lot waiting for the clock to strike 8:55(which is the EXACT time we must leave the truck to go to school. Otherwise we have issues). Nathan is munching on a bag of baby carrots and I'm making jokes to him about resembling a rabbit. Following up my comment he begins to chomp down on those mini veggies with all the vigor of a small rodent. Then it happens: I turn away. As I glance at the time, the side of my head is bombarded with a wave of spit and carrot. 

The situation plays out as follows:

Me: NATHAN! (Did he actually just SPIT his carrots at me?!? Oh no he didn't!!)

Nathan*looking a bit overwhelmed*: I had to sneeze. 

Me: Nathan! That is why we COVER our mouths when we sneeze.

Nathan: Can I have a tissue?

Me: Yes and then you are helping me clean out every carrot you spit out!

Nathan: Oh look at the time! It's time for school!

Me: I don't think so mister. You clean up this carrot pulp!

Nathan: Wipes up one piece. *starts walking away then gets angry when I make him return to throw away his napkin trash* 

After seeing him to class I make my way to the ladies room. And what do I see? The most masticated carrot I have ever encountered starting a colony on the side of my head. Who seriously chews their carrots into the consistency of baby food? Nathan does! And the proof is drying orange over the interior of my truck. Don't think it was a big enough sneeze? Ask the seats, steering wheel, radio, cup holders, the windows, gear shift, carpet, rear view mirror and wind shield. Windshield! He sits in the BACK! There was some serious power in that sneeze. Had it been carrot-less I might've been impressed.

The damage has been erased, and my hair fairly groomed and all is well...for now. So as I leave you, here are some words from Nathan himself(there's no end to these bad boys)

"I'm watching you with cracked eagle eyes!"

"Do I look like a mistress?"

"We have a droid and a Jar Jar Binks in the handle."

ever amused,

Katherine

Kenze had a busy week!

When I was little, my mom used to read a book to me called, Kenze had a busy week, (it was supposed to be personalized) however, the book really said Kimberly because in 1995 there was nothing with the name Kenze on it.  Heck, I can’t even find my name on a stupid license plate key chain in 2012.  I soon realized that Kimberly and Kenze did not resemble each other in the least, but I still wanted mom to read it to me with my name in it. 

Throughout this book was a little girl who had crazy adventures throughout what would have been a monotonous, mundane life.  I distinctly remember mom reading, “on Monday, Kenze went to space…On Tuesday, she had tea with her best friends.”  By the end of the week, Kenze was a tired little girl.

Well, I’ve never been able to relate to this book so much until my ripe ole age of 21.  This week seemed to never end and never was there a dull moment in what could have been a mundane week.  On Monday, Kenze started Summer one classes at SFA.

On Tuesday, Kenze considered committing herself into an insane asylum.   I just needed a little peace, apparently my “trip to space on Monday” was far too much for me to handle.  My day began at 6:15 Tuesday morning, I jumped in the shower; the first assault (yes, assault) to my day was mistaking my face wash for shampoo.  Hey! Don’t judge, it looks a lot the same that early.  After washing the ‘morning burst’ face wash out of my hair, the back to my newly pierced second hole of my earring fell out in the shower.  You can only imagine the panic that struck me, so here I go chasing the back of my earring around the shower.  I slip, slide, knock shampoo off of the shelf, almost kill myself but good news, I did manage to salvage it right before going down the drain.  I did make it to work alive and barely on time.  The day progressed normally, two hours of work, four hours of class. 

I had a doctor’s appointment that afternoon, who knew something as simple as that could humble a girl so much, yeah, humble me! I entered the office in my work clothes and the receptionist commented on how nice I looked, I thanked her; she asked my name and told me to have a seat.  This is when I should have noticed the strangeness, aren’t I supposed to sign in, fill out paperwork, give them my insurance card?  Oh well, I take a seat anyway.  Within five minutes I hear, Kenze come on back-Wow! That was quick.  Everyone in the waiting room gives me the “I got here before you” look, such a hostile look by the way.  I go back to a room with no bed, tongue depressors, cotton balls or health chart on the door-once again, another que something is different.  Two doctors come in with a couple other people.  Being me, I begin to work this out in my mind, rationalizing the situation-maybe they’re doing a study on me or something.  After shaking their hands, they ask, “Kenze, do you have your resume we could look at?”  Uh oh!!!  There is no more rationalizing; I was there for an interview at the doctor’s office.  Oh man, how did neither them nor I catch this??  I look at them and begin to laugh hysterically because this fits my day all too well.  “I’m here for a doctor’s appointment, not an interview-I wish though!”  A little embarrassment comes upon the room, then they lead me back to the waiting room where I have to walk back to my seat-as the doctor apologizes one more time for everyone to hear.  The distance from the door to an empty chair seemed miles away as every single person in the room stares with a little snicker on their lips-humbling moment!  After this, I wanted to leave, but I stayed.  After seeing the doctor, I had to get blood work done-as each vile filled, my head got lighter.  The nurse was putting on the band-aid and I had almost made it.  The next thing I know there are three nurses standing over me-yep, I passed out, I did get my moment of peace-not how I expected to get it though.  A visit to the doctor has never been so eventful...On Tuesday, Kenze went to a job interview!

Thankfully, my week began to look up after that.  Today is Friday and I don’t have class or work for the summer on Fridays! I’m at the end of the week and like Kimberly in the book, I’m a tired little girl.  Hope your weekend is as restful as I plan for mine to be.

It’s back to space on Monday!

Kenze 

Spina what?

Hello blog world!

I have brought you all here today to open up about something that has been a part of me for...forever, but really only discovered circa 2009. Yes, I did make a discovery. A discovery of pain, a new kind of doctor, and a very good x-ray for show and tell!

What can this be? Spina Bifida Oculta of course!! Well that's a mouthful ain't it? Yeeep. That was my first thought as I was brought to the attention of my newly disabled status. What do those three little words mean? Well let me tell you!
Spina Bifida is a birth defect where the vertebrae of your spine does not completely ocify( the bone doesn't grow in all the way) leaving a hole where the bone should be.
There are three types of spina bifida.
1. Myelomeningocele is the most serious. In this case more than one vertebrae is missing, aka paralysis and horrible side effects like that.
2. Spina Bifida Meningocele is the rarest. In this case, the actual membranes and nervous tissue are exposed and sticking out of the hole in the spine, but can usually be surgically fixed.
3. Spina Bifida Oculta(That's me!!) is the most minor of the three (praise the Lord!). Usually people don't even know they have this unless they randomly see it in and x-ray, or they get into a car accident like me.


So here I am, just going along with life when all of a sudden I can't even bend over 10 degrees! And from not being able to bend over for a few months, let me tell you people bend over a lot! It is very useful.
After having shooting pain up my spine every time I leaned forward an inch for months, I finally got my dad to let me visit the chiropractor. Now, I don't have a picture of my x-ray to whip out, but I found a replacement that will give you the basic idea.

Dr. Adams(my now regularly attended chiro) showed me something that basically looks like this, only my affected vertebrae is higher up. As you can see, there is a small space where the bone should be. 

How am I still dealing with this new part of my life you may ask?? Well, for the most part I'm every bit as normal as anyone with a normal spine give or take a few ice packs here and there. I'm stiff in the mornings, but I am still able to play sports and exercise regularly if I'm not too sore. And it's a good reason to not gain weight (because my spine can't handle it!)

The only disadvantage is that I am required to stand in art classes....but I can't. Soo yeah, I'm sitting down because I have to not because I batted my eyes at a professor (gross). 

Hope you guys enjoyed the medical lecture!

to all you normal spines out there, take care! Because as my chiro says, "You have check ups at the dentist for your teeth, and you should have check ups for your spine!"

Katherine ^_^

A New Shade of Red

As I have stated in my previous blog, I am very clumsy. For some reason I am always put in the worst situations (mostly my doing). At the moment of the situation I am usually embarrassed, but afterwards I can laugh about it......usually. I am sure that everyone has felt like this one time or another.  I am the kind of person that turns completely red when embarrassed and people like to point out to me "Do you know that you are turning really red."  "Why, I had no idea that I was turning as red as a tomato. I couldn’t feel the heat rushing to my face at all. Thank you for pointing it out and making me more embarrassed then I already was!"

   For my summer job, one of the things I have to do is travel around and take pictures of students at different schools. So on this day I was going to an elementary school to take pictures of a talent show. Of course it is pouring rain that morning and I was running late. By the time that I got to the elementary school and found a parking spot, the show has already started, still thinking that I could just sneak into the back of the cafeteria and still be able to take great photos. Unfortunately, I wasn't expecting over a thousand people (including all the students from the school and teachers) to be smushed into this tiny cafeteria surrounding the stage. I squeezed my way between some parents and teachers and started snapping some photos. They were turning out okay, but I wasn’t as close as I would have liked to have been to the stage. I took pictures this way through a handful of acts while I got strange look from parents, when an administrator tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I would like to get closer to the stage. I said sure! I could finally get some good pictures! We exited the door that I came in and she took me through a door closer to the stage. Perfect there was a line of parents against the wall and I could blend in with them. I stood with the parents and teachers getting ready to take some pictures when I noticed the administrator had kept walking in front of the stage (it was in between an act at the moment). She stopped directly in the middle and asked the KINDERGARDNERS to scoot over so they could make a spot for me to sit!!!!!! Let me paint a picture for you, I am in slacks, with a nice shirt, higheels, with a huge camera slung around my neck and my purse. The administrator starts waving me over. Parents, kids, and teachers turn my direction as I make my way to the front. I can read the parent's faces as they think, who is this chick and why does she get to go to the front to take pictures of her children! Just so we are clear I do NOT have any children! I had to weave and step over small children to get to the spot where she made for me.  I had to sit Indian style on the floor surrounded by little kids. This is one of those moments where I could feel myself turning red as all the children stared at me. I am about 3 times as tall as the children. I just felt like disappearing! The next act came on the stage and I started taking pictures. They were turning out great! I was close to the stage and I could see everything. That’s when I heard." I can’t see the stage! The girl in front of me is too tall!" I am pretty sure that my face took a new shade of red that it has never been before. I slowly turn my head to see the kids behind me and I see this little boy practically sitting on the kid's lap next to him trying to see around me. Now I really wanted to get out of there! What do I do? I could continue to sit there and not let the children behind me see or I could get up and move and try to find myself a spot against the wall but the administrator was one of the women standing by the wall. I felt bad to move after she made a huge commotion for me to sit there from the beginning. So I continued to sit there and take picture after picture of different acts. The whole time that this was going on I continued to fight with myself about getting up. Finally between an act I got the nerve to stand up and step over the children again (picturing everyone staring at my butt) and moved to the side with chairs and stood behind the line of teachers. As soon as I put my purse down they announced that it was the last act! Of course I would move when there was only one left.

In the end all of the pictures turned out good but I feel like every teacher, student, and parent should know who I am now! Hope this gave you a great laugh as you enjoy your fabulous weekend!

Kaitlin