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