Checking the Rear View Mirror

Have you ever had one of those moments when you pull into your driveway and realize that you don’t remember driving home? I’m having one of those moments. All of a sudden, I looked up and realized that I am 4 days short of being home for Christmas and halfway through the Fellows Program. How did that happen?! I don’t want to let all the wonderful experiences from the last semester slip by, so I think it’s time for a study break to reflect on the past 4 months.

I still remember pulling into my host family’s driveway right as my host mom was putting out a sign that said, “Welcome Home Keri!” in purple paint that still hadn’t quite dried all the way. This very same sign would stay in the driveway for the next month, reminding me that this really was home. I remember walking through the front door, directly into a flurry of hugs and introductions, followed quickly by the order to put my shoes back on because we were going to a party. I went from not knowing a soul in Charlottesville to meeting 10 former fellows and an array of Trinity members in the span of an hour.

The next morning I nervously walked into the Trinity foyer to overhear Elizabeth and Hannah telling someone they were new fellows. I cannot begin to describe to you how relieved I was to know they were there, and I didn’t even know them yet! By the end of the service I had been introduced to Murry, Kristin, Christine, and Alex and John gave me a hug but didn’t introduce himself until much later. Typical J-Flan.

Of course there was the Kick-Off Banquet where we tried to determine who was a current fellow and who were the former fellows we were supposed to be learning from. That’s where we all met David, who’s name we didn’t even know until that night! As we awkwardly huddled together looking up at the barn window, none of us suspected that we would be taking the picture that would adorn websites, blog posts, Christmas cards, and even the cake we ate for dessert at Roundtable last week. To be fair, it ended up being a great picture. Not to mention a delicious cake.

Who could forget our adventurous weekend of rafting and climbing? Nothing like facing your biggest fears the very first weekend to facilitate group bonding! Thank you again to whoever decided that we should climb the cliff in a girl-guy pattern and volunteered me as tribute to take the lead. You owe me. I do have to admit though, sitting on the top of that ledge was one of the coolest things I have ever done.

I would be remiss if I failed to mention the precious time spent at Alex’s cabin for the testimony retreat. It was beautiful to be able to share in the tears, laughter, sorrow, and joy peppered throughout the stories of the other Fellows.  What a gift to be invited into each of their lives for this part of their journeys. Of course, the cherry on top was the opportunity to laugh and rest together, with the highlight being watching Alex pancake Dennis in a tubing war. There is, of course, an abundance of photographic proof.

New York. That happened. From listening to Mako Fujimura, to watching visual artists perform, to figuring out which of the shower stalls at the hostel was least likely to be hazardous to my health, New York was an experience. We stayed busy the entire time, but we still managed to make time to take a picture in Times Square. It’s all about priorities right?

At long last there were the much anticipated youth group retreats for high school and middle school. The jury is still out on how “Modgnik” is pronounced and whether “Tree-hugging Tilly” is actually Rachel’s real identity. It cannot be denied, however, that Ben and Rachel love these youth group kids with all their hearts. I am constantly impressed by their dedication to serving and loving these kids. I would be even more impressed if they actually drank the smoothies of death they get the kids to drink at youth group, but I seriously doubt that will ever happen.

The Calling and Career retreat at Michael’s cabin may have been my favorite weekend in the Fellows Program so far. Despite the fact that I did not hear a voice from God telling me what my future vocation will be starting June 1, 2014, I left feeling full. Dennis graciously gave me the opportunity to lead a discussion about the Clifton StrengthsFinder, which opened doors to some beautiful conversations about using our gifts as a way of serving this community. The memories I will treasure most though, are sitting on the stairs with Rachel, Mallory, and Elizabeth just talking about life, listening to Christine, Jordan, Hannah, and Wilson play music that I’m fairly confident I will hear again in Heaven, being with Elizabeth when she got exciting news about med school, and listening to Jordan talk about his passion for music. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

However, to think that the experience of the last 4 months can be captured in snapshots of weekends away would be a gross transgression. The heart of this program is found in the everyday things; in laughing around the dinner table on family night, in getting a superhero pillow from your host brother because your room is “too girly” and you “need it more” than he does, in driving to Richmond with your host sisters to find the perfect homecoming dresses, in laying hands on a hurting sister at bible study, in tackling hard questions with youth group kids after smashing each others’ faces in baked beans in the name of Jesus, in the look of relief on your boss’s face when you accept a huge project without complaint and turn it in without mistakes, in listening to Dennis’s kids tell you about St. Thomas for the 16^th time and still loving every detail, in sitting with Jess just talking about life and checking the clock to realize it’s been 3 hours, in getting a hug from Greg and really understanding how much love is being conveyed, in staying up late to study for your final exam because you actually want to know about God’s faithfulness throughout generations, in waking up to 30 missed messages on the group text stream, in being volun-told that we will stack every chair owned by Trinity Presbyterian Church as many times as humanly possible over a 9-month period,  in waking up early to make coffee and pancakes for our church family on Sunday mornings, and in the truths God is whispering into each of our lives as we journey through this time together.

I know that when I go home for Christmas, my family and friends will ask me to tell them what I’ve been up to. I will try, but I make no promises that I will be able to really convey all that I have experienced in the last 4 months. The truth is, there is no readers digest version. We serve a BIG God and he writes the stories of our lives in equal proportion. There is no 20 questions description for this experience. Is it bigger than a breadbox? Yes. Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral? Nope. I can only say this, if you could see my heart (the spiritlike one, not the one full of chambers and an aorta), you would see a joyous party. It hasn’t all been fun and games; we ran out of chips a couple times and somebody broke an expensive vase, but it is a wonderful celebration nonetheless and it’s not stopping anytime soon.

**For more information on the Trinity Fellows Program, check out the website here.

***If you're going to be graduating soon, leave me a comment or send me an email, I'd love to talk to you about moving to Charlottesville for a year and doing this program.

Scar Stories

I think I met an angel today.

He was 16 years old.

I know, weird.

So here's the story. I'm an intern for a company that REALLY likes soda, and everybody has their own carbonated beverage of choice. As the intern, it is my distinct honor to be personally responsible for making sure that we are adequately stocked with the fizzy nectar of goodness at all times. Today was shopping day.

Today was also the day I forgot to take my medicine.

Repeat after me: "Keri, you're a GENIUS!"

So I spent an hour throwing my entire body into navigating a cart overflowing with milk and honey (and by milk and honey I obviously mean water bottles and fridge packs of soda) through the maze that they call Kroger, and it hurt. Like a lot. After being dragged down the steep decline from the store to my car by a shopping cart that could hold its own in the next Die Hard movie, I was nearly in tears. "A little help God?" I popped my trunk and stared hopelessly at the cases of water and braced myself for the shooting pains that I knew were coming the second I tried to lift that 32 pack. Right as I reached for it though, I heard a voice over my shoulder asking, "May I help you with your groceries?"

Standing just behind me was my own personal angel. He wasn't glowing, but I'm still pretty confident in my assessment.

Under normal circumstances, I would have said no. In fact, I probably would have been offended and muttered to myself, "Do I look like I'm 80?!" But today was different. Today I needed all the help I could get. Today, I smiled and said, "Yes actually, I could really use some help."

I stood back and watched as he expertly loaded my tiny car with enough sugary drinks and snacks to give the entire state of Virginia diabetes, and then I thanked him with a smile and drove off.

God takes good care of me. Thank you, mystery teen!

Possibly the greatest thing about having arthritis is that it gives me regular opportunities to be reminded how much God loves me and how capable He is of taking care of me.

About 2 weeks ago I was sitting in a seminary class when my prof made a passing reference to the fact that Jesus already has his resurrection body. It wasn't his main point, which is a bummer because I actually don't remember any thing else about that lecture... I should probably brush up before the final! Anyway, I got stuck on that comment. It make sense that he would have his resurrection body already, I mean, he was resurrected and all, but I'd never made that connection before. And to be honest, it really bothered me. So after class, I walked up to the prof and told him what was on my mind.

"Dr. W, you said that Jesus already has his resurrection body, right?"
"That's right."
"But he still had scars in his hands and feet. Do you think we will still have scars when we get our resurrection body?"

He thought about it for a while and then said yes.

I thought about that conversation for the rest of the night, and I've come to the conclusion that I agree with him. Now before you accuse me of heresy and start picking up stones, hear me out.

Jesus was resurrected with holes in his hands and feet because they bore testimony to the redeeming work that God had done. The evidence of his wounds remained, but they were made glorious by the resurrection. They were now a reason for celebration, causing people to worship their Creator. The were no longer ugly and painful, but they were beautiful.

I hope get to keep my scars too. The one from the time that I burned my hand helping cook dinner for all my new friends in the Fellows program and the one that I got from not paying attention when I was trying to carve a spoon to use on my wilderness trip, sure, but mostly I hope I get to keep the scars nobody else sees. The ones from the pain, fear, and self-consciousness that came with being diagnosed with RA, the ones from having my heart broken by men who told me I wasn't enough, and the ones from the man who told me I was nothing more than a body to be used. If you could see my heart, you'd see some pretty ugly scar tissue built up there.

I know what you're asking, "Why would you want to keep those? Don't you want to be perfect?"

Don't get me wrong, I've looked in the mirror more than a few times and sighed to myself thinking, "Just you wait for that heavenly body... you're going to be a freaking BOMBSHELL!"... but I think that these scars are part of that beauty. A really important part actually.

I've written before about how often God has used hard things to teach me really cool lessons about himself. I can confidently say that the tears I have cried in my life have not been bad things. They've been hard, and I would have happily passed them by, but the have been GOOD. They have been windows into the good work that God has done, is doing, and will continue to do for the rest of forever. And that makes me think of the verse that says "for now you know in part, but then you will know in full." I've seen God make really beautiful things out of the uglies in my life, but there are still things I don't understand. However, I fully believe that, with God, nothing is wasted... and I would LOVE to see and understand all that he's doing with my story.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think I'll bump into my ex in heaven and get a twinge of hurt over being rejected. I think I'll bump into him, greet him with joy, and then we'll have a nice chat about all the great things that came of both our relationship and it's end. We will worship our God, who know beyond a shadow of doubt what he was doing, both when he put us into each others lives and when he sent us on our separate ways. It will be beautiful, and it will be a reason for crazy, passionate, uncontrollable, undeniable worship. How awesome would it be to get to heaven and have built-in stones of remembrance of God's faithfulness in your weakness and pain. To have something to remind you of how deeply God has loved you through every moment of your life. To understand the undeniably brilliant beauty of something you once thought was unforgivably ugly. Now, if we show up in Heaven with Vogue cover model bodies and tabula rasa memories, I'm sure that will be great too, but somehow I don't think that's how it works.

I hope that someday in heaven, we all get to sit around the throne and exchange scar stories. Not the overly embellished kind that boys tell girls to make themselves seem tough. Not the kind that girls tell at slumber parties sobbing into their pillows and plotting epic revenge. I hope we tell the kind that overwhelms us with awe at the loveliness of the scarred and the wisdom and majesty of the Creator.

I'll start the fire and bring the marshmallows... but you're responsible for the chocolate and grahams... I hate s'mores. Don't tell the Sandlot boys.

She Let Herself Go

I was just cleaning out old email drafts and I stumbled across this post I wrote back in November. It's a little dated as far as my experience goes, but the message is still fitting so I'm going to throw it up here anyway. Enjoy! -Keri

_____________________________________________________________________

I have a confession to make: I'm addicted to country music. Shocker. 

The reason I'm making this confession is that I'm about to do something slightly unorthodox. Usually if I quote something it's a book by a Christian giant or a bible verse... today I'm throwing in some lyrics from a country song. Brace yourself. 

Just over a month ago, I was broken up with for the first time in my life. Let me tell you, that is not a fun experience. I had the distinct pleasure though of being broken up with in such a way that I can still speak of this man with respect and with a smile on my face. That, my friends, is a blessing that should not be overlooked. Our relationship didn't end because of something done wrong or a big fight or a dramatic difference. It ended because, for whatever reason, he didn't have the feelings for me that he thought he should. And to be honest, if that's how he felt, I respect him for ending it now. Doesn't make it easy to accept, but I respect it. 

The problem is, I have watched WAY too many chick flicks. Don't get me wrong, I am all about a girls night with nail polish, Diet Coke, Chinese take out, and Ryan Reynolds. Sign me up. The quandary was, since I'd never be broken up with before, I wasn't really sure how I was supposed to react... but I'd seen them deal with break ups in the movies and I was pretty sure they required lots of Kleenex, Ben and Jerry's chocolate ice cream, and vice-like clutching of tear-stained pillows. I contemplated doing that for about 30 seconds and decided I didn't want to be "that girl." So like any good girl raised on Winne-the-Pooh stories, I put on my thinking cap and thought... and thought... and thought about what I was going to do instead. 

That's where George Strait came in. 

Old George has had my back since 2005 when he released a song called "She Let Herself Go" It was like he knew I would need it. What a great guy. But I digress. As I was thinking about how I wanted to respond to my new-found singledom, this song came to mind. It says:

 He wondered how she'd take it when he said goodbye.
Thought she might do some cryin': lose some sleep at night.
But he had no idea, when he hit the road,
That without him in her life, she'd let herself go.
Let herself go on a singles cruise,
To Vegas once, then to Honolulu.
Let herself go to New York City:
A week at the Spa; came back knocked-out pretty.
When he said he didn't love her no more,
She let herself go.

...

Let herself go on her first blind-date:
Had the time of her life with some friends at the lake.
Let herself go, buy a brand new car,
Drove down to the beach he always said was too far.
Sand sure felt good between her toes:

And as I sang along, as off-key as humanly possible, (and keep in mind that by sang along I really mean I belted it out like a bonafied American-Idol-wannabe, shower-time-superstar, teenage-slumber-party-diva) I realized that's what I wanted to do. Not that I was going to catch the first flight to Vegas, but that I wanted to make the most of this opportunity.

In the past I'd spent times of singleness wishing that I wasn't single, and I'm realizing now that it's quite a waste to do that. Not that I don't want to find a great guy and settle down someday (trust me, I really do), but that obviously isn't right now and that's ok. Right now I have the freedom to schedule Friday night girls nights, to spend every holiday with MY family, to go on double blind dates in the city, and to flirt with the guy making my smoothie a Jamba Juice in hopes of a size upgrade (wait, did I say that?!). It's much harder to do those when you're taken! (That's a joke, feel free to laugh) 

Christ died for us so that we might have life and have it to the full, period. There is no prerequisite that says you must wait until you are in a committed relationship before you start enjoying the life you have been blessed with. I don't want to be sitting here twiddling my thumbs waiting for a handsome prince to come so my life can start! Heck, at that point he'd probably pass me by because I was too boring!! NO! I want to be busy making memories so that when he does come along, I'll have plenty of stories to tell him on our first date... and our second... and if he makes it through the third, I might even let him start to participate in my adventures. We'll see, the jury is still out on that one. ;)

Broken and Beautiful: What suffering teaches us about God

The world we live in can be a scary place. Even in our short lifetimes we’ve seen an overwhelming, and seemingly unfair, amount of pain and suffering. We’ve seen presidents abuse power in the White House, we’ve seen thousands die in terrorist attacks, we’ve sent friends and family off to war, we’ve watched innocent people suffer and die at the hands of somebody who was just looking for a thrill. Closer to home we’ve watched a bullied classmate pass away, we’ve been sexually abused by men who sought to control us with fear, and we’ve seen our parents lose their jobs because somebody in power didn’t like them.  How, in the face of all that, are we supposed to believe God even exists, let alone trust him to care for us in times of need? It’s a big question, one I’ve struggled with myself, and I would love to walk through it with you.

When we were little we were taught “Jesus loves me this I know” and “God is bigger than the boogie man, he’s bigger than Godzilla, or the monsters on TV” and it all seemed so simple. The scary stuff was there, but it was no big deal because we had God, the celestial bodyguard, checking in our closets and under our beds so we didn’t have to worry about it. In the words of my youth pastor, we had our “heaven belts on.” Back then our biggest worry was that we scraped our knee when Timmy pushed us off the slide but God “sent” us a Band-Aid and it was all better.  It wasn’t until we got older that things started getting complicated. Parents got divorced, rumors started, friends crossed to the other side of the hallway and refused to be seen associating with you because to do so would be social suicide. When our worlds started falling apart around us it became a lot harder to believe that “Jesus loves me” regardless that “the bible tells me so.” Suddenly those people that said there was no God, or at least not one that cared about us, started making a lot more sense.

We used to hear sermons on John 10 and Psalm 23 talking about God as a “good shepherd.” One who would lay down his life for his sheep, care for them, make them lie down by still waters and lead them to fields of green grass. He would protect them from danger, provide for their needs, and lovingly seek after them when they strayed away. We could probably give a sermon on that analogy ourselves, from memory, based off the sheer repetition we were exposed to in our youth. So how do we reconcile that story with the world we’re in now? Where is our protection from the wolves attacking our country? Where are the streams of water and fields of grass for those starving in poverty on our city streets? Who is seeking out those who have lost everything in natural disasters to bring them home?

These days there are a lot of things we’re running short on. Time, money, food, living space, even love, you name it there seems to be a deficit.  Nobody would claim a shortage of evil though. At first glance pain, anger, and loss seem to be the currency of the day. It’s not hard to understand why people frequently point at the evil in our world and say, “Surely your good, loving, all-powerful God is nothing but a fairy tale!” I’ve even thought that myself a time or two to be completely honest. The more I’ve thought about the problem of evil though, the more I’ve come to see it as more of a proof for a loving and powerful God rather than against him.

I recently heard a sermon on Acts 16, which tells the story of Paul and Silas in prison. They were preaching the “good news” and came across a slave girl who was possessed by a demon. The demon allowed her to tell the future, which provided a very lucrative business for her masters. Paul, knowing what was best for the girl, cast out the demon and healed her, much to the dismay of her masters who promptly incited a riot to have the men imprisoned. Paul and Silas were brutally beaten and cast into the most secure part of the prison under heavy guard. That’s a lot of evil and unfair treatment to befall two men, for doing a good deed! They were doing the work of the Lord and look what happened to them! Instead of lamenting their position or fighting back, the men prayed and sang hymns. Unbelievable! In the middle of the night though, God sent an earthquake that opened the prison doors and loosed the chains that bound not only Paul and Silas, but all the prisoners. Finally, justice was served! Not only that, but the prison guard, seeing all the doors opened, prepared to kill himself as duty required. Paul and Silas stopped him though, telling him that no one had left the prison. In response, the jailer cared for the men and he, and his entire family, were saved. No one would deny that tremendous evil was at work at the beginning of this story, but God redeemed it into something beautiful in the end.

So often we get caught up staring at the evil all around us and we don’t take the time to stop and think that God might still be working in all of this. God created humans with free will because of his immense love for us and his desire for us to love him back. If we had no option but to love him that would not be real love at all, granting us free will was necessary to allow us to be in relationship with God. With free will, though, comes the ability to choose and therefore, to choose wrongly. Free will opens the door to evil. In order to do away with evil, God would have to revoke our free will, which would be outside of his love for us right now. Instead God overcomes evil by redeeming it, and adapting it to serve his purposes as we see in the Paul and Silas story. We don’t have to fear evil in this world because we know that God is ultimately in control of the outcome, in essence, he really is bigger than the boogieman. Veggie tales was right!

We can also have hope for the future. Just because God hasn’t defeated evil yet does not mean he won’t. The bible makes it very clear, especially in Revelation that God wins. End of story. Satan, and evil, has no authority over the kingdom of God. God has not left us without hope.

Last summer I ended up on a 4-hour car ride with only a 28 year-old ex-felon to keep me company. This man was a former drug addict and had been imprisoned for car theft and physically abusing another human being, and that was the abbreviated version of his criminal record. I could have been terrified and fearing for my safety that whole ride, but instead I was enraptured by his story. Here this man was, telling me the story of his near death in drug overdose, his failed engagement due to alcoholism, his 8 year-old daughter he wasn’t allowed to see, and his year long imprisonment and he was able to rejoice because he was able to look back and see how God used all of it to pick him up off the wayward trail he was taking and push him in the direction he was going now. We were in the car driving up to HoneyRock where he would be participating in an orientation program before attending Wheaton College as a Colson Scholar, sharing testimonies and sitting in awe of God’s amazing power and he said something I’ll never forget. He said, “Keri, if I had gone through all of that just so that I could come to this time of sitting in this car being wowed by God, it would have been worth it.” Evil isn’t the end of the story, God’s glory is.

For Such A Time As This

In the words of one of my kindred spirits, "It's been such a Jonah day, Marilla!"
Sometimes life just brings you to your knees... again... and again... and again. And to be honest, I'm starting to realize (again) that this isn't such a bad place to be.

Disclaimer: Those of you who have taken the time to read any part of this blog before have no doubt noticed my trend of hitting the proverbial wall and bouncing off with some big epiphany about God's great faithfulness, so I just wanted to inform you that this one is no different. In fact, this trend totally supports my point from above, that being brought to my knees isn't such a bad thing after all because it brings me to a point of remembrance and reliance.

Disclaimer done. Now let me set the stage... I'm coming to you today with a broken heart. I've been knocked around by classes and illness (my own and those of people close to me), I've said goodbye to a very special relationship, and I've cried my fair share of tears. It's been a rough few weeks.

In chapel last week we had a speaker come and speak on "The Will of God"... he was phenomenal. He had lots of wonderful things to say and all of them spoke directly to my wounded heart, but I just want to touch on a few. (If you want to watch them all, which I highly recommend, they can be found here. Just look up Mike Breaux Oct 31, Nov 1, and Nov 2) He spent his second of the three days talking about Joseph. It's a story I'd heard many times before, but Mike pointed out something I hadn't taken the time to consider before... God never abandoned Joseph (duh), but neither did Joseph abandon God. I can't imagine what that would be like, God calling you up and saying "Hey, I'm going to make you a mighty ruler. Just thought you should know!" and you get all excited and start polishing your crown and next thing you know, you're in a pit. Don't worry, you get out of that but then you're a slave... and then there's that one woman that tries to rape you... and not to mention that jail time and the guys that could get you out of there forgetting all about you. I mean, I 'd be a little frustrated at this point. I imagine my monologue going something like this, "Hey God... it's me, Keri. I doubt you remember me, I mean I've been kind of off the grid for a while. I tried to keep in touch and all but cell reception doesn't work so well when you're in a PIT... and then my slave drivers revoked my email privileges. Can you believe those guys? Seriously though God, what are you doing here? Is this some kind of sick joke? I hope you're getting a good laugh, because I seem to have missed the punch line. Forget this! At least the rats remember to come visit me every once in a while!" And sure, maybe Joseph was a little frustrated himself... but he remained faithful. As a slave, he worked hard and got the job done. In prison, he ministered to the other guys on the block, and even when things finally did go as God told him they would, he extended grace to his brothers. Talk about using where you're at to live for God's glory!

So as I thought about Joseph, and about Mike's first message where he talked about how God's will has a lot more to do with who we are becoming then it does with where we're going or what we're doing next, I realized that I don't want to waste this opportunity. Two weeks ago, things were going pretty great. Things were right on track as far as I was concerned and I was happy. I knew how to seek and serve God in that place. I knew how to love him in that place. I knew how to rejoice in that place. And then I left that place. I got relocated, and not by any choice of my own. That was rough. But now I do have a choice to make. I can sit and mope and cry in the fetal position, or I can learn to adapt. I can learn how to seek and serve God here. I can can love him here. I can rejoice here. And in so doing I can find joy here, even in the midst of my heartache. It doesn't end there though! The best part, my absolute favorite, is that when I seek that joy, that love in all circumstances, I get to be at the mercy of God's plan... and what that usually means is getting to be the right person who is in the right place at the right time.

This is all great, but you know what? None of this means that my heart isn't broken right now. It still hurts and there are still days when it's really hard not to cry. What it DOES mean is that my heart is abundantly full. And you want to know the really cool thing? A full broken heart is like a broken dam, it can't stop overflowing. That big crack running through my heart is the perfect size to let love overflow to all those around me, and isn't that why I was placed here? Am I not here, in this place, in this situation, in this moment, for such a time as this?

Yeah, I think so too.

Double-Sided Disaster

Murphy's Law of Printers: they will NEVER (EVER) work when you are on a deadline. **Special note: the bigger the printer, the more disastrous it's failure.


The printer at work will hereby and henceforth be referred to as "evil incarnate" or "EI" for short. It's one of those massive machines that prints, copies, staples, juggles, eats first born children... you know, the whole shebang, and it has (as of yesterday) waged a full out war against my sanity. It started acting up around 7 that evening when a lady asked me for help with a job she was trying to print. We worked on it over the course of a couple hours and eventually got her job to print, but I am convinced that this was all some mind game EI was playing with me to build my confidence before it was shattered completely.


About half an hour before I was supposed to close down the lab, a lady came needing to make a few copies and to print out over a hundred page document. Shortly after I'd sent her on her way with instructions on how to work the printer, she was back asking me for help. I was feeling pretty confident about my printer skills so I swaggered into the lab like I was in charge as EI belched out a copy/scan sound that I now realize was it's own private form of maniacal laughter. It had accepted my unintentional challenge.


An hour later, my frustrated customer had returned to her room and I was left staring at the gloating printer, all but begging it to print. I had promised the lady that I would do my best to have her document ready at the desk for her when she came down in the morning. EI was quick to remind me that it made no such promise. I resigned myself to letting EI sit by itself all night and think about what it had done to me and resolved to return in the morning to exact my vengeance.


Bright and early I was back on the job. I finally figured out how to get copies made and I gloated proudly with my hand full of warm black and white pages as the lady knocked on the computer lab door and made her entrance. Confident that EI had come to its senses, I showed her how to send her job the printer.  I crossed my fingers, held my breath, and NOTHING happened. Not even the laugh disguised as a warming-up sound! We tried several more times before the very upset woman turned to me and announced that she had places to be and she needed this fixed so that she would have her document in time for her meeting. I apologized profusely and promised to do my best to get her job printed as she announced her displeasure to everyone we passed.


After she left, I called every supervisor, boss, and office manager I had a phone number for. I contacted tech support, printer support, and emotional support. A technician came to work on the printer while I sent the document to another building to be printed and made arrangements for it to be delivered to the desk before the lady returned. I held the stack of papers and breathed a deep sigh of relief as a feeling of accomplishment washed over me. I called the lady up and informed her that her papers were waiting for her. She picked up her document with a smile that showed the same feeling of relief I was reveling in and she hurried away to her room.


The relief was short-lived though. She returned to the desk 10 minutes later and asked one simple question that changed everything, "Is there a reason you printed my papers double-sided?" Thinking she was pleasantly surprised, I happily informed her that must have been the printer was preset to save paper. She looked at me, shook her head, and said, I needed it to be single-sided. I stumbled over myself apologetically and told her I would see what I could do to fix it but she shook her head and said it was too late as she walked out the door. I felt about two inches tall. I turned to look at my co-worker and said, "Can I take my 15 minute break now to go cry in the closet?"


Sadly, this story doesn't have a happy ending, but it does have a moral. Sometimes we just need to learn a lesson in grace. Grace for others who make us feel incompetent yes, but also grace for ourselves. Lets be honest, I'm not a technician, there is literally nothing I could have done (short of taking a baseball bat to the stupid thing and even the benefits of that are debatable) to fix this problem. I had no way of knowing that the printer in the other building would print things double-sided, or that that would even be an issue to begin with. I did everything I could to make that situation work out, but I'm not perfect and sometimes I fail, and that's ok. God loves me anyway, despite my (many) shortcomings. AND, if He can forgive me mine, then I can forgive her hers. What goes around comes around right? So if any of ya'll ever find me in a computer room threatening a large piece of equipment with a louisville slugger, just kindly remove the wooden club from my hand and cut me some slack ok? Much obliged.

Lessons from a Hornet: Built to Last

So today I got a text from my dad informing me that I have been leaving his good friend Wayne hanging since I haven't posted in 3 months. Time to fix that! So Wayne, this one's for you.

This summer I 'm working at my college, rather than spending the summer at home, and I have been very blessed by some old family friends who have invited me to live with them for the summer. I'm comfortably situated in a cute little room above their garage and I really couldn't ask for a better set up. In fact, I was so comfortable the other day that I almost didn't notice the monstrous hornet chilling on my bottle of make-up remover. I was getting ready for bed and was about to take out my contacts and was reaching for my bottle of solution when I noticed the menacing flying attacker no more than 3 inches from my hand. No worries, I managed not to scream my head off... barely.

For about 2 minutes, I panicked. I'm actually a little disappointed that there was nobody there to witness what followed because I'm pretty certain it looked like something from a cartoon. I literally ran around my little room in circles, flailing my arms, looking for random objects to entrap the beast with, all while attempting to keep an eye on the insect in case it decided to make a kamikaze dive at me. Keep in mind, I was extremely tired when all this was going on, so I can't be held (entirely) responsible for my intense overreaction.

Finally I settled on tossing a bandana over both the villain and it's perch, securing the loose ends with a hair band, and bashing it repeatedly into the floor from all angles. When I still heard it's wings buzzing pathetically like a fly in a bug light, I decided it was better not to take chances and started pounding the whole bundle with both of my tennis shoes. I waged a full out war on that little blue package... I even created a battle cry. Again, I'm realizing now what a pity it is that I was alone for all of this.

About 15 minutes after spotting the terror, I was finally satisfied that I had succeeded in my mission. Untying the hairband, I flung the bandana open on the floor. Out rolled my (dented) bottle of make-up remover, but the corpse was nowhere to be seen. I stretched out the bandana a little bit more and then jumped back in terror. There in the middle of my bandana, a very large, very alive, and probably very angry hornet was marching across the paisleys toward me.

Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I folded up the bandana again, proceeded to roll over the whole thing with shoes, rolled the whole thing up tight, tied it off, doused it heavily in liquid, and threw it away. That should have done the trick right? Well this was last night and I just looked in the trash this evening (to pour more water on it to be honest) and I'm 99% positive I saw that bandana moving.

So what has any of this got to do with anything, other than giving all of you a reason to laugh at my sheer terror over something about half the size of my pinky? Allow me to explain. If you've read any portion of my blog before, you know full well that God likes to use times of fear and hardship in my life to teach me important lessons, so why should this be any different? As I was driving today I was reflecting on that freakishly durable bug and I realized that God makes things that are built to last. Now don't go getting all technical on me, I know that lots of things in creation are a lot easier to kill/ruin/demolish/dispose of then that flying fiend (thank goodness) but allow me to explain what I mean.

This year has been a difficult one. My battle with arthritis has not been easy, especially over the last month of the school year. I've had some heartbreak, and I've watched people close to me fight illness and death. I've struggled academically, and I've fought off exhaustion as I worked 4 jobs in addition to a full class load. I've been sick, I've been tired, I've been in pain, and I've been frustrated... but I didn't die. Sure, my bandana has been smashed around a bit and I've gone a couple rounds with a plastic bottle full of weird smelling liquid, but I haven't curled up and buzzed my last. I've regained my bearings and marched on. Think of 2 Cor 4:8-10
"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body."

Now this will probably be the only time you ever hear me compare myself to a gargantuan bubble-butted stinging insect, but you have to admit that there is a resemblance in our situations. My point is this, God's not messing around. You've heard about "built Ford tough," but that has nothing on God's warranty. We don't have to fear the bandanas and tennis shoes of life, even the make-up removers have nothing on us, because we have a God that knew what He was doing when He made us. We come with a lifetime warranty, and we were built to last.