For the Love of Life

Humanity Hurts

2012-01-25T08:06:00.004-06:00

You never realize how much you care about someone until you hurt them. And even when you know that they'll forgive you, it's the minuscule thought that they might even consider they are less valued in your eyes makes you want to duck tape your mouth shut.

I don't like to admit how much people matter to me. Because that level of caring (for me) means dependence and therefore weakness. That whole notion God has really used to grate on me these past few weeks. The idea that yes. There is going to be pain. And yes. I am weak. And absolutely I will have to show it.

It was one of those moments where words failed me. But more than that, I was a coward and went the 'safe' route instead of saying what I meant. Or even just admitting to what I might mean. I ducked out of the side which left the person I was talking to feeling insecure, lost, and undervalued. Not because that person is weak necessarily, or needy. But because that person had invested a level of trust and vulnerability. And when I turned my shoulder on that, that person tripped.

And may I just say, that on top of that, text messages fail at adequate communication of emotion? I hate it. I immediately called the person and tried to explain where I was coming from. I had to admit to my fears and weaknesses and unsureness. But even after hanging up, things were not back to normal. Because the scars are still there. Even if the other person doesn't feel it. I do. Because I care more than I let myself realize.

It's especially bad, letting people dow, when they've done so much for you. Invested into you. Provided for you. Supported you. And then when they start to lean on you . . . you drop them.

Ha. I claimed I'd be the strong one that impacted the people in my life and inspired them. So far all I've done is damage control for my own clumsiness.

What's worse is when their gracious. Well, technically it's good. But when I feel awful, I want them to yell at me. To give me what I deserve. But then instead, they talk about how even when I hurt them, I still make them smile . . . lemon juice on a wound made by a cheese grater. In other words, the feeling is less than spectacular. Humbling, encouraging, frustrating all at the same time.

I suppose it's good though. I need to experience this. To understand just how much people matter to me: their opinions, their lives, their feelings. But goodness. couldn't I just have an epitome or something? Sheesh.

The absolute kicker of this whole type of situation is this: I don't know how to fix it. I'm practically a handyman when it comes to repairing conflict (or avoiding it). But with stuff like this, when my gracelessness is the problem . . . I'm at a loss. The only satisfactory solution I've come to thus far is give it up to God. And work at selflessly serving the people in my life to demonstrate just how much they mean to me. Because words are easily forgotten. But the actions behind words set a rhythm, a motion, a chain reaction that lasts and impacts much more. That's why I have hope that relationships can be healed: because I got Jesus as my example for how to live out love.

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Philippians 4:8

<3 Katie

Ten Ways to Get Girls to Like You

2012-01-24T14:44:00.000-06:00

Part 2-for guys

<3 Katie

Ten Ways to Get the Right Guy to Like You

2012-01-23T21:15:00.000-06:00

So true.

<3 Katie

Fine Line

2012-01-21T17:53:00.006-06:00

Since getting back to school, my life (and all organization therein) was swallowed by a tsunami. There is so much unknown and stepping over the fine lines from comfort zone to empty space. At least in that empty space, there is room for faith. Whereas my comfort zone is crowded with my own makings.

God has been teaching me so much about having faith and joy in the moment. No matter how wild. There has been a lot of spiritual attack hitting my friends and I and I wonder if it's because where we're headed is straight for Christ and if we're going to accomplish something wonderful. It means we're on track but it hurts.

The people in my life are not perfect. Not b a long shot. But it's that and their ability and passion to overcome those flaws that makes them so inspirational and beautiful. They keep surprising me. And Jesus keeps showing up through their actions. It's so humbling. I keep asking God how on earth I'm worthy enough to have them touch my life. And why they put up with me. It's unfathomable to me.

In chapel at night, two friends and I sat in a dark stairwell with a guitar and sung praise songs.
As I told the guy I like about the feelings of unworthiness I was experiencing, he sat me down on a bench right there and prayed for me.
Going to the alter in Chapel for the first time and praying for my best friend.
Opening up my heart to new friends.
Learning to trust fully in Christ.

It's only the end of the second week of my second semester!!!!!

Sheesh. What in the world does God have planned for me over these next four years?

All I can say is praise God. And please pray for me and my friends.

With all this craziness, I haven't had time to take a great allotment of pictures, but here are some. Enjoy~

Caprese Salad~

<3 Katie

Firebird

2012-01-14T17:50:00.000-06:00

<3 Katie

Complete Confusion

2012-01-13T06:07:00.002-06:00

Saying that God works in mysterious ways is an atrocious understatement. In fact, when people have brought that up lately I've wanted to answer, "Well duh!" In the nicest way possible, of course. It's just becoming a side of His character that has constantly shown up in my life, thrown off my plans, and left me spinning, looking for the right direction. I carefully craft a castle made of cards and he just lets out a little puff of air and scatters them. And for some reason, instead of laughing like little kids do when towers get knocked over, I scowl at him and chase down the cards, wrestling the wind.

Since getting back to school, I feel like I've been chasing cards. With classes being in a jumble as I try to solidify a schedule, trying to balance time with friends (which gets more difficult the more friends you have, I've noticed), and even just attempting to maintain a level of sanity. Ha. Yeah, right. This semester is going to be insane. With school, teaching yoga, and additional projects I will never have a comfortable moment. And that list does not include the puff of air God likes to throw into the midst. Yes, what He does I sometimes consider a disruption. I'll say things like, "Stop it, God! You gave me a job. I can do it by myself, see?" It's like when the five year old tries to make lunch for the family-frightening.

I have a lot of expectations of how life is going to turn out. Not so much of long term (although I do have hopes and thoughts on that too, I've learned to take it one step at a time), but how I think a relationship with a friend should be focused, how much effort should be required in a class, or how much I need of a certain something (church, deep conversations, laughter, interaction with a friend, etc.).

And I can't help but notice God likes to blow those expectations out of the water. Sometimes this seriously irks me. I have no right to feel that way, but I do. But once I get over my entitlement and frustration, I start to see a beauty in not ideal situations. This sort of unexpected value in dealing with troubles and bringing them to God. How about those moments you weren't willing to spare for a friend who wants to share their story and then suddenly four hours have gone by, you don't have your To-Do list done, but you wonder how you could keep living without that story. Because it made that much of an impact. And you had no idea it was there.

We have a limited visual plane. We can't see the future and our memories are biased. And as for the present, it's still happening and we're tangled up in it. We try to make sense of it all, claim we understand, and try to take action. When really, sometimes, God is asking us to be still and let Him inspire us. For me, I'm always to anxious to go out and inspire people and be an example that I forget to have that fed into me. And so sometimes God has to hit me over the head with it. It makes me realize just how much I don't know and makes me want to drown myself in humility.

So when today is confusing, tomorrow is stressful, and yesterday was less than ideal, remember God has this all figured out. We don't have to. Ad that even through pain and suffering and the scary unknown, He is there and He's never going to leave. And please, the next time He blows down your house of cards, laugh a little at yourself for thinking you could build a better castle out of cards than He could. Because something I've noticed is that He doesn't use cards to build His kingdom. He uses people. Let Him use you.

<3 Katie

"I Believe in Scripture"

2012-01-12T11:48:00.000-06:00

Power of words. Beautiful.

<3 Katie

I Have to Go Back

2012-01-06T09:06:00.002-06:00

Yesterday the realization hit me. I fly away again. Come Sunday, I will return to a small town and college and begin this insanity all over again. And I feel so conflicted because I'm ready to go and yet I don't want to leave where I'm at. I think that's a good sign that I'm at the right place . . . in both places.

But here, home, I know isn't my place to stay for long periods. Over this break I've become so restless I can't accomplish anything. I can't focus my mind enough to write or start a project of importance. And it leaves me longing for the problems and work of school. Granted, a lot of the assignments there are not enjoyable. But I feel like I'm doing something to reach a goal. There's a path for my passion.

So today and tomorrow will consist of me trying to fit my things back into a checked suitcase, a carry on, and a back pack, doing laundry, running around for last minute stuff we put off, etc. And then Sunday is an all day fiasco of crowds and planes to get back to Asbury. I'm so excited though. I'm going to dump my bags in my room and run to other peoples' rooms to just give them hugs. Believe it or not, the independent little writer homeschool girl adores her friends and missed them more than anything these past three weeks.

Goodness, has it only been three weeks? It feels like forever.

So much has changed since orientation. So much in me has changed. I've become stronger, more confident, but also (I hope) wiser. And I've realized that I know nothing. Seriously. So I should stop pretending and just learn and try.

Yesterday I fulfilled my dream of owning a satchel (you know like Oxford professors must have?). I got it from JCP on sale! Also, we had to get hiking boots since (instead of a science lab) I am going on a week backpacking trip through Colorado mountains. Therefore, equipped with my satchel and hiking boots, I shall conquer this next semester. Exciting, right?

Classes I'm taking? Earth Science, New Testament, Photography, Western Classics, a screenwriting class, and then either Old Testament or Theory of Wellness. We shall see. And the teaching yoga.

There are some exciting possibilities for this semester. But mostly I just can't wait to see God showing up.

<3 Katie

More Than Ever

2012-01-03T15:39:00.002-06:00

Did you know there are more slaves today than ever before in history?

Even in the African Slave Trade.

27 Million. 27 million people. Men, Women, and Children. Chained by fear. Their own bodies are not their own. Night and day blur together-a constant nightmare.

The live in hell. On earth.

And here we are worrying about which accessory to wear today. Which sweet to eat. When they cannot make a single free decision. They are locked away from sunlight. They can't even see the beautiful creation God made. They can't experience community and the love it brings. They are not their own.

I am not my own. I am Christ's. And so are they. That makes them my brothers and sisters.

If Kelly or Kenny was stolen and subjected to even a fraction of the horrors these people endure I would tear the world apart in search of them. To free them.

I take that responsibility seriously.

Christ is calling us to feel that same connection to the people trapped in slavery.

I don't like to write on my skin. But I did today. With permanent marker. 27 Million. I'm going to shrink that number. And I'm not going to stop until it's 0. It's not impossible. Don't you dare think it is. That's the enemy. His only power is deception. And he will use every ounce he has of it to keep those people in the dark. And to keep us in the dark of those people.

No more.

Go here for more information:
https://secure.268generation.com/dosomethingnow/give/freedom

<3 Katie

Passion

2012-01-03T14:38:00.002-06:00

pas·sion/ˈpaSHən/
Noun:
Strong and barely controllable emotion.
A state or outburst of such emotion.

It's a conference about Jesus in Georgia. I'm watching it online since I was unable to go. You can too:

http://live.268generation.com/passion_sessions/session-one/

<3 Katie

Poison & Wine

2012-01-02T10:51:00.000-06:00

The Civil Wars has a beautiful sound. It's so haunting and breathy. So unique. This song, Poison and Wine, breaks my heart. It's about lying. It's about ripping a piece of yourself off and leaving it behind. It's about a broken relationship. And it inspires me to hope. To hope for a whole relationship. Where a man will love me like Christ loves the church. Where love isn't dependent on the evolving traits of the physical world but by the steadfastness of God. A person who I can give my heart to because God's hands are cradling it.

<3 Katie

New Years Gift

2012-01-01T23:03:00.002-06:00

Hello there. I thought that since it is the first day of 2012, I should post something that will hopefully grow this year. (Aka, my writing). So, here is the first rough chapter of The Body. Obviously it is my work and therefore I claim copyright to it.

Let me know what you think. :)

Chapter One

In. Out.

My limbs pump faster, my heart harder, and my lungs faster. The cubes, housing for the population, shift around me. Herding me. Veering right, I slip, my bare feet skating on the slick pavement. Slick with sweat. I pick myself up, grunting as I gulp down another breath, and start again. Steam rolls of my quivering body, waving above me like a flag. My feet pound the street, numb. I snatch a glance over my shoulder. I see nothing but know they are there. Here. All around me. They’ve hunted me for eighteen years, hungry for my unenhanced flesh.

In. Out.

Tripping around a corner, I scamper forward. Clawing at empty air, I run. My throat is raw with strangled screams. Even if they could get free, no one would hear them. Because the people, sleeping in their cubes are more prisoner than I.

The air hums, vibrating with their elastic movements. I scrape the sweat out of my eyes with my sweater’s sleeve. Mouth wide, I suck in air. Hair stinging my eyes, I look for a way out. But there is none. There was never one. I am as hopeless as the day I was born.

In. Out.

My own body fights me, dragging me down. I head for a gap between cubes, bolting for the alley beyond. Hope slips through a crack first, a second before it seals. I slam into the wall, beating it with weak fists. I press my forehead against the cool, flawless surface, releasing a shaky breath. Eyes shut, I stand there, my body rattling against the plastic house.

The hum intensifies, raising bumps under my skin. I shiver. They’re here. They’re here for me.

My finger tips slip down the wall in front of me, tracing its square panels with unsteady fingers. I press my lips together and swallow. For eighteen years I had had nightmares about this moment. The moment they came for the fugitive. The most innocent and guilty criminal that ever lived. The moment they found me.

Slowly, I turn. The alley, tinted blue from the overheads, seems to shrink in the presence of them, their two slender forms filling the space with ravenous power. Two. A man and a woman, more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. That was more than enough. One enhanced could subdue me.

I feel my pulse throbbing in my neck and feel their sharp gazes rest where the vein drums against the skin. Stoic, they stand. Their perfect faces chiseled in eternal empty smiles.

The woman, blonde and blue eyed, opens her lips to speak but the rest of her remains unchanged. Blank. “Please, stay calm. We are here to help.”

I press my lips together. Everything within me longs to believe her, to accept the manipulated reality before me as safe. As true.
But I can’t. Not now. Not after tonight.

I lift my chin so she can see the tears streaking my face. Not that it’ll affect her. They cut all emotion out.

The man takes a step toward me, his arms outstretched in welcome. It’s a rigid, uninviting gesture. I cross my arms over my stomach, hugging the folds of my sweater tighter around me. “We know who you are,” he says. “We are going to take you to a safe place.”

A suffocated laugh rasps up my throat. “Is that what they call death now?”

“You are confused,” the woman states, approaching me. I press myself into the wall, tensing.

“You’ve been through a traumatic event,” the man recites, advancing on my other side. They stop in front of me, their manufactured features so perfect. They are like angels. Except from Hell.

I open my mouth, trying to gather the saliva in my mouth so I can spit in their beautiful faces. My dad taught me how. It would be a fitting last act.

The woman lifts her index finger to my temple just as I spew. It splats across her forehead but she continues undeterred. I feel her fingertip slide into the groove on the side of my head and my muscles go numb. I fold to the ground, my mouth open in a silent scream as the air rushes from my lungs.

Out . . .

#

Pounding registers in my shell-like head. Like my brain is beating against my skull, trying to escape its dying body. My body. It feels numb, a heavy weight I’m chained to. Where am I?

The outside world starts to register. Muffled sounds, fuzzy glimpses, and slivers of smells. I work at opening my eyes, blinking them against the harsh white light. It’s so pure and strong it blinds me at first. Shadows dance above me in a jerky dance. I squint at them trying to make them out. As my sense begin to clear, the reek of alcohol shoves up my nostrils. My ears collect scraps of screams and grunts as the shadows materialize over me. And then it hits me: they’re fighting.

On one side of me is a man with old, worn clothing and scraggily blonde hair. His face, creased in concentration, is littered with the beginnings of a beard. The man on the right is his complete opposite. Platinum blonde hair, sapphire eyes, and perfect muscles under pale skin. I recognize him as the enhanced who cornered me in the street. Which reminds me, I’m supposed to be dead. Because my parents are dead. They killed them.

A scream chokes out of my throat. My body bucks against the pristine table where it’s tethered by wire and tubes. They’re plugged into every inch of my body, sensing, injecting, and sucking. My flesh ripples, shivering with the feeling of being separated by thousands of needles.

At my guttural groans, the rugged man’s gaze flashes my way. He’s strange. His blue eyes are so dark they’re almost black. Dangerous. Wild. Hunted. My throat is too dry for any sounds to survive it. But I pray my lips can form the shape and he’ll understand the message. Help me.

Returning his attention to the enhanced, he ducks a titanium-enforced punch and reaches into a pouch at his belt, yanking out a small syringe. With a swift motion that matches the unthinkable speed of the enhanced, he thrusts the needle in his enemy’s underarm. The enhanced rears back, yanking the syringe out of his skin. He examines the vial just as the twitching begins, racking his body back and forth until he crumples to the ground.

The stranger straightens, turning his deadly gaze to me. I tremble, my wires and tubes rattling together in the sudden silence. As he brushes back his coat, I watch his fingers expertly find a long, curved blade. And I wonder if my innocence has condemned me.

I examine the man’s face, tearing my gaze away from the cruel glint of the metal. His jaw is strong and angled. Disheveled, his hair sticks in his eyelashes. Grit streaks his skin. And his clothing is worn around his every muscle. As I take in his raw power, I feel my own body quaking with weakness. With one careless move, he could kill me. He doesn’t need a knife to do it.
Staring into his eyes, my instinctual fear evaporates. They’re dark not because of malice but because of sorrow. Tears that have not been allowed to escape are trapped in his eyes, shadowing them. His face, lined and blank, covers memories and emotions, the scars where he’s tried to erase his story. He is riddled with regret. And yet he doesn’t even acknowledge the dying croaks of the enhanced in the corner. With one practiced, stiff motion, the man slices through my cords. Their owners, formerly calm monitors, erupt in strobes and sirens.

I feel my lips moving. A rustling as my throat ripples open with whispered words. “Who are you?”

He pauses for a moment, watching me like a hunter. His eyes flicker over me with uncertainty and I realize he fears me. Then he lifts his gaze to mine, locking on. His lips, faintly bleeding open and he answers. But my pulse is pounding and I can’t hear—it sounds like ‘Savior’. With one swift motion, he pulls a vial from a pocket in his leather jacket and slides its needle under the skin of my restrained arm. For some reason, I don’t scream. I simply sigh, watching him until my eyelids float closed. As I drift away, he cuts me free and folds me into his arms.

<3 Katie

Marriage

2012-01-01T22:55:00.000-06:00

Literally rolling on the floor laughing.

<3 Katie

A Photo Story

2012-01-01T17:41:00.009-06:00

Flying back from Chicago . . .

New Years Eve

Some artsy shots . . .

Silliness.

Rainbow hat. :)

In the car. Beauty in the ordinary.

I should do their advertising. :)

I went on an adventure up the mountain by myself. Just to be away from everything. It was so quiet I felt like I could hear the world breathing. The pages in my Bible rustled and I could practically hear the texture of the paper. The sun kept me warm as I just sat and looked at God's beautiful creation.

<3 Katie

I can't fix this . . .

2011-12-31T17:08:00.002-06:00

I knew today was coming. I knew it last night. I knew it last year. But when I shook hands with destiny, I decided I didn't like her. And whether that was a fair presumption or not, I didn't care.

Last night Sierra, our Chow Retriever Mix, wasn't eating. Her back right leg was giving her trouble. To the point where she barely greeted up after we got home. It got worse.

Last year, I watched big, old dogs come into the clinic with hip and knee problems. Some came in happy but with a serious injury that wasn't worth the fight. Others were wasted after trying to regain a long lost youth. After the owners had spent thousands of dollars and hours only to be given the ugliest memory. In my mind was a count down.

Today we took Sierra into the vet. She tore a ligament in her knee. Surgery is $3,000. She's 13. As I stood over her, protectively as the doctor gave her sentence, I felt the strike as the clock reached zero. And as ugly and painful as that is, I can't fix it. I can't change it. And it made me think about my own clock. When will I be out of commission? Broken with no one to fix me? Will I have focuses on the things God has called me to? Or have I done a bunch of half jobs that I thought needed done?

This has been a reoccurring theme this past week. Something God has been teaching me. First, He taught me I couldn't control everything. Then He taught me to overcome the odds, the judgements, the impossible. And now He's teaching me something new. Something I don't want to hear. That I can't fix every broken thing I find.

To be honest, it kills. Because He's opened my eyes to the brokenness of the world so that I might see His beauty more clearly. But in that I'm overwhelmed by everything that's hanging on by a thin little thread. And I start running in circles trying to help. But int hat ad rush, I upset the delicate balance. And strings snap.

Finally, I've sat down, broken pieces in hand, tears in eyes, and looked up to my Father. And He's told me just how incapable I am by myself. And how sometimes, this are going to hurt. That's what we chose by disobeying. He promises beauty from pain. But the pain must happen for the beauty to come. Just as the darkness makes the light that much brighter.

I don't like this answer.

I'm supergirl. I can fix anything and everything. Give me a challenge and I'll solve it. Give me the odds and I'll best them. Give me the average and I'll surpass it. I attack things full force. But that doesn't always work. Somethings can't be fixed. Somethings aren't mine to decide to change.

I was texting my friend about it today, voicing my frustration since this dog is my mom's. And how since we've moved, she's lost her friends, me, and now Sierra. He told me: Katie, you can't fix everything. He's right. I can't. I can't make this go away, can't make it better. But God can fill that hurt. He can make it over into something beautiful: the future. And she hasn't, will not lose Him, ever. And neither will I.

He's here holding all the threads. And I don't have to fix them all. I just have to follow mine.

<3 Katie

2012~

2011-12-31T09:18:00.004-06:00

Here is comes. The NEW Year.

I find it interesting that when this time rolls around, people suddenly feel very inspired to start workout plans, read books, write books even, or repair a relationship. And by the end of that first week, the goal has been deemed impossible. Or never even started. Personally, I find this depressing. Not inspiring at all.

I think it might have to do with us trying to redeem and redefine our lives. We are trying to make things NEW. Without the only one who can do it.

Ask anyone, I am stubborn. And I have a work ethic that will kill itself before accepting defeat. I'm am overcomer. But sometimes, I forget to check in with God before a gallivant off to conqueror the world. Sometimes I end up fixing something for someone else that they were meant to learn from/grow in. And my attempt to do good actually perpetuated bad. Interesting right? How our lives overlap?

My point is, making a goal for yourself is like swearing to do something. You'd better do it if you say you're going to. Because that affects others-sometimes in a huge way that you will never know. That is why prayer is so important. We are meant to be in constant conversation with God. Not talking all the time (the Bible tells us not to talk God's ear off about idiotic stuff), but listening. Where does He want you? How does He want you to approach this situation? Is this where He's calling you?

Because, it's ben my experience that when you grit your teeth and run for a wall that God has not called you to move, you run into it. And it hurts. Generally, you bounce backwards and fall on your back, the wind knocked out of you and your nose bruised. And then you're skeptical about fully pursuing the path God HAS called you too.

So, pray, read, listen. Make goals with God. He's got some pretty cool ones in mind for you this year.

"12 Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. 13 Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, 14 I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

20 But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ..."

-Philippians 3:12-14, 20

<3 Katie

In 2011 I have . . .
-Read 46 books
-Finished writing 2 books
-Published 2 short stories
-Moved halfway across the U.S.
-Done really well at my first semester of college
-Made some really wonderful close friends
-Grown, through joy and pain, closer to Christ.

Invisible

2011-12-30T18:28:00.000-06:00

This is heartbreaking but I needed it. How often do I walk past a person who's hurting, keeping my eyes down on my own path, ignoring how they have none of their own.

<3 Katie

A Photo or Two . . .

2011-12-30T18:19:00.003-06:00

<3 Katie

The Hobbit Production Video

2011-12-29T19:17:00.000-06:00

<3 Katie

Worse Games to Play

2011-12-26T22:47:00.001-06:00

Playing with a reader's heart for starters.

I finished The Hunger Games series last week and everything everyone has ever whispered (or shouted) about the ending is completely true. It's frustrating.

After all that fight, a few characters just slip out of the picture without an explanation. And the ones she does take the time to follow simply haunt life, shells of the heros we fell in love with. All the fight, the personality, the hope is sucked from them. Yes, I get that circumstances do this to people. But . . . but . . . is that IT?!?! Obviously, I've never participated in a Hunger Games and I don't anticipate on ever doing so but there is a beautiful quality to human beings: the ability to rebound. To see and acknowledge beauty. No matter the circumstance.

Then I wonder, maybe for some people, there is nothing else. There is no chance of rebound, redemption, or restarting. Maybe rock bottom is it. The have no light to see the beauty. And that's when it hit me, Collins' ending is perfect. Perfectly horrible. And it's is so detestable that it may open some people's eyes to how they are living and how they don't have to accept just living. The nightmares don't have to be theirs forever. Because inside of us is an innate need to believe that there is something more, something perfect. That obviously does not come from us because there has never been a perfect human to any knowledge of mine or history's. It has to come from something greater. And something greater (read Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis for the full explanation) is God.

Unintentionally (or maybe intentionally, I don't know) Collins has stirred up her readers and provoked them to use their minds. She went with the unsafe route, risking her readers' hatred for giving a unfulfilling ending and thus drove her readers to wonder why it falls short and what would fill them. That is almost brilliant. Terrible for a story. But brilliant if her readers follow the track she has put them on.

So yes. I'm irked. I wanted those characters to reach a place of peace. After all they went through (and I with them) I felt we deserved it. But earth will never provide perfect peace. And perhaps that is what must be gained from these books. Maybe life is like The Hunger Games. We must decide whether we will play by the rules and entertain the masses. Or whether we will fight for what we believe, even if it means death to ourselves.

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."
-Galatians 2:20

<3 Katie

Potentially Picturesque

2011-12-25T21:48:00.006-06:00

<3 Katie

Confessions of a Hesitantly Hopeful Romantic

2011-12-25T19:14:00.006-06:00

Girl gets boyfriend. Friend asks if he ever told her she was beautiful. Girlfriend says no. Friend is confused. Then how do you know he loves you, she asked. Girlfriend smiles and answers because he never mentioned her outward appearance. He complimented her heart for God, her dreams, her personality. But never the fleeting, superficial packaging.

I'm not going to lie, I love it when anyone tells me I'm beautiful. And internally, I know it. I don't have to be told. But the acknowledgement feels good. But, when someone tells me I am going to change the world for Christ, that my dreams are insane but can be reached with God, that the way God is growing me is inspirational . . . that feels absolutely amazing. And I think the above story (which is true, by the way) is something that blows my mind but does not surprise me. I want a guy who will find me beautiful. But not for what anyone can see, but for what God can see, what he can see because he's taken the time to look, to care.

Yes, I would love to get hand written letters in the mail, to read The Chronicles of Narnia together, to wonder at the stars, to have him pick out things he thinks would look good on me, etc. All the cutsie stuff. But that is like the calling me beautiful. It's superficial. I want a guy who will pursue my heart and carry it carefully because ultimately it belongs to Christ. That is so much more important. I can teach him to write letter, force him to listen as I imitate a british accent, drag him outside at night, and give him a wish list. But I can't force him to pray that I grow closer to God. I can't make him care about my dreams so much that he'll sacrifice time with me so that I can pursue them. I can't shape his heart. Only Christ can.

‎"Above all else, guard your heart,
for everything you do flows from it."
-Proverbs 4:23

But if I'm being honest, that's reciprocal. I need to be ready to sacrifice my own selfish desire for him to be fascinated by me. It has t be about us pursuing Christ together. It takes three to make two one. And thus, I can't be preaching to be boys when I'm so far from that myself. I'm trying. But I'm not equipped to take that on fully. But I think when the time comes, Christ will step in and be the bridge that brings it all together.

So girls, dig for the deep. Because, duh! Obviously you're beautiful. He's going to have to come up with better than that. That's like saying, "Oh hey, you're a girl." Congrats Captain Obvious. But also, don't expect him to sacrifice everything for you. He needs to pursue you but because he see Christ in you. His life doesn't revolve around you. Pray for him. And guys, we're special. Please, take the time to get to know us. I know it's hard. You'd probably rather play a video game than have a conversation about our life goals, but it means a lot. And if you don't care, don't pretend. Make an effort with every girl you're with. Because I know every girl wishes guys would follow the 'leave a girls' heart better than you found it' rule. And girls, to be honest, we need to follow that rule for guys.

In essence, pray for each other. Pursue Christ. Care for people. He will build the bridges in His perfect time.

<3 Katie

Safe and Sound

2011-12-25T19:14:00.003-06:00

Maybe you've heard of The Hunger Games. Yes? I thoughts so.

Basically, they are a futuristic rendition of the Gladiator battles. I read the first of the three books in six hours. It was fantastic. Because Collins has an interesting style and a character that I see so much of myself in. Plus, any book that has adversity that the heroine attacks full force interests me. Too often I see female victims and a male saving them. I think this is good but it's often at the expense of the female's identity. It's meant to be a team. Two in one. Anyway, off my soapbox...

I'm in the middle of the third and last book and intrigued to see how this trilogy is concluded. I've heard rumors of frustration with the ending which is making me doubly anxious. Anyway, these books have given me hope for the young adult genre. They won't all be paranormal romances forever. HALLELUJAH~ *cough* Sorry. But I might vomit if I hear about Dracula's girlfriend, the human from California or something...blek. Again, sorry, my own opinion.

But, this new advancement in the genre and particularly in this direction of futuristic dystopian theme, has brought me back to my novel. I sort of left it hanging. I didn't know how to make the character or the story go. I think I might now. Because the deal is the main character (Charlet) has to come across as completely innocent. And the reader watches her 180. I can't tell you ow or why but let's just say the brutality of life. And in the end, when everything is in shambles, she remembers what she started out fighting for. The purity, the beauty of the world, or life. Those precious moments that are made worthwhile by the ugly, painful ones.

I can't remember which attempt number this is but I want to see it through this time. Because I can't let this story go for some reason. There is something I need to learn from it. And so. It's going to be tough working on it with school. And slow going. But I'm going to attempt to write a page a day at least. To keep some continuity going. I'll try to keep you updated so I stay accountable. And that way, maybe, soonish, you can read an excerpt and let me know your thoughts. :)

Something that has made me intensely more excited for the movie that is coming out for the first Hunger Games book is this song. It is so beautiful. Taylor Swift sings it with the help of The Civil Wars. And I love the sound that results. And as far as the content . . . it's so reminiscent of what goes on in the story the I'm coming back to (right now it's called The Body). I've probably listened to it ten times today. I love love love it.

Merry Christmas everyone!
<3 Katie

Simple Artwork

2011-12-23T20:15:00.002-06:00

So recently I've been playing with iPhotobooth and although the camera quality isn't crystal clear, that almost makes it interesting. It add this texture to the pictures that looks aged, like a memory. And so here have been some of the pictures I've take/edited from that. It's fun! Finding new ways to express yourself. And it proves that you don't need a fancy camera to take interesting pictures.

(Sorry, they're all self-portraits. I haven't gotten a chance to experiment with anything else yet.)

My signature greeting. All my friends know this to be mine and return it. :)

Ah. My hair. Sometimes I believe my life is just meant to showcase this crazy mane.

One Sunday before Church I attempted to look 'modely'. Never again.

Nerd glasses are fantastic. Especially Mint Green ones! (The angle of this shot I like a lot.)

See what I'm saying about the hair? I love the drama and yet silliness.

My sister said I look like Pocahontas here. Which made me smile since she was my favorite Disney Princess.

Dramatic Silhouette! Literally, I was in my PJs, in my sister's room, my back against a window, watching a movie. Pretty cool, right?

I like the look of innocence about this one.

These two are interesting just because they're simple. And identityless. It sort of reminds me of an orphan because of the heart necklace and the solemn look. I don't know . . .

Thank you for pursuing my artistic endeavors. :)

<3 Katie

Magnificence

2011-12-23T19:45:00.013-06:00

Do you ever have days where you just crave beauty? Not stiff, artificial, manufactured beauty, but pure, natural, majestic beauty. It's like looking at a McDonald's cheeseburger and craving a piece of fruit or a salad wrap instead. That feeling of cleansing in a sense. Well the other day, my sister had a friend in from Chicago. And they wanted to experience New Mexico. To build a lasting memory. And I, having been shut up in my room for several days, was dying to get out. So when they asked me to take them to the mountain so they could take pictures, I jumped at the chance. I took them to where I usually go hiking. We went just before sunset, traversing a light dusting of snow and hiking a little ways up. These were the results . . .

The mountain from afar . . .

And now flying to Chicago . . .

Take a minute to soak up so true beauty. Whether in the unadulterated laughter of a child, a sunrise, or climbing a mountain, take a minute to experience the work of your Creator.

<3 Katie

Season's Greetings~

2011-12-20T12:46:00.003-06:00

I always hate it when people's cards say that. Or 'Happy Holidays'. I know they're meant to be good wishes but I'm missing the sincerity in them. They free robotic. Impersonal. Counteractive. Like when someone says that I wonder if they are brushing me off. I understand most of the time this is not the case, but in a society of mass production I believe we should strive for a more genuine interactions. Especially with it being a time of families coming together. Just a thought.

This would be my typical Christmas picture pose. It has become iconic in our family.

Dear Faithful Followers of For the Love of Life . . .

You've survived another year of my inconsistent ramblings, and haphazard ideas. I hope you've been able to sufficiently duck and dodge them. A few of you may be sporting black eyes where their sheer force and lack of direction decided to introduce itself to your face. I'm terribly sorry about that. Thank goodness this letter is coming in times of snow which might help keep down the swelling and all other unpleasant side effects.

I wish I could hear about your year to make up for the time you've invested into hearing about mine. And to get me back for everything I've thrown at you. In fact, you can! Send me a letter: katieoostman@gmail.com

There you go. No excuses now. :)

I have grown so much in the past year. Forward, backward, sideways, diagonalways . . . the Lord has not been sparring with His taffy puller. But all of it, even the bad, was good. How do I know? Because I've seen who it is making me become. All the trials with working on Imagine and struggling through writing that book, moving halfway across the country, going to a college where I knew no one, learning to say no and even to say yes, watching other peoples' pain and victories . . . it's all poured into who I am right now.

Who am I right now? Good question.

I want to write. Because I have thoughts that are so fragile they need to be put into words and grown in people's minds before they can change anything. But they're important enough to be worth the effort. I want to show the beauty of the world to people by capturing it on film. I want to explore people's stories. Because each and everyone is unique and beautiful with the possibility of purpose and redemption. I believe that. And I want others to see that. I am a failure. But I am backed by God who makes my failures into masterpieces. I want to travel. To far away places and understand Godin a deeper way because of it-by getting to know His creation. Maybe I can go to Africa this summer for that. I am me.

This blog is the best explanation I have for who I am. A collage of inspiration and emotion.

For a long time, my goal was to be considered a character. Why? Because in stories, characters are memorable. They influence and inspire people forever. They're interesting. They aren't perfect but we love them for that. I think I've achieved that status. I'm quirky, interesting, I have my story that I'm owning, and people are listening. Now I think I'm getting a new goal. Not to be a character, but to be a real person. Not a place holder. An active member of the world. But not one that lives in the world. But one that has her sight on the next. Fixed on Heaven. And thus, inspires this world.

I think I'll be chasing that goal as long as I live here.

I'm a yoga instructor for my college now. I'm taking that seriously. I want to help people take a step back from crazy college life, have a second to think, and just listen to what God is asking of them. I forget to listen a lot. I've decided my brain is constantly playing pingpong. And often, the game moves off the table. With a media based society, we are constantly being stimulated. To take a moment to stretch out bodies, allow our emotions to settle, and give the Lord a chance to speak to us is super important. Plus it feels amazing.

I haven't written anything but papers this past semester but I have some projects for break (which I need to get moving on) including finishing Stomach, Meet Butterflies, brainstorming for Imagine, and several short story ideas. My brain has been intensely preoccupied with school. Which, as it turns out, I got my grades back today and I got all A's. Yay! I still know I could have done better (two were A-'s) but I feel like those were sacrifices for meaningful relationship building with my friends and other valuable experiences like working on the fall film production. So, it's a trade off. Besides, learning, to me, is more important than grades.

My family is doing amazing. My sister is leading worship at two churches, my brother is growing up, my parents are making some really awesome friendships. Coming home was an awesome mixture of love but also freedom. I was not smothered. I'm thankful for that. :)

Summer plans include major writing, a few summer courses, possibly an internship with a film or publication company in Albuquerque, and I've been praying about going to Africa for a mission trip. I'm really really excited about that. Prayers for scheduling and opportunities and wisdom would be fantastic.

And yes, I did buy an awesome ugly sweater to wear in the days before Christmas. And yes. Of course. There will be pictures.

Life is crazy. Life is hard. Life is beautiful.

Merry Christmas, my friends.

<3 Katie

Falling

2011-12-18T18:01:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I feel like this is life.

<3 Katie

Geek Glasses

2011-12-17T10:48:00.004-06:00

So here are some pictures from the day I thought I was going home but actually wasn't and spent all day singing praise songs to an empty sanctuary and taking pictures . . .

And sometimes, when you buy mint green nerd glasses, you just have to have a photoshoot in your room. Try it. It's really fun to fin a strange accessory and just go for it.

This is me. :)

Holly.

Christmas Tree

The Sandia Mountains

Dramatic Flowers

Fun with iPhotobooth. That thing could entertain me for hours.

<3 Katie

The Real Family Circus

2011-12-16T09:19:00.003-06:00

People keep asking me where home is for me. And I could get really bitter about it seeing as how the word 'home' is sort of open ended for me. I live in Wilmore. I'm from Chicago. But my family is in Albuquerque. Where do I belong. I've decided that Christ is my home. And since He is every where, a little bit of home is everywhere. In Antarctica where only the penguins dare to live, in busy New York City, even in a underground sex-trafficking site. Like it talks about in Psalms, I am a sojourner. reside here on earth temporarily, singing God's songs. Anywhere and everywhere is my home. Because I am safe in Christ.

I have this verse on my wall that captures this idea:

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
-Psalm 139:8-10

@ Corinthians 5 also talks about this.

All the intensity of needing to belong disappears because I belong just where I am. I don't have to move or change. I just have to be for Him. He is my home. That is pretty darn cool.

So anyway, I'm in one of my many homes (that makes me sound like a rich business person with homes in every country) --aka the Albuquerque residence. And let me tell you, already the entertainment has begun. You have to understand, my family is a conglomeration of characters. I love them for that. Maybe that's why I love stories so much because I practically grew up in one!

Here are some highlights from my last 24 hours at home . . .

-Piercing the Heart-

Finals week, a family friend sent me an interesting package with some awesome items inside of it. She sent me a note saying, "You know what to do with these. Let me know how it turns out." She didn't have to tell me twice. When I saw what she had sent, my plans were way ahead of her. So after dinner, the night I got home, I set my diabolical plan into action. I scooped up my curls into a messy bun and put on the items in question. I then strolled into the kitchen, trying to hold on to my indifferent air.

Reaching for an apple, I saw out of the corner of my eye, my father's face pinch into a frown. His entire body leaned forward as he squinted at me and followed my track toward the sink. Face puckering, voice stuttering, he exclaimed, "Are those piercings?!"

Indeed, on my left ear I had two silver rings in my cartilage. I devoured a bite of my apple, hiding a smile. Instantly, my dad crossed his arms and legs. His face blanked into a stone slate. My mom half-laughed in disbelief. She then asked if those were real. My poor father's face was getting greyer by the second. I figured I should salvage the situation before an ambulance had to be called. So I choked out, trying not to laugh, "Ask Mrs. B." (The woman who had sent them to me.)

My mom's face brightened as she burst out in laughter. She then looked at my dad, still in his seething state, and started chattering about the brilliance of it all and how the earrings looked really good and such. And after five minutes of that, all of a sudden my dad interrupts, "Wait, they're FAKE?" We gape at him for a minute. "Yes, Daddy, they're fake." His face wipes into a smile, he uncrosses his body, and brightens. I brace myself on the counter to keep from falling over with laughter. "You should have seen your face!" I exclaim, "You wouldn't think I'd get piercings without at least telling you, do you? Besides, they sort of clash with my personal style. And to be honest I don't have the face for it." He sort of scowls at me and my mom. "You jerks." But before he can sulk of, I run and give him a hug. Oh, the things I put him through. :)

-Picture Perfect-

That same night, my mom took me into my room, showing me where she had put all my magazines and mail and what-have-you that had collected in my absence. She pulls out my pictures that had been taken at school. I peer at them, really impressed.
"Wow, the photographer did a really good job! I look like a model. Man. I really don't mean to brag, but I look really good!"
My mom nods. "Yeah, I paid for the touch up service."
I set down the picture and look up at her. "Really?"
She smiles. "I just figured since pictures are forever . . . oh and next time don't wear stripes in photos."
"Thanks Mom. That's true love."

-The Beginning of the End-

Boys is a touchy subject for my dad. He gets something of a nervous twitch whenever they're brought up. Which made Thanksgiving very difficult for him seeing as how every relative wanted to know the state of my relationship status. Any way, there is a guy I've been getting to know over the past few months and I decided my dad should know about him. I was trying to figure out a way to tell him. To ease him into the idea. When all of a sudden, in the middle of dinner, my lovely sister stars gesturing. Discreet is not her middle name. My dad caught on pretty fast. "Boy? What boy? Kaattttiiieee." He drew my name out in his deep voice. Uh oh. Thank you, Kelly. My dad is close to hyper ventilation, my mom is laughing, Kelly is trying to defend herself while I imagine shooting darts at her, and Kenny is singing/making jokes. This is my family. So much for easing my poor father into it.

I take him to the living room, sit on the floor, and start talking. I walk him through what is going on, what I know about the boy, what others have told me about him, what my experience has been, etc. My mom, usually the emotional one, is calmly asking questions. My dad is braced in his chair. I keep praying that he is still breathing. All of a sudden he wakes up and starts asking about where the kid lives. And I'm thinking: oh no-he's going to track the boy down and kill him. Fortunately, the shock rendered him rather immobile. I reminded him of the positive things said boy had done. And how I wasn't getting married. And that he needed to breathe to survive. We sat there for a little bit, as my father took in the idea of his little girl growing up. He made it clear, he didn't like acknowledging that fact.

I texted said boy: I'm telling my parents about you.

Then we broke down into the counseling session, where my parents poured out there advice. A lot of it was helpful. A lot of it I had heard before but it was great to reiterate. And all of it was to make themselves feel better. I love them for that. And then my dad went into pitbull mode. "If he breaks your heart, I will break his legs." Thanks Daddy. But if he breaks my heart, I want to climb on your lap. I can't do that if you're in prison.

Finally, after all of that, I look at my phone. I have two texts . . .
Boy: How is it going?
Boy: Uh oh. You're not texting back. Is it that bad?

I told my dad and he laughed. So I just text said boy back and said: Good news, my dad hasn't loaded the shotgun yet.

My poor father. I accept full responsibility for every grey hair on his head. In fact, I think I'm proud of them. They're like my trophy collection. :)
I love my family.

Try to look at those quirks that make your family unique and love them for it this Holiday season. And remember, no matter where you are or who you're with, you're not alone. You're home.

<3 Katie

Kauai - The Lost World

2011-12-16T08:12:00.000-06:00

Someday, I'm going to live here.

<3 Katie

Just one of those moments . . .

2011-12-15T09:03:00.002-06:00

Yesterday was a spectacular day.

I woke up early, cleaned everything up, packed, and settled in to wait for my last final (supposedly at 10.30). I get a call from a girl in my class (my phone was on silent but somehow I saw it light up and I gave he my number at the beginning of the year to practice speeches but we never did). She wondered where I was. The final was at 8. Because I had never been late, my professor was worried and wondered where I was. So I booked it across campus between, literally, the farthest two buildings. I arrived and wrote the essays. Okay. That was close.

I got all my stuff loaded into my friend's car and we headed to the airport. I texted my parents, "Today!" to remind them I was coming and to get excited. My dad texted me back, confused. He thought it was tomorrow. I said no. Got to the airport and stood in line. They couldn't find my name. Finally, they realized I was on the flight, same destination, same time, just wrong day. My flight was tomorrow. Joyous. I called my friend and she bought me a taco and we went to our church. We headed up to the attic and studied, read, listened to music, took pictures, etc. Other people from our group arrived and we had praise and worship sessions in the empty sanctuary. Then we went to Red Robin and I spent the night on my friend's floor just because. Only I had forgotten contact solution. At the exact moment I realized this, a girl walked in. I asked if she had any, not expecting her too. By God's grace she did.

This morning, I was able to help my friend load her car and say goodbye to people I hadn't before.

Basically, I am a giant dork and should read the fine print. But also, through my silliness, God showed Himself. In my friends taking care of me, in providing contact solution of all things, in the beautiful moments of being in college, of being human, and having faith.

So if you're having one of those days, just remember, He is with you. Always.

Be bold. Be blessed. BeYOUtiful.

<3 Katie

One Man Disney Movie

2011-12-13T23:22:00.000-06:00

I hope this makes you smile. :)

<3 Katie

Finals.

2011-12-12T08:03:00.002-06:00

^^This, my friends, is me right now. Because you see, finals have begun. I just took my easiest one (on horses-which I've been studying for pretty much my entire life) and now have all the other daunting ones. On top of that, I am trying to pack to go home for a month, clean my room, hang with friends that have been the only reason I've survived these months and now will not see for a long while, and motivate myself to study. Let me tell you, my over-acheiving tendencies have been spent. The switch flipped to slug mode. I'm just done. Do not get me wrong, I love learning and I love being here. But after running this marathon for so long, I am ready to crash. Preferably into a snuggly bed.

Today I have my english final, tomorrow it's french and psychology, and wednesday it's communications right before I fly home!

Prayers extremely appreciated. For motivation, efficiency, accuracy, and sanity. Thank you so much!

<3 Katie

Life Verse

2011-12-11T14:41:00.000-06:00

<3 Katie

It Looks Nothing Like Christmas . . .

2011-12-10T15:47:00.004-06:00

Well, at least in the formation of snow. Kentucky is bare, freezing, and sunny. But that doesn't mean there aren't plenty of Christmas songs, lights, and ugly sweaters going on. :) Here are some pictures I took yesterday at a party . . .

Be bold.
<3 Katie

Moments

2011-12-08T20:21:00.002-06:00

Those moments when you expect the worst and God blesses you with the best.

<3 Katie

Frost~

2011-12-08T09:33:00.005-06:00

Here I am, in my snowflake pajamas, editing photos I took an hour ago of some spectacular frost. I couldn't wait to share it with you. Yes. I should be editing a paper. Or two. And maybe preparing a presentation. But this was more important. God's a spectacular artist and after getting out of my last Art Appreciation class (which doesn't have a final!), I had to share it with you. Have a glorious day. :)

(These next three are my favorites!)

<3 Katie

Tim Tebow

2011-12-07T09:38:00.000-06:00

Truth.

<3 Katie

What I am learning . . .

2011-12-07T09:26:00.002-06:00

Let (Go)d.

<3 Katie

My Paper Place

2011-12-06T08:56:00.005-06:00

Faces. I see them everyday. They move past me like cutouts taped to a popsicle stick. I barely notice them. If I do, I fill them out with preconceived notions, allowing them to exist in my world as a place holder for my own opinion. They are flat. I've made them that way. I've constricted them with my own assumptions and excuses to not acknowledge them. They're independent of me, though. They have names, stories, people they care for. They feel pain. Their faces may be blank but inside is a plethora of life. I see them as placeholders in my world, only worth exploring if they benefit me. They have stories. But I've never cared to hear them. Their vacancy is partly my fault. Because I've been passive and never gave them an opening to touch me. To become dimensional. To truly influence my life.

Perhaps it's fear they will actually change me, and make me three dimensional. Perhaps I am just as flat and fake as they. I must keep them the same as me or else risk being asked to move in the world. To take part in it. To feel its effects. So I compress and live in a place made of paper. Pretty but frail. Without depth, without weight. A simple shift in the air could scatter my carefully placed pieces across the floor.

And if I become three dimensional, I will the the superficialness of my existence and feel the need to bring depth and life to my life. What effort that would involve. Then people would see me and I them. They would see past the flat, carefully constructed layer. They would see all the shapes and shadows and contours and flaws that make up my face. The texture of the scars that riddle me. I won't be paper smooth or paper thin. I will take up space with my flawed mass.

But is that worth it? Is that better than the emptiness felt in my paper place? Is the experience of the brutality of a three dimensional world worth it, if only to have a place to put a heart? Is it better to have scars because things can touch you, but know that no matter how strong the wind, it cannot carry you away?

Perhaps this is my two dimensional brain speaking, but I cannot help but think the answer is yes.

<3 Katie

Swan Lake

2011-12-06T05:45:00.000-06:00

A friend shared this on facebook . . . there are not words.

<3 Katie

Christmas Break

2011-12-05T20:25:00.005-06:00

A speech, two papers, and finals. Then I fly back to New Mexico (where there is actually snow!) for Christmas Break. I am beyond excited. I have decided to make a list of things to do here for your benefit and mine since my brain has been glitchy with a cold, the stress, and just me in general.

-Make Peppermint Bark
-Write a novel
-Read Jane Eyre
-Take beautiful pictures
-Film my highbridge film festival idea
-Read the rest of The Hunger Games trilogy
-Go skiing?
-Record Christmas songs with Kelly
-Wear PJs all day long
-Plan out next semester, and summer internships
-Cook/bake stuff that's yummy and/or Christmasy
-Volunteer somewhere
-Write a Christmas letter/blog post
-Meet people
-Make pop tab bracelets
-Snuggle with Holly, the Chihuahua
-Skype friends
-Shop Forever 21
-Photoshoots
-Buy an ugly Christmas sweater
-Go to the top of the mountain
-BLOG

It's very very exciting. I can do this. (Prayers greatly appreciated!)

<3 Katie

Me, Myself, and I

2011-12-05T20:20:00.002-06:00

If it's all about me--being me, doing what I want, and taking care of myself--why am I never happy with just myself alone?

Why do I need to shop for clothes to portray my style?

Why do I have a facebook to broadcast myself if just me in of myself is enough?

Why do I search when whoever I am is definable by myself?

Because I am nothing. He is everything.

John 3:30.

<3 Katie

Never Safe, Always Good

2011-12-05T19:58:00.003-06:00

“If you are thirsty, you may drink.”

They were the first words she had heard since Scrubb had spoken to her on the edge of the cliff. For a second she stared here and there, wondering who had spoken. Then the voice said again, “If you are thirsty, come and drink,” and of course she remembered what Scrubb had said about animals talking in that other world, and realized that it was the lion speaking. Anyway, she had seen its lips move this time,and the voice was not like a man’s. It was deeper, wilder, and stronger; a sort of heavy, golden voice. It did not make her any less frightened than she had been before, but it made her frightened in rather a different way.

“Are you not thirsty?” said the lion.

“I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill.

“Then drink,” said the lion.

“May I – could I – would you mind going away while I do?” said Jill.

The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.

The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.

“Will you promise not to – do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.

“I make no promise,” said the Lion.

Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.

“Do you eat girls?” she said.

“I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion. It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.

“I daren’t come and drink,” said Jill.

“Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion.

“Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”

“There is no other stream,” said the Lion.

-The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis

<3 Katie

Be bold. Be blessed.

2011-12-05T14:43:00.004-06:00

Hey y'all--I mean . . . you people. I refuse to get an accent. Or a twang. Or any other what-have-yous. And I ain't gonna say 'ain't'. :)

Actually, people have been complaining that my Chicagoian hard 'A's are rubbing off on them. What can I say? I'm just inspiring!

Speaking of inspiring, at midnight this past weekend, I spent the night in a friend's room and we were severely inspired. Sometimes that can be a dangerous thing at that hour. However, I think it actually turned out well. Check out some of our photos:

Apples are delicious and beautiful.

This is a piece our friend made. Africa and missions are really on her heart and I absolutely love love love this.

This is a Dori moment from Finding Nemo. (There's those late nights manifesting themselves).

Christmas lights are spectacular.

I love these.

I woke up to this sunrise.

So, stress has been sort of a dark cloud over me since Thanksgiving. I got back and it has just been one thing after another. Especially on the boy front. I think I've said this before but conversation comes naturally to me. Especially with guys because I grew up with some great older brother figures. This past week different people have asked me about four times if I have a "thing" for four different guys. Now, let's be clear. I certainly do not have a "thing" (whatever the thing they're referring to is) for any of them. But I do really care about each of them and have fun hanging out with them and getting to know them. If it's in God's plan that some "thing" were to be between us, God hasn't shown me it's His timing yet.

Anyway, there is one friend in particular that has sort of been a tug of war. I could never tell if he actually did like me or was just treating me like everyone else. Everyone else thought he liked me. Or thought I liked him. It started to wear on our friendship. Making both of us withdrawn in group settings but come together outside of them. It created this weird, confusing dynamic that was really wearing on me. I like clarity. I want to know where I stand with someone. I don't want to play games. And since I care about this guy and want to continue being a good friend to him, I knew something had to be done.

If I'm being honest with myself, I'd known for the past month. I'd even tried starting the conversation, saying it to myself in my room, searching for the right words. Last night, after a particularly confusing weekend of mixed signals and frustration on my part, I decided to be bold. It seemed like a theme that had been following me around this past week: ask the hard questions and be bold. God calls us to love even those who hurt us. Especially those who hurt us. Because that makes the relationship that much more worth it. When it's been through adversity.

So I typed up a long facebook message (thank you, facebook, for once you were useful to me and not sucking my time away). Basically, I apologized for all the assumptions everyone had made, I told him that he hadn't given me any indication to think we are more than friends, that I really care about him as my friend, and I have a lot of fun hanging out with him. I put myself out there. I asked God for peace. And fell asleep.

The next morning came his reply: he doesn't care what all those people think. He enjoys being around me too.

I almost did a happy dance at five in the morning in my room (I was up to workout-yes, I may be crazy). What a blessing for him to respond with such clarity and maturity.

But wait, it gets better.

Today, at chapel, for the first time ever, He came and found me and sat by me. We just sort of chatted and cracked jokes. It was really light hearted. But that initial encounter I was a little worried about--would anything change or would he act the same? I think my being honest helped him to trust me. And his response of acceptance gave me so much more respect for him.

God is seriously good. I have no idea what the future will bring--maybe more confusion, but hopefully a valuable, deep friendship.

It's amazing how God works even when He feels so far away because of the stress that's piled over top of you.

That's my God moment. It doesn't always happen that clean cut. But I encourage you to be bold. Because God will bless you for it. Be honest. Ask the hard questions. Get to know people sincerely. Communicate. That's our worlds biggest downfall. We communicate constantly, but often it's just noise.

<3 Katie

Glorious Day

2011-12-02T14:08:00.008-06:00

It's Friday. I have so much to do this weekend but I don't even mind because I feel like I've made it safe. One more week before finals and I am soaking it all up.

Today was one of those fantastic days where nothing is as expected. My French class was a quiz and I got out after 10 min. I found a friend of mine and she asked me to go on a walk with her before lunch. We spent the time just pouring out our hearts of friendships, definitions of love, and the concept of being bold, and asking the hard questions. I am so thankful for her. she is such an encouragement.

My Psychology class (which for some reason is the toughest class for me to remain conscious--I believe that is due to lunch right before and my teacher's voice) was on social psychology. We read an article and took a position on it. All of a sudden the class was alive with opinions. It was really interesting and slightly fantastic. We had a visitor and I'm so glad he got to see that. I actually surprised myself by introducing myself to him and showing him where to sit. When I ran into him later I asked him how he was and how he liked the class. This is sort of out of character for me. I'm friendly but I'm usually not the hospitable one. It's kind of nice to see these new ways God is using me.

In a little bit I'm off to cheer on my swimmer friends, but I wanted to upload some pictures for you. Some are from our Equine Center where the students put on a Christmas show for the community. Check it out:

Be bold.
<3 Katie

NMN

2011-11-30T06:45:00.004-06:00

Today is the final day of No Makeup November. It's been a challenging time. The first half of the month dragged by but the second half was gone in a blink. I am so thankful that I learned of this event and even more thankful that I actually did it.

I wasn't going to. I got cold feet. Or face, I suppose. Baring my face for the entire campus to see, all its flaws, everyday? That did exactly sound enjoyable. On a snap decision I decided to try it.

On Thanksgiving I put on makeup (something I had decided to do at the very beginning), and stared in the mirror. I didn't like myself with all the eyeliner and eyeshadow and foundation. It made my eyes look squinty, my face flat, and my whole demeanor . . . distant. And I realized just how much NMN had changed me. It forced me to look away from culture's perception of beauty and accept myself for what I am naturally and to see beauty in that. In that, I've come to the conclusion that beauty is directly dependent on perception. That is why a sculptor can make art out of trash. Beauty is in the heart, the meaning behind the physical object. It is not something that can be painted on with lipstick.

So I've decided that I prefer myself without makeup, actually. That, I know, maybe too much for some of you. But maybe you've found you need less makeup, or can even just get by with a smidgen less than normal. Maybe it's baby steps for you. Maybe you're not quite ready to shatter the world's definition of beauty yet. That's totally okay. I hope, that you glimpsed it though. True beauty. In your smile, in your laughter, in your joy. In you. In Christ filling you.

And if you didn't participate, I will definitely be advocating this next year. So do it with me! Or, make a No Makeup December for yourself. Did you know that some people do this with food where they cut out all processed food for a month as a detox for the body? You're doing the same thing for your skin, and in a way, for your soul.

I'm going to still use makeup for artistic license. I'm too visual to never use it again and I don't think that's the point of this. Makeup isn't bad. Our dependency on it to feel beautiful is.

I hope this month taught you something whether you participated yourself or watched someone else go through it. I know I'm a much more confident, less self-focused, joyful individual than when I started. I didn't expect such a noticeable change. But it's definitely there. And the fact that I did it, orchestrated it, motivated it all myself makes it feel that much greater. And then having some friends around who were fighting too, made me feel a little less alone, and a little less exposed.

God thinks your beautiful.

Last night a friend told me something she and her mom say. I'm adjusting it though for girls instead of guys:

"The Bible says God made Women in His own image . . . Wow, God is beautiful."

You're BeYOUtiful.

<3 Katie

No Such Thing As Time

2011-11-29T20:53:00.000-06:00

This couple is so cute. They're married and write/sing beautiful songs. This is their newest.

Elenowen - No Such Thing As Time Official Video from Elenowen on Vimeo.

<3 Katie

Train - Shake Up Christmas

2011-11-29T15:04:00.000-06:00

Kentucky got its first snow (well, sleet) today! I literally skipped through the cafeteria. I need snow for it to feel like Christmas. I am so stoked! There a lights and wreaths up every where! My friends even went out and bought a real Christmas tree for their dorm room. I need to get with the program and hang up some stockings or something.

Here is a cool video that has to do with Christmas that you might like. :)

<3 Katie

Home

2011-11-29T14:52:00.002-06:00

Lately I've been pondering the definition of the word. Because for the past four months I've struggled with the emptiness I have associated with this word. Where is my physical home? Is it in Chicago where I lived for 18 years? Or Albuquerque where my family lives? Or Kentucky where I go to school?

I thought I would feel at home going to my grandparents' house over Thanksgiving. But I didn't. I had that restless feeling you get when you're in a place that isn't entirely yours. The same feeling I had had all throughout the summer in Albuquerque. It was frustrating for me because I was finding a hard time being thankful for anything when I couldn't find the most important place to be thankful for. Home.

Right before I flew out, we stopped by our old church. The place where I've spent nearly as much time as I did at our house. Where some of my closest friends are. Where I could walk in blind and know where everything is. Where I walk in and sigh. I realized, that place is home. And it was more home then the house we had in Chicago. Because it was where I came to worship. It was where I met and related with some of the most influential people in my life. It is where I feel safe. It's home.

But my home had moved on without me. Things were in different spots, people had come and gone in my absence. In the same way, I had changed. Even with these unfamiliarities, I was so thankful to finally have a place to just be. After moving and being alone and then coming to Asbury and being overwhelmed with people and the demands of college, I had a moment to exhale.

That was what made my Thanksgiving. That is what I am most thankful for. God giving me a place to just be for a moment. A place of memory and a place of hope.

<3 Katie

Might Little Rebel

2011-11-29T12:56:00.014-06:00

Once there was a mighty little Rebel,
small and light, her ability made others revel.
Rain or shine she fired her shots,
maneuvering even the tightest spots.
For six years faithfully she served,
until one day she was hit undeserved.
And that Canon of a soldier fell,
wounded badly, all could tell.
Still, on that Rebel fought,
capturing all that she sought.
Yet despite her dedication to her master's side,
on the third day, in mid aim, she died.
Of that mighty little Rebel, none will recall,
the feats she conquered, no matter how tall.

Yes, I wrote this poem about my camera. Yes, it's terrible. But slightly fantastic because my camera was a Canon Rebel XT. Anyway, here's sort of a recap of the places I have been with my camera. And I guess, in a sense, my journey so far as a photographer. Because so far my photography career has only been with this camera. Hopefully, you'll be able to see some improvement over the course of the 6 years . . .

To start us off, here is the first photo I have of me taken by that camera. We went to Alaska the summer after I got my camera and it was sort of my photography debut.

And then here is the last photo of me taken with my camera . . .

I'll spare you the many in between of my face and keep it centered on photos I took. And only a select few at that. I took 7,292 pictures with that camera.

So here you go, the final hurrah. And hopefully my posts will include some text from here on out and a little bit less photography!

Thank you for putting up with me and my extensive photos.
<3 Katie

The Death of a Camera

2011-11-29T10:35:00.005-06:00

Things you are not supposed to do on Thanksgiving Break:
1. Be so joyful that as you skip down the sidewalk, you trip on it, do a superman, and face plant, snapping off the lens of your camera.
2. . . . Nope, I think that about covers it.

Yes. This happened to me. Yes, I am severely upset about this. You will see possibly two more posts on different perspectives/reproductions of the act. Why? I had this camera for 6 years. It was my second camera ever and has been an important companion on many adventures. Plus, it was an emotional roller coaster due to the fact that after the actual fall, I thought I had killed it for sure and then realized only the lens had snapped off. Since this lens came with the camera, it wasn't a huge deal. But two days later my camera just died as I was using it. And no amount of coaxing would resurrect it. I'm afraid my joy proved too much for it's fragile digital body.

Any how, here is a tribute to the last days of my camera. I think, even wounded, it performed beautifully. :)

This is my lens after being brutally beheaded under my weight. Fortunately, my dad and brother brought their cameras and allowed me to use them.

A fire, snow, hot chocolate, sweaters, and a book is my idea of a perfect holiday season.

Sometimes I just point and shoot without looking what I'm doing. Sometimes it provides a really interesting perspective that wouldn't have been otherwise captured. Take this photo for instance. You get to see my nose!

My sister is one of my favorite subjects because she is drop-dead gorgeous (I'm not biased in the least). Plus she has a cookie. Which makes everything better.

See what I'm saying? Gorgeous.

Practicing my food photography.

Jello. :)

A wine bottle with some fantastic light.

I think they do shots like this at weddings, with candles and then the people in the background. Well, if I ever get the opportunity to shoot a wedding I have the candle shot practiced.

We always put up my grandparents' Christmas tree. Their's is sparkly. I got a little bit excited.

My lovely siblings being goofs.

Some awesome lens flare going on. Guess where we are . . .

Yes. Panera. Again. They put soup in a bowl of bread. How ingenious is that?!

Again.

Savoring the deliciousness. I have her trained now to wait and let me take pictures of her food before she starts eating. I think that may be a little sad . . .

Christmas lights are so beautiful.

Daddy and daughter. <3

So this week is a little bit crazy for me.

Tomorrow I have a Psychology test, a peer speech critique, and a bunch of homework due.

Friday I have a French test, a paper due, reading half a book, and another paper due.

Amidst that, I have everything else. Fortunately, two of my classes were canceled so I can devote some serious time to this homework, which is not the kind of homework you can just get done. You have to keep studying for the test, keep revising the paper, keep memorizing the speech. It seems endless. But after this week I only have one more week before finals. Bittersweet.

So prayers would be phenomenal! That I stay efficient, excellent, and sane.

<3 Katie

You may kill me for this blog post . . .

2011-11-25T10:53:00.010-06:00

You're thinking: "No, Katie! I love you! I could never kill you. Your blog posts are the sustenance of my existence . . ." Okay, okay, maybe you're not saying that. I wish such a thing could be true . . . on second thought maybe not. The fact of the matter is, I have been dormant way to long. In writing, in passion, in life. I've been pretending I'm having a full life, but it's shallow. I haven't challenged ideas, explored new minds of thought, written new perspectives, written at all. I haven't had a moment to breathe. And like my mother's hug when I saw her for the first time in four months over Thanksgiving break, life has been smothering. I'm thankful for the busyness, it prevents boredom and laziness. But it's choking my thought process. I can barely function. My mental energy hasn't figured out how to manage school and friends and functions necessary for survival as well as philosophical thought or all consuming activities (aka writing). Because of that, my blog is like a barb. I write a little on it but I come away feeling like it's not enough. I NEED to write. But I can't. So I'm left to feel the sting. Like a rock in my shoe as I run a race.

But I've had a few days off and it's done wonders for me. That and I read a fantastic book in a matter of about six hours. It sort of rejuvenated my love of adventure and my hatred for simple survival. Which is what I've been operating on for the past four months.

Well, how was your Thanksgiving? I hope it was unique. I know that's a strange hope but I detest repeat episodes and I honestly pray that each holiday is a brand new experience. And that the purpose of the holiday becomes starkly apparent. Whether we wish it or not. My new experience was the food. I'd tasted it all before but you must understand that I've been eating spinach salads and granola bars for four months. The food was overwhelming it tasted so good. And now, being here, it's what I find myself thinking about a lot. It makes me wonder what it's like being hungry. Do you think about it if starving is all you know? And suddenly I don't want to feed starving children unless I can feed them forever because it seems more cruel to give them a piece of heaven and leave them dying salivating for more. But the thought of them dying at all makes me want to throw up my dinner and jump on a plane. Then I think that I could never do that. But then I wonder why I think I could never do that. It's not that difficult to buy a plane ticket. So then I start to wonder what is really holding me back. And finally I ponder if this time of being thankful is really to show me what the purpose f the gifts I been given are really. Are they even for me? Or am I just a middle man? Food for thought.

Christmas is coming. I'm not ready. But since the world doesn't revolve around my readiness, it shall continue coming. What do I even require to be ready? Decorations? Cookies? An ugly sweater? I feel like the beauty of that night is drowned in the world's 'holiday spirit'. How can I make it special this year? How can I remember the moment when God became like me so that I could become like Him? What can I do to try to live up to that?

So, the book I read. Perhaps you've heard of it . . . The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins? Yes, I thought so. Believe it or not, after the Twilight and Harry Potter craze, I had written off these overly popular books as shallow fodder for sensationalism. I'm not into name brands. And that counted as one. But I finished my book on the flight here and my sister thrust the book into my hands insisting I read it. She finished it in two days and there was a movie coming out. Oh, and it was amazing. Just the thing I'd like. Boy does she know me well. It's in first person, from a girl's perspective. And she is no weakling heroine. She has to survive a game that is designed for all the competitors to kill each other off. I blew through the thing. And now can't wait to get back to school and borrow the other two books from a friend. Collins' style is simple and powerful. Her characters are unique. And her conflicts are emotional as well as physical. It's wonderful. A little bit too focused on the love story than the other relationships for my tastes (which is strange for me because I'm kind of a sap), but I understand some of that is for public appeal. I would recommend these books. I'm jealous I didn't write them. Well, almost. Not quite that good. But close.

Another thing my sister forced me to do (She is very violent about broadening my horizons. But then again, I'm very stubborn-even when it's good for me) was watch The Eagle. A movie based on the book The Eagle of the Ninth (a book I loved sophomore year). The movie cuts out a lot, has a few cheesy lines, and involves a certain Channing Tatum of whom I'm not a huge fan (I know, for shame), BUT the cinematography was GORGEOUS. Okay, that fancy word basically means the shots, angles, lighting, back drop, the VISUAL of the movie. The way it looks through the camera's eye was spectacular. The place they shot, the angles, the light, even the costumes and makeup . . . the art department set that film apart. Please watch it. If only for that. That and Jamie Bell. All I'm saying.

Oh and please excuse these dabbling of photography. I didn't want you to get bored in the midst of this giant post. This photo shoot occurred Wednesday. On the way back I was galloping after my dad and brother (I got left behind while distracted by taking a picture of a particular plant) and the tripped on the sidewalk (no thanks to my moccasin slippers). Through the air I flew and the decided to introduce my self to the ground. My phone splatted but was fine. My jeans ended up muddy but survived, I popped up no problem, but my beautiful Canon camera of six years had snapped in half. The lens has been cut off the body. I almost died. I don't have money for a new camera and even if I did, I'm just now discovering how to use mine effectively. I don't want a new one! But upon closer examination, we realized it was just the lens that had been broken. My camera was fine. Just now noseless. My brother and dad have been letting me mooch off their lenses but when I go back to school, I shall be without until Christmas. Where I will hopefully pool my resources and invest. I desperately needed a new lens anyway. Mine was the original, generic lens. It's pictures are good but now amazing. I'm excited to graduate. But sad that it had to be such a harsh and final step up. Maybe I should learn to look where I'm going/not be distracted/walking a straight line/not lope place/control my haphazard stride. But we all know that is a loosing battle. The gait is directly correlated with my free spirit and adventurous personality. Mix that with an artist's creativity and you have a walking accident waiting to happen. Good thing I'm rather springy.

So, one of the last days on set for Blood Law (the movie short I was helping with), the props master is carrying around a salt and pepper shaker. All of a sudden, he tosses the salt at one of the actors and calls, "Catch!" When the guy does, the thrower tells him, "You've just been a-salted." Ha. Ha. Ha.
Then I ask him if he's carrying the pepper around with salt because they have separation anxiety (because the only reason he picked them up was for the previous joke). And he said it was because if they were apart, how would there ever be a paprika. I almost fell over. If not for the fact that they were shooting upstairs I may have crashed to the floor. So I whispered, asking if that was a Blue's Clue's reference. To which, he grinned and responded he was so glad I caught it. Ah, college students.

Everyone loves this hat because of the pompom. I think all hats should have pompoms. And I was wearing moccasins. So I looked like an elf. But I was told it was a good thing. Also, my brother was wearing a green hat. So we matched. Plus, he's now as tall (okay, okay he's taller) as me and we were on a photo adventure. It was pretty fantastic. Believe it or not, I took this photo by myself with the hat on my own head.

I am so thankful for him. He doesn't even know. When we reunited, he gave me a few hugs and finally said, "We missed you." Translation: "I missed you." This kid is smart, sweet, and hilarious. I am so blessed to have him as a brother. But he's growing up. And it kills me that I can't be there to support him as he does.

Smile. It's the best makeup you'll wear. Laugh. It's the best ab workout you'll ever have. Plus, it releases endorphins that make you feel better.

So, on Inkpop (the site put on by Harper Collins Publishing that you post your novel on and vote for others and then the top 5 get a professional review) Stomach, Meet Butterflies, my little love story written in less than a month, thrown on the site, and forgotten about has risen in the ranks. It is currently number 44. I am in shock. I could never have dreamed that would happen. It gives me hope. Not necessarily for this novel, but for my writing in general. It sort of confirms my fears that todays readers are partial to fanciful fiction with a love story and nothing of substance but I can work with that. I can use that to challenge them while giving them what they need under the pretense of that they think they want. (Aka hide awesome questions and dilemmas that will carry over into real life in a simple novel like SMB). You can read what I have if SMB on Inkpop and track its progress. Look at the square on the left labeled 'Read My Stories'.

My sister wrote this. It blew my mind. First off, her profound thought. And secondly the concise and yet powerful wording she uses to communicate those mature and clear ideals. I was struck stupid. Awed and amazed to action. If you read nothing of mine, read this of hers:
http://kellyoostman.blogspot.com/2011/11/moments.html

I love rain. For so so so many reasons. It's beautiful. It makes the world smell fresh. It makes puddles for jumping. It reminds me of Singing in the Rain and the scene from Pride and Prejudice. It makes me want to dance. It instills a universal call for hot chocolate, a book, a sweater, and a window seat. It's perfect weather for snuggling. Sometimes, in those moment when you can't cry, the sky will for you.

I will never wear makeup the same again. My perception of my facial expression has been a deception. That's a lot of 'tion's. But it's absolutely true. I wore makeup on Thanksgiving day (I told myself I would at the beginning of the month) and I felt caked over, restricted, not me. On top of that, when I told my family I was wearing makeup, several hours after putting it on and interacting with them, they exclaimed, "You are?!' and scrutinized my face. Further proving my point that I don't need it. My skin doesn't like it. And it's fun to be artsy with, but in general it's an unnoticed hassle.

My life as a food photographer for Panera Bread would be incredibly complete. The next time you go into Panera, look at their food pictures. They are gorgeous. Their food is gorgeous. The lighting and styling is gorgeous. And if they let me take home the food I took pictures of when we were done . . . even better. I could live in Panera. I would be 700 pounds and I wouldn't even care.

So, OYAN's novel competition results come in Monday night. I'm nervous. I entered Imagine and although it entered a mess, I have a sheer hope that it might show up as a finalist. I don't know why I hope this. It's riddled with huge mistakes. Maybe ones most people wouldn't notice, but ones that are severely significant to me and I'm sure any writer would notice. Also, many of my friends entered and I know how hard they've worked. You have to understand, the phrase "pour your heart and soul into . . ." was practically invented for writers. Our mistakes, memories, emotions, secrets, dreams, beings are woven into these novels. They are confessions and safe places exposed to the world. Rejection, even in the form of not doing as well as we hoped can be a huge blow. Maybe it sounds silly, but it's how we are. That's the only way we can spend so much time with only words to create such intricate worlds. It has to be that big of a part of us. That special. That personal.

^This photo is one of my most favorites that I have shot ever. Want to know what this beautiful tapestry of light play is? My dorm's dirty window. Yep. Beauty in the ordinary. In the grimy. It's sort of symbolic. How Christ's light shines out to the world through us, dirty windows, and somehow makes us beautiful.

Model A Ford from the 1930s. I was given the huge of honor of riding in this thing several times through out our shoot of the movie. On the final day, for the final scene I spent the entire time hunched on the floorboards in the back seat on the phone with the film's assistant director to tell the driver when to go and stop. On top of that, the car didn't want to start so when we turned it off to conserve gas on the single lane road, the crew had to push us to a wider spot to let cars by. It was a fantastic first film experience. The people were amazing which made it even more memorable.

Letting people in is one of the hardest things to do. Because whether you know it or not, you are counting the seconds until they find something they don't like and leave. Or you search for something you don't like and flee first. I am guilty of this. I do it all the time. I'm already independent and easily fascinated and I often use it as an excuse to not listen, engage, or understand. To just be there when someone needs me. Even if only temporarily. And so often I don't give because I know I won't receive it back. I close the door on them. When the only person that matters has opened the door to me.

(We're almost done, I promise!)

If you must look back, let it be to improve the future.

Sometimes you have to explore things that aren't you to fully realize exactly who you are. Straight hair and dresses are not my thing. But I'm still me with them. And it's in exploring that I discover so much about myself and who God wants me to be. Independent of fashion. BeYOUtiful. :)

Thank you for sticking with me. I promise to update more regularly so you won't have to delve through all of this again.

Love you!

<3 Katie

Christian Goodie-Two Shoes

2011-11-16T14:48:00.006-06:00

Okay, is 'Goodie Two-Shoes' derived from the good children actually wore shoes to school? I wonder what the history behind that expression is . . . oh, sorry! Distraction.

We try so hard to be positive. To be happy all the time. Yes, I am a fan of joy. But not plasticity. I know I'm flawed. But sometimes my flaws prevent me from seeing those flaws. I need accountability. That's what the Church is for. A community in pursuit of Christ's standard. We get so afraid of offending people, we stuff the ugly in. Sometimes it comes out as gossip, and always it gets in the way of our glorifying God.

So you know that thing about being polite? If I am failing to meet Christ's standards, tell me. Point me to scripture. Say "Hey, Katie, I know this isn't who you want to be and it's definitely not who Christ is calling you to be." Call me out. Be the friend that comes straight to me. That communicates.

For such a communication dependent world, we do a very poor job at it. We gossip. We don't say what we mean. We manipulate words. I'm guilty of it too. I catch myself all the time using words to get certain responses that I want. I'm a writer. I'm gifted at being able to evoke response for words. But is manipulation glorifying to Christ? Does it help others? Does it even really help me?

The answer is a solid nope.

It's scary. People and their opinions, their judgements, their assessments. But by doing this, that is exactly what we are fighting. By being close to one another, by being vulnerable, by opening ourselves up to be reliant, we eliminate room for judgement. We're so close. We see all the flaws. But we understand them. And we are helping prevent them. Because we all have them.

That's cool. That's community. That's Christ's call for the church.

So for goodness's sake, if I'm not acting like Christ, TELL ME!

I like taking pictures . . .

2011-11-13T16:50:00.008-06:00

My sister came to visit me. I missed having adventures with her so much!

<3 Katie

If This Was a Movie

2011-11-10T13:58:00.000-06:00

Maddi Jane's new video. This girl keeps reaching new heights. :)

<3 Katie

NMN

2011-11-09T19:50:00.003-06:00

I'm not made-up; I'm make-up free.

I'm real and free.

No Make-up November. The first time I can remember being blatantly anti-conformist when it had no benefit to me. Sure, you could say I'm gaining a sense of confidence, self-esteem, and awareness for the beauty of creation in it's natural state, but I could argue that makeup enhances all those things and hides sin's flaws. It would be just as easy for me to keep putting on make-up and not feel vulnerable and exposed every single day because people can see my zits.

Maybe you don't understand. I don't think many boys do. Some have told me just to do a no make-up life. And I'm here thinking: easy for you to say! Culture doesn't tell you that your appearance has to be completely controlled and planned out every single observable moment of every single day. Or maybe it does, just in a different way.

One guy told me he couldn't even tell that I was doing NMN. I wondered if it was because I looked equally bad with make-up on, or if it was because I was beautiful without it. Or simply the fact that most people don't look nearly as closely as we think they do. He claimed it was the second/third.

My sister had a similar experience where she was telling an older couple about NMN. They exclaimed, "So you're not wearing any make-up right now?!" And they leaned close to get a better look.

The fact is, people have been shocked. I have been shocked. That first week was painful. Every time I saw myself in the mirror I cringed. And it's not because what I see in the mirror is bad! Not at all. It's because COMPARATIVELY, to my mental Barbie self, I don't come close. But that's exactly what it is-an image. Like it or not, we are slaves to our own appearances. We conform to our own ideas of beauty instead of being open to God's.

I'm not saying never wear makeup. I happen to really like makeup as an artistic expression. Change it up daily, have fun with it. I think when we do the same thing day in and day out, or even feel like we HAVE to wear it, it becomes a crush. And even an idol. We are idolizing our ideal appearance.

Something that I've noticed in my friends, without their thick eyeliner, is their smiles. Gorgeous things, smiles. They are so so so much better than make-up at enhancing beauty. I love it. And I've been forced to really examine my concept of beauty during these 9 days (so far). It's not outward at all. In fact, the external is like a screen, it reflects what's inward. That's why smiles look so great on people-it's projecting an internal joy.

Joy has been my make-up. And when it's feeling a little watery and not enough for me to walk out the door confidently, I pray. Sometimes it's a moment by moment prayer. "God, I don't feel beautiful today. Can I have some of yours?" He doesn't disappoint. Even on those not so good days, I find confidence and optimism that I didn't have the strength to muster on my own.

Watch this video, and think about how culture has done this to your perception of beauty and how you are mimicking this on your own body.

"For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." -Ephesians 2:10

<3 Katie

Beautiful

2011-11-07T06:50:00.006-06:00

Sometimes a spontaneous photo shoot is in order. So at dinner time last night, all I had on me was my camera and we chased the fading light around campus, snapping pictures as we went. Neither of us with a drop of makeup on us, forgetting our worry and stress and exploring God's glorious creation through new perspectives. Now, this dear friend of mine (Caiti) has a habit of stealing my photo-taking apparatus and pointing the lens on me. Even though I whined, groaned, and otherwise threw a fit, some of them turned out really well . . .

These are the icicle lights I put up in my room. There are really fun to take pictures of.

This is a drawing I did the other day and taped to my wall.

There must always be pictures of flowers.

Fall is so beautiful.

Extreme editing.

Weeping willows are so interesting.

This is so small, but do you see her eyes? Wow!

Shine your light.

Classic.

I like the angle of this one and her pose.

Wheat type plant thing.

Joy.

Again. Eyes are spectacular!

And then we found a tree. And fun things ensued.

I'm convinced taking pictures is good for the soul. It's artistic expression and can be an act of worship. It gives you a new way of looking at things. And if you go with others, some wonderful memories are made.

"He will yet fill your mouth with laughter
and your lips with shouts of joy." -Job 8:21

<3 Katie

I Hate Feeling

2011-11-06T11:06:00.003-06:00

When you have worked for a vet for almost two years, any manner of bodily excretions really don't bother you. Needles, blood, and any other fainting causes are usual and strange injuries become fascinating to an extent. All the while, there is a steady level of compassion spurring you on to help the patient, but at the same time, that caring must be held in check. Because sometimes you lose one.

I suppose the word would be compassion. The world could use a bit more of it. I think we see so much pain all the time, that we bury our feelings for others. We hide. Put our head down and push on. "Keep calm and carry on". I come from Chicago, a city that does very well at demonstrating this concept, like many big cities. On every street there are people curled up without homes. There is dirt, and noise, and agony. And all you can do is jam in your headphones, shove your hands in your pockets, and tuck your chin into your chest while slipping into the robotic power walk meant to get you to the next place as quickly and as unscathed as possible.

And in those moments where we do take a moment to invest in someone, when we take the time to pause, the truth that love is painful is reenforced. Take the divorce rate for example. Over 50% now, isn't it?

Sometimes, it comes in a smaller form, but sometimes those are also the most painful--because they're not supposed to hurt. You're blindsided by the fact that it bothers you and when you can't do anything to fix it, you are left in the perpetual somersault of slit feelings bleeding out from you.

The other day I was at a sport event to watch some friends compete. We were all really excited, cheering them on and such. But after one event, my friend finished his race and it was one of those moments where something was wrong and I could just tell. His team patched him up and tried to make sure he was okay. Throughout the day, I watched as he kept competing, battling the pain. It frustrated me so much to watch him struggle for something he loved doing and be in that much agony. It was one of those instances where seeing his face, you want to run out of the room but if he's staying in it, you're going to stay there for him. Even though I can handle gore, what gets me is watching people in pain. I could do nothing. Just watch him screaming from the inside and keep pushing. By the end, he walked past everyone, without so much as a glance.

Caring for me was seeing that change in him as the pain took hold and feeling dread, watching him drag himself to the sidelines again and again-not being able to do a thing to help, and standing there as he walked past without looking up.

Watching people in pain is one of the only things that will make me cry.

We all react differently to this. When I was little and would hurt myself, my daddy would get mad. My mom, confused, would ask, "She only scraped her knee. It happens. Why are you mad?" To which he would reply, "Because I can't FIX it."

We want to control. We want to fix. We are in agony, longing for a safe place to let love go. To be completely straight up with people about how we feel and care about them.

But at the same time, feeling is the fine, barbed threads keeping us linked together. And Jesus is the only one that can take away the pain of it, and make it into the beautiful thing caring is supposed to represent: love.

"Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for each other, love one another deeply, from the heart." -1 Peter 1:22

I don't necessarily hate feeling or caring. I hate the fact that people have to hurt. It makes me want to curl up in God's lap, plug my ears, and close my eyes. But that isn't what He is calling me to. He's calling me to feel the pain, like he feels it for every single person every single day. To go out into the world and share Him with those hurting. To bring them comfort and encouragement. And to point them to His arms waiting wide open. He has promised to support me, I won't have to carry this burden on my own.

But I can't stay paralyzed by listening to the world's silent screams. I need to do something. I need to love out loud.

<3 Katie

Costume Crazy

2011-10-27T20:16:00.003-05:00

Is tomorrow Friday? Already?

Oh my goodness!

To say this week has been a roller coaster/whirlwind/emotional-spiritual-physical test would all be understatements. Of the entirety of time. Homework, scheduling, drama, fighting off sickness, and then costumes. I am so lucky to be a part of the departmental film this fall. I'm really stoked about what we are doing and how everything is working together for this project. Somehow, I ended up being in charge of costumes. It's a really cool job because essentially I find clothes that communicate the character's inner spirit in visual form. That sounds all mystically and weird but it's true. The majority of what you get out of movies is visual, yes? Well to connect with the characters and for them to fit in their story, they need to look the part. Hence, costumes.

For me, the toughest part has been waiting. I'm one of those 'get it done and out of the way' types. With this though, we have to coordinate schedules to get measurements and go costume shopping. We start shooting tomorrow and we didn't get any costumes until today. And it's all coming together nicely, but just dealing with that stress, and fighting the pressure that it's all up to me has been draining. God has taught me so much about faith and His timing over this past week. Probably more than in the past year.

I've noticed that the world teaches us to feel bad for ourselves, and to put on this shroud of sorrow and get people to feel sorry for us. But that felt weird to me. Even though there were some moments when I literally felt ready to fall flat on my face because of the sheer eight of it all or just burst into tears and hide in a corner, there was this whisper of "God's got this" and "Why are you worrying?". Someone once told me that worrying is just worshiping yourself. And basically, joy. It's cool how Jesus and Joy start with the same letter. Because this week, no matter how bad I messed something up or felt like ti would never come together, there was this constant factor through it all. Joy. Joy and peace. That sounds so incredibly cliche. Something you'd see at a Christian Book Store or something. I think I learned the meaning of the words this week. Not just learned, but experienced. And I feel like you can't have true joy without surrounding sorrow, or true peace without impending chaos. Maybe you can have it to some degree, but you never fully know just how awesome it is until everything is crashing down around you.

Jesus is like that too. We never get His full sacrifice until we are drowning in our own awfulness. But we are so naive. Sometimes we forget once the pressure is gone. I wonder if that's why the Bible constantly refers to us as sheep. We're kind of dumb sometimes, aren't we? :)

Anyway, tomorrow after classes we start shooting. I'm so excited to be a part of the art department and have a costume/hair and makeup room and interact with the aesthetic of this film. I get to do all of this and I'm a freshman! I'm so thankful for this opportunity and the level of trust being invested in me. I'm going to give it everything I have!

Please just pray that all the costumes work out and that they are what the director is looking for. And ultimately that everyone steps on set and is filled with joy and peace. Because we are making something for God's glory here. And if we strive for that, no matter what the movie turns out to be like, we'll have achieved the greatest things in the world.

<3 Katie

I Don't Want Prince Charming

2011-10-25T19:40:00.006-05:00

Yes, you read it right.

My entire childhood has been filled with fuzzy images of that man on a white steed, charging towards me from the horizon. But as I grow older, I squint and realize it was a mirage. A mirage of manipulation. The world telling me what my man should look like, where I should look for him, who I need to be. And I spent years, subconsciously and consciously, shaping myself to be the princess he came to rescue from reality. There's something funny about reality - you can't be detached from it. That's sort of the definition of reality.

Disney got it wrong. Maybe they had good intentions, telling me there was a guy who loved me despite my rags. They were right. But they told me to look for him on earth. And the truth is, I've been pulling off perfect masks for years, looking for him.

The problem is he has been here all along. There is no white steed. I don't have to change for him. And he will never mask his true self. His name is Jesus. And he slew the dragon no one else could.

A friend and I were talking last week and he asked me what I was looking for in my perfect guy. I told him I didn't want a perfect guy. Because I already have one. I want someone just as flawed as I am, but willing to work towards glorifying the one who isn't.

I'll admit. Relationships are confusing. Feelings are frustrating. And sometimes, we girls feel like he is the only other person alive in the world. Well, he isn't. Compared to Jesus, he hasn't even drawn a breath of life.

I heard this lady speak and at age 16 she prayed that God wouldn't let her enter in a dating relationship unless it was with her future husband who would further on her ministry. AKA - don't let me marry unless it's going to glorify you, Lord. Whoa. Sometimes I feel like we act like we live to get married. When really, that's just a new chapter. Life is already going. God is already moving. If you're focused on that relationship too much, you'll miss the things that make that relationship so special and meaningful.

Now, guys are confusing. And lately I've noticed that it's awfully hard to define the line between friends and more than friends. Here's what I'm learning: meaningful, deep friendships that encourage each other towards what God has planned for us does NOT mean you have to date or fall in love or anything like that. It's okay to love each other just as children of God. That's how I've been approaching college life. Just loving people. And it's so cool because I'm discovering this deep joy inside me that I never knew I had. Like, I have started hugging people I've never met before (this coming from the shy girl in the corner who barely spoke two words to people she had known for a year).

I've been getting some raised eyebrows about this whole 'loving people' thing. Because I ask people how their lives are, I'll stop to give them a hug, and I get really excited to see them - I've been asked if I 'like' certain people where I am just trying to be friends. I think, especially in this 'love' driven culture, people believe you only enter in a relationship if you have motivations to fulfill something for yourself. (Hence the word 'love' in quotes). But that's not it at all. Have an actual conversation with people. Get. To. Know. Them. Ditch the small talk, it's over used and out of style. People are beautiful.

And when things get complicated (as they will sometimes, we are flawed), just remember that God is in control. He created both of you with a unique purpose. And be okay if that doesn't or does involve each other. Leave it to God. He knows what He's doing. He did, after all, create the most epic love story of all. (Hint, it started on that cross).

And just a little reminder . . .

Dear girls,
guys can't read minds and chances are, they're just as confused as you are. They're still trying to figure out who they are. Let them. Figure out the kind of girl God expects you to be. BeYOUtiful.

Everything is better in His time. Otherwise it's like knowing what you're getting for Christmas!

"Therefore encourage one another and build each other up." -1 Thessalonians 5:11

<3 Katie

The Lyrics of Life

2011-10-21T19:59:00.002-05:00

Here is my lovely sister's blog! She is promoting No Makeup November!

http://kellyoostman.blogspot.com/

<3 Katie

Letting Life Happen

2011-10-19T16:19:00.008-05:00

Hi there. How's life?

I wish I could ask you that question. I can't even begin to describe to you how often I ache to hear about your life, your dreams, your struggles. To know your beautiful heart like God does, to have that connection with you. To be that close of a friend. Yet it would take me my entire life to list the reasons why I am perfectly incapable of doing that. So I'll just say this: I'm human. I was meant to be more but am instead less. And I'm sorry that I can never comfort you fully or uplift you to your fantastic potential or have that deep conversation with you because my mind will automatically wander to my 'to do' list. Or calculate how I may be a better person than you based on the woes you are telling me. I hate it. I wish I could fix it.

But that's why we've got Jesus.

I'm not a huge fan of 'about me' posts because I feel like they're so self focused. But at the same time I made a blog with my name on it. I might as well back that up. So if you're interested, here's some stuff that's been going on in the adventures of moi.

School is going fantastically. It's challenging but never too much so. Right now, I'm struggling with the frustrations of my required classes because they don't directly pertain to my major. I'd much rather start with making a movie/writing a book. I guess we'll build to that. I'm also dealing with releasing the inner perfectionist. I've come to realize that the rest of my life will not be defined by one paper that I go an 88% instead of a 99%. Obviously, I need to do my best, but I also can't hole away in my dorm room to work on a paper that is graded and then never seen again. That has been a toughy.

Oh! The Media Communications department is doing a film for our film festival in the spring. And I am in charge of costumes. Yep. This means treasure hunting in vintage shops, coordinating with hair and makeup etc. I love fashion too so it's sort of perfect. That challenge? The film is set in the 1930's--depression era. And we start filming next weekend. Oh boy.

My friends are beyond wonderful. I am so blessed. Even if I have a flicker of sadness about me, they pick up on it and call me out, asking what is up or how they can help. They are so encouraging and just tight. We've sort of developed a reputation on campus as always being together and adopting whoever wants to come and join us. It's been my family here and I am so thankful for them.

My prayers have returned to 'take it away completely if this is not what you have for me' (which means I have to be okay without it) and 'give me strength, give me wisdom'. I know, I've used them before but for me, they are exactly what I need to be reminded of--nothing comes about by my control or my ability. This is all God. Not me. Applying that has been the challenge. It can get frustrating because it seems like I have to keep reminding myself of that, sometimes on a minute by minute basis. But with Him, all things are possible.

"I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." -Philippians 3:14

Tonight I went out and just took pictures, sort of just being still and quiet. Exploring the work of God's hands.

No Makeup November

2011-10-16T08:02:00.003-05:00

The other day, I was talking to one of my guy friends and asked him if he was doing No Shave November-an event where guys near and far let their faces get scratchy and prickly and release their inner lumber jack for a month. He said he might. And then after a moment's thought, he exclaimed, "You should do it too!" Hm.

How about not.

BUT there is good news! There is a way for us girls to get involved in the November month fun. No Makeup November. Now, don't be afraid. I was a little when I first heard about this, but now I am getting really excited.

For a month, you don't wear any makeup. Unless you're like me and have skin that likes to impersonate a fire engine's sirens at times-we'll all forgive a little concealer. But the overall goal is to rock that beautiful face of yours, al naturale. Because created it. Without makeup.

Makeup is a wonderful tool and even an art form. However, I use it as a crutch sometimes. I don't feel beautiful and therefore I put on makeup. That is not how it should be. Makeup should enhance what I have, not paste over it. It's like I don't think god did a good enough job creating, so I have to try to fix it. I feel like that's a bit ridiculous - me trying to fix God's masterpiece. Because that's what we are.

Makeup. Add and subtract as few letters and you get the word 'mask'. Let's, this November, use this physical act to remind ourselves to bare out hearts to one another. To love with all we have, without fear of the fall or the pain. God has the power to heal, to cleanse. I found this awesome verse in Job the other day. It says:

"For he wounds, but he also binds up;
he injures, but his hands also heal." - Job 5:18

So. No Makeup November. A chance to celebrate who God made you, enhance your confidence in that beYOUtiful person, and to love without hinderance. Without gloss. Just you. Pure and gorgeous.

To go with this campaign, which is a secular event, I found some verses. I've actually thought about doing an event like this and I am so excited to see that someone made one and it is getting this big. What an opportunity to show people how gorgeous they are because God made them that way?

Proverbs 31 is great evidence of the beauty in us:

". . . She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue . . .
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
Honor her for all that her hands have done,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

We are beYOUtiful in Him.

<3 Katie

P.S. I am making an exception for Thanksgiving but have a feeling my makeup then will consist of mascara and that's it. I've done things like this before and, believe it or not, you start to see yourself as more beautiful without makeup. Try it. You can do it. Give up your mask. Christ wants to look on your unblemished face meaning He wants to see all the zits. He's coughing on the powder you're frantically applying.

Am I not enough?

2011-09-29T09:43:00.003-05:00

"All of You is more than enough for all of me." -Enough by Chris Tomlin

Last week at Bible Study, a friend of mine brought up a point that sort of blew my mind.

She told me that I'm already married. Signed, sealed, vowed. And for a moment there, I thought she had lost it, but as she began to explain, it all fit together.

I am married. Not engaged. The most perfect being in the world has chosen me to be his bride. He doesn't look down on me for my imperfections or hold them against me. We are one. He lives in me. Together, we hope to create a change, to make fruit. And as strange, weird, uncomfortable as it is to think about it that way--it makes a whole lot of sense. It puts things in perspective.

Because I am not being faithful. I don't dedicate nearly enough time to God. And on top of that, The Bible says that He is a jealous God. We are created in His image. That means He feels things too. When I'm blowing Him off to watch a 'chick flick' that leaves me gushing about my someday-prince-charming, I bet He feels that. And I can hear Him whispering: Am I not enough?

In all His perfection, holiness, beauty, wonder . . . I act like He isn't.

And the fact is, we shouldn't even be together. I had a debt that meant our marriage should not take place. He had to cross extreme cultural, social, logical canyons to get to me. And when He did, He didn't let go. In fact, He gave up His life in my place. Even though He knew that I am not good enough for Him and that I would reject and run from Him again and again and again.

Yet here He is, waiting for me. Again.

'I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine . . . ' - Song of Songs 6:3

I know I've posted this song before but it's so perfect.

And this one convicts me every time.

<3 Katie

I am.

2011-09-27T09:42:00.000-05:00

I am breathless,
I am free,
I am beautiful,
I am me.

<3 Katie

Breath in Worship

2011-09-27T09:19:00.002-05:00

Well I am about a third through my first semester here at Asbury. Goodness, it's flying! I am adoring every minute. Even the struggles are affirmation that this is exactly where I needed to be. And even if I'm not doing what I'm used to doing, or what I thought I would be doing, I feel like God has His hands on my shoulders and is steering me.

And for once, I'm not like the little kid who flinches when her dad puts the death grip on her. I'm relaxed, confident, me. And amidst the insanity that is college, there is beauty and peace because of that.

A few weeks ago, we went to Highbridge (a high bridge over a lake that has train tracks over it) and I climbed out on that thing and looked around, taking in the view. And I wondered what it would be like if a train went by all of a sudden. I would cling to the nearest beam, forget the view, and plaster myself to a rusty metal structure, vibrating with the disruption. The minutes with the train there would seem like hours. But in those few seconds, I would forget completely about the beauty I had seen before. I would ignore everything else but self-preservation. And I realized that I don't want to live like that. I was to have the courage to jump of the ledge, out of my dependency for a manmade structure and its shaking structure, and I want to have the faith to know that God's arms are waiting for me below.

So I'm trying to take photos. I'm trying to take meaningful ones. Ones that capture the beauty of creation and how that mingles with the world's ugly. And how in that relationship there is hope. Because I believe that everything we do should have significance. And that our every breath should be in worship.

I'm not there yet. I don't know if I ever will be. But the desire to be keeps me inspired and praying for impact. All I can do is follow the path.

<3 Katie

Innocent Insight

2011-09-26T15:06:00.002-05:00

"The sky has the earth in its arms." - Marly, 3rd grade.

Little Big Things

2011-09-23T15:07:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, you fall on your face, and that's where you see God's most beautiful intricacies. He is gorgeous and so is His art.

"You have searched me, LORD,
and you know me. " -Psalm 139:1

<3 Katie

Honest Pain

2011-09-20T14:32:00.003-05:00

A friend of mine reposted this and it so eloquently described what happens to me sometimes. Not just in writing, in life. I thought I'd share.

http://wordservewatercooler.com/2011/09/19/the-honest-stain-of-truth/

<3 Katie

Terrifying Love

2011-09-15T08:35:00.005-05:00

I've been fighting with God on something. And it's not your typical screaming fight. It's Him trying to coax me into something. But that something makes me start shaking uncontrollably. It makes me want to run as far and as fast as I can. What is it keeping me from fleeing? Every time I imagine rejecting what God is pointing me towards, I heard that whisper. "I know Katie, but I loved you."

What am I so terrified of?

Love.

That dangerous four letter word. So flimsy, so overused, so manipulated it is almost impossible to tell what it is anymore. Culture has molested the concept of love into a means of self service. Almost every time I ask someone why they are doing any thing, they give a reason that somehow flows back to them. We're selfish. I'm selfish.

And on top of that, we're negative. For an english assignment, we had to take a problem (mine was something along the lines of low self esteem, depression, anorexia) and give a solution without any mention of the problem and no negative language. What I created was a shallow, seemingly fake piece that was so hard to write because I couldn't rely on the drama of sin. I'm negative.

Particularly over the summer, I spent a lot of time on my own--reading, writing, etc. And now at college I am literally drowning in friendships. Which is not a bad thing in the least. I just have developed this partiality to independence and what has ensued is a wall. A high one. Part of it may be observation, another may be that I write about people and have to get into their heads. I know that betrayal comes in every story at some point or another. So I make myself prepared for that. I am constantly okay by myself. Ever on guard. I am independent.

My independence is, for once, negative and my seclusion from relationships is selfish. Because God has called me to care, to love. But there is truth in love. Truths about me that I would rather remain unseen. There's truths about other people that I'd like to use to make myself feel better about myself.

And some how, those relationships feel like I'm dragging an anchor behind me. and I get tired, disorientated, slow until i lose sight of where I'm going, why I'm gong there, and why I'm taking that other person with me. And then I run.

Because it scares me to not have a place to head towards. And I've gotten my independence so sculpted that you could run to the end of the earth and never catch me. And I've gotten it to a point where I thought no one would be willing to try. Shallow friendships. I wander in and out of them. That's all I wanted.

God had something different in mind. The people at Asbury had something different in mind. Accountability, communication, sincerity . . . reciprocal care that refuses to be left alone. I turn around and someone is hugging me.

I won't lie, it feels amazing. And it's flattering when people want to spend time with you.

But in my mind there is a stop watch running. I'm waiting for them to realize the race to Katie's heart is too long, too hard. I'm waiting for them to give up.

I'm hoping they give up.

But what if they don't? Jesus didn't. That was the scariest moment of my life when He knocked on my heart's door. No one had ever reached it before.

Over the years, I've stacked up some pebbles, rebuilt my wall, made the way as deterring as possible. And yet here these people come, asking for me to open up, to hand out pieces of me like free cookies.

I'm not sure I can . . .

"30 Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' 31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”-Mark 12:30-31

"I know Katie, but I loved you."

<3 Katie

Is my wall preventing me loving too? Or just accepting it?

Open the Doors

2011-09-13T16:35:00.003-05:00

Sometimes you have those moment where an image just sort of bursts out of you. Yesterday I had on of those. This is what came of it . . .

I can feel your fingers feeling for my heart
They brush the surface of the wall
It shudders, the gates creaking in their chains
They’ve been locked shut so long, I’m not sure they can open anymore.
Do you have the key?
Or will you be the kind with a pick, scaring me with your attempts to get in?
You look so sincere, knocking on my door.
But I’ve seen this before. I opened an inch and they pushed through and stole all I have.
And I’m left alone in an empty castle.
I back away from the gate, trying to block out you saying my name.
Finally you reach into your pocket and pull out something small and silver.
And for the first time, a candle is lit in that dark place that the drafts can’t blow out.

<3 Katie

Fig Leaves

2011-09-12T16:23:00.002-05:00

So in chapel a few days ago, a guy was talking about Genesis 3. I suspect you know the story. If you don't, please go read it.

He said a few things that really caught my attention. Especially since my classes seem to be relating back to Eden and the beauty that was there and the relationship between humans and God. And how we've been trying to get back to that relationship ever since. But part of us still thinks we can know and understand things on our own.

The speaker talked about how Adam and Eve realized they were naked. And that doesn't just mean without clothes, their hearts, souls, and minds were completely unguarded and open and innocent. They were unprotected. From God. And then when He comes to the Garden, they hear the sounds of Him walking and think His footsteps might crush them. So they hide. They hide their hearts from God and make fig leaves to cover their bodies.

That made me wonder. What fig leaves do I have? I can't imagine fig leaves would stick all that well. And mine don't. I try to cover up a flaw and protect myself with a flimsy leaf. And every time it falls off, I drop what I'm doing and put it back on. I put so many on sometimes, I'm like a green Big Bird made of leaves. One big gust of wind and I'll be naked again.

So what can protect me? What should protect me? How can I carry out God's work if my hands are filled with leaves?

"He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart." -Psalm 91:4

That's how. We don't need leaves because He has feathers that are warm and strong, resistant to the weather, that can ride out any wind. Not only will we have refuge but His faithfulness will give us a shield, something to fight with. He is going show up for us. He won't leave us alone and exposed.

That is beautiful. i don't know about you, but I'd rather have that than a few limp fig leaves.

<3 Katie

Rain In Me

2011-09-08T06:19:00.004-05:00

Life is like a storm. I know that may be the most cliche analogy ever, but it's also true. It can get out of control and scary, or be beautiful and refreshing. Sometimes, the danger is so overwhelming we would rather just hide in the basement all the time in case those flash floods show up out of no where.

And I've been thinking about how I love the world after a rain storm. It's fresh. It's been washed clean. Everything smells natural and the colors are so much brighter. But we have to put up with the thunder, wind, lightening, and destruction to experience that. We build our flimsy houses and try to hide in them. Sometimes God has to tear that down.

And that hurts.

Today I read this quote. It's so beautiful and so often me.

"I’m dying of thirst beside the fountain..." -François Villon

There are even arms offering to carry me into the water. But I push them away. I'd rather hold onto my own firm ground.

Rain is a gift. Sometimes it comes with destruction and ground-shaking booms, and we'd rather cower in a corner. Bt I want to run. I want to run in that rain and until I'm soaking and clean. I want to dance in it and smile and laugh. I want to drink from the fountain and never be thirsty.

Because I don't have to be afraid of the storms anymore.

<3 Katie

Adele - Rolling in the Deep (Piano/Cello Instrumental Cover) Steven Shar...

2011-09-07T06:33:00.000-05:00

This is so gorgeous.

<3 Katie

Everything else is a bullet point . .

2011-09-02T20:08:00.002-05:00

Something really challenged and fascinated me today in chapel. So there was this disciple named Peter. He was so enthusiastic about following Jesus. But he didn't quite understand love. Today, it might be the equivalent of following a favorite song. It's meaningful and connects people but . . . after a month it's forgotten.

When Jesus predicts his death, Peter (ready to prove himself as the most dedicated fan) declares that he will die in place of Jesus.

A few chapters later, as Jesus is on trial, this happens . . .
John 18-
15 Simon Peter and another disciple were following Jesus. Because this disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the high priest’s courtyard, 16 but Peter had to wait outside at the door. The other disciple, who was known to the high priest, came back, spoke to the servant girl on duty there and brought Peter in.
17 “You aren’t one of this man’s disciples too, are you?” she asked Peter.

He replied, “I am not.”

18 It was cold, and the servants and officials stood around a fire they had made to keep warm. Peter also was standing with them, warming himself.

And then again.

25 Meanwhile, Simon Peter was still standing there warming himself. So they asked him, “You aren’t one of his disciples too, are you?”
He denied it, saying, “I am not.”

26 One of the high priest’s servants, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, challenged him, “Didn’t I see you with him in the garden?” 27 Again Peter denied it, and at that moment a rooster began to crow.

But what amazed me was the symmetry of the Bible. Because when Jesus rises, Peter doesn't have a direct conversation that we know about until this . . .

John 21-
15 When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?”
“Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.”

16 Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”

He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.”

17 The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”

Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Feed my sheep."

Imagine how painful that was for Peter. He KNOWS what he did. He knows that Jesus knows. Jesus asks him three times--as many times as Peter denied him. To me, that says that Jesus is forgiving but he is also insistent. He is not going to accept less than all of us because he gave all of himself.

Like Peter, I've denied God. Maybe not outwardly, but I've denied him pieces of myself. And when he's asked me if I love him, I've answered yes. But I haven't always fed his sheep.

My point is that God doesn't want fans. He wants coheirs.

Romans 8:17-
Now if we are children, then we are heirs--heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.

That means that we are to strive to be made of the same material and quality of Christ himself. That is the standard. We are to feed the sheep. Not with old, moldy hay, but with lush grass. We are to fight off the wolves no matter the cost. No matter the scars we must take to protect them. Because we have been forgiven.

Let's not sin, and then like Adam and Ever, or like Peter, and hide from God until he confronts us. Let's give it to him. He knows we can't fill the shoes set before us by our big brother (remember the parable of the prodigal sons? Guess who the ideal older brother would be). Let's stand up and get back to work. Let's get back up again. Let's feed those sheep.

Adapt and overcome. Never give up. Don't surrender.

This is our calling. Everything else is just a bullet point underneath.

<3 Katie

Writing for College

2011-09-01T20:05:00.002-05:00

The other day I realized why essays and I don't get along. They are like talking to a baby. Completely straight forward. Beyond bland. And in my experience . . . dull. Usually, by the end of a paper's first paragraph, I've checked out. There's no challenge. They're feeding me the information. There's no character to love. There's just the concept. And though sometimes it relates to me, I'm so walled off by the un-intriguing format, there is no conceivable way I can consider applying it.

Okay. Maybe that's a tad harsh. I'm sorry essays everywhere.

(But not really.)

So far in college, I have been writing, but they've been responses (which are okay because I get to say what I think about something--imagine that! I like talking about what I think) and essays (I think I've made my sentiments known). I know, I know. Freshman. First Semester. Creative Writing major, your courses are coming--next semester or next year.

I have been so beautifully busy and social and all those wonderful collegiate things that I haven't had time to really work on anything outside of that. Meaning that all of my story ideas have been buried in a heap of textbooks. And to be honest, it's a bit depressing. So. I've resolved to save myself (and essays from my wrath) and write a little bit a day. Even if it's just a story idea in a notebook. I have a few I want to run with and work on. On one, I have two more chapters to finish (my summer project Stomach, Meet Butterflies).

Hopefully, I'll stick to this resolve. Otherwise, I may en up with an essay that gets murdered by my creativity. And I think that would get a poor grade.

Today I stood on the back of a moving horse for vaulting. On Labor Day I'm going white water rafting. I went to this awesome Bible Study called the LIGHT and now have a small group that feels like a family. And I'm wearing a dress all day tomorrow because of a speech I have to do for Media Communications class. The speech is based on Aragorn's Poem by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Yes, I am such a nerd.

Again, I'm so sorry on the lack of profound thought. Hopefully once I let some of these imaginings out, the deeper thinkings will surface. :)

<3 Katie

All My Fountains

2011-08-31T19:47:00.000-05:00

This song makes me day better every time. It's message, it's beat, who it's glorifying. Love it!

<3 Katie

Surrendering Dreams

2011-08-31T15:44:00.002-05:00

I've talked a lot about dreams over my blog posts. And I seem to always wrestle with surrender. More than usual it seems because my future is so close right now. The difference between failure and success so stark. Today in chapel a guest speaker came and really challenged me.

I'll admit, he was the first speaker I've given all of my attention too. Partly that was because of his awesome sense of humor. And partly because he was speaking a truth that I needed to hear. And it pricked something in me.

Please listen.

http://www.asbury.edu/podcasts/14256

<3 Katie

Creation

2011-08-29T16:39:00.001-05:00

Lost Intimacy

2011-08-29T16:04:00.003-05:00

College is good.

I love playing volleyball, even though I'm not very good.
Being a picky eater is to my advantage. I'm eating way more greens.
All the walking and stairs has added leg muscles.
Waking up early and listening to different, brilliant professors is stimulating my brain.
I've made some pretty cool friends.
Who I am is different than who I thought I was.

But . . .

But starting this second week, I just felt numb. And I couldn't figure out why. I left lunch early and just sat outside. And then after a while I just went up and sat in the hallway outside my next class. A professor, who normally shouldn't be in that building walked past me. He knows me because we have a mutual love for England, reading, and thinking. I met with him when I visited and set him some of my writing. He's sort of a mentor figure for me.

He stopped and asked me what was wrong. At that point, I wasn't sure. So I told him stress and being homesick. He made me promise that if I needed to, I would come see him to talk it out. I promised.

And as he walked away, I could feel the tears coming. Because that was the most caring thing I had heard in a week.

The hardest part about college isn't the homework. It isn't dorm life. It's the lack of intimacy. Right now I have friends. But I don't have people who have known me all of my life. Who I can look at and they know what I'm thinking. I can't just give someone a hug. Well, I could, but it wouldn't be the same. Our conversations are shallow and careful. And it hurts.

My prayers have been crying out to Jesus to fill this void of intimacy because here right now I don't have that background with these people. Yes, the potential for it is here, but it will take time and nurturing. And what I realized today is that need to be loved stems from a need for God. Because nothing on else will fill, no, overflow, that hole.

"...for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God..." Romans 3:23

And sometimes, that hurts to. Because of sin, I can't run up to God and hug Him. But I've been reading Deuteronomy and all the terrible things that would happen if the Israelites disobeyed God. Because there wasn't redemption yet. I'm so thankful that I'm allowed to have this small corner of intimacy until the world can be restored and we can walk with God in the garden like it was meant to be.

<3 Katie

Someone Worth Dying For

2011-08-26T16:12:00.000-05:00

Some of my life questions put to music.

<3 Katie

Vaulting

2011-08-26T06:27:00.004-05:00

Many of you may never have heard of a sport called vaulting. That's because it isn't all that common. Why? It's HARD. How do I know? Yesterday, I learned some of the basic moves of vaulting. (But not what you saw in the picture! I'm not even close to that yet!)

Vaulting is a lot like gymnastics on horseback. The horse walks or canters while the athletes performs tricks. They have individual and teams. They also have routines of the required moves (that in competition every team does the same) and then freestyle (your own moves set to music). It's a lot like yoga. With horses!

At the equine center on campus where I go for horseback riding lessons (my PE class) there is something called Free Vault after. Where anyone on campus can come and learn to vault. Asbury is the only school with a team in the US and the only team in Kentucky. We did stretches, learned to be given a leg up, learned how to sit, how to lay back without moving out legs, how to get up on our knees, how to hold out arms and chins and posture, how to go on one knee and stick out one leg straight out (Flag), how to make a bridge with out stomachs up and stick out one leg at a time (candle), how to do around the world (turning in a full circle on the horse, and even to jump off the back of a horse. It was exhilarating and so much fun.

When I was little, I wanted to by a gymnast. Then I grew to be 5' 10". For vaulting, there isn't really height restrictions. Sure, there is a limit on things you can do and some moves will be harder, but it isn't bad. And it's so challenging.

They have two openings on their show team. I haven't been on an athletic team since Polo freshman year. And that wasn't official, it was just fun. But I want to make it my goal to get good enough to be on the show team. Even if not this year.

I'm headed of to classes. Praying for those in the path of hurricane Irene and our troops. And you.

<3 Katie

Maddi Jane - Secrets Cover

2011-08-25T12:24:00.000-05:00

An old friend of mine. So much talent. Love her!

<3 Katie

College.

2011-08-25T09:51:00.002-05:00

I'm here! I made it! One more day of classes and then the weekend!

This post . . . I wish I could give you a look inside what God is shaping inside of me just in the short time of being here but at this point I'm still settling and still learning. So I'll just give you a low down of what has happened so far and sort of how I feel about it.

One week ago was move in day. I lofted my bed (an now hit my head on the ceiling everyday and the top of my bed when I go to my desk underneath it-the woes of a tall person), dragged in the totes (with the help of our brother hall), unpacked, bought sustenance (aka food), and tried to fall asleep. The next three days we had orientation. We were drowned in information about all the things this small little school has to offer. But throughout all that info dump, one thing was made clear: they were so excited to have us. I have had so many questions--things I've forgotten from orientation or some that weren't even covered (like how to make stir fry) and you simply find the nearest person and ask. They just want to help. It's amazing.

Yesterday I was frantic. Our writing teacher assigned us homework to talk to a professor from our major. We had to ask them questions and it is due Friday. Well, trying to navigate my classes and the professor's classes and homework would have been a nightmare. I had just been assigned my Media Communications Advisor but hadn't had a chance to meet him. Right after class, I hoofed in to the Media Com building and found his office. He was there and free. Praise the Lord! He didn't mind answering my questions and told me about how we would go about planning my future.

Any way, no matter where I go, I see someone I know already. A senior and juniors invited me to eat with them last night. I signed up for an outdoors activities club, a white water rafting trip for labor day (since I can't go home), spring break mission trips, and the vaulting team (aka gymnastics on horseback). I'm trying all sorts of new things, responsible for getting things done and planned on my own and I am LOVING it.

But I'm stressed. It just s this constant tightness. I have two ways I have learned to expel that. Because although some stress in positive, you need to clear it out every once in a while otherwise it can be detrimental to your mind and immune system. So, I read the Word every morning and I workout almost everyday, even for just half an hour. They're my spiritual, mental, and physical stretch. It feels so good. And I am accomplished after finishing them.

I've already had homework, taken note, written a paper, done a grammar sheet, read thirty-something pages of heavy themed book, and more. But even though I don't have a ton of free time to do my own thing, I love this. I'm being challenged.

What's even better is the professors and their classes. Each time I go into class, they talk about something I've wondered about, or researched, or been interested in. And they bring something new to it and help me see it more clearly. It's so encouraging to know that what I am thinking is on the right track.

I'm sorry this is not more detailed of insightful. Right now I'm just trying to tread water.

This Saturday I have an audition for the role of a hostess in a video explaining their audio production emphasis. I really an excited for the experience. Please pray that I am able t do my best, have fun, and just be confident and at peace.

In chapel, on Sunday (the day before classes started) they played a song I had never heard before. The second I go back to my dorm, I bought it on itunes. It is so beautiful and fully captured everything I was/am feeling.

What's ironic is the artist's last name is 'Asbury'.

I love you but no where near as much as Jesus does.

<3 Katie

Look and Love

2011-08-12T09:17:00.003-05:00

"Jesus looked at him and loved him."-Mark 10:21

Please read that whole story, it's so wonderful. I just want to cover something else right now.

Eyes.

They're the window through the soul.

In my mind, other than color, personality, laughter, and love, it is the most beautiful piece of creation. They can do so much. And yet they are never the name. At the same time, sight can be a curse. Some see more evil than enough for a hundred lifetimes. I think there is a verse in the Bible somewhere that talks about Jesus healing a blind man and He says that it would be better to stay blind. Because of the world and all of it's distractions and corruptions.

Wild, right? It would be better to be blind?

And at the same time, I love that verse, Mark 10:21. Jesus just looks at the guy and loves him. Not 'falls in love'. He just loves the man for his heart, his faith, his soul. He just LOOKS at him!

And it made me wonder, why don't we look at people and love them. Not for their exterior. But for their potential. Their laughter, their unique personality. The special way they see the world. And with all those differences, what keeps us together is looking. Look for Jesus. Even when we don't realize we are.

A while ago, I wrote this as my facebook status:

I think eyes are beautiful and that more people should make eye contact because they're the windows to the soul. Feet aren't nearly as pretty. So don't stare at mine when you're talking to me.

I was so sick of people looking down. Why? Because they don't think they're worth enough? Because they're late and can't give me the time? They're self-concious? That connection between eye contact is so amazing because you can feel the person listening. The background, the baggage, seems to fade away. Sometimes, the deepest conversations come through eye contact. Because you are reading the person.

But with somethings, to get them out, you can't look at someone else. Because you have to look inside to force it out. It's like a secret language. All in our eyes. You can tell how someone feels, what they're thinking, etc. And maybe that's why people in our culture avoid eye contact. Because if they look in someone's eyes and see a need, it'll cost them something. And they're not willing to stop.

Let's change that. Let's look at people and love them from afar. And let's not stare at our feet. I'm convinced God was laughing when he made them. Because I've yet to see beautiful feet!

<3 Katie