or is it "me"? Sadly, I'm a grammar nut and I still have to look up that rule.
I wanted to share with you all part of a prayer that really pried me off center. It's from a book of prayers by Ted Loder called Guerrillas of Grace. There isn't a prayer contained in that book that does not move my soul to tears, to action, to grace.
Pry Me Off Dead Center
O persistent God,
deliver me from assuming your mercy is gentle.
Pressure me that I may grow more human,
not through the lessening of my struggles,
but through an expansion of them
that will undamn me
and unbury my gifts.
Deepen my hurt
until I learn to share it
and myself
openly,
and my needs honestly.
Sharpen my fears
until I name them
and release the power I have locked in them.
Accentuate my confusion
until I shed those grandiose expectations
that divert me from the small, glad gifts
of the now and the here and the me....
...
O persistent God,
let how much it all matters
pry me off dead center
so if I am moved inside
to tears
or sighs
or screams
or smiles
or dreams,
they will be real
and I will be in touch with who I am
and who you are...
The Lord has most assuredly pried me off dead center in these past few months. But I would be at fault beyond words if I didn't tell you how beautiful it is to be moved. A good friend asked the other day how I was doing. I answered honestly that some days I woke up, threw a fit, and wanted everything back the way it was. But those days are getting further and further apart from each other.
I told her most days, I wake up and hear the Lord say "kid, dance with me".
JJ Heller sings about the wonder of invisible love. And it is a powerfully weird thing at times. But real nonetheless. The days when I lay aside my longing and pick up the hands of God, those days are good.
Part of Loder's prayer gets my heart each time. By the expansion of my struggles, I pray to unbury my gifts. Unbury them, He has!
I'll be away for the next week-ish getting to do what I love: wrangling the press and covering amazing stories. This one tells itself. 25 friends, teachers, students, people pried off their centers, are biking from TN to Austin, Texas. It will take 6 days and 1200 miles, but they will do it in honor of Catie. Along with having a cell phone glued to my ear in attempts to get media coverage, I'll be blogging the personal part of this ride. Feel free to follow along at vivacatie.blogspot.com
Be warned! The Lord just might pry you off center too!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Gypsy Weekends
Several years ago, my very best friend and I started traveling to places we had never been to do things we had never done. For a few days every couple of months we became Gypsies. We danced, we sang, we laughed, oh gracious to Heaven do we laugh!
The rules of Gypsy weekends are quite simple: one person plans and the other person follows.
That's it.
The other person gets to know where they are going, but nothing more than a packing list shall be known to them. And let me tell you, sometimes those packing lists cause more fear than faith. But in all my Gypsy travels, I've never once been hurt. Well aside from that one time I sort of almost fell off a cliff-like structure and a little bit hurt my knee and hip. But I chalk that up to user error and not faulty planning.
Gypsy weekends have migrated into other relationships along the years, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. I've found the real key to these days where amazing memories are created is to be open, completely open to whatever is coming next.
This weekend is the first Gypsy weekend my friend and I have had in almost a year. As I was packing for this trip (and trying to find electrical tape as it was on the list), I could feel the Lord speaking into my heart. Despite my attempts to explain to Him that Gypsy weekends were not learning experiences, that I was done growing for the next 5 days, and that I wanted to finish finding everything on my packing list (including finding my fairy wings) and get excited about the things I didn't know were about to happen!
Let me get this straight. You are excited to race into the unknown with only a packing list and a destination, but you keep begging me to reveal the next step? That's not very Gypsy-like of you.
Huh. It seems the Lord just threw the Gypsy Gauntlet and He was right.
Then and there while looking for rubber ducks that would float upright, I was convicted. He has given me a packing list: avail myself of the Sacraments, spend time in His word, before His presence, and with Him, and walk in His passion. And He's given me a destination: Heaven.
The rest is just the journey.
Just as a true Gypsy would have it.
The rules of Gypsy weekends are quite simple: one person plans and the other person follows.
That's it.
The other person gets to know where they are going, but nothing more than a packing list shall be known to them. And let me tell you, sometimes those packing lists cause more fear than faith. But in all my Gypsy travels, I've never once been hurt. Well aside from that one time I sort of almost fell off a cliff-like structure and a little bit hurt my knee and hip. But I chalk that up to user error and not faulty planning.
Gypsy weekends have migrated into other relationships along the years, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. I've found the real key to these days where amazing memories are created is to be open, completely open to whatever is coming next.
This weekend is the first Gypsy weekend my friend and I have had in almost a year. As I was packing for this trip (and trying to find electrical tape as it was on the list), I could feel the Lord speaking into my heart. Despite my attempts to explain to Him that Gypsy weekends were not learning experiences, that I was done growing for the next 5 days, and that I wanted to finish finding everything on my packing list (including finding my fairy wings) and get excited about the things I didn't know were about to happen!
Let me get this straight. You are excited to race into the unknown with only a packing list and a destination, but you keep begging me to reveal the next step? That's not very Gypsy-like of you.
Huh. It seems the Lord just threw the Gypsy Gauntlet and He was right.
Then and there while looking for rubber ducks that would float upright, I was convicted. He has given me a packing list: avail myself of the Sacraments, spend time in His word, before His presence, and with Him, and walk in His passion. And He's given me a destination: Heaven.
The rest is just the journey.
Just as a true Gypsy would have it.
Monday, May 11, 2009
STS-125
The shuttle went up today. To be more accurate, Shuttle Transport System-125 Atlantis slipped the bonds of earth.
I am quite possibly the biggest NASA nut out there. Well, to be sure, the biggest NASA-nut republican out there. I happen to believe that money should come straight out of my paycheck, circumvent Congress, and go right smack into NASA's budget. I think it's a great idea. On on a side note, don't talk to me about privatizing NASA. The discoveries of science belong to us all, not to Boeing. I digress.
The shuttle went up today. And I couldn't bring myself to care. And for the biggest NASA-nut republican out there, this is a problem. I've been off my game for the past 2 days and I couldn't figure out why. Then I remembered, the shuttle was going up today.
STS-125 is the mission to fix the Hubble telescope. It was supposed to launch last fall. I know this because we were supposed to watch it. The mission was scrubbed and my heart terribly saddened. For as long as I can remember, or as long as those Internets have been broadcasting launches, I have gathered my friends, co-workers, enemies, people I meet on the street together to make them watch the launch either online or on the NASA tv channel. Don't laugh, it really is a great channel. So to get to see a launch in person! Holy rocket boosters, Batman!!!
But STS-125 wasn't meant to be for us. Instead, he got us in to watch STS-126 Endeavor. It was amazing. We made a big trip of it. We toured Kennedy Space Center. We rode on this amazing ride thingy that simulated launch. We walked around the people and the projects that would make their way onto the International Space Station. We saw Atlantis being re-tiled. I touched her underbelly. I prayed beneath her cargo bay doors. We went to the launch pad after midnight to see Endeavor in all her glory, ready to fly. It was the most amazing 36 hours.
Launch morning started early with a surprise walk on the beach, beautiful prayers of thanksgiving for the Lord bringing us to "us", and a promise of coffee. The clouds were rolling in and I was almost certain the launch wouldn't happen. Have a little faith, he would remind me. All day I kept stealing his blackberry to check the forecast. If cloud cover got about 35%, the launch was a no-go. But we made it to Kennedy. We got to the Administrator's building and I had to remind myself to breath! We listened to Administrator Griffin give his briefing before the launch, we were introduced to some amazing past astronauts, and we walked to the Administrator's balcony to await lift-off.
I'm not always the most patient person. But standing on the balcony, eyes glued on the shuttle, his arm around me, I couldn't wait any longer! I am surprised I did not come out of my skin.
We watched it. A flawless lift-off under a full harvest moon. It pierced the sky. Literally pierced it. It was amazing. I got to hear launch control hand over the shuttle to mission control. I got to hear Administrator Griffin pronounce that the beans and cornbread were indeed "on", and I told I couldn't believe in the past year I got to mark two things off my "bucket list": be loved by an amazing man and watch a shuttle launch. I couldn't believe I got to do both at the same time!
Many of you come here expecting deep theology and sometimes you get something near my inadequate attempts at it. But today...today I don't have much. Because, you see, the shuttle launched today. Two shuttles have gone up since that perfect night in November, and I haven't been able to bring myself to care about either of them.
Right now, there are seven brave men and women headed to orbit. They will get to see some of the most amazing things. They will be a part of history. And because of their efforts, we will be able to see into the vast unknown.
The shuttle went up today. And for a NASA nut, I should be out of my skin. As they touch the face of God, I find myself wanting to be very far from the reality of my world: of never owning, completely, my NASA memories again, of not being able to display pictures from that weekend, or tell my children about how their dad and I hung out on a balcony with Neil Armstrong.
Not a whole lot today- just prayers for a successful mission, the safe return of these wonderful heroes, and for some guidance on getting out of this orbit.
God-speed 125, we'll see you on the flip-side.
I am quite possibly the biggest NASA nut out there. Well, to be sure, the biggest NASA-nut republican out there. I happen to believe that money should come straight out of my paycheck, circumvent Congress, and go right smack into NASA's budget. I think it's a great idea. On on a side note, don't talk to me about privatizing NASA. The discoveries of science belong to us all, not to Boeing. I digress.
The shuttle went up today. And I couldn't bring myself to care. And for the biggest NASA-nut republican out there, this is a problem. I've been off my game for the past 2 days and I couldn't figure out why. Then I remembered, the shuttle was going up today.
STS-125 is the mission to fix the Hubble telescope. It was supposed to launch last fall. I know this because we were supposed to watch it. The mission was scrubbed and my heart terribly saddened. For as long as I can remember, or as long as those Internets have been broadcasting launches, I have gathered my friends, co-workers, enemies, people I meet on the street together to make them watch the launch either online or on the NASA tv channel. Don't laugh, it really is a great channel. So to get to see a launch in person! Holy rocket boosters, Batman!!!
But STS-125 wasn't meant to be for us. Instead, he got us in to watch STS-126 Endeavor. It was amazing. We made a big trip of it. We toured Kennedy Space Center. We rode on this amazing ride thingy that simulated launch. We walked around the people and the projects that would make their way onto the International Space Station. We saw Atlantis being re-tiled. I touched her underbelly. I prayed beneath her cargo bay doors. We went to the launch pad after midnight to see Endeavor in all her glory, ready to fly. It was the most amazing 36 hours.
Launch morning started early with a surprise walk on the beach, beautiful prayers of thanksgiving for the Lord bringing us to "us", and a promise of coffee. The clouds were rolling in and I was almost certain the launch wouldn't happen. Have a little faith, he would remind me. All day I kept stealing his blackberry to check the forecast. If cloud cover got about 35%, the launch was a no-go. But we made it to Kennedy. We got to the Administrator's building and I had to remind myself to breath! We listened to Administrator Griffin give his briefing before the launch, we were introduced to some amazing past astronauts, and we walked to the Administrator's balcony to await lift-off.
I'm not always the most patient person. But standing on the balcony, eyes glued on the shuttle, his arm around me, I couldn't wait any longer! I am surprised I did not come out of my skin.
We watched it. A flawless lift-off under a full harvest moon. It pierced the sky. Literally pierced it. It was amazing. I got to hear launch control hand over the shuttle to mission control. I got to hear Administrator Griffin pronounce that the beans and cornbread were indeed "on", and I told I couldn't believe in the past year I got to mark two things off my "bucket list": be loved by an amazing man and watch a shuttle launch. I couldn't believe I got to do both at the same time!
Many of you come here expecting deep theology and sometimes you get something near my inadequate attempts at it. But today...today I don't have much. Because, you see, the shuttle launched today. Two shuttles have gone up since that perfect night in November, and I haven't been able to bring myself to care about either of them.
Right now, there are seven brave men and women headed to orbit. They will get to see some of the most amazing things. They will be a part of history. And because of their efforts, we will be able to see into the vast unknown.
The shuttle went up today. And for a NASA nut, I should be out of my skin. As they touch the face of God, I find myself wanting to be very far from the reality of my world: of never owning, completely, my NASA memories again, of not being able to display pictures from that weekend, or tell my children about how their dad and I hung out on a balcony with Neil Armstrong.
Not a whole lot today- just prayers for a successful mission, the safe return of these wonderful heroes, and for some guidance on getting out of this orbit.
God-speed 125, we'll see you on the flip-side.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
The Marks of a Good Chef
Next to my dad, he's the smartest person I know. Next to me, he's the funniest.
Well, so he's probably funnier than me, but we're funny in different ways. It's an apples and oranges kind of thing.
At least let me think that, okay?
He is my brother and he also happens to be an amazing chef.
And he has the scars to prove it. Burn marks from grease on his hands, no fingerprints from testing sauces while they still simmer, and palms that can hold fire. They aren't the credentials of a great chef. Nope, that proof is in the pudding, or the risotto.
But the scars do matter. To the rest of the world, they show my brother has been through the fire. They show his wisdom comes from places other than a book- it comes from his living.
They aren't his credentials but they are his credibility.
Lately, I have been drawn to the writings of C.S. Lewis. He knew what we all should carry in our hearts. This journey, this walk with God is a battle. This world is a battle. We are engaged in a great war. Victory is assured, yes, Easter Sunday provided that promise. But that does not mean the battles will not be bad, be bloody, be strong.
Friends, this journey is not for the faint of heart.
Scars abound. Some on the outside, many more on the soul. And yes, they will all be redeemed.
They are not our credentials, those are found on the cross.
And unlike our vocations, those scars aren't really our credibility.
Not really.
But they are the marks of one who has held fire.
They are the marks of something else. They are the marks of having been a part of the battles. Day in and day out. Actively fighting in this war.
The safest road to hell is the gradual one - the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts. - C.S. Lewis
Well, so he's probably funnier than me, but we're funny in different ways. It's an apples and oranges kind of thing.
At least let me think that, okay?
He is my brother and he also happens to be an amazing chef.
And he has the scars to prove it. Burn marks from grease on his hands, no fingerprints from testing sauces while they still simmer, and palms that can hold fire. They aren't the credentials of a great chef. Nope, that proof is in the pudding, or the risotto.
But the scars do matter. To the rest of the world, they show my brother has been through the fire. They show his wisdom comes from places other than a book- it comes from his living.
They aren't his credentials but they are his credibility.
Lately, I have been drawn to the writings of C.S. Lewis. He knew what we all should carry in our hearts. This journey, this walk with God is a battle. This world is a battle. We are engaged in a great war. Victory is assured, yes, Easter Sunday provided that promise. But that does not mean the battles will not be bad, be bloody, be strong.
Friends, this journey is not for the faint of heart.
Scars abound. Some on the outside, many more on the soul. And yes, they will all be redeemed.
They are not our credentials, those are found on the cross.
And unlike our vocations, those scars aren't really our credibility.
Not really.
But they are the marks of one who has held fire.
They are the marks of something else. They are the marks of having been a part of the battles. Day in and day out. Actively fighting in this war.
The safest road to hell is the gradual one - the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts. - C.S. Lewis
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Helping My Unbelief
When this journey began a few months ago, I remember sitting across from a beautiful friend and pouring my heart out. In the midst of those snotty tears, I told her I knew the other side of this was the Lord glorified and me made stronger in Him.
I told her that. That was my stock line. I repeated it to several people.
But I didn't believe it. I didn't think I would ever be one of those people.
The night this journey began, I remember laying in the hotel room floor crying out to the Lord, begging Him to be real to me.
But I didn't believe He would be.
I've spent the past 24 hours packing up my apartment. The dishes, the clothes, the books (oh good gracious all the books) were, I thought, going to be horrible reminders. On the 10 hour drive back to my apartment on Thursday, I asked the Lord to shield my heart from the boxes.
But I didn't see how He would.
Standing (well, sitting) here now, I can absolutely attest to Him making me stronger, being real to me, and shielding my heart. He has never been more to me than He is now. I cried out last night in thanks- I have never been more in love with my Savior.
As I crossed the last thing off my list from yesterday (pack Christmas stuff. That's right, my nativity AND Christmas wreath were still displayed in my apartment!), I stood in awe of the way the Lord has picked me up and taught me to dance with Him.
For the first time in my life, I feel inadequate to praise Him. If only I could paint beautiful masterpieces, or sing in such a way that turned ears and hearts toward Him, but I'm me- clumsy, inartistic, and not the best singer. So I continue to do what I know to do. I write into the unknown about the grace and love of the one who has laid a claim to my heart. Not good enough, I know, but it's all I have.
I remember praying to laugh again. These past few days, I've done nothing but laugh. The ways He is answering my prayers continue to draw me into Him. And I don't ever want to leave.
That, I believe.
I told her that. That was my stock line. I repeated it to several people.
But I didn't believe it. I didn't think I would ever be one of those people.
The night this journey began, I remember laying in the hotel room floor crying out to the Lord, begging Him to be real to me.
But I didn't believe He would be.
I've spent the past 24 hours packing up my apartment. The dishes, the clothes, the books (oh good gracious all the books) were, I thought, going to be horrible reminders. On the 10 hour drive back to my apartment on Thursday, I asked the Lord to shield my heart from the boxes.
But I didn't see how He would.
Standing (well, sitting) here now, I can absolutely attest to Him making me stronger, being real to me, and shielding my heart. He has never been more to me than He is now. I cried out last night in thanks- I have never been more in love with my Savior.
As I crossed the last thing off my list from yesterday (pack Christmas stuff. That's right, my nativity AND Christmas wreath were still displayed in my apartment!), I stood in awe of the way the Lord has picked me up and taught me to dance with Him.
For the first time in my life, I feel inadequate to praise Him. If only I could paint beautiful masterpieces, or sing in such a way that turned ears and hearts toward Him, but I'm me- clumsy, inartistic, and not the best singer. So I continue to do what I know to do. I write into the unknown about the grace and love of the one who has laid a claim to my heart. Not good enough, I know, but it's all I have.
I remember praying to laugh again. These past few days, I've done nothing but laugh. The ways He is answering my prayers continue to draw me into Him. And I don't ever want to leave.
That, I believe.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Stories
I'm 25. Sure I should be able to conquer Disney movies but I just can't.
I still fast-forward when Belle is being chased in the forest by scary things.
I still cry when Stitch and Lilo both find "family."
No matter where I am, I am still overcome with missing my Mom when Eleanor sings "My Mother" to the baby penguin.
What can I say, I'm a sucker for a good story. Even when the parts are scary, or sad, or make me cry, I love a good story. So knowing how the story will end, and after I've seen it once, I fast-forward through the parts I don't like.
I love good stories in life. Life imitating art. Beautiful.
I got lost today driving to a friend's school. There were only 2 roads (that I knew of) and I traveled down both. No dice. Either road. Long roads. Long Kentucky farm roads. People on trackers. Next time I'll actually write down the directions.
On mile 16 of what was to only be 7 miles, I found myself talking to the Lord, wanting Him to write the next chapter of my story the way I wanted it to be written.
Lord, it would bring you glory. Bringing these things to pass would cause people to praise you. Everyone would know it was You that orchestrated this good.
Wow, what a pompous attitude from one seeking to bring the Lord praise. It is in these moments I am thankful the Lord doesn't smite me. In my car. On long Kentucky roads where no one would find me.
It was almost instant. The knowledge in my brain of what my heart has known for so long. Want a good story? Want a story that is full of every possible twist, subplot, and brilliant ending? How about a God whose love is so strong, He ransomed your heart with His son's blood.
Getting lost down those flat and perfect Kentucky roads was one of the most amazing things to happen to me. It was there I realized what the Lord had been trying to make me understand for so long now: He is my only story.
He is my only story.
His love, His goodness, His mercy are my stories. Anything else is just a blessing for me. He doesn't need my praise. I need His blessings.
But He is my story.
Belle makes her way back to the castle and to the Beast who is now her Prince, Lilo and Stitch find the family they both seek, and the Chipmunks make it back to safety. Good stories.
Good stories that don't hold a candle to the story He has written.
My story.
I still fast-forward when Belle is being chased in the forest by scary things.
I still cry when Stitch and Lilo both find "family."
No matter where I am, I am still overcome with missing my Mom when Eleanor sings "My Mother" to the baby penguin.
What can I say, I'm a sucker for a good story. Even when the parts are scary, or sad, or make me cry, I love a good story. So knowing how the story will end, and after I've seen it once, I fast-forward through the parts I don't like.
I love good stories in life. Life imitating art. Beautiful.
I got lost today driving to a friend's school. There were only 2 roads (that I knew of) and I traveled down both. No dice. Either road. Long roads. Long Kentucky farm roads. People on trackers. Next time I'll actually write down the directions.
On mile 16 of what was to only be 7 miles, I found myself talking to the Lord, wanting Him to write the next chapter of my story the way I wanted it to be written.
Lord, it would bring you glory. Bringing these things to pass would cause people to praise you. Everyone would know it was You that orchestrated this good.
Wow, what a pompous attitude from one seeking to bring the Lord praise. It is in these moments I am thankful the Lord doesn't smite me. In my car. On long Kentucky roads where no one would find me.
It was almost instant. The knowledge in my brain of what my heart has known for so long. Want a good story? Want a story that is full of every possible twist, subplot, and brilliant ending? How about a God whose love is so strong, He ransomed your heart with His son's blood.
Getting lost down those flat and perfect Kentucky roads was one of the most amazing things to happen to me. It was there I realized what the Lord had been trying to make me understand for so long now: He is my only story.
He is my only story.
His love, His goodness, His mercy are my stories. Anything else is just a blessing for me. He doesn't need my praise. I need His blessings.
But He is my story.
Belle makes her way back to the castle and to the Beast who is now her Prince, Lilo and Stitch find the family they both seek, and the Chipmunks make it back to safety. Good stories.
Good stories that don't hold a candle to the story He has written.
My story.
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