Sparks of Illumination

Walk My Love

2011-11-05T09:51:00.002-06:00

Siuil, siuil, siuil a run

Siuil go sochair agus siuil go ciuin

Siuil go doras agus ealaigh lion

Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

Walk, my love

Run, my love

I have found your heart, my love

Hold now -

Among the reeds the tusks of pigs

I'm picking up pearls thrown

[At me I'm the dirty girl

Cleaning laundry hang me up to dry]

Selling my bejeweld soul

Selling my windswept mind

Selling myself to dirty tricks

dirty work dirty men and egrets

Walk, my love

Run, my love

I have found your heart, my love

Hold now -

In the muck where algae

Is crawling up my arms

My skirt eaten by frogs swallowed

I Am Bare

My skin crawls and would you stop looking at me

[They're all dirty boys and girls

That's why they laugh at my nakedness

I'm burning put out the fire boys]

They cry laugh turn their backs

My hands grasp a sword of bronze

Walk, my love

Run, my love

I have found your heart, my love

Hold now -

Cutting away my skin

I bleed

My skin falls off

I cut further

My muscle falls away

I cut further

My bones clatter down

I cut further

Just my heart now, my love

It still beats. I am still alive.

The battle is against me

And against the frogs

[I'm a dirty heart

But I am a little fighter

I promised my children I'd never]

Walk, my love

Run, my love

I have found your heart, my love

Hold now -

Can't you see I've done this killing

For love?

Dead frogs and boneless hearts

For love

Oh failure

Sweet transparency

What was I supposed to do?

Love all over our bodies

I think I've always loved you.

Wherever I'm with you.

Walk, my love

Run, my love

I have found your heart, my love

Hold now.

White Bird

2011-10-14T17:06:00.001-06:00

White Bird

Once upon a time, there was a little bird. All of white, she dressed herself in the morning and the songs of half-forgotten cemeteries, all crying out. She was a very young little bird, her downy feathers not quite finding flight. That didn’t stop her from believing that the sky could not contain her joy.

“I only know that when you play with Thelma, you always get the worst of it. That is why I say, be careful.” said Mother.

The little white bird flew along the lines of the trees. She crossed them like barbed wire and landed among the wild yellow lilies. Each one grasped at her with their feline paws and, among them, she knew she had a home. But the joy of the sky was still uncontainable, and something inside of her cried out that there had to be more than this. The lilies wiped their mouths with their sleeves and turned to devour another bite of her tail.

And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.
And from all across the world, Max smelled good things to eat, and so he gave up being king of where the wild things are. But the wild things cried, “Oh, please don’t go! We’ll eat you up! We love you so!”
But Max said, “No.” And he climbed aboard his private boat…

White birds
are
harder to
chew
than
wolves are

You are not a hen. You are not a kitten. You are not a cow. You are not a car, or a plane, or a Snort. You are a bird, and you are my mother.

The white bird couldn’t escape the gnawing grip of the tiger lilies. Her wings, now clipped by their maws, were tainted red by their bloodstained teeth. Her tail was caught among the green leaves. No one could see her any longer. But reality set in and the traps were broken. The sunrise gobbled up the night and she didn’t want to leave the warm embrace of the bloodied flowers…

Once upon a time, there was a princess –
“Was the princess you?
- and she fell in love –
“Was it hard to do?”
- it was very easy!
“Was he strong and handsome?
“Was he big and tall?”
There’s no one like him, anywhere at all…

iloveyou
crytheweeds
iloveyou
crythebluebonnets
iloveyou
criesthesun
iloveyou
crythetigerlilies

“I know who you are,” the man said, “for I made you. I built the tower and set it in motion. I planted the meadow, put fish in the ocean. I’ve seen you fall down in the mud and the goo. I’ve seen all you’ve done and all you will do. Here’s what you look like. Here’s how I see you. Put this in your pack and you’ll find it will free you from all of the pictures and all of the lies that others make up just to cut down your size.”

Suffocated by the words of the flowers and the desire of the skies, the white bird died…

And Max sailed back through a day, and in and out of weeks, and almost over a year to his very own room, where he found his supper waiting for him

And it was still hot.

Wings fly on.
Beating in her chest.
Maybe it’s her muscles straining to fly.
Maybe her heartbeat.
Only wild things love me,
She sings.
Until the sun
Eats her up
In his enthusiasm to see her
And the joy of the sky
Embraces a
White hand.

{Featuring selections from
A Bargain for Frances, by Russel Hoban
Where the Wild Things Are, by Maurice Sendak
Are You My Mother?, by P.D. Eastman
The Disney classic, Snow White
A Snoodle’s Tale, by Phil Vischer
Original piece, “White Bird” by Catey Yuen}

Two Poems on One Day (Two/ little bits and pieces)

2011-10-04T13:49:00.002-06:00

Two

Two planes passed each other in the night

Two silent blinking heartbeats

Two longing believingly hopeful lights

A pilot stops to find a star to eat

Two planes and no delight

Two fireflies passed each other, full of fright

They blink, they cover their mouths

The moon's fear is far too bright

They fall to the ground, careful not to arouse

Two fireflies would never find a might

Two yellow-spiced winds passed each other on the right

Briefly they intoxicate their own poisons

They vomit up their hearing and sight

They turn their blind eyes from wish and reason

Two yellow-spiced winds are always a fight

Two white birds passed each other in flight

Both too tired to want or demand

Their heartbeats and wings fill with breathful white

For just a moment, they hold hands

And two white birds are all quite

little bits and pieces

All of life was a map with a key

and it was torn up into

little bits and pieces

I objectify and fragment

I lust and I lose

My vision is a stained glass crackled mirror

Dropped by demons into my eyes

Who are you?

I see only long slender fingers

I hear only the squalling of your singing

I'm distressed by my love

of little bits and pieces

Whole
Half

None

I'll be the white capped head of hair

I'll blend into the green eyeliner

No one will find me

And no one will care

And we'll call the silence freedom

And we'll be free

little bits and pieces

of glass and seashells only cut my hands

but if I were invisible, I wouldn't have to worry

about the little bits and pieces

who like to follow me

I'm a mother duck, you see

And the whole of the earth is my duckling

I spit my bill on the ground

Because I'm disgusted

I peck my bony feet till they're

little bits and pieces

My eyelashes all fell out

And I lost my fingers

In the white lake

Beauty is lust

And vision is fr agmented

All is

little bits and pieces

drowning me

2011-09-06T10:03:00.002-06:00

Have you seen the little rainstorm?

I put it in a jar

Swirlingly, it whispers

It is full of seaweed, the raw winds of oceanic

Mindsets (when minds are full of pufferfishwhich eat their neighbors

and refuse to see the waves above their heads asanything but

symmetry and empty seashells)

Oh how the pickled skybirds do make me swing

My hands in deathly frustration

Why is the sky so big?

Why am I a jellyfish?

Did you not promise me I would be an angelic

Jellyfish are purposeless and hideous

I am consumed by the pufferfish struggles

I am distraught by the fact

Of the ocean drowning me

drowning me

I. am. so. confused. by. grace.

drowning me

Lift up your heads, O ye

drowning me

Who shall ascend the hill

drowning me

Who is the king of glory

drowning me

Waves sound like

drowning me

grace

Rainbow Hair

2011-08-28T12:23:00.002-06:00

I have pink hair

I have laughed and laughed

Life is so full of rain

My yellowed eyes are all full of

Rain and there is nothing

But rain and go away

Because no one wants you

Or your beesting whistle pipe smiling

If you touch the balloons you will

My hands are crackled and we see

Rainbows [in my hair]

Just some thoughts from stormy, hurricane-swept Pennsylvania as we had our devotional this morning. I don't think I've ever written a poem that combines concepts from My Little Pony and The Prodigal God. (Whoa! I actually gave some of the inspiration for my poem for you to know! So weird! I guess this makes it less ambiguous. -C.)

Monologue

2011-05-19T11:49:00.004-06:00

Hello. Does that seem stiff and formal? It kind of feels that way. Okay. Hi, it's me. I just dropped by because, well, I'm not sure. I miss you a lot. That's for sure. A whole lot. It seems like it's been years since we stayed up till three to talk about the sunset. Was that really just last week? Wow. So much has happened since then. The world has ended since then. Or, my world has.

How many years has it been since we first met? Five? Six? I don't even remember. It seems like forever. You were so young, with your nerdy little bowl cut and your cute little smile. I was probably just as young. Is that me? In that picture beside the bed? Wow. Look at me. I'm not who I was.

Remember that time when we made the blanket fort in your basement with all of the fitted sheets? We slew the dragon, plugged in the stereo, and rocked out to Mozart for three hours during the thunderstorm. Your eyes glowed like you were a nocturnal creature and your Figaro aria was spot-on. Quite the singer, you still are.

How about that time when you and I went out dancing in the rain? I felt like a princess, twirling around in my satin dress, rain making my eyelashes stand out more than any makeup. You doubted the sense of dancing in the rain at first, but with you bow tie strapped around your neck, you made a dapper Gene Kelly, singin' in the rain. I don't think either of us knew what we were doing. I know I didn't. And you looked so uncomfortable. But you were a trooper. We spun in circles and pretzels, and then you dropped me. It didn't hurt, and I'm pretty sure you did it on purpose, just to show off how you would always be there to keep me safe.

My favorite memories are still the ones from those late nights, right before... well, you know. It felt like the morning would never get here, and that God had stopped the moon right as we knew we would never be able to go to sleep. I talked about the past a lot. Rome. China. Transcendentalism. Purity. The way things used to be. You renewed my mind. We talked about the future. The way things will be, if all turns out. College. Work. Church. Missions. You. Me. And both of us. And God, of course. Lots about God.

But now, your words are silent, and your beautiful velvet eyes are shut. The future is past. All of our plans, the times that you were going to take me dancing, the times I was going to help you clean your room, the times we were going to stay up all night praying in the church cafe... all of those are gone. I watch them dissolve into the IV plugged into your arm. Your raspy breathing is almost like singing, melodic, like those blues songs we sang to your guitar in the lazy practices.

Oh, my sweet friend! I miss you!

Give me your hands. They've gone cold.

Don't leave me.

All those plans we had, all those things we never got to talk about, all those things I still wanted to tell you...

The future is now.

Wake up.

I love you.

If Only Music Blog

2011-02-16T09:45:00.001-07:00

Hello, everyone!

Some of you may know that I'm now a part of a music/poetry collaboration site called If Only Music. Here, we endeavor to show the love and beauty of God through song and verse. I hope you'll have a chance to check it out, and my new poem up on that site at: www.ifonlymusic.wordpress.com.

Joy in Christ's name,

Catey

And even longer

2011-02-14T10:19:00.003-07:00

When I left my glass slipper there on the step, I did not expect you to pick it up. I was running at a hundred thousand miles an hour, knowing I did not belong there. I don't know what I expected would happen to my shoe. I supposed I would have left it there in that land of polished lights and glowing wineglasses. It fit in there.

I did not expect you.

I did not expect the bloodstains on the heels from where your hands were bleeding from saving me from that roaring dragon at the ball. I did not expect your crown to be made of brambles. Princes are princes, true is true, but what prince has no gold upon him but his golden eyes?

You saw me.

They (not you) have all forgotten the captive monster who posed as the princess. The tinkling goblets never stop their music-box-melody from within, but I feel the horns sprouting from my forehead and the hunching of my back - I am no princess! - Oh, why did I ever pretend? Now I know too much...

The rain falls on my face and the laughter turns to thunder. I trip on my one-shoe and feel my dress soak full of mud. Your crown is beside me, and my glass slipper.

Have you really loved me all this time?

He says, And even longer.

{True love at first sight}

In Case You've Been Wondering...

2010-12-11T11:40:00.003-07:00

...where I am... I've been writing curriculum and teaching elementary economics (and that is definitely as easy as it sounds.)

Check it out at my mom's new home school blog: www.jillyfunschool.blogspot.com.

Merry Christmas (and whether or not it's too early for Christmas, I'm going to stick with that one)

Catey

College students, I would love you more.

2010-11-08T20:11:00.002-07:00

They walk with heads up, eyes open.

I look at them (hoping to ignore how brown my salad is) and I can't help but believe that though they're looking around, their noses are still buried in books, or gleefully smelling the intoxicating perfume that is fantasy. Although time is passing (I still very much hear the endlessly pounding fountain) many are still brushing sleep off their eyes and into their slippers.

Is it just me, or do they all look the same? Same half-glazed eyes, lashes falling heavily against their cheeks, same yellowed smile. They're even looking in the same direction.

This place feels heavy with enchantment, as if the blue windows might cave in under the pressure of the jungle within. I can picture green ferns springing up around my rigid chair and my salad browning into moss. Here and there, a pair of flickering half-lidded yellow eyes

I recognize them, of course, because my eyes once looked the same way. And, everyone looks the same.

It's heartbreaking how sad these jungle animals are - and embarrassing, because I don't think I care about jungles enough.

See, it's sad that I'm more distressed over how disappointing my salad is than I am about how distraught they are. It's sad that I can notice they're looking at me but not want to see them.

And these zombies and sleepwalkers who populate my college campus, my town and my reality... they are more beautiful than the mountains in my backyard.

The jungle, a sprawling, self-conscious mass, is not a shelter because it is not solid. It keeps changing based on these stupid whims and I keep changing too.

I want to say that I'm full of music, but I fear I am an empty noise. And yet I show off my beauty, when I have just aroused from sleep, too. Ha. Sleeping Beauty I am not.

Or perhaps I am. Perhaps these yellow-eyed jungle creatures just zombies and sleepwalkers.

Violently, I'd shake one from his stupor. Perhaps he'd remark on the weather or offer me a stick of gum. But how can I guarantee he's even awake? Everything looks the same in here. And is it even right for me to pity the sleeping, when I lay upon my bed so often myself?
I must bid the doubt farewell. It must be enough to love and simply be. I watch the jungle break the sky.

The Lilies Bloom Beyond the Glad [for KK]

2010-10-14T16:29:00.002-06:00

My cousin KK asked me to post this poem I wrote for her (it had to be about flowers... hmm!)

The Lilies Bloom Beyond the Glade

So, traitor, you will not be stayed

My bean seeds on the Marvel stove

The lilies bloom beyond the glade

Curled around yourself, we wade

Through spider-blind paths we wove

So, traitor, you will not be stayed

You move, to where the azaelia laid

Dead - dead - you killed this grove -

The lilies bloom beyond the glade

Not a lily, I too was swayed

(I wish I could find my seedling trove)

So, traitor, you will not be stayed

I miss my petals, I was waylaid

You betrayed me and I drowned you in the cove;

[The lilies bloom beyond the glade]

I'm sorry that my kindness grayed

You and I, to my earth I dove

So, traitor, you will not be stayed:

The lilies bloom beyond the glade.

(I'm not sure that I have a point to this poem, but here it is, for you, KK!)

Empty Seashells [thoughts of the Awakening Program]

2010-09-29T12:34:00.003-06:00

What's this?

Why are your tears on my cheeks?

Did I steal your sorrow

When we waded into the silver sea

Remember the day that

I combed the seashell's hair

And you laughed in harmony

With the sea urchins

I was still sandy when I

Went up to the heavenly concert

You told me you hated me

But your cries turned to

Paper cranes as they flew up

To the concert to tell me of

Your imaginary friend

Why do you hate me, beloved?

I'm just sandy rose petals

Not worth your trouble

Please, beloved, speak to me

Please, beloved, don't hide

I found our old sandcrabs, seashells

Tears-stained urchins and memory

My seashells are empty

Oh no

Of course I've loved you

But I was just a sandy rose

How could I know I as just an

Imaginary friend

Oh, beloved, don't hide from me

Oh, beloved, don't say I don't

I don't love you

[He whispers in your ear.

Have your forgotten the sound

Of oceans?]

Have you forgotten the cold embrace?

Oh, don't cry, here in

Here we find clean flowers

To dance at. I never miss

- I found forever and it sang -

Steal back the empty seashells

Fear not, little sea urchin

For now I know you.

Have you forgotten how to laugh

[do you remember anything but your sighs?]

Come beloved, and I will love

I will always love

I have always loved

[You]

Internet

2010-09-09T11:56:00.003-06:00

Internet is such a goooood thing. On my mom's computer. Writing to tell you I'm not dead since I haven't had internet in forevvvvver.

Wow. I'm talking kind of funny on this blog.

Maybe it's the smog.

I should write a real post sometime. But not this morning. Today, I'm going to Mariposa with my family.

Talk to y'all later!

Sasquatch!

Catey

Good-Natured Monsters

2010-08-24T14:11:00.000-06:00

While listening to some soundtracks a few afternoons ago...

Sam: JI-JI! It's Pretty and the Beast!

That made me smile. I love "Pretty" and the Beast. I spent some time reading the original translation the other day (for a speech. Shh!) and it's simply fantastic. I always thought it was about how Beast learns to overcome his selfishness... I've been looking at Beauty's perspective a little more now.

Have you ever loved a monster? I have. All I wanted was to return to my family, my trunkfuls of dresses from my days of splendor, my comfort zone, even to those who found me to be loathed. It's easier to find a familiar monster than try to determine the princes from the beasts.

But, by some author's idea of excitement, we too are captured by fate and we have to be around the Beasts of our life.

For me, I know that it's easy to slip into this idea of hiding up in the prison, mocking the bars and cursing my 'captor'. It's easy to suffer in this martyred stance of Why me? I didn't do anything wrong... and never even see the Beast.

"Tell me, Beauty, do you not find me very ugly?"

"I can not tell a lie... but I believe you are very good-natured."

I thought about this for a long time. I do believe that this compliment, stilted though it may be, was the first that the Beast had received in all the years since his transformation. And, like the human heart, the thing he most desired was to be lovely, or more appropriately, lovable.

Too often, I've passed over the ugliness, the pain, the imprisonment, without even stopping to mutter a brief, "But I believe you are very good-natured."

The fact is, we are surrounded by good-natured monsters who are waiting to hear that they are loved.

The fact is, we are not so beautiful ourselves.

The fact is, souls are lovely.

"But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things? For we are not, like so many, peddlers of God's word, but as men of sincerity, as commissioned by God, in the sight of God we speak in Christ." 2 Corinthians 2:14-17

Maps

2010-08-14T22:43:00.002-06:00

I drew a map today of seven countries that live only in my mind. It has a beautiful coastline, and it's just as I pictured it to be.

It reminds me of The Little Prince, which is a book I can not recommend highly enough.

Hmm... am I crazy to draw maps? My sister thinks I am. After the whole Mapping the World by Heart adventure of school three years ago, Joss is pretty turned off maps.

"Oceans are endearing.

Roads divide. They cut and separate." someone said to me once.

Let us swim for a while, dear one, and we'll drink the sky until the sun remembers us. Then the morning will gild the butterflies in their royal splendor, and heaven will smile. You and I will smile and the world will be all of snow.

Sigh.

God is good.

PREP... Not really...

2010-08-05T09:38:00.003-06:00

Back at home.

Recovering. Adjusting.

Real life is weird.

I love my family, and I didn't realize how much I missed them.

I love my family, and I didn't realize how much I would miss them when I left.

But this is the ICC. We'll be seeing each other soon - in God's timing.

On a less contemplative note, I hardly know what to do with myself now that I'm not cooking all the time.

Slash muffins!

Catey

PREP... Who Threw Up in the Stove?

2010-07-23T16:06:00.001-06:00

KMac walks into kitchen just as Catey spills the zucchini soup that KMac DOES NOT like in the stove while trying to transfer it into a Ziploc to freeze.

KMac: WHOA! Who threw up in the stove?

Potty Plunger Boy: What???

KMac: What? I can't help it that zucchinis look like vomit.

She'll be having canned tomato soup for dinner tonight.

PREP... Borrowed Laughter

2010-07-22T12:38:00.003-06:00

(Something I wrote during devotionals this morning...)

Borrowed Laughter

I have tickled your mind with

Laughter, borrowed from

The winking eyes of morning

Have you aroused, hopeful one?

I want with you to dig tunnels

To the moon and to

Blow bubbles of gold

Do I frighten you with my

Glittering Dance?

Are you

Afraid?

I will be nothing but a gilded

Butterfly to you if you dance

Hold my hands

Step

See the moon - through -

Here in the golden tunnel

Look out there

The stars are laughing at

Our clumsy dance

I don't mind

Don't cry

Borrow my laughter

Until the moon is here

(On Thoughtful Thursday, we made a list of life goals, things we wish we knew more about, and things we wish we had more time to do. Now we're devoting time this afternoon to doing, learning and working toward these things. I'm researching Alexander the Great and reading rhymed poetry. {Happy, Mom?} Then later, we're doing a meal planning and budgeting activity. This is my PREP job... should be fun! KMac even made us counterfeit money...)

PREP... The Scone Adventure

2010-07-19T15:06:00.003-06:00

Hey everybody!

Back again for another short blog. I thought I'd update y'all about the scones. (Before I go on, I'm not sure how cool everyone is with me using their real name, so I used the interns' soundoff numbers and the PREP nicknames. For those of you in ICC, see if you can figure out who these people are. I might tell you who they are... if you give me chocolate)

I mentioned in my last post that we can only bake from 8 pm to 8 am. Last night, that got hairy. We baked potatoes for lunch this afternoon, and I also planned on baking about 40 scones. No sweat, right?

Wrong.

So, I knew that the Moon's oven has some spunk, but yesterday, it decided it didn't like me and suffice it to say that it didn't bake those potatoes till it was good and ready (which was, literally, three hours after we were hoping it would be good and ready) It was all good though, because we got a curfew extension to finish baking.

I made the scones while the oven was having its temper tantrum, three batches of one dozen to 16 each. Here begins adventure #2 of The Scone Adventure.

I found the food processor without a problem. It's this really cute little round thing with a lid and a little button you push to make it go... and that was about all I could find out. I tried four or five different methods to get it to turn on... but I have no common sense so that didn't work. I asked another PREP girl... didn't work. I asked an ex-PREP guy who is now an intern (this would be #6, the one who sprayed me with the faucet... so you know how much courage that took) but that didn't work. It took me like forty five minutes just to figure out how to get the lid on the processor, and about four peoples' help! Come on, Catey! Finally, I ground up the oats and got started on the scones.

Here begins adventure #3 of The Scone Adventure. I decided to make some dairy free scones and just experiment around with them and hope they turned out (sorry, #8 and #10 for my cooking style! So far, the only thing that hasn't come out is the dairy-free pudding....) So, despite my MULTIPLE google fails (the girls are allergic to milk AND soy... so nothing really worked) I was able to find a butter substitute (coconut oil works - compensate with a little flour for the softness) and then set about making non-dairy buttermilk. Yah. Non-dairy buttermilk. I ended up using a mixture of water, honey, vinegar and vegetable oil. It worked though.

Here begins adventure #4 of The Scone Adventure. There were a ton of people randomly bumming around the kitchen, guys and girls, but after curfew, everyone went to bed. I went and washed my hair while my scones were baking, then came out in my pajamas. Mind you, everyone was supposed to be asleep. And that there is a very, very strict NO PAJAMAS rule in this house. I came out, and it was just one of the PREP girls and I icing my scones and then blam! The son of the organization's president (his mom is the one who initiating the NO PAJAMAS rule) shows up and starts randomly talking to us. No point. No purpose. Just talking to us. Despite the fact that it's the middle of the night and we're all in our pajamas. What do you do in that circumstance??? Weirdness.

A few more assorted adventures:

#3: How dare you even think of that??? Here in the Moons' house and everything!

Catey: I didn't think of that. You were -

#3: You perverted person!

#6: What was Catey doing?

#3: Thinking of boys wearing short shorts!

Catey: No I wasn't!

#6: Catey, how could you?

Catey: I wasn't. #3's making this up -

#6: Catey, we're going to have to lock you in the closet for this. You've crossed a line.

Catey: #3 was talking about it. I didn't do anything. He's making this up. Why don't we lock him up?

#3: Because you're a girl. You need to obey us, for you are a PREP girl slave. #6, tie her up.

Catey: What??

#6: Yes, that's right. #3, it's your job to remember to let her out to cook us our food.

Catey:...?...!...?

------

At Sam's Club, with The Slacker and The Onion Mincer...

Random checkout lady (you know it's coming - another one of those creeper stories...): So... why all the food?

The Onion Mincer: It's for our growing family. (looks at Catey, for approval or punishment)

Random checkout lady: ...?...!...?

------

Catey: Please let me out of the closet....

------

Catey: Please?

------

Catey: Seriously! #3 and #6, this isn't funny any more!

------

Catey: (cries quietly)

#3: Woman! Get in the kitchen where you belong!

------

Well, that was nice. That was cool. That was fun. That was nice.

It's been one big adventure, and it's been, all of it, totally awesome. I love PREP!

I'll be back with more totally random stories tomorrow.

Love from Murfreesboro!

Catey (The Asian)

PREP... Frugality Meets Allergy and Things Blow Up

2010-07-17T10:09:00.002-06:00

I'm finding that having a quick post once a day or every few days will make sure that I write often enough to keep everybody posted back home, but it doesn't take that long. This might even work.

So, one of my main roles as a PREP girl is to organize, plan and work kitchen. I'm currently having a lot of jobs that involve organizing the kitchen (this means I write shopping lists and help decide on meals, mostly.)

To give you a little perspective on this, we're cooking for roughly 35 people six meals a day: breakfast, AM snack, lunch, PM snack, dinner, and dessert. We have salad at lunch and dinner, fruit at breakfast and every snack, and cookies whenever the team wants them (currently, we haven't made any though... this is sad). The oven has so much personality, including cooking things at a unique rate (depending on the food, it might be fast or slow) and turning on spontaneously. (Not quite spontaneously, actually. It's just really sensitive.) We can use the oven after 8 pm and before 8 am, but not between. We also have two people with lactose/soy allergies. Whew! It's a lot to keep in mind, but it's not all that hard to manage. It is so ridiculously fun. I'm learning so much about managing and budgeting and how to cook for different tastes and needs.

I hope I don't sound like I'm complaining, because I'm not. This has been such a blast, and such a joy! I would do this forever and ever.

However, right now I've hit an obstacle. Does anybody out there know how to make dairy-free scones? The scones are getting made in a few days and I'm trying to figure out how Tessa and Marisa are going to eat... [goes off to check Mrs. V's blog....]

What a blast! I love PREP! I love cooking! I love learning how to work out the managing and the allergies and the health and the gorgeousness of these awesome people!

Google rocks,

Catey

PREP... Joy is Strength

2010-07-16T15:09:00.002-06:00

(Written at the Moon's house waiting to go grocery shopping so I can make dinner...)

It's going to be a short post today, but suffice it to say that Camp was awesome! I had opportunity to step into some leadership training and opportunities, and my cabin group was awesome! (They won two simulations!)

Camp was an encouragement to me that I was indeed a speaker worth listening to - not because I'm great or I have any right to demand the respect of my audience, but because when God places you in a situation where you must speak, he will also give you the words to say, and so it's not you they here, but him.

Here at PREP, I'm one of seven team members (our soundoff is in Korean - I'm ilgop.) It's been an awesome two days and I'm excited to see all that God will do. The team (meaning the staff here) is so wonderful. They are sweet to me (except for one... who sprays me while I'm doing the dishes...) It's awesome! I can't wait to get to the store, because I'm making scones for breakfast (I miss you, Auntie Angi! I'll make them for you as soon as I get home!)

So... that's all for now! I promise I'll write more later. But look! I posted! Isn't this rare! Isn't that wonderful! And I didn't even sing about seeing people on plates.

With joy,

Catey

I Guess This Is Goodbye

2010-07-10T23:20:00.002-06:00

"I guess this is goodbye, old pal

You've been a perfect friend.

I hate to see us part, old pal

[Soon, I will] be back.

I'll see you soon again

I hope that when I do

It won't be on a plate..."

Maybe that song is not quite as appropriate as I had first thought. Though I hope the next time I see all of you, it won't be on a plate.

Tomorrow at the crack of dawn, Joss and I are heading off to Tennessee, for a few days and a few weeks, respectively. So, to all of you Colorado people, to my family, and to many of you, I guess this is goodbye. But I'll see you soon again, in a few weeks.

I love you. Goodbye.

"And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called to one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs with thankfulness in your heart to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him."

See you soon! (and not on a plate!)

Promise

2010-07-06T09:51:00.002-06:00

I promised my mom I would get better about blogging by the time I leave for Camp and Prep Week next week. This is my first attempt at it. I know I really have been pathetic about it, so I'm hoping to remedy that.

So, I should probably start by catching my poor old blog up to date on all that has transpired since my last post. Since my last post on expectation, I have:

- had my cousin Zach stay in town for eleven days this June. I don't think Zach reads my blog, and I'm not sure how often his mom does, but here's my shout-out to Zach. He's an amazing young man. I've known Zach since he was eight or nine or so, and I've always loved him. He's twelve now, and one of the most amazing twelve-year-olds I have ever met for so many reasons. I miss him so much. You can send him back any time, Aunty!

- lived so much I forgot to write about it. I hope this won't happen this summer, because, like I said, I promised my mom I would be better about blogging. So my lack of blogging has had more to do with having too much to write about than not having enough to write about.

- had one of the greatest Carli-ish adventures of my life in the tiny town next to us. My sister Carli waves to everyone - makes their day. So my cousins and my siblings and I decided we'd try it out. An hour and a half later, I saw more smiles on the faces of busy Palmer Lake citizens than ever before. Hopefully, we'll be doing that again tonight.

- I competed in the Inaugural ICCFS National Championship Tournament. What an amazing experience! At my very first tournament with breaks, it was such a delight to be with all the other competitors and learn what true friendship can mean. I've never been in a place where I can encounter anyone in the halls and pray with them in all earnestness and hug them and send them on to their room, even if you're competing against them. I've never seen people who were more in touch with each other's needs and where I heard no backbiting. I could gush for pages on how much I love those people I was with, but I'll refrain.

- I encountered breaks for the first time. Super fun. I loved standing with everyone when they were announced! I broke in all three speeches. I also broke in debate, which was announced later, and was one of the finalists in our first-ever national championship! It was an exciting thing, for sure. I placed in all of my speeches, which was a huge blessing.

- I was an RSA. So delightful!!!! I could gush about these people for ages too, but I'll just say that they are completely wonderful and it was such a joy to work with them. They even put up with me when I was going crazy looking for jobs (usually, this didn't last too long. We were busy!)

-I was a point person setting up the banquet. That was a stretching experience. Usually my jobs involve making people feel happy, not making sure things get done. It grew me a lot though.

- Currently, I'm spending some time with my out-of-state buddy, Ethan, who flew out here a few weeks ago. I've known Ethan since he was about four (he's now eleven) , and it's been pure delight to have him out here with us again.

- Joss and I are planning on taking off again (I have been traveling so much it's ridiculous!!) to go to Tennessee for a communications camp out there for a week, and then I'll be remaining in Tennessee for the rest of the month helping a team of interns prep for the annual tour conference. Basically, I get to do chores and make sure they don't have to worry about anything while they prepare. I can't wait!

So, this summer so far has been about experiencing and learning communion and relationship. I love. I hope this will become more true. I am so excited to see all that God will do this summer and forever. I'm going to do my very best to blog my experiences as much as possible! Keep me accountable, everyone!

Love you all!

Joy!

Catey

Echoes in Ink

Expectation.

2010-06-03T20:12:00.004-06:00

(Warning: the thoughts contained in this post are typically irrationally and abstract. And it's been worked on for weeks. And all that.)

Okay... so I'm pathetic about posting. I hope to become better about this. And since my last "creative" poem about... well, whatever that poem is about, a lot has happened.

I am a high school graduate. This is a weird thought for me. I'm graduated early (at 16, as opposed to 17 or 18, I suppose). I think this is not so much because I'm graduated, but because of expectation, which is something I've been thinking about a lot.

When a girl graduates high school, there are a few different groups of people who all have different expectations. One camp expects me to go to a university on a nice scholarship (for? I'm still not entirely sure I understand all of the scholarships that are out there.) get my degree and have a nice, illustrious career until I'm twenty-five or thirty, and then think about settling down. Another group says I should get married. The end. Now. (At sixteen? Perhaps they mean court now, and get married on my eighteenth birthday.) Others combine those ideas, throwing in a few twists like traveling, working on political campaigns (me?), picking up sewing or cake decorating, nannying, and other sundry hobbies.

They all ask me, "What are you going to do now?" as if the graduation of high school means some sort of drastic switch where I abandon everything I used to do and start doing something else. I really just want to hold steady on the course, to finish well what I began and then see what seasons God transitions me to.

But people don't expect this.

What is the value of expectation? As a naturally compliant person, I tend to follow peoples' expectations on me, which makes it rather frustrating when some expectations are in direct opposition to each other. I suppose this is why God is teaching me and guiding me, and not all of these people. It's made me careful to evaluate the expectations I have on myself and on others.

I think the most dangerous expectations I have are on myself - I must stay up till 1 tonight to finish my American Literature curriculum, I must pass four tests per month, I must finish YSG by next January, I must learn, I must be, I must be better. Discouraging, yes? I think all of us struggle with expectation, whether ours or others'. It can easily take our eyes off of the God who is to be trusted and obeyed, and onto what we think we ought to do or be.

I am learning a lot of what it means to love, and to have faith. Faith is not an easy thing for me - I am a creature of compassion and joy, not of faith! But I think I am learning.

So what am I going to do? I am learning still. I think that I will finish college this year, continue teaching, maybe travel a little more. Then, next year, I think I will see about traveling and teaching together. But this is God's business.

I expect God's glory, and that is all.

Until the Dusk Is Here

2010-05-13T13:28:00.005-06:00

Something I was thinking about this past week...

Until the Dusk Is Here

I am... alone here

I am... grieved

Where did you go?

When light and darkness wed

Here, their heroic bouquet

Tossed far away

Won't someone come take me away?

This is nothingness, there is no here

No lilies grow in the dark, our bouquet

Is scrap iron and disappointed, grieved

Glances toward the pain and joy, wed

Take me away! {where will I go?}

Isolation: my desire to flee and go

Thing I fear not to go away

Happy jitters true fear when I wed

Myself to the starless smog here

Captive by enthused and now grieved

Here I bury the bones of my bouquet

Falling away from my gentle bouquet

Longing to fly, to flee, to go

Hoping to remedy the grieved

Wishing I didn't need to run away

Grieving for a time I wasn't here

Singing toward the day we'll wed

Today, grace and truth are wed

The Bridegroom hands me the bouquet

-I realize now how dark it is here

How silent - we go

Out of the net, far and away

My heart is star, not grieved

In the distance, thou art grieved

For those you see to bones and darkness wed

But we are not so far away

We shall together resurrect our bouquet

In light, we shall skip and sing and go

Until the dusk is here

You and I shall go see the grieved

We shall wed so far away

Toss to the sunset our broken bouquet until the dusk is here

"But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light."

Louisiana

2010-05-09T18:57:00.002-06:00

Is one of the most amazing places on earth. While I will always love my homestate of sunny Colorado, Louisiana gave me a glimpse of the amazing brilliance that the South has.

I just returned today from teaching a public speaking conference in Louisiana with some friends (including Art!) I'll be sharing my thoughts on it very soon!

In the meantime, I'll just say bye to y'all (I said y'all!) and let you experience the joie de vivre in your lives.

God be praised!

Forever [Beautiful Belief]

2010-04-20T17:05:00.002-06:00

This is my Flood the Five event poem. If you haven't noticed the pattern, I apparently have at least one poem per event that just sort of summarizes my thoughts. I'll have a more official Flood post up later.

I stand beside you, full
Unquestioning, I follow
So strong art thou
So full of passion, of belief
I feel your heartbeat
I love, I am, unquestioning

Together, now forever, unquestioning
You and I to understand, for full
You think, you feel, his heartbeat
Who shall you and I follow?
Your face is devoid of belief
For you and I art forever; I, thou

I am with you, art within thou
You are quiet. I'm unquestioning
I'm noisy in your frail belief
This joy is your strength in full
Maybe I will lead and you will follow
In this strength, your fragile heartbeat

Love! My hand, my heartbeat
Open, you are precious, art thou
Forever, I will quiet, I will follow
I shall help you unquestioning
For you, my heart is full
For you, I forsake my blind belief

So much hope, so much belief
I see thy joy - how I find a heartbeat
May I stand with you for full
You are, we are together: I, thou
To you, I will forever give me, unquestioning
We, together, will lead and follow

So many, so much, I follow
I am given toward belief
I shall wear white (I am unquestioning)
Can we share one heartbeat
One soul? How fully to desire thou
I will be filled to the full

Joy! So full, happy to follow
I and though, our heartbeat
To be unquestioning, here my beautiful belief

So... like it? This is a really abstract one. You'll have to let me know what you think it's about. Then I'll write about the actual conference experience. I'll tell you, I'm having HUGE extrovert withdrawal right now. I very much miss everyone.
Oh! And check out the pages at the top of the site! Are those cool or what?

Paradox: on Maundy Thursday

2010-04-01T12:17:00.003-06:00

Then came the Day of the Unleavened Bread, on which the Passover lamb had to be sacrificed...

Afraid, I walked
In gloomy streets
God, O God, pass over me...

So Jesus sent Peter and John, saying, "Go and prepare the Passover for us, that we may eat it."

We walk together
He and I, we saw
On every corner, a face
Ah, how we should have known it
For it was the face of him

They said to him, "Where will you have us prepare it?"

Sadness
Glory
On his brow
Where is a place for this man?
I can not find him

He said to them, "Behold, when you have entered the city, a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him into the house that he enters,"

Water, I thirst
Why can not this void within be quenched?
I will follow you
Where are you?
Where are you taking me?

"And tell the master of the house, 'The Teacher says to you, Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?'

In the corner of the room,
There is a vase
-We are all fearful -
In it, still, still his face
Why do I not recognize it?

And he said to them, "I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer."

Everywhere, I see guilt
And faces
Faces, I see them, I am
Afraid, I do not know who this is
I earnestly desire to be in your kingdom, Teacher
I would not be afraid there

And he took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying,^"> "This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me."

Broken, like my heart
I do not see anything but this unknown face
Who are you?
I remember, Lord, but
Why, why indeed, would I need to?

And he came out and went, as was his custom, to the Mount of Olives, and the disciples followed him.

I see more clearly here in the dark
Here you are!
I see the face and I know you.
And here you come to leave us all
Paradox
I don't understand, but tomorrow
Tomorrow, I will see
Tomorrow I will understand
Now I know in part
Perhaps I will understand as I am understood
What a sad, sad story
To see your face in prayer
Here among the Olive Trees
You are, I recognize, your face
In paradox

A Cheerful Experience

2010-03-13T10:55:00.003-07:00

Hello, everyone!

Sorry about the delay in posts. I have a fiction piece mostly done over here, but in the mean time, here's a funny, everyday experience that happened to me recently:

My family went to Panda Express for dinner. As we walked in, a group of four troublemaker teen guys were sitting at one of the tall tables. They were the kind of guys that were quite obviously there to make trouble (you know the type: pants falling off, menacing grins, the whole works). As Jocelyn and I were walking past, I heard, "Mr. Frederickson?" from one of them. The name stuck with me, but I couldn't think of why. As we walked closer, I heard the continuation of the conversation - "... I chased it under your porch, but this snipe had a long tail and looked more like a large mouse." Now, I recognized it! That's UP (which is currently one of my favorite movies)!! I guess even troublemaking guys can have good taste.

Love always, C.

Olympic Memories, Take Two

2010-02-26T21:31:00.002-07:00

Inspired by my mother's post over at the Adoptyuen...

Frankly,Winter Olympics are getting a little out of hand. First of all, the very...er... uncomfortable-looking male figure skaters battle it out with spins, tassels, and (my personal favorite) hip-shaking. (That was sarcastic). Then there are at least seven million ski events (Alpine. Alpine Downhill. Alpine Uphill. Slalom. Giant Slalom. Not Quite Giant Slalom. Mini Slalom. Slalom half-pipe on skis. Slalom half-pipe on skates. Slalom biathlon nordic combined men and women with pterodactyls. Super mega slalom on snowboards. Snow cross/ski cross/railroad cross. Do you get the picture???). I've decided that, when the host nation is as, frankly, (trying to think of a nice word) unexciting as Canada, we should add and combine a few events to compensate for the unexcitingness of the rest of it. My ideas:

Moose Mini Slalom: It's sort of like the slalom (whatever that means) except with a moose instead of skis!

Figure curling: Where girls (or boys, depending) in sparkly dresses have a contest on who can do the most jumps and hit each other with sticks, all in the same event!

Horse racing on ice: Sort of like short track speed skating, except on a horse.

Railroad cross: This is like snowboard cross (or ski cross. I'm not quite sure which). You wear one ski and one snowboard and try to race a moving train! Added incentive: If you don't medal, you'll not only disappoint your country, but you'll also be extremely flat.

Luge biathlon, Matterhorn style: Instead of trying to beat the best time in a sled, you are attempting to outrun a yeti (similar to the Matterhorn ride in Disneyland!) The gun is to shoot the yeti, thus yielding a medal not only in overall speed, but also in aim while on a sled moving 90 mph.

What do you think? What as-of-yet unseen Olympic events would you suggest?

As I Am Known

2010-02-22T08:13:00.006-07:00

I've realized something. All adults struggle with confidence. We all live as half-people, showing our one face to the light, hiding the other in the darkness. We live just flashing hints of the other side, but so infrequently that others don't even know it's there.

Why is this? All children are born with a natural confidence. Having worked with them for years, I can tell you that if you compliment any (verbal) child between the ages of 2 and 5, he or she will always respond with 'yes', 'I know', or 'I'm good at that'. It's genuinely felt, too. Perhaps a young child's self-confidence is a little extreme, but still, why does none of that carry over into later childhood and adulthood?

Why is it that one can appear so poised, and feel so empty inside? Why do you say, 'I'm beautiful', 'I'm awesome' and think, 'I'm ugly', 'I'm worthless'? Why do you applaud achievement, and yet never even realize that you have things worth applauding too? Why do you compare yourself to a dead body, and find yourself wanting?

I've been reading up on reactive attachment disorder, and I've noticed that as people, we've all developed this. Reactive attachment disorder is defined as a disorder that occurs when a child wasn't given proper attention, care, and love as a child and infant, and consequently has learned that they are unworthy of love, that all people are unworthy of love.

RAD kids can sometimes be withdrawn, destructive, detached, but often, especially as they get older, they pretend they're normal to fit in. They can be particularly charming, but it's not true. Inside, this is just a way they function - but inside, they're just expressing particular disdain for the world around them. And aren't we the same, experiencing this same spiritual RAD?

Every one of us was born desperately hungry for love. And as we grow up, we realize that we aren't ever going to find it. Even the most loving family, the mostly godly home, the most receptive friends can't replace the ache that every human feels - that dull throb that cries out for someone who will care about them, no matter what. We try to fill that hole by forcing love, but it only gets worse. Finally, we react to the situation in the way that we think is most logical - we withdraw. No one can love us, no one deserves us to love them. We detach and see the world as an empty, hollow shell. Why bother with anything else? People no longer hold charm. Their gentle murmurs as they whisper together are as quiet and meaningless as wind in dry grass. Their peacock displays are gaudy, and ugly. And you are no better.

But by ignoring what is true, the water under the surface, the rumbling under the shell, we haven't made it go away. Our confidence doesn't affect the fact that we want to know others, and we want to be known by others. Something in our circles of understanding cries out, "I was made for more than this! I want to live! I want to be beyond myself!" But who shall deliver us from this body of death? How can we hide! How can we fight! And yet we do.

I realize something else now. This longing for perfect love explains one thing clearly to me: we were created for perfect love, and there is a Creator who is willing. We long for what is beyond us because we were created for something beyond.

My dear friend often quotes this verse to me, and today I realize its potency:
For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know, just as I also am known.

I want to be known as I am known in perfection. I will live my life as a whole person - more than a shell, or waters swiftly moving, but as a statue that is not broken.

May I encourage you to be full? Be, and I will love you. But nonetheless, Christ is love, and God is truth. Is this not the confidence we have in him?

2010-02-19T09:53:00.000-07:00

There are simply no words to describe how awkward and uncomfortable it is to watch male figure skaters.

Olympic memories, to be continued

Stone

2010-02-02T17:38:00.004-07:00

I'm sitting in the back of time
An insignificant half-life, hidden
Clothed by my illusions of thought
Protected by hiding under feeling
I can't even remember what I've lost, I
Don't know the name - overwhelm -

Is the purpose of darkness to overwhelm?
I feel empty inside most of the time
I want love! How desperately I
Want someone to love me. Is good hidden?
No one wants - I cut off feeling -
Me, has heaven given a thought?

I cover myself with him, I thought
Perhaps this stench of death will overwhelm
My own. If I hide my own feeling
Of fear will it work most of the time?
Behind the dead one I remain hidden
That's what I wanted right? I -

I believe - but not like that - I
Like to be alive, but not as much as I thought
Ah, so long as death is hidden
Why does sadness seem to overwhelm?
It seems to control me, consume my time
Why so [un]vulnerable? Where is feeling?

I think I used to indulge my feeling
I'm not sure that that wasn't good. I
Pretended at pain to pass the time
And my mind was my reality, my thought
Truth, true to form, would overwhelm
The recesses of my soul are hidden

But now light will reveal the hidden
I'm not stone any more, but feeling
Can darkness truly overwhelm
My heart behind this dead body? I
Am going to leave behind this filmy thought
This disguise I'd almost kept for all time

You are not hidden - You are my time -
Removed my stone thought - now living feeling
This is me: I am. You overwhelm.

(That's the poem, or something close to it, that's been bouncing around my head since The Great Divorce. It still doesn't make sense to me, but I do love that story. -C)

Mascara (a.k.a My Masters Diary)

2010-01-25T14:45:00.006-07:00

Day 0: Travel to NC
Lesson learned: We love airplanes!
We departed from Colorado Springs (my mom, me, Mrs. S, Madison, Levi and Maci) and took the long flight to Chicago O'Hare airport. Madison is my debate and duo partner, and her AOR for this particular Masters tournament was debate... well, she printed debate stuff at the last minute, so we spent the first flight getting the public forum stuff in order :)
We then went from the (icy cold) O'Hare airport to Charlotte. We arrived at night, in the pouring rain ("It's so romantic!" says Maci as she twirls around in it) and rented a van ("Please pick a red one!" says Madison. We got a red one.) and head to Hotel #1.
Wow! Tiring first day. Looking forward to conference tomorrow!

Day 1: Registration and drive to Hamlet
Lesson learned: Don't blink on the drive or you'll miss the town.
We made the 2 1/2 hour drive to Hamlet and checked in at our hotel. We then went to the town of Hamlet and registered at the church. Happiness! I got to see my favorite INTP and good friend Rebecca, as well as connect up with the interns and some of my other friends from camp and conference. Among them: Westin! A friend from Colorado. After our opening simulation (ZOMBIES!!! AAAAH!!! RUN AWAY!!!!) we watched the encore performance of Lead the Escape, hung out with friends, and then went home.

Day 2: Student Leadership, Ladies Luncheon and Model UN
Lesson Learned: Josh better have a good reason...
This day was jam-packed! I got to hang out with people again, which was enough for me to be very happy, but we also had a number of simulations and things. The Ladies Luncheon (with its awesome slumber party theme) was hosted by Kelsea and Robin and - triumph! - Mrs. Moon in her PAJAMAS! That was something I thought I'd never see! This followed our first class of the day (I attended the Student Leadership track) and after lunch, we continued to the very first Model UN simulation. I was representing Mexico with a single partner (I was on the Security Council). My partner was very different from me - we didn't agree on a single issue of our country's policy! That was a little difficult to get used to. But, I'm sure Josh has a good reason...

Day 3: Public Forum, part one and Mystery Party
Lesson Learned: Mascara is really bat poop. Don't ask.
I should start by saying that I've never done any kind of debate before, and my partner is a seasoned four-year-er. This having been said, I practiced my debate a LOT. So... I forgot something important. My mascara. Ouch. I was wearing full makeup... but no mascara. My self-confidence plummeted. Apparently, when I told my partner I wouldn't debate without mascara, she believed me, because she bugged an alum intern for some mascara. AH! I felt remade. I debated four rounds and I didn't die in any of them!
We then changed into our mystery costumes for the mystery dinner. Madison, Maci and I went as clue characters (Ms. Peacock, Ms. Scarlet, and Ms. White, respectively). Our parents were Agents 1 and 2 and Levi went as the Scarlet Pimpernel (which I know nothing about). My favorite costumes of the evening: several interns dressed as Clue characters (Mrs. White, Ms. Peacock, Miss Scarlet, Colonel Mustard, Mr. Green, Mr. Body [teehee]). Westin was Zorro. He had this cute little mustache. Humorous story:
Madison: Is that eyeliner?
Westin: No. It's the thing that comes with the spiny brush.
Madison: Mascara?
Westin: Ouch! That thing hurts. It must be made of metal.
Madison: No... who's mascara was it?
Westin: A friend's.
Levi: I bet it was Catey's.
Madison and Catey laugh hysterically as Westin gets really confused.

Day 4: Tournament, take two and concert
Lesson learned: OUCH
To start the day off, Eric ran me over. Hard. He kicked my shins by accident so I fell over and it hurt. Great. Soon after, I was removed from the Phase 1 (easier, non-advancing competition) to judge it. That was really fun! Sadly, Josh was really concerned about whether Madison and I would be okay with it. I felt bad for him - he was harried. I felt so bad for him that I didn't begrudge him the fact that he also ran me over and smashed me into a wall. Oops. Poor guy. As I looked back, I realized I had been run over a grand total of six times. I then kept track of collisions, because it was awesome.
Anyway, I performed my Thematic Religious Reading, and was seriously worried about my time (I ran two and six seconds over, which can be grounds for disqualification). We then attended a concert and performance of The Great Divorce. I cried and cried and cried. I need to read that book.

Day 5: Model UN
Lesson learned: Never trust China
Today, we were able to actually able to attend whatever classes we wanted. In addition to that, we broke into our separate councils in Model UN. I was on the Security Council (which is the best). I wrote this fantastic resolution, and received three more than necessary signatories - including China, Russia, France, etc. My resolution was then vetoed by China. His reasoning?
China: "The world is a twisted place."
No kidding.
Today, we also heard postings. Three of my friends' teams qualified to National-level competition in debate, and Colorado swept up the only Informative slot (must be the mascara, Westin.) My friend Madison and I both took honors and slots in Thematic Religious Reading (guess those two- and six- second overtimes were okay). My friend Rebecca won the Oratorical Contest. Happiness.

Day 6: Model UN and closing ceremonies
Lesson learned: We are all broken pots.
After the closing session of Model United Nations (where our chapter performed very well: Laura taking third country, Levi taking 2nd country, Madison taking 1st speaker General Assembly and 1st country, and I taking 1st speaker Security Council), and my performance of my Thematic for the assembly, we attended classes until the closing ceremonies and formal banquet. All of us dressed up in formal gowns and tuxes, and it was a truly beautiful evening. It was tainted bittersweet though - this would be the last time I'd see many of these people for a long time, perhaps for several months or even years. After Mrs. Moon's address, we lit candles, and sang in the yellow pools of light underneath them. I stood by my dear friend, and sooner than I knew it, I was absolutely overcome by the compassion and beauty of God. I stood in the darkness, my face glowing in the candlelight and cried, Why me, God? I am no good. My words are broken. My love is fake. Why me? And back to me: You serve a good God. Everyone speaks in broken tones - just show mercy. No one loves like me - I will heal you. I chose you because I love you.
Wow. That changed my thinking. I then went around crying for the compassion of God, and saying goodbye. I know that I love these people and that they must care about me, because none of them were turned off by the fact that I had been sobbing into my hands. It was a rubbing of souls. I greatly miss everyone, but I am content to know that Masters was not the last time I'll see any of them. I look forward to seeing them again soon and I pray in the mean time.
And, ending on a more lighthearted note, my mascara did indeed cause more problems (it dripped down my face and I looked like the matchmaker from MuLan. Baaad.) Oh well. Next time I'll just ask Westin to borrow his.

I have been changed by Masters, so don't be surprised if any number of my posts quote people from Masters, or tell stories of Masters as examples. Currently, I have a piece of poetry floating around my brain from The Great Divorce. Eventually.

In Haiti

2010-01-14T08:43:00.004-07:00

Dust
It stung my eyes cough cough
The sky is opened above me
Where is the house
I'm confused
Gasping clutching Mother- mother -
Scream
The pigs move past the women scream
We cry out
There is blood on my dress
There is bile on the stones

Fear
How could this be?
Where are you, God?
So far away, what can I do
What can I do
What can I do?
Hundred miles pass in blue
Between you and I
My arms are aching
Aching to hold you.

Cursing the sun cursing
The light handling what I can
No more house no more sky
No sky just dust
I can't breathe can't cry can't speak
I hate you where are you when I need you
Why aren't you here for me why didn't you stop this
Why weren't your hands there to cradle me
God o God o God I can't feel you
Then where are you

Praising the Son praising
The Light and truth
The Shepherd was there, he cradled the lambs
I can't feel him, and his staff pains me
I just want to cry, I have no praise in my heart
But in my soul, maybe, in my spirit
I can find a wailing voice
Even if I have no words, I praise you
You were there, when I couldn't be
Hold her
Rock her to sleep
Tousle her hair
Sing over her:
Blessed be your name when I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be your name.
I will sing, I will shout

Burning sun blistering water
Tears in my eyes
Blood in my hair
Over me
Blessed be your name when I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be your name.
Your name is a strong and might tower
It did not collapse when the earth shook
I run to the tower I ascend
The stairs cavernously
Nothing can shake you nothing
I am safe here
I feel your arms around me
I know your name
You are here
Blessed be your name.

Please be in prayer for the victims of the 7.0 earthquake that struck Haiti. Already the poorest country in the western hemisphere, they've consistently had natural, social and political adoptions. More people in Haiti are chronically malnourished than anywhere else in this half of the world, and with the earthquake, less food and water is available. The streets are littered with dead, and many are still trapped under rubble. Haitian adoptions are slow, unsteady and strewn with deceit and corruption. This earthquake could make things more difficult. Dozens of countries have rushed to Haiti's aid, but their support will not be enough. We need to be in prayer that the spiritual elements of the Haiti disaster will be covered, not just the physical. The country is dedicated to Voodoo, and God feels far off to these precious children of his today. When we are inadequate, Christ shows strongest. Please lift these little ones up in prayer in the coming days, weeks and months.

Birthday Party

2010-01-08T16:53:00.002-07:00

Tuesday was J.R.R. Tolkien's birthday. I can't believe I missed it, for now I am sad. Tolkien is one of my favorites.... argh. So, I'll now write a post in honor of Tolkien... but since he was such a brilliant author, I may quote a bit.

"All that is gold does not glitter
Not all who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither
Deep roots are not touched by the frost
From the ashes a fire will be woken
A light from the shadows shall spring
Renewed shall be blade that was broken
And the crownless again shall be king."

"Faithless is he who says farewell when the road darkens."

"It's a dangerous business - stepping out your front door. "

"Short cuts make long delays."

"I do not love the bright sword for it's sharpness, nor the arrow for it's swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”

“It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them.”

“I warn you, if you bore me, I shall take my revenge.”

Hehe... I love Tolkien. I promise I'll write a good post sometime before MASTERS... though I've no idea when...

When Angels Sing

2009-12-23T09:18:00.004-07:00

Today is one of those days. You know the kind - where you have to get five million things done but just want to go on watching and rambling about spider webs.

I don't particularly like spider webs, actually, but I do enjoy the snow that is trickling from the white sky today. I somehow have a split vision in my mind of Christmas - half of me thinks of the traditional white Christmas (which is what I'm having here in my homestate). The other half sees instead of snow, sand, instead of pines, palms, and instead of a warm home a cold rock wall. And then I shudder and thank God.

Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. Starting in November, I eagerly anticipate its arrival. But it's been a unique Christmas.

I think I've grown up a lot in the last year. I think I'm beginning to perceive more like an adult and less like a child. What does this all have to do with Christmas? I don't really know. Maybe just my perception. I remember my thoughts last year on Christmas. This year, they have clarified, and at the same time, grown more ambiguous.

I've been thinking a lot about joy. I love joy. I think it is one of the most important qualities to be possessed. I've also been thinking a lot about pain. This is going to sound cliche, but I really think pain and joy go hand in hand - true joy, that is. I think joy is being able to see past the darkness and embrace the light, celebrate it.

A lot of people right now are in the midst of some very black darkness. They are surrounded by death, disease, despair, depression, brokenness, strife, malice. The dawn seems far away, doesn't it?

But it's not. In fact, light has already come. Many years ago, a light entered the world, and it's been trying to get him out of it ever since. But much as they try, the light can not be quenched. It hungers, it thirsts, for the inevitable - that one day, the dawn will come, all darkness will flee, and we will be standing in the sun.

I think when that happens, we'll look all around us and see the garish colors of past attractions, the decay and decadence all around us. But it will pale in comparison, it will fade away in the greatness of the light, that bright light.

So I have hope this Christmas, because I know that the darkest part of night is right before the sun rises. I have great peace because I know that, very, very soon, I will dance in the dawn. And I have much joy because this is a celebration of love! pure love, and great love, and love at first sight. Did you ever think about that? I hadn't. I know God loved me at first sight... before that! He loved me before there was sight.

For lo! the days are hastening on,

By prophets seen of old,

When with the ever-circling years

Shall come the time foretold,

When the new heaven and earth shall own

The Prince of Peace, their King,

And the whole world send back the song

Which now the angels sing.

Merry Christmas, everyone. May Christ's glad tidings of great joy, his love which embraces the world, his hope which waits just behind the curtain, and his peace which passes all understanding bring you closer to him this Christmas.

How Very

2009-12-11T11:19:00.004-07:00

What sort of normal person is expected to write an academic essay in 500 words or less on US History II? Just thought I'd make note of that...

Okay, for real, here's a poem I wrote and decided I'd post, since I've been posting disgracefully infrequently.

How very curious, my dear,
How very
I wonder what the trees said that morning
I thought I heard the stars sing aloud
Maybe for joy
Maybe

How very lovely, my dear,
How very
I wonder why the angels sing so quietly
I thought I could hear them
Maybe far away, softly
Maybe

How very thoughtful, my dear,
How very
I wonder why the Christchild comes
I thought I saw him, though he is gone
Maybe here, maybe there
Maybe

How very silent, my dear,
How very
I wonder why the songs are yet here
I thought this darkly silence was unbroken
Maybe there is light even here
Maybe

How very precious, my dear,
How very
I wonder why such a good thing has come
I thought all we were is darkness, fire and sand
Maybe there is more worth to us than that
Maybe

How very irresistible, my dear,
How very
I wonder why I am so drawn to such a small thing
I thought I could run from something so finite
Maybe there is infinity in this child, love
Maybe

Well, back to the 500-words-or-less paper...

Today is a Holiday

2009-12-01T11:13:00.005-07:00

Indeed it is! Today, Bluejane and I have declared it International Kylie Is Awesome Day.

This is Kylie.

She is Awesome.

And we have dedicated today to showing her how awesome she is on our blogs.

This is us.

For those of you who don't know her, Kylie is the most amazing editor ever. I have worked with her for years, and she is the most amazing editor ever.

She is the Sr. Editor for Kids of Faith Online Magazine and The Ignition Project, which is an amazing feat.

Love you, Kylie. Thanks for being so Awesome, and being my editor.

Odes

2009-11-15T13:13:00.003-07:00

Long overdue, but nonetheless, here they are... the odes to the ONLY people to comment on my amazing St. Francis quote.

Ode to Aunty
There once was a lady named Aunty
(well, actually it was Shirin.)
She was the greatest of people -
The nicest that you've ever seen.
She had hair like a superhero
Mrs. Incredible, true
And she knits fantastic creations
In colors of very bright hue.
But the reason I love my Aunty
Is not for her physical face
But the glorious strenght of her character
That helps me run this race.

Ode to Sophie
Sophie is my opposite
In almost every way
She's tall and blond and gorgeous
And seems to know what to say.
And though we're very different,
I'm happy that I can say
That we're still (happ'ly) friends
In simply every way.

So... my odes are lame-duck. I said they would be 'creative'. I didn't specify how. I really need to work on my rhyming poetry. I like sestinas so much better. Am I rambling? Maybe I should sign off for now. I hope the next post will be my thoughts on St. Francis and how amazing he is. Seriously, I wish I knew him.
In pursuit of glory,
Catey

Thought

2009-11-07T21:27:00.003-07:00

"There is no use walking somewhere to preach unless our walking is our preaching." Francis of Assisi.

I wish I knew Francis.

What are your thoughts on this quote?

EDIT: The first two people to leave a comment will have a creative ode written to them : )

"Alone"

2009-10-28T10:10:00.005-06:00

"Alone" by Edgar Allan Poe
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were - I have not seen
As others saw - I could not bring
My passions from a common spring -
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow - I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone -
And all I lov'd - I lov'd alone -
Then - in my childhood - in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still -
From the torrent, or the fountain -
From the red cliff of the mountain -
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold -
From the lightning of the sky
As it pass'd me flying by -
From the thunder, and the storm-
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view -

I am sometimes moved to tears by this poem. I am analyzing poetry for my college and writers guild studies and though I have only just read this poem for this assignment, I am continually touched by the loneliness Mr. Poe felt. How sad to perish alone without ever feeling the love he desperately wanted.

This is exactly why I want to be a great communicator. Because I don't want to be alone, but draw my passions from a common spring. But more than that, because I don't want others to call into an abyss and hear only the echo of their own voice. I want to be a part of that still small voice that whispers, "I know you. I made you." It makes me sad to think that some of the most brilliant and wanting minds died out loving alone and only loving what would bring them loneliness, when there was a God who was willing to fill them with love waiting the whole time.

The sad thing is that there are Poes all around us, disguised as ordinary people. I think about how many people I've brushed off, saying they're not worth my time. But the truth of the matter is that the ordinary people are the ones we're called to reach. We often read about Jesus among the lepers or healing the blind, those exotic conditions that capture our imagination, but Jesus was most often among the ordinary, forgotten people who are just as lonely and oppressed as the traditional missionary audiences we think of.

Can you learn to reach out and love like Jesus loved? The answer is, simply, no. But can you learn to surrender to God's calling and love as much as you can, with his help? Absolutely.

2 Peter 1:5a,7-8: But also for this very reason, giving all diligence, add to your... godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness, love. If these things are yours and abound, you will be neither barren, nor unfruitful, in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

My First Ever Blog Award

2009-10-24T16:25:00.003-06:00

My first ever blog award! Hugs and cookies to Judi for giving it to me :)

I award for their amazing awesome blogging and personal character:

My mother at Adoptyuen
Kylie at His Beautiful Love
Art at Think Outside the Globe
Jocelberry at The Jocelberry Patch
Aunty at The Schneider Web.

Hope you appreciate the award! Thanks for being so awesome!

Lead the Escape

2009-10-18T11:13:00.003-06:00

I watched the evening program for the CFC conference a few days ago. My mind is still caught up in the many short moments of it, my heart still frantically attached to the words I heard. I watched the speakers, heard the message, and thought, I will never reach that place.

And, at the same time, it's the only place I want to be.

Someone once told me, Why not aim for the moon, because if we fail, won't we hit a star?

I want to hit a star in my communication. I want to be one who, whether or not I lead the perfect escape, manages to somehow touch someone in the process.

And though I may miss the moon, at least I will hit the stars.

I see that it is impossible to be all that I need to be. But, somehow, it's all right, because while I may never reach that place, it is the only place I want to go. And when I only aim for places I know I can go, how will I ever know if I could have gone to a place that I actually wanted to?

If I attempt the impossible, maybe I'll be surprised.

I hope that a few days or a hundred years down this road, I will look up and see that I am at that place I thought I'd never attain. I know that I won't see the road along the way, because where's the faith and adventure in that? When one leaps for the stars, all that they can see is the darkness all around them.

But whether I look up and my feet are on the moon, or I fall onto a star, I know that I will have found the place I want to be. And who dares tell me it is impossible?

Call You Through the Noise

2009-10-10T16:01:00.005-06:00

I am the sound of rushing water
I am the sound of foggy skies
I am the wind that knows your heart
Pain which makes one curse and die

I am the feeling, cold sensation
That creeps your spine in cold, dark fright
Finding grace among the nations
Sings your heart to sleep at night

I am the dove that lands like fire
I am the water's holy blood
I am the helper and provider
I am the one who stops the flood

I am the one you call your shepherd
You are the sheep who hear my voice
I am Eternal Holy Father
And I will call you through the noise.

Humility

2009-10-06T21:12:00.008-06:00

I have struggled with a balance between pride and false humility for years. But recently, I had a wake-up call that opened my eyes to embracing my inner ridiculousness, and becoming a person of true humility.

It's called: my family. There is no way to be the oldest of five kids and still have dignity. To show you exactly what I mean:

My family name has a meaning that my dad denies (he hasn't yet embraced his inner ridiculousness). He claims it means "spherical" (my mom says, "corpulent"). My dad says it means, 'wealth'.

It doesn't. I researched it. And that's NOT what it means.

It means, 'gibbon'.

A gibbon is a monkey.

My full name means "pure light monkeys".

Truth is truly stranger than fiction.

My family settled on a compromise.

We are now the Rich Round Monkeys.

Love always,
Catey the Rich Round Monkey Woman

Proof...

2009-10-03T10:05:00.003-06:00

... that I really am a nerd:

I have a superb reading word per minute!

Average reading speed is 150-400 wpm.

My initial reading speed is 650 wpm.

Less than 5% of North Americans have a wpm over 400.

After taking a speed reading course, my wpm is now 1060 per 45 seconds.

With comprehension.

And I'm so happy.

I am such a nerd.

The Princess

2009-09-23T11:30:00.001-06:00

Once upon a time, there was a princess. She lived in a castle far away by the sea, where dragons used to dwell. One day, the princess threw a pebble from her castle window down into the green-blue sea below. "Oh dear!" cried the princess, as ripples deeper than the waves spread in perfect rings from her pebble. "My treasure is lost forever." You see, quite by accident, the princess had cast this pebble which contained the greatest of her treasures into a sea which she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt would tear it apart and leave it empty and hollow. So the princess dove into the sea, and felt in the waters around her the whisper and shout of a thousand hurtful words, all screaming:
"My heart is torn! There is a hole in my heart!"
The princess cried out and held out her hands, and there was darkness in the palm of her hand. She covered her ears, but there was still much screaming rushing in her ears. She shut her eyes, and yet there was still the sight of tears falling from a drooping seaweed. She was afraid, so she rushed up to the surface, screaming:
"My treasure is not worth the pain!"
Just as she reached the sunlight of the world above, she heard the sound of wings on water, of poetry, of an angel's kiss. "Thank you."
Again, "Thank you."
"Thank you.... thank... you....."
"For what?" The princess said. "Who are you?"
"We are the crying ones beneath the water. You left us a gift. We thank you... thank you..."
"What gift? I left you no gift!""The pebble. You gave us a pebble which encased a grain of truth. The truth has melted away the mud which bound us to the sea floor. Do you see what happened to us now?"
The princess looked around. "I do not see you."
"We are no longer the waves of the ocean, tossed by the foul wind. We are creatures of the air now. Your gift is freeing us. We thank you... thank..."
Their voices faded off into the sound of the wind over the water.
The princess looked into the sea. Her treasure meant so much to her... to give it up would spell doom, wouldn't it?
She had let her treasure go, but had it really left her?

That's what I'm thinking about : )

No, I'm Not Dead

2009-09-10T09:31:00.003-06:00

Sorry I didn't update in such an outrageously long time (and it truly is outrageous). School. Kills. My. Blog.

Here's a devotional I wrote for RTF:

I got back from a Christian speech and leadership camp in Tennessee just a few short weeks ago. I was exhilarated – and at the same time, discouraged. Looking ahead to the humdrum ways of real, regular high school living sounded remarkably unappealing. After a time of really focusing on God, it didn’t seem fitting that I should shove myself back into the routine of my regular year.

I’ve probably already made it very clear that I’m not all that into change. I’ve had the same haircut for five years, keep a calendar to help me manage my routine, and don’t like to mix up my daily schedule much. So I came up with a brilliant solution to my dilemma: I’d simply replicate my summer and try to stay in the same mental state as during my break.

A great idea, until I realized that it was an impossible goal. Ecclesiastes 3:1 states that there is a season for everything. By pushing my past season into my present season, I was only setting myself up for disappointment.

Here are some tips and tricks to transitioning into the real world that I found helpful:

Accept that change is going to happen. That was my biggest problem – denying that God had something else in mind for this season in my life. When I became excited about the new steps I would be taking, whether those be school-related, family-related, or church-related, I realized that I didn’t have to hold on to the things that were now past me.

Be excited - God’s doing something new! If you like to hold onto the familiar because it worked or you enjoyed it, be encouraged that God pushes you into new and fantastic things. If you’re determined to go along with whatever God has in mind for this new season in your life, you’re sure to be better prepared to do what he calls you to do.

Combine both new and old. If you’re not the kind of person who stays in a rut for long, be sure that you don’t toss out the great experiences you had this summer. Balance looking forward to the new, and remembering and learning from the old.

I hope you all have a great start to your school year!

Hollow Men - for Rebecca

2009-08-23T09:44:00.005-06:00

"We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men...

Our dried voices, when

We whisper together

Are quiet and meaningless

As wind in the dry grass..."

-TS Eliot, We Are the Hollow Men

"Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me!" Psalm 51:10

"So I went down to the potter's house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in th epotter's hand and he reworked it into another vessle, as it seemed good to the potter to do..." -Jeremiah 18:3-4

"then let men kill, which cannot share

Let blood and flesh be mud mire

Scheming imagined, passion willed

Freedom a drug that's bought and sold

Giving to steal and cruel kind

A heart to fear, to doubt a mind

To differ a disease of same

Conform the pinnacle of am."

-E.E. Cummings, my father moved through dooms of love

"But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, 'Why have you made me like this?'" - Romans 9:20

The Hollow Men
I was the darkness swallowed up the sun
I was the plague on Egypt's plain
I was the ice in God's hand
I was the stone that rolled from
I am the Hollow in the stone

You look at my face
My nose - aristocratic, called
My mouth - laughter, heard
My beauty - revealed
My eyes - what heart?

I felt above the pounding of
Rain or hammers or hailstone
Like bones, and I felt simplicity
Drain my ears
Hmmm.
Crack.

I heard above the sound
Of rushing waters
Of crickets in the early morning
Of bells from one thousand churches
Of the Angel of Death
Passing over

Thump. Ump. Thump. Umpthump.

I felt within and above and beyond
A sound that could only mean
One thing:
That thing that makes men's minds
Turn to oatmeal
And makes men's hearts
Turn from stone to sand

What sound? What song?
Only this:
I love you.

I am full.

The Promised Post

2009-08-21T12:29:00.007-06:00

So, here is the short version of my camp experience at ICC Speech Leadership Camp. I have this really good insightful post coming, but I thought I'd write a short on camp. Sixteen fun things about Camp:
Zero bug bites before the last day. I had this AMAZING bug spray that kept everything away and smelled like a smoothie. I was soooo happy... then I went on a hay ride. Apparently, in Tennessee (where "there's oxygen, so there are bugs.") there are these things called chiggers which are the demonic cousins of mites. They leave their feeding tubes in your skin, so they itch for forever and swell up and scar. I don't itch anymore, but I'm scarred. That was a unique experience.
One week in Tennessee. One of the most amazing weeks of my life.
Two amazing Moons. I met Mr. Moon for the first time at the conference - wonderful people, those Moons. I also got to see Mrs. Moon. I really like her and am very glad that she's still so involved in our organization.
Three hours discussing philosophy with Rebecca. Rebecca was one of the girls in my cabin and we got to be friends during our week at Camp, as we were both also Student Leaders. Rebecca is a genius analyzer and then some. So, one day, we sat in the (air-conditioned) chapel and talked about philosophy for three hours (blog post on that coming soon). She's the only person I know who talks classic literature, philosophy, and knows everything old musical ever.
Four speech events. Not bad for my second tournament ever, eh? I competed Impromptu, Interpretation, Platform, and Sales Pitch.
Five third-place awards. Seriously. Five third places. How did I manage that? I took 3rd in Impromptu, Interpretation, Sales Pitch, Sweepstakes (not sure how that happened) and Model UN speaker.
Six people playing Big Monkey. Phil (very cool intern who used to scare me but gave me a 1st place ballot in Interp) taught six of us how to play this really random, pointless game called Big Monkey... I am sad to say that four out of the six people didn't get this nearly rule-free game. Oh well.
Seven guys singing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" - at Eric's request. Eric (another cool intern, though he didn't scare me) likes to sing. Lots. Even though his voice is, in a word, bad. Once he found out my talent for getting a song stuck in my head for weeks at a time, he made it his goal to sing every song he knows around me. Rick Astley was his favorite (and Phantom of the Opera - talk about awkward.) but The Lion Sleeps Tonight was rather amusing - considering the fact that he gathered most of the guys in the room to sing the backup for him.
Eight hours with the same people daily. Since there were only four Student Leaders (I was the odd one out in a lot of ways... vaguely humorous.) we spent all of our four-six classes a day with each other and since there were so few, we got to know each other well. When we did personality typing (we actually had a class on it) we found out that we're all within a few letters of each other.
Nine girls in my cabin. Six of us were there for the ride, three were interns. I loved doing devotionals every night with them.
Ten showers in the Girl's Bathouse. And everyone in them sang. It was fantastic.
Eleven - Minute D.I. (ouch.)
Twelve wonderful interns. Hhhhh... I miss them.
Thirteen or more states represented. Even a foreign country - Ontario, Canada. His accent was funny.
Fourteen pages of notes. I'm a little overeager.
Fifteen Model UN Nations. Yipee! Go Model UN! If they'd passed my resolution, we would have won the game... but they didn't. So much fun.
A myriad: Of memories, knowledge and friendships.

Coming up next: An insightful post on Hollow Men...

I'm Back

2009-08-10T17:55:00.003-06:00

One hen
Two ducks
Three squawking geese
Four limerick oysters
Five corpulent porpoises
Six pairs of Don Alverso's tweezers
Seven thousand Macedonians in full battle array
Eight brass monkeys from the ancient sacred crypse of Egypt
Nine apathetic sympathetic diabetic old men on roller skates with a marked propensity toward procrastination and sloth
Ten lyrical spherical diabolical denizans of the deep who haul stall around the corner of the quo of the quay of the quivery
All at the same time.

(Why? Because I don't have time to write a full post about the amazingness of ICC Camp.
Why that poem? Well, you'll have to stay tuned to read all about it.
Why wait? Because it's too phenomenal to write in short form.
Why so phenomenal? Great people, like the people I love and miss so much I'm referring to them as my Camp Family and who include interns and teens, fantastic memories, like things about cows, flight attendants, and Rick Astley, and lots of fun. Like I said, stay tuned.
-Catey
Who misses her Camp Family)

The Devil in Disguise Rides Again!

2009-07-21T16:55:00.007-06:00

I never thought I would pen these words, but it is true:

My orthodontist, he, the Devil in Disguise, is back and out for my blood.

As you, my faithful readers, will remember, I have now had my braces off for 183 days (not that I've been counting or anything). And, I have had exactly three occasions to go back into the orthodontist's office since then (and, yes, I have been counting those).

My orthodontist had finally succumbed to the power of prayer. The devil was vanquished, and I was walking in freedom of deliverence. In my exactly three appointments since 183 days ago, I haven't even seen the glint of a fang, horn or tail.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday was my 6 month (a month late) retainer check. Last week, I'd come in and taken impressions again (the lady did not know what she was doing. I had impression goo all over my body when I left the office and my saliva tasted like impression goo- a taste which, by the way, is remarkably similar to that of some kind of exotic poison- for about five days after). I'll pick up the story after my literally twenty-minute wait in the Torture Chair:

Devil in Disguise: So... keeping them clean... wearing them every night... *to Assassin lady* She's a tough one... what do I do to her now?

Assassin lady: *nudge, nudge* Impressions?

DiD: Already did those. Twice.

AL: Ooh! New retainer!

DiD: *evil, Bowler-hat-guy-esque chuckle* Oh yes. *plasters grin on* I'm going to give you a new retainer for you to wear until you die. It's made of frog guts and cement. It will make your teeth hurt like you have braces again, and is so thick and heavy that you won't be able to sleep with your mouth shut. Because of this, you will develop an outrageous sore throat and jaw problems you can't even imagine! Any questions?

Moral of the story: Once they let you out of the Devil's office, don't go back in.

Screening Calls

2009-07-16T14:59:00.006-06:00

Why you should never screen phone calls:

The last time I screened an out-of-state call (Virginia), I found out days late that I had taken 4th in the Patrick Henry College short story contest (my story's on their website - here)

This time, my sister didn't answer a different Virginia call.

I find out today that I took 3rd place in the Home School Legal Defense Association (HSLDA) Poetry contest. It was a Sestina poem (not the one I posted a few months ago) but I'm not sure which one out of the two I wrote took the placing, but I'm really really really excited. It should be up fairly soon on the HSLDA website here. I'll post when I find out that it's been put up.

God bless,
Catey
Who has no luck in screening calls

***EDIT***
My poem is now up on the HSLDA website, and for the first time, I actually feel pretty good about this one. I did not expect this to be the winner (it felt pious when I submitted it, but it's a unique look at the topic.) but I am very very happy nonetheless. You may read it at this link: http://www.hslda.org/Contests/Poetry/2009/2009poems.asp#Catey.
Echoes in ink,
Catey
Who also has no luck in predicting winning pieces

***LAST EDIT, I PROMISE***
Vote on my poll down below my blog name... I'm trying to gather opinions on something, and I'd love for yours to be a part of it!
Echoes in ink,
Catey
Who adds multiple edits to her blog posts

Sing With Me!

2009-07-07T14:19:00.002-06:00

I am sixteen, going on seventeen,
I know that I'm naive.
Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet
And willingly, I believe!
I am sixteen, going on seventeen,
Innocent as a rose.
Bachelor dandies, drinkers of brandies,
What do I know of those?
Totally unprepared am I
To face a world of men.
Timid and shy and scared am I
Of things beyond my kin!
I need someone older and wiser
Telling me what to do
You are seventeen, going on eighteen,
I'll depend on you.

Experiences

2009-06-26T14:42:00.005-06:00

My thoughts about Flood the Five conference, which I taught with two of my favorite speakers and an intern from the organization I speak with (in no particular order... kind of like the conference itself)...

- Nylons are evil. I had to wear them all three days of the conference, and I ran them the very first day, and then had to cleverly hide the runs the rest of the week.

- My gift is in the UNDER TWELVE YEARS OLD category. Which is a good thing, because, I was the only one who preferred the Beginning Public Speaking kids.
(Story:
I was running a group of 12-15 twelve & up kids and they all HATED ME. Two of them ran as soon as they realized I was their instructor. Another two spent the entire time trying to tell me that they were older and therefore way cooler than me. I had one defense, though... my twelve-year-old sister Joss with her high-heeled shoe.)

-It is so much fun to do something out of your comfort zone with a bunch of people who are also pushed out of their comfort zones. Seriously. Cowardice loves company, but courage requires it. It was a blast to work with all but one person who had never done anything like this before.

-Giggling is for late at night. Quick story here:
A
friend and I were really, really, really tired after the second day of the conference. We hadn't seen our other friend all day or much in the past three weeks and we'd been running things together all day. We were a disaster waiting to happen. We decided we missed our other friend. We decided we should find something to tease him about.... but we couldn't think of anything. So we wandered around the sanctuary talking about how much we'd missed our friend and how we needed coffee (or tea, in my case.) As we wandered, we noticed that our friend was trying to fold down a table. And struggling. A lot. He was getting very frustrated with it, getting to the point where he was holding it upside down and kicking it.

(Editor's comment: Just to clarify, this friend is absolutely great. He is a genius. Truly. It's scary to talk to him because he's too smart for his own good. He WON Impromptu speaking for our forensics league for the whole country, and placed in Extemp and debate. REALLY smart. Just table-challenged.)

My friend and I glance at each other, and that momentary glance illuminated our thoughts all too clearly. We were thinking:

(insert echoey thought sounds)

He is a genius, but he can't fold tables.

And in a moment of sheer insanity and utter exhaustion, we simultaneously began to shriek. Hysterically. Couldn't stop laughing.

AND IT WASN'T EVEN FUNNY. We were just tired.

This lasted until the table folded and we saw that our friend was glaring at us viciously, which, despite his usually calm and gentlemanly demeanor, was a sure sign that we had three seconds to shut up or he would hit us both. Hard.

We stopped.

-Some kids are hilarious! One of the speech games we did was a group interpretation - where a group of kids act out a story together. My group did Jack and the Beanstalk. But we had really, really random things happen, like:
We double-cast Jack and Jill. Jack was played by Jack and Jack Be Nimble. Jill had her very own stunt double. It was amazing.
Our narrator was Rappin' Red Riding Hood.

Go figure.

- I have the sweetest friends ever.

-One of the cutest things I've ever seen is to watch two generally private people completely brag their little sisters. It was so sweet.

-Stretching yourself is a good thing. It was so neat to be trained by Mrs. Moon, who founded the organization sponsoring the conference, but the real learning and the real experiences took place when I was actually out there, figuring out what works with shy kids or how to focus 13-year-olds. It was in growing past the fact that I either used to or still do have (I can't decide which ) an irrational fear of teenagers. It was in the experience.

Loved it! Hopefully I'll have a brain and then I can write something deep and profound...

Maybe.

My Decision

2009-06-24T18:25:00.001-06:00

....I will not be wearing nylons again for a long, long time.

(aka, more complete post coming when I have a brain.)

Noah

2009-06-13T21:34:00.005-06:00

Drip. Drip.
I do not understand the water
That falls like a birdsong on my face
You say it cleanses
Then why is the dirt pouring on
Me?

You chose me. You chose this
Dark creaking beast to be my Shelter
In a long storm. I didn’t
Choose it for myself.
Why me? I am not
Good or Beautiful and I did not
Know you then. I hardly know you now.

Unworthy is a good word.
It’s who I am right now in the face of
This Great Flood that threatens me
But somehow, you protect.
How is it you could love a fool like me?

Is this who I am? More than just the
Earth on my face or the water in my hands,
I am made in your image
These eyes are to see destruction and live
These hands to cradle in love like you do
This heart to beat like yours
Is this who I am?

Unworthy is a good word.
But that is not who I am.

(This poem was up on Real Teen Faith earlier this week, but I decided I'd post it here too. I have too much to do to come up with something new with my poor decrepit old brain right now.
Note to self: Do not make the mistake of telling a Type A person that you are Type A and are the only person in the state the week before you're hosting a conference. It doesn't work out well. Sparks of illumination, C.
P.S. The conference mentioned there is the Institute for Cultural Communicators Flood the Five conference. I get to help teach, which is both scary and exciting. It's fantastic - and, if you live in my state (CO) then this is an excellent opportunity (Don't let the fact that I'm teaching scare you away - to counterbalance my inexperience, we'll have some wonderful speakers, including the debate National Champion from a few years ago). Check it out at: http://www.instituteforculturalcommunicators.org/.
Sparks of illumination, C.)

Bored?

2009-05-31T10:44:00.004-06:00

I'm not bored. But if you are, I have the ideal solution for you (or even if you're not, I have a great thing for you to do)!

Kylie, Joss, and I are putting on the first ever annual Ignition Challenge, starting today and continuing through the month of June!

The Ignition Challenge, which can be found online at www.ignitionchallenge.wordpress.com , is loosely affiliated with Kids of Faith Online Magazine and is put on and written by the contributors. Our goal for Ignition is to challenge and encourage believers to take their relationships with God deeper this summer.

It's really exciting - with devotionals, stories, humor, and in-depth looks at four aspects of our walk with God posted every day from now till July 1st! We're hoping to reach as many people as possible in the month of June, so consider checking us out! We'd love for you to come visit.

For more information on the challenge, check out our vision statement here. See you there!

In love and on fire,

Catey, Co-Editor of Ignition

Around... Sort of

2009-05-22T14:30:00.007-06:00

Pretty much the title sums it up. I'm around.... sort of. Since I haven't been posting much, I'll give you my life in a nutshell, which can, roughly, be summed up in my life this past week.

Last Friday: I was commandeered into service by a lady who is half my height but twice my gumption. I spent an hour guarding a door for our homeschool graduation.
(Me: Seth! Let me in!
Seth: NO! Go away.
Me, fifteen minutes later: SETH! They're attacking me with pencils!
Seth: NO! You are obsessed! Go away!
Seth's mom: CATEY! Let people in there before they kill you with pencils!)

Saturday: Duo practice. With a guy who hates this kind of speech. Both of our first times. Ever.
(Me: We need to keep the line!
Shane: NO! We need to cut the line!
Me: I'm the interper!
Shane: I'm in charge!)

Sunday: Dad leaves. World ends.
(Me, while frantically trying to figure out how in the world I'm going to get the speech to work without the line Shane cut: Sam! SSSSSHHHH!
Sam: WAAAAH!!!!!!!
Me, while still frantically trying to figure out how in the world I'm going to get the speech to work without the line Shane cut: WAAAAH!)

Monday: We are plunged into madness and chaos of the most devious nature.
(Me: Okay, so Mrs. B will pick us up and take us to Chapter, and there Carli will do her interp, Joss will do her interp, and I'll do my interp with Shane, despite the fact that I have no clue how to live without the line he cut, and then Mom will pick us up, take us to Costco while Joss does VBS practice, then we'll pick up the dog from the vet, go home and have dinner. Anything I forgot?
Mom: Yeah. Sam's running a fever and hasn't stopped crying all day.)

Tuesday: Sam will not stop crying. Oh yeah. And laundry. Lots and lots of laundry.
(Me, while still trying to figure out how to get the speech to work without the line that Shane cut, since we mysteriously didn't get to do it the day before, and foldng a mile-high pile of laundry: When does Daddy get home? Soon?)

Wednesday: Sam is not sick. So why is he such a mess?
(Sam: WAAAAAH!
Me, while still folding the mile-high pile of laundry and trying to figure out how to get the speech to work without the line that Shane cut: WAAAH! Tell me Daddy's getting home soon!

Thursday: Performed speech - in the middle of nowhere while still trying to figure out how to give this speech without the line that Shane cut.
(Me, after driving to this tiny church in the middle of nowhere: Yeah, I'm here to work on a speech.
Kaitlin: Aren't you competing next year?
Me: Yes. But I'm working on one with Shane. It's a duo.
Kaitlin: You are lying to me.
Me: No... seriously
Kaitlin: You have done the impossible.
Me, under my breath: Not quite. Figuring out how to give this speech without the line Shane cut is doing the impossible...)

Today: DADDY'S HOME!!!! And putting the line that Shane cut BACK into my speech!
(Me: I'm right! You may be in charge, but I'm right! And that line is SO going back in the speech!)

Yes, so, essentially, that's been my life. Sound interesting? It was. In retrospect.

And, in addition to all that, I'm up on:

Kids of Faith Online Magazine: the summer issue is up! We have some fabulous stuff in this one, including but not limited to: a brand new contributor (Alyssa!), a review of Do Hard Things (the review was recommended by the Harris brothers, who are the authors of the book!) and (if I do say so myself) the very best installment of Beneath a Dark Sky yet.

Real Teen Faith: my Squire CWG mentor's site. Read my devo about summer training, if you like.

Echoes in ink,
C.

The Smell of Thought

2009-05-13T17:08:00.005-06:00

I wanted to hope for a gift
Something set free from a cage with wings
And desperately, I hoped to gain
Something that would free me too

But I could not be freed
Until I could learn to give
And though I hated the inscrutable wind
I tried to scream my whispered warning

To it as I longed for pale sunsets
And words that would give me
Some sort of wish
That would give me hope

But hope is a quality quickly fleeting
And though I loathed the smell
Of thought, I thought
And thought of things

That no mortal should ever think of
No mere man should ever write of
But I did, because the cage demanded
Escape, and escape was of the outside world

And the outside world held disgust
And I wanted to understand that disgust
And find a way to make it beautiful
For it was not wrong to write

About wrong, because for wrong to be
Right must be, for hate to be,
Love must triumph. And I made
It triumph in every thought

And though I loathed the smell of
Blood, I thought of blood and water
And how the sky would pour forth stars
And damage the unsuspecting earth below

And I wondered how long it would be
Before another thinker would enter and
Think the dark and troubled thoughts I thought
But none would come for they feared

That light would never be back.
Except for one, and that was of
Another time, another year, moment
And dimension, and I longed

For another thought, a thought of joy
And a thought that would remove this
Elephant from my chest and
Let my heart beat freely again

It did not come and I drowned.
Darkness is not unlike water and water
Makes one drown when it is all around
And suddenly, light and darkness

Made their solemn dance around me
Like a wedding march, marrying themselves together
I screamed.
Because I was drowned and I

Could not see or breathe…
But it was not the end.
Light and dark are two means
To kill and to birth

And to embrace the light from
The side of the dark
As a great illumination watches
Is to find a joy that cannot be found

To fight an enemy that cannot be killed
To find a way that does not exist
To eat from the hand that made you
To know a God who cannot be known.

I keep writing poetry. Once again, I'm trying to improve my contest entry, and this one isn't even the right form, so I decided to post it. Poetry is a raw art and is a language of thought, best understood when overheard, I've decided.This one was just expression of something I can't understand. But I'm trying. Echoes in ink, C.

I Believe in You

2009-05-06T21:06:00.006-06:00

I believe in you.

No doubt you've heard those words as often as I have. People find this belief very important. They assume it will accomplish something.

Often, it is paired with a similar set of words:

Believe in yourself.

Once again, people find this significant and expect it to make a difference.

I've always found both sets of words somewhat annoying. The believe in yourself mantra is overrated. I could believe in myself all I want that I will become a famous scientist and cure HIV, but all the believing in the world can't accomplish that.

By the same token, I could believe that some acquaintances that I'll leave unnamed could become opera singers. But all the believing I can do won't make that happen.

I found both phrases not only annoying but also vain. As if my belief could make such a truly marked difference. It's not my belief that matters. Like I said, I can believe, and believe, but that doesn't mean anything.

Ideas without action are dead ideas. Ideas should inspire people to do something about the way the world is now. They should make them think of society in a different way, and force them to leave it better than they found it.

We see this in the early church. The disciples took the ideas of Christ and carried them out in life. They combined the idealism of the doctrines they believed with the pragmatic end of spreading and living them in their everyday lives. We see that those who believe in Christ will be doers, not simply hearers of his word, (James 1:22) but we also see how good works without the faith behind them are also dead (Galatians 3:11)

I suppose that's where my issue with both quotes arose from. Believing is of the world of ideas, but, we've seen that ideas cannot be independent of the action they inspire (if they can, they're not worth being thought up) Action is required in belief, belief in yourself or your belief in others.

Looking at those quotes in this light, I recently came by the realization that they are not without their value. Viewed through the lens of God's word, both can actually be quiet beneficial.

The Believe in Yourself one is simply a call to have faith in what can't be seen. It's a call to take a risk and step outside of what's familiar and comfortable. If you go out of your safe little haven with the idea that you will absolutely, beyond the shadow of a doubt, fail, you probably will. But if you are willing to believe there might be hope, that you could potentially make a difference, better things are yet to come. God doesn't really care how amazing you are. You are. He is. You are His workmanship. That makes you good enough. Be an optimist. Be realistic, but still believe that God can do mighty things through you.

The I Believe in You quote is my favorite. It encompasses my spiritual gift (showing mercy - which essentially means liking people even if I don't actually like them) perfectly. It's important to view people through the light of eternity. People don't usually believe me when I say it, but I don't see people as they are, but rather, as they could be, and in a very rosy light, too. People aren't just who they are now. They're not their limitations. People are souls traveling toward destinations, souls who are so much beyond what they truly are. I like the way C.S. Lewis puts it:

"It is a serious thing," says Lewis, "to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no 'ordinary' people. You have never talked to a mere mortal."

That radicalized my thinking about people. I am never talking to just a mere mortal. The most annoying, most ditzy, most conniving, most hurtful, most divisive, most unintelligent slobs I know could be the people I see as an angel of light. And my cutting words or vicious glances will be recounted one day.

That's why believing in someone is so significant. It makes all the difference in someone's life to know that someone had the faith to know there were better things for them out there.

It's impacted me. And my faith in others has made an impact, both on them and me.

Here's my challenge for you: View yourself and others in the light of eternity. You'll see change.

Sestina

2009-04-28T21:00:00.003-06:00

She sits with her back to the bitter wind
The quiet cries of the pale in her hand
The little bird’s trusting muffled song
From within the shifting of his wings
Makes silent rufflings in the shadows
In the bird’s hushed-gentle throat.

The girl looks down and clears her throat.
As her mother follows the wayward wind
Into the paths of darkness, painful shadows
With her destiny in the palm of her hand
And, soaring on a devil’s wings
Distorts the girl’s pure playful song.

The little girl wishes she could sing a song
Like the bird’s, but the dust pains her throat
Instead, she holds the bird’s steady wings
Keeping him from flying into the wind
Stubborn, she holds bird and mother in hand,
She will not let them cross the shadows.

For a moment, she heard the silent shadows
Speak, and their words were the words of a song
That treasure held in conniving hand
Is a knife pushed down magician’s throat
But treasure thrown to the wiles of the wind
Is treasure that will grow bold white wings.

And if the treasure has strong white wings
Then it will call out creatures of the shadows
Who praise the glory of the wind
Whose ears will hail no sudden song
That rises from a sainted throat
But hopeful whisperings of moon at hand

The girl raises her freckled hand
And, arbitrarily, bird tests his wings
A joyful song in the girl’s one throat
As her mother glides in hidden shadows
And both join in the bird’s free song
They see now beauty in the free wind.

The girl holds the shadows like clay in her hand
And the gifted wings fly like the song
In her brave throat and float above the forgetful wind.

I wrote this poem for a contest, but I didn't like it in context enough to submit it as my entry. I wrote a better one that will be my entry. This one is just a pretty thought. I hope you enjoy it. Echoes in ink, C.

my father moved through dooms of love, by e.e. cummings

2009-04-23T15:35:00.003-06:00

After first hearing e.e. cummings when one of my writing students read 'i am so glad and very' aloud for our class, I have been determined to figure this man out and read more of him. I was entranced by this poem, and thought perhaps, you'd like it too.

my father moved through dooms of love
e.e. cummings
my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead he called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely)stood my father's dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
less humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things
sweet,maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath

and nothing quite so least as truth—
i say though hate were why man breathe—
because my father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all

Curtain

2009-04-12T20:22:00.007-06:00

"How strange that the Lord should wait until the day before Sabbath for his curtain to tear!" Zechariah made a buzzing sound in his throat. Since the cough had taken hold, his humming had grown steadily weaker.

Judah reached up to take the curtain from the old priest. The temple had stood, solid, since the days of Zerubbabel, and the curtain, as a general rule, had been no exception. It had certainly been strange for the curtain to tear from top to bottom on the stormiest day Galilee had seen since Judah could remember, indeed, the day before the Sabbath.

"Why do you think the Lord chose last Friday for the curtain to tear?" Judah asked, a grin quirking the corners of his mouth. He handed the torn curtain to a Levite who stood nearby to attend to it.

Zechariah smiled more broadly, a laugh gurgling in his throat, his full brown beard twitching. "Who knows? The Lord works in mysterious ways, my boy."

Judah laughed too. Though he was supposed to be too old for playing, this was still his favorite game. Growing up in the temple had not been easy, but Judah had found hope and happiness in his favorite priest, a man who was like his father. They had played the game they played now every day for years, asking questions of each other about the God they both served. Why do you think God chose to use a boy to slay the giant, Zechariah?

He still remembered the answer to that one. Zechariah had replied that boys are weak, boys are clumsy and small, and God wanted his people to know that He had won the victory, not little David.

Judah looked up to Zechariah, still standing on the ladder, staring up at the blanket which was to temporarily replace the curtain. Judah thought if Zechariah tried, he could pierce the woolen blanket with his fierce glance and see the Lord's place.

But Zechariah would never blaspheme like that.

Reminded of their old game, Judah said, "Zechariah? Why do we have a curtain before the Holy of Holies?"

The priest heaved his bulk off the ladder and sat down on the floor next to Judah. "You know the answer, don't you?"

True, Judah knew the answer. God was too holy for the ordinary people. Only the High Priest was allowed behind the curtain.

"But why the High Priest only? Why couldn't the ordinary people go through some sort of ritual to pass behind the curtain and make their own offerings to the Lord?" Judah said. A thread brushed past him. He caught it in his hand and stared into its forgiving fibers.

"God ordained for it to be the High Priest. He has been necessarily purified."

Here came the second phase of the game - trying to see how much they could get the other to prove before he said, 'It's the Lord's mystery," which was always the end to their game.

"The Weeping Prophet says the heart is desperately wicked. All hearts. Not just the ordinary people and the sinners."

"The Lord also says he will create in us a pure heart."

Judah frowned at the thread. "Why would God make it so that the ordinary people can't know him?"

"He is holy, my son."

Judah looked up. "Does he not love us, Zechariah?"

Zechariah looked away for a long time, and for a moment, Judah thought their game had ended sadly. It was quiet, the only sound the wailing of a crowd of mourners outside the temple.

"Oh yes." Zechariah said, startling Judah out of the silence. "He loves us very much. Where does it say that, my son?"

"In the Torah."

"Yes."

"How could he love us if he is never with us?" Judah said, quietly.

Zechariah looked away again. "It's the Lord's mystery."

---

Judah sat outside, on the street. It was stiflingly warm, sticky, and his shirt was sticking to him, not at all pleasantly.

In the distance, the call of a peacock, mimicking the mourners who still stood outside.

Women. So many women in this crowd. They were moving past him now. Good. He couldn't stand the sound of their hopeless, ululating cries. They made his skin crawl.

It was so warm, so lulling and warm. He felt himself begin to relax into waxy half-slumber.

But someone was shouting, breaking him from his very comfortable dream.

"He is alive!"

A female voice, happy. He opened one eye, recognized her as a woman he had seen in the temple on occasion. An older lady, respectable, quiet.

It seemed to him that something was unfortunate about her, but he couldn't quite place it.

"He's alive!"

Who's alive, woman? and would you be quiet? I'm trying to rest.

He felt like saying it, but he didn't.

"Jesus is alive!" Something about that name stuck with him.

Oh. That was the unfortunate thing, wasn't it? Her name was Mary. She was the one with the maniac blasphemer prophet as her son.

Alive? He couldn't be alive. Wasn't he the one who had died, the day of the storm?

The day the curtain tore?

He had listened the man speak once. He had called himself the good shepherd. He was a carpenter, this Jesus, but he called himself a shepherd. What did that make Judah? A sheep?

The thought had struck him as funny when he first heard it. Now, it seemed vaguely familiar, and faintly disturbing. What was it the prophet Isaiah said?

We all...

we all like sheep...

We all like sheep have gone astray; each of us has turned to his own way, and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.

Who is the He in this verse, Zechariah?

It's the Lord's mystery.

"The Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep."

Judah could hear that voice, that perfect voice, in his mind still.

But I don't understand. You are a carpenter, not a shepherd. And you're dead.

"Jesus is alive!" The woman's shouts mingled with the mourners.

We all like sheep.

Judah heard something, but couldn't seem to place it. We all like sheep have gone astray.

Maybe he was the good shepherd. He had laid his life down. And his mother seemed to think he had returned.

The Lord has laid on him the iniquities of us all.

More unidentifiable sound.

The iniquities of us all.

Judah remembered the lightning, the thunder around him, cowering, as the curtain tore. Unreasonably loud, that thunder. And the words, over and over, soundless and screaming, in his mind and above him like the thunder itself, It is finished.

And it was. The good shepherd had laid down his life for his sheep, he inexplicably understood. Because the Lord had laid on Him, that shepherd, the iniquities of us all.

The sound he could not hear shrieked in his ears.

He had killed the Lord of hosts. He had been the one the weeping prophet, Isaiah the prophet, and all the others had spoken of. It was his iniquities, it was his pain.

That was his criminal death that the Lord had paid.

Oh, Lord. Oh, Lord. I am afraid.

Why so afraid?

I love you. You know that, don't you? I love you. Where do you find that, little Judah?

The Torah.

That's right. And I have a question for your game now, little Judah. Why did I choose Friday for the curtain to tear?

It is the Lord's mystery.

No mystery is hidden with me, little Judah. How can I love you if I am never with you? I do not dwell in the Holy of Holies, behind a forbidding curtain. I am among you. You are my people. I am your God. I love you. I will always be with you. How can it be otherwise, dear little one? I dwelt with you as Christ the Savior. Now I dwell with you as your friend, your lover, your king, your Messiah. I am with you, to the very end of the age.

Who are you, Lord?

I am Jesus.

Judah could still hear the sound in his mind, and now Jesus' words showed him what it was. The curtain was torn in two. The path to God was open.

The Night

2009-04-10T22:54:00.004-06:00

And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness, he called Night.

It was now about the sixth hour and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun's light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two.

For at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light.

I, Jesus... am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star. The Spirit and the Bride say, "Come." And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.

It is so dark out here, Father. It's so cold, and chill, and I am frightened. The stars even hide their light. I cannot break this blackness, this perfect, pure blackness.

Father, I am afraid.

Why is the night here? Is it not daytime? Why, Father?

These torrents of rain cover me. They are in my hair and my eyes, and the scream - the pained, pained scream - fills my ears and my heart. Who is crying out, Father? And why is he anguished?

Then the wailing begins. I cannot tell where it begins from. Perhaps the man in the center of the three? The wail is unbroken, unadulterated pain. The man arches his back, trying, trying so hard to...

To breathe, I think. Below him, the woman is wailing too. Their screams harmonize together in cacophony with the screaming. I think it is the wind.

I am afraid, Father.

Above the shout of rain and wind and tears, I can hear just one thing.

Small gasp. Small gasp.

The man in the center is making the noise. He tears his hands on the spires and raises himself up.

"Father! Into your hands I commit my spirit. It is finished."

It is.

The wind is louder. The rain pounds harder on my face, my outstretched hands.

I'm crying. And I don't know why.

It is finished.

That is why. It's done here. The suffering, finally over. The pain, finally done.

But his life is ended. Cut short.

The darkness plunges even blacker. And then I realize.

Light has perished from the world.

Come back.

Come back.

End the night, forever.

The Wait

2009-03-27T12:02:00.004-06:00

(This devotional was featured on Real Teen Faith earlier this week, but I thought I'd post it on Sparks of Illumination in case you didn't catch it on the other site. Hope you enjoy it! - C.)

Abram had a promise from God. He knew that the Lord would give him a son, despite his old age. He was familiar with the promises of God. He was only a few generations from the time of Noah and the flood, where God had showed just how fully he kept his promises to his people.

But Abram didn’t wait on the Lord. Though the child of promise was to come through his wife, Sarai, he chose instead to have a child through his concubine, Hagar.

Disaster ensued. Sarai banished Hagar and her son Ishmael to the desert twice, and once the child of promise, Isaac, was born, the clash only intensified. The nation descended from Isaac, the Jews, and the nation descended from Ishmael, the Arabs, are in conflict to this day.

What made Abram waver? Why did he settle for less than perfection, when he had the promise of goodness before him?

Abram had the same problem that people are still struggling with to this day. He was impatient for God’s blessing, and so he diminished the blessing coming to him by disobeying God and not waiting on His perfect timing.

A study was conducted among a group of preschoolers. Adults would put a child in a room with one cookie and tell the child that if they could wait a certain amount of time without eating the cookie, they could have two later. Then they went out of the room and watched the children. Almost every child ate the one cookie then, instead of waiting for the two.

They wanted immediate gratification. They wanted to have the good thing then, even though if they just waited a little longer, they would get more.

Everyone longs to feel God’s blessing in their lives. They cry out for him to relieve their suffering and bless them in a certain area of their life. This may be finance, time, housing, friends, school.

For me, this area was in specific activities. I wanted so badly to be involved in a program that my friends were involved in, I pushed God. I told him the area I wanted to be involved in was a good program, that it was a safe environment, that it was a place where I could further his kingdom. I said that I would enjoy it, be good at it, help people through it. Then I asked God why he wasn’t letting me be a part of it. If it was a good thing to do, and a good thing for me to do, it didn’t make sense to me why I shouldn’t do it.

God’s answer: Wait. You’re not ready yet.

So I waited. But not patiently. I still read up on everything that had to do even remotely with the program I wanted to be in, and begged God to let me join. The answer didn’t change.

Wait. You’re not ready yet.

Finally, I was reading my Bible and I felt God impress upon me that my life was His anyway. I was just clay in his hands, and he could do whatever he wanted with me. I didn’t need to worry about what God wanted for me, because he knew what was best for me, and that I should settle for nothing less.

I gave myself back to him. I told him that I was okay if he never had it in his plan for me to do all the things I’d always hoped I’d do. I told him I wanted to do what he wanted for me, whether or not I agreed with him at the time.

A week later, my mom approached me about joining the group I had wanted to all along.

I’m the first to admit it’s hard to wait. But if we wait on God and acknowledge that He, no matter what, is our best, we will be rewarded.

God has a plan for your life. And he ultimately rewards patience and surrender, if only we wait.

(P.S. Did you notice my new profile name? I changed from Sister Warrior to Echoes in Ink. Sister Warrior didn't really fit anymore, and Echoes in Ink fits both areas of my passion for communication, writing and speaking. Maybe I'll write a post on Echoes in Ink later. Maybe not. You never know. Sparks of illumination, C.)

My Kids Will Have An Interesting Life...

2009-03-23T15:00:00.012-06:00

All I can say is that I'd better marry a person who's at least a little bit more normal than I am or else my children will,
a) be complete freaks of nature
b) have to grow up with two very strange parents
or
c) all of the above

Then again, if I marry someone who's normal, then I might encounter some problems getting along with him... I wouldn't have anyone to talk to. Oh well. 'Tis a paradox I may as well just forget about, and simply pray for my children.

What prompted this interesting discussion, you ask?

Last night, my 4/yo brother was asking me to tell him a story (I told him one story to have him keep up while we were on a walk, and he hasn't stopped asking me for a story since.) when my mom announced:

Mom: No! Not tonight. Because she'll be doing an Interp for you tomorrow.

For all the non-speech-and-debate people, an Interpretation (Interp) is the best speech ever (if you're an Extemper, please don't kill me!)

Seriously though, for all the non-speech-and-debate people, an Interpretation (Interp) is a speech you perform dramatically.

Interps can be a lot of work. You have to cut a piece of literature into a script, memorize the script, block (add movement) to the script, characterize, and then work on other fun rule-related stuff. In short, this isn't something you want to write and memorize the night before.

And my mom has just sprung on me that I will, indeed, be writing and memorizing an as-of-yet-unknown piece of literature the night before.

My reaction: What?

Another note: My family is doing a homeschool co-op with some families who are considering the curriculum that my family used during my elementary education. They're studying ants right now. So my mom thought it would be "fun" for them to see an Interp of the Ant and the Grasshopper (Aesop) instead of just reading.

And, being the resident Interper with loads of time on my hands (snort... that's not even funny), I was elected to do it.

Did I mention I have a problem with Impromptu speaking? Just check out this post to be sure, but I seriously dislike it.

I just don't tell everyone that. And so, I'm being "strongly encouraged" to compete Impromptu next year and I taught a class on Impromptu speaking a week ago. Ha! If only they knew. But more and more I'm finding I probably don't have a problem.

In said class on Impromptu, I unexpectedly told an Impromptu story. In the above post, I was I competed Impromptu (not Apologetics, like I thought I'd be able to... correction, like I was TOLD I'd be able to...) I'm constantly giving speeches I've been given less than 4 days to prepare for (yeah, I went to an assisted living home with my speaking group that somebody cancelled for at the last minute, so I wrote a speech the night before and attempted to give it that day) I wrote my first-ever D.I. and performed it in three day... it's just sad how many times I've had to do this.

So, to make this post all the more random, after deciding I don't hate Impromptu that bad after all, I realized how spoiled my brothers are as it comes to reading.

My mom and my sisters and I have always read aloud to the younger family members. We've always used voices, and expression.

But now?

My brother now asks for stories like Winnie the Pooh, but expects a full-out presentation. The funny part is, he usually gets it. I've memorized so many children's books as Interps that I can usually just Interp my stories (and if I don't, we all do very dramatic voices and stuff like that).

So, I was thinking that and took it a step further. My children will probably grow up with that kind of dramatic reading/speaking. They'll come into their library storytimes as little three-year-olds and say, "Mommy, she doesn't read the stories fun like you do."

What am I getting myself into?

That and the fact that my children will probably have an overdose of the verbiage gene. So, maybe they won't say that. Maybe they'll say, "Mother dearest, she doesn't entertain us to the same degree as do you when you read aloud."

To conclude this reflective, dangerously unproductive post, I will say that, whether my poor children are freaks of nature, or I marry a somewhat normal person or a strange thing like me, I have great fun doing these speeches. So, I suppose I need to get over my Impromptu stigma and my "abnormal" stigma and just do the stupid interp. Right now. Before I forget the whole thing.

Sparks of illumination,
C.

Kids of Faith

2009-03-13T23:12:00.003-06:00

I promise... I really will post the Continuing Store Clerk Drama sometime, but life keeps happening.

The new issue of KOF is up at www.kidsoffaithonline.net today. You can check out my columns and my sister's new column on the site.

We're also doing a sneak peak into a summer program that I'm the assistant editor for, called Ignition.

Sparks of illumination,
C.

Introducing...

2009-03-09T21:13:00.002-06:00

Introducing...

The Jocelberry Patch! This is my darling sister's new site, which she will devote mainly to her photography and artwork (I think... she may just decide to be spontaneous on me).

Anyway, without further ado: www.thejocelberrypatch.blogspot.com

Coming up next: The Continuing Store Clerk (and various other kinds of hired help) Drama Continues...

With Jesus in Their Eyes

2009-02-28T21:09:00.004-07:00

(I am braindead with a million bazillion assignments and guests, but I figured I was long overdue on a blog update. Here's a poem I recently wrote. It's kind of narrative, but it was a break from my relentless usual style).

With Jesus in Their Eyes

I'm the girl
With eyes so deep and hollow
You could drown in them.
My dark floss cloud a
Remembering ember
Of another life, another
Love.

I'm the boy
With sunshine hidden behind
Pale, gold-tipped glass
My brow like a ship's
Course across storm-laden
Green, furrowed
Like waves. Behind it
The longing, starving words
Who do not know
'Enough'.

I'm the girl
In the forbidding
Denim jumper
With hair like yellow tears
Or pretty leaves on crying willow
With innocent questions
And laughing ferocity.

I'm the boy
Everyone loves with
My teasing grin and two-faced
Eyes that love to
Make them dance
But hold some void
Some abyss and darkness
Of an unusual kind.

I'm the girl
Whose arms cradle
Such sweet cries
That earn me the shunning
The hiss, hush
That mars my existence

I'm the boy
So young, so true
And dead
My hands bleeding
My feet full of darkness
My head shining forth light
Crushed like a
Wilted brown leaf
Before the deepness of the
Night
Criminal
Sinister

You are the one
I died for
The one I bled for
The one I swallowed Darkness
forevermore for
I was crushed for you.

He is the one
With the immense brilliance
He's the one
Who shines through their
Eyes.

I'm the girl
I'm the boy
Who needs your
Love, with
Jesus in my eyes.

Part V of the Purple Mold Series

2009-02-23T22:11:00.004-07:00

A story of life, love, desperation and mold of a rather unusual color by Kylie and I. (click the names below for links to the previous parts of the story)
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four

The wailing wouldn't stop.

It was Iyanna's wailing and she couldn't control it any more than she could control the destiny that had seized her and her unwilling family. It had been only a day since the violet mold had appeared in the outhouse. A day since disaster had come to be.

"Yan," a voice said softly by her ear. "It's time to wake up." A masculine voice. Hmmm. There was something significant about this voice, wasn't there? If her tired, frozen mind could only melt a little, maybe she could remember...

She swallowed and opened her eyes. A man knelt next to her bed. Two piercing grey eyes shone out of the still of the dawn room. She clamped her mouth shut to keep the scream from escaping.

Who was this man and how had he got into her room? She looked frantically around for Westin, but his bedclothes were rumpled, signaling the fact that he had indeed left.

"Calm down, little sister." The man said, releasing her from the burden of his silvery eye contact. "I promise, I'm here to help you."

"Who are you?" She said, her voice painfully level.

"I'm called Arioch." He extended a hand. She looked at it, unsure of what he meant.

He pulled his hand back again. "Oh, sorry about that. Custom I've grown familiar with. I assume you are Iyanna?"

She narrowed her eyes. How did he know so much about her? "Yes. How do you know that?"

He smiled. A brilliant, silvery smile to be sure. The light of the stars was captured in his shimmering smile. "Do you like to fly?"

Fly? This man, Arioch as he called himself, was a lunatic. "What kind of question is that?" she snapped at him.

"A perfectly valid one." He said, looking down at his long, pale fingers. "Well, do you?"

"Like to fly?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I've never flown before." Lunatic. Stark, raving mad.

"Oh. That's a shame." He smiled again, and she couldn't tell whether he was joking or serious. "Do you want to fly?"

"No." The answer came to her lips without her thinking about it. Her heart started to increase its beats in speed. The crazy man was making her nervous.

"Again, a shame. Do you like sunsets?"

"Yes." she said cautiously.

"Good! Now we're beginning to understand each other!" He slapped a hand onto her shoulder.

Understand each other? Iyanna's mind raced. Understand? Nothing could be further from the truth!

Arioch must have interpreted the look on her face accurately, because he said, "Don't worry, little sister. You will understand much later. Tell me, what do you know about stars?"

She glared at him from under her eyelids.

He just smiled his roguish grin back at her. "That's fine. I just want to get to know you a little more."

"Then maybe you could actually ask me something that mattered!"

"What do you suggest?"

Iyanna stopped. What was important? "You could ask me about the violet mold."

"So, why has the Creator bestowed this violet mold upon you, sweet Iyanna?" Arioch leaned back on his elbows, stretching his long frame.

"I don't know."

"Then why did you tell me to ask that?" Arioch quirked one side of his mouth up.

"Maybe you have... answers." Iyanna's tongue was running away with her mind. What was she thinking?

"Hmm." Arioch sat back up. "Answers. I have no answers. Never. But the Creator holds knowledge in the palm of his hand. Inquire of him. Who knows? He may choose to speak through his humble servant."

It took Iyanna a moment to realize he was referring to himself. "No." She chewed her lower lip, bitter. "If the Creator would deprive me of my life, my safety, my brother, he's not worth it all, is he?"

Arioch looked serious. "Your brother? What about your brother?"

"The mold was his, wasn't it?"

"You seem to think I know things that I don't know. But if this is really something that disturbs you, then I need you to do something ridiculous."

Everything you've said so far has been ridiculous.

"Hold very tightly to my hand, and don't let go." He said, extending his hand in her direction. "Promise me, whatever happens, you won't let go."

Iyanna slipped her hand into his, her concern for Westin outweighing all reason. "I won't... let go."

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Arioch was gone. She was gone. Nothing.

Nothing.

The light had faded into nothing. Nothing.

She tried to move, but found that her clenched hand still bound her to where she was.

The darkness glimmered into hazy brilliance. What a strange dream. The world was back. She must have hit her head on the low ceiling or something. A bird was singing.

"Yan?"

Iyanna would know that voice anywhere. "Westin!" She leaped from the ground, which she now recognized as moss, and ran toward him. His face was pale, but he looked happy. Happier than he had been in a long time.

She couldn't reach him. Her hand bound her in place.

Whatever happens, don't let go. Arioch's words echoed across the familiarity of it all. Promise me, whatever happens, don't let go.

Iyanna let go. The nightmarish darkness, nothingness was here.

She had forgotten, in the lovely morning and her brother's warm face, the terror of this. She screamed, but the scream was torn from her throat in a desperate force.

"Sweetie, wake up." The voice sounded like it was coming through a tunnel of wind.

"Katia! Bring her around!"

"She's having a seizure, sir! I can't do... anything." The voices were fading and growing, hitting grandiose notes of crescendo and decrescendo.

Then the roar overwhelmed them, and Iyanna was alone, away from Arioch, whose hand had fallen from hers.

And far, far away from sweet Westin.

So... did you see that coming? Check back on Kylie's site in the near future for Part VI.

"Homeschool Chemistry Class Found Dead on Kitchen Floor"

2009-02-19T15:31:00.009-07:00

(Imagine finding that headline in your local newspaper!)

Today was Co-op. It was really fun. I performed my Apologetics speech (good score - yay) and then went on to do Chemistry, where I was poisoned by my well-meaning teacher and nearly died.

Let me explain.

We're studying the Chemistry of Solutions. One of our experiments involved us dissolving a compound into water to demonstrate exothermic reactions (the kind that give off heat when performed).

We read the entire experiment carefully before beginning. We even wore the safety goggles like they recommend (they recommend we wear safety goggles when we're dealing with salt, so we usually look at their goggles suggestion somewhat critically).

But this time we even did that!

Conclusion of Chemistry experiment: Drano+water= bad news.

We were supposed to mix lye (like Drano) and water to observe the difference in temperature. Well, they didn't mention that when you mix lye and water, it produces a toxic fume.

We're a small homeschool Chemistry class. We have five students (only four were here today), so we usually do our experiments at the kitchen sink (which is where it's recommended!)

My mom also teaches a history class for kids approximately 4-11 years old. They're a pretty small class too, so they meet in the living room.

Our only guy Chemistry student noticed the problem with the gases first. As soon as we started the experiment, he started to itch, so he dashed outside. Within a minute, I started to feel like I couldn't breath. I started coughing, but I couldn't get a decent breath. I tried pulling up my shirt over my mouth, but it didn't work. I ran outside.

Within two minutes, the history class started coughing. My mom thought it was kind of weird how they all started coughing at the same time (they couldn't smell it) but when she started coughing too, she realized our grievous error.

I have never cleared a house before today!

So, my whole class is kind of off right now. Three of the four of us have headaches, all of us are slightly dizzy and everyone, including our teacher, is exhausted.

I'm still coughing.

A list (because I'm visual):

Today is the first time I've ever:

1. been poisoned.

2. poisoned a class full of kids, including my own sister.

3. been mad at my Chemistry curriculum

4. made a toxic gas by accident

5. cleared a house because of said toxic gas

Well, that's all for now. I've misspelled SO many words because my brain is totally shot. I'll finish Part V of Purple Mold and post that sometime in the near future, unless of course I die of Drano inhalation, in which case, Kylie can write something creative about purple mold in my obituary.

Check it out...

2009-02-16T20:04:00.005-07:00

I'm up on the Patrick Henry College site with my winning story today! If you'd like to read it, visit: http://patrickhenrycollege.com/acalltopens.php

Just click my name.

I also would like to continue on my wonderful Aunty's site and write a haiku (or maybe two or three... I tend to get carried away. Haiku is my second favorite poem, second to the depressing freestyles I write...)

White splash in sunlight

Darkness fleeing sunshine bright

Brilliance of morning.

Tree dances in wind

Mischievious giggles of breeze

Lovely soul of spring.

The Best End to the Worst Week

2009-02-13T08:34:00.004-07:00

Okay, maybe the worst week is a little bit of an exaggeration, but it was a really bad week. I have been up sooo late (almost as late as the October-writing-contest-spree... but not quite) this week doing stupid stuff, like my million speech and writing assignments and Chemistry and listening to my stressed sister practice her speech over and over.

And then, someone has got mad at me every day for the past six days (no, I'm not counting. Why do you ask?).

My writing wasn't paying off anywhere. The up-til-two-ever-night-October-writing-contest-spree contests all came back negative. None of my recent queries have been accepted.

I was incredibly discouraged about everything. Was this really my thing? Was I really any good at this?

Obviously, no one thought so.

But all of that changed this morning!!!!!

So, using the approved venue of communication (a.k.a. the heater vent) I wake up to a familiar sound "CATEY!!!!!"

Thinking that my instance of someone being angry at me was coming a little early this morning, I ran upstairs. My mom is screaming into the phone and saying, "You are an honorable mention in the PHC writing contest!!!!!"

Story:

This was not part of the October-writing-contest-spree. This was part of the November "Why Can't I Have a Normal Life???" contest (yes, the one with exactly 1499 words and the creepy PakMail clerk... check it out here and here) I have thought for a while that this was also a negative response. Today was the contest deadline to hear back from the judges, and the contact was supposed to come through email by today. My inbox sits empty.

So, apparently, they broke their own rules. I was called yesterday evening (my sister didn't pick up the phone because she didn't recognize the number and didn't want to deal with a solicitor) but my mom didn't check the message til this morning!!!

So, the story is titled "Outside the Glass Box" and it's exactly 1499 words long. It will be posted on Patrick Henry College's website sometime today (I've been checking back often. Maybe a little too often). If you'd like to read it, I'll provide a link to the homepage of PHC's website (since they, ahem, have not posted anything yet) here: http://patrickhenrycollege.com/

Sparks of illumination,
C.

P.S. Coming up next.... Part V of the Purple Mold Series...

For Your Perusal...

2009-02-05T19:08:00.002-07:00

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle,
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no future, howe'er pleasant.
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act - act, in the living Present,
Heart within and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us,
Footprints, in the sands of time.

Footprints that perhaps another,
Sailing along life's troubled main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, may take heart again.

Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate,
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

An excerpt from Henry Wadsworth Longellow's A Psalm of Life

Part III of the Purple Mold Series (this one's too long to be a trilogy)

2009-01-31T09:42:00.003-07:00

The darkness was complete. Iyanna sat alone in its company, hugging her knees to her chest and crying silently, her face contorted into a mask of pain.

"I don't believe in superstitions. This is all an old wives' tale and-" she stopped. "And... and I..." She faltered miserably off into the depths of the cold darkness.

She felt around in the inky black, groping for a candle to light, to break the remorselessness of the night. She looked with her fingers, but her hands shook so badly she couldn't concentrate on anything but her unreasonable panic.

"God," she screamed, though the scream was unheard, "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God... If there is a God, save us now. God, save our lives. If you're real, if you're there, if you really do care about what happens to people, you've got to save us. Please-" Iyanna screamed suddenly. A wave of searing heat blasted her from just ahead. It was so hot, she felt it singe off her eyebrows and eyelashes.

Then everything was as it had been. Had she imagined that? She ran a finger along her forehead. Her eyebrows were gone. No imagining there.

"Hello?" she called, a hesitation catching her voice. No sound came out. She tried again. Still nothing. This time, she screamed it and put her hand in front of her mouth. Her breath was there, but no sound. She could feel her voice rumbling in her throat, but no noise.

The shaking grew to uncontrolable. She felt around in the darkness, but nothing was there. Not her bed, her nightstand, the waxy old candle that she had set there with a match, no window, walls... even the floor felt somehow different.

What happened? Where am I?

That's when it occurred to her. She was nowhere. Not nowhere as in, far away from people, but simply Nowhere, a place that wasn't. That meant she might be not too. It would definitely follow. But why would a person be not in Nowhere? Was she dead?

The mold. I am dead. I died. I died! I'm dead! Oh no, I'm dead!

She clasped her hands to her face, afraid, but realized that since she was not, she had no hands to clasp, no face to touch. She wasn't. Simple as that.

She realized that her heart wasn't pounding, that she wasn't blinking, that the reason her voice made no sound was because she had no voice and that in a place Nowhere, no voice could be heard.

She wasn't sure whether to be reassured or terrified.

Something stabbed her arm. She had felt that. What did that mean? Was she really not? How could someone who wasn't feel something that was? That didn't make any sense.

Her feet felt cold, cold and numb. She was coming back.

"She's coming to," a soft-spoke male voice said. Where were these people coming from? The world was still pitch black.

"Can you hear me?" The same voice said.

"I- yes." Iyanna said, her voice crackling.

"Can you open your eyes, sweetheart?" A female voice this time, farther away than the man.

Iyanna opened them, but it was still dark. "I can't see."

"Are you getting that down, Katia?" The man said. "My guess, ma'am, is that the vision loss is due to your illness. You suffered some major nerve damage."

Iyanna's head swam. Nerve damage? What was nerve damage? And she hadn't been sick. She'd been dead, but not sick. "Will I be able to see again?"

A shuffling noise. "I'm sorry; I don't know. Can I have your name, ma'am?"

"Iyanna." Iyanna's head was pounding now.

"How do you spell that?" Katia said.

She tried to say, "I don't know," but felt herself going weak, slipping from this real world back into a kind of Nowhere all over again... caught in a current beyond her control... falling into black...

Author's note: Bet ya didn't expect that! Anyway, Kylie may write the next part at http://www.reflections412.wordpress.com/, or I'll continue directly from my site. Either way, this is not the end, nor is it the last you've heard of my really strange storywriting skills. Check back soon! Sparks of illumination, C.

The Craziest Thing I've Done With My Mom in a While...

2009-01-19T18:57:00.012-07:00

Once upon a time, I woke up to the sound of my mom yelling down the heater vent (an approved venue of communication in my house) something to the effect of, "CATEY! GET UP!"

I turned over and tried to fall back asleep - it wasn't that I was trying to ignore her, I just dream things like that all the time.

And then the screaming started again. "Catey! Get up! Dr. Messingham wants to get your bands off today!"

My first thought: Who is Dr. Messingham?

My second thought: Bands + off = good news.

Dr. Messingham!!! Oh! Dr. Devinindisguise!!!! That meant I was getting my braces off today!

I was dressed and ready in record time (something ridiculously short for a teenage girl, that is) We zipped down into the Springs just in time to get to my ever-so-beloved orthodontist, who said that he could tell I wear my rubber bands (duh) and that my teeth looked great.

Then came the last episode of devilish torture that I shall hopefully ever have to endure. If you've ever had braces, you'll know that it doesn't hurt to get them on. It does hurt to get them off. Dr. Devilindisguise took his pointy red tail and sawed the brackets off one at a time and then shaved off the glue using the same caudal device. Ouch.

Then the dental hygienist woman shoved pond slime down my throat in order to make impressions of my teeth. (Note: It's not usually a good thing when the lady says, "Um... have you ever had impressions done? No? It's going to feel like it's going down your throat, but it's too thick to do that." So the only thing stopping me from certain death is the fact that the goop is so thick?? That's a really comforting thought.)

When I came back two hours later, they had made me two clear plastic trays that fit the shape of my teeth. I was given a five-page list of retainer care (no taboo foods!) and then sent on my way.

It was the same day as Chapter Meeting for CFC (Communicators for Christ). Since I was a student leader now (!) I had to come "professionally attired" (insert Catey gulping). I'm one of those people who ALWAYS dresses really nicely, but I have no professional clothing. I mean, I'm a writer for gracious sake. I do not need a suit. I'm not a debater, nor am I a competitor. I'd gone to the CFC conference with just my regular nice clothes.

But then it hit me. I may not be competing speech, but if I was to continue student leadering, I would need some business clothes for various platforms, depending on where I was going and what I was doing. So, my crazy wonderful mother and I decided to go shopping. It was sometime around noon, and we had just over an hour to get back home in time to pick up younger sister Carli and get to Chapter. So, after dashing all over Marshalls (which, in case you were thinking about trying to find clothes there, doesn't have any professional-looking skirts, slacks or blouses for under forty dollars for a size smaller than a fourteen...) So, my mother and I resigned to go look at the Dress Barn.

Yes, you read that right. The Dress Barn. Whoever thought up that name should be given major points for creativity but some serious downgrading for that particular selection. I felt like I should be buying cowboy boots or bandanas going into a store like that!

But there isn't anything of that kind in there. Actually, the clothes are a lot nicer than I'm accustomed to looking for (which is kind of a change, since I ALWAYS dress nicely) To cut a very long story short, we ended up not being able to find very much under a size 8 there either (grr). When we did end up finding something, it was this amazing grey suit that I liked very much. Again, smallest size was a size six. Unfortunately, I can't wear a size six. Then my mother had a brilliant idea. The mannequin! Surely that was a small size...

You guessed it. We made the poor store clerk (just another one of my random store clerk experiences) undress the mannequin so I could try on the suit. And, miracle of miracles, it actually fit! But we were so short on time by now that we actually had to ask the very nice store clerk lady if I could wear the suit out of the store!! I am firmly convinced that, separately, my mother and I are unusual, but together, we are entirely insane! I walked out of the barn with tennis shoes and no nylons, but I had my suit!

Hopefully that is the last entirely random and crazy thing my mother and I will do for a while. Hopefully...

Pure Brilliance

2009-01-13T14:22:00.001-07:00

White snow
Falls into the black
That is my soul
The bloodstained hands
Reaching out toward
The sunset sky of
Despairing seas
Tossed by a windblown
Idea or unknown
Thought
Pure brilliance and
Love
The white of snow
Covers me
Holds me close,
Close submerges me in
Clean water like
The cool of icy white
And the forgiveness
Beginning
Of white snow.

I promise this is the last poem for a while.

Coming up next: Part III of the Purple Mold Trilogy...

The Starlight

2009-01-08T15:27:00.003-07:00

Silvery starlight
Dances from a hidden
Moonlit night
With silent hopeful hands
Outstretched toward
Leaping goals
So far from reach
In a deadly world of
Pain and misery
What one thing mirrors
Heartfelt glimmers
That thing which is beyond
All knowledge
All life and
Love
Without the pain,
Without the whimpering torment
Of another's lie
There is something
Beyond and
Perfect beyond
All measure
Hiding in the silver of
The starlight

Because I Promised Kylie I'd Write A Short About Purple Mold...

2008-12-27T21:03:00.009-07:00

Iyanna screamed. One long, loud note of desperation and horror rang out in the quiet of the small hut.

Westin ran in to the outhouse, where Iyanna stood, tears leaking from her eyes and both hands pressed hard against her open mouth. She was shaking. Her brother grasped her hard on her shoulders. "Yan! What's wrong? Answer me!"

Iyanna wanted to scream again, to tell him that the end had come, that he was hurting her, but she could never judge her brother. He was as afraid as was she... desperately afraid. She melted, sobbing, into his arms.

He stroked her hair, held her tight until the shaking subsided. "What's wrong?"

She sat up, looked him in the eye, and said, "Look around you, West. Look what's happening." She felt a tremor start in her hands again as he observed, with a look of pure terror, the walls of the room.

Reddish violet mold had crept up the walls in just a matter of hours. It gave the room a dark, dank hue and an unpleasant odor.

But that was not the reason for their fear. This mold was more than just a structural problem. Everyone in Voresct knew the significance of the violet mold. It's rarity made it instantly recognizable. No one knew quite where it came from, only that it was a gift from the God who had created their land. Simply put, the violet mold warned of conflict, of war, and mostly, of death.

War had not come to Voresct in sixty-nine years. Recently, it had threatened only the very outer borders. But this? This sign that open war and quick death were coming to Iyanna's farm? Something had to be wrong.

Iyanna sat, staring at the voracious mold that threatened their lives, long after Westin left. At thirteen years old, Iyanna hardly knew what to make of it all. She was too young to die. She hadn't done anything worthwhile yet. The mold could not speak of her death. Her three younger sisters? She shuddered. Not them. So tiny, so innocent. She would not allow it. Her mother? Too weak and careworn to be of any notice.

Her heart leaped. Westin? No. No. Her hands started to shake again. She bit her tongue and willed herself to stop tremoring. Sweet Westin, her adored, adorable big brother, was the air she breathed. He meant everything to her. She wasn't sure she could make it with him dead. No, she was quite sure she couldn't.

Tendrils of musty odor slipped into her hair. She clasped both hands together, hard. Please God, she said, If there is a God, save my brother's life. Don't let this omen come to pass. Spare us. Spare us.

( The purple mold is from Kylie. I promised her I'd write a short that involved purple mold that warned of attacks. This was the result. It's totally strange, but maybe you'll enjoy seeing a piece of my brainstorm-stories. If not, stick around and I'll post something more serious in a day or two. - C.
An added note: If you want to read Part II of The Purple Mold Trilogy [no, I did not come up with the name- that was Kylie] go ahead and visit her blog at www.reflections412.wordpress.com. -C.)

I am such a klutz

2008-12-24T19:59:00.006-07:00

I am SUCH a klutz.... less than twelve hours till Christmas and I told my mother by accident what one of her gifts was. Oh. My. Goodness. I. Am. Such. A. Klutz.

Anyway,

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Your sister in Christ,

C.

Totally Excited

2008-12-20T21:16:00.004-07:00

You guys are probably all aware that I've been working on a lot of publishing opportunities and contests recently. I'm still waiting to hear back on most of those, but today I heard back on one that I thought God had closed the door on.

You may have heard me mention the online writer's group I'm part of (it's AMAZING!) The girl who runs it just got her book published. It's called Devos 2 Go, by Lydia Rule and the link for it is here.

She asked those of us on her writing group to write up some short devos/vignettes for her book. I just barely got mine in on deadline. Her editor got back to me and told me either he or Lydia would be in touch with me if either of my pieces were selected. I never heard back, so I assumed I hadn't made the cut.

Lydia sent me a copy of her book and I received it today. Signed on the inside was: Catey - Thanks for writing for my book! Enjoy! God bless, Lydia Y. Rule (See pages 105 and 110 : ) )

And there I was! Both of my devos are in there! I had NO IDEA!!! I'm really excited- this is, after all, my first print publication.

If you want to check out her book (it's really cool) you can at the link above.

Merry Christmas,

C.

Something Unusual

2008-12-18T17:07:00.002-07:00

I'm going to publish something unusual today. It's a poem.

I am so small
Hidden away from the great eye in the blue
In this wild of nothingness
So alone
I am No One,
Nothing. And no one is here.
Doesn’t anybody care?
Here I am, caught
In this grey, leering fog
Of myself.
I’m caught in this web of deceit and pain.
Where am I?
Who am I?
My heart beats, heat and cold jerk me from reality to illusion,
I’m alive. But what
Does that mean?
Someone is coming to rescue me from this
I hope.
I know someone will come
I pray.
Rescue me
From this empty.

Where, O Where...

2008-12-15T11:30:00.005-07:00

Here I am!!! But I'm not going to bore you with a post here.

Instead, visit www.kidsoffaithonline.net and see what I've been up to there with the other writers...

Okay, but I will bore you with this bit of news:

(First, you should read this post )

So my less-than-affectionately-nicknamed orthodontist (The Devil in Disguise) broke to me that I now have another six weeks to go on my braces... 23 months and counting.... and my friend is going to get his off before me and gloat and laugh pitilessly at my tears as I lie in wait... forever waiting...

-Catey

Insert a long sigh here....

2008-12-08T10:52:00.004-07:00

Okay, I'm done with tags for a while:

Faithful Follower:

1. I'm super super super super super excited about the Jan/Feb issue of KOF!!!
.2. Let's see... You remind me of the movie Chronicles of Narnia... probably because you love it so much...
.3. I'm going to wrestle you in banana cream pudding. How's that sound?
4. 5'9" is so tall! It's simply not fair!
5. I think it had something to do with your lovely denim skirt that I am totally envious of. : )
6. The dove - a quiet reminder of the peace of God and his ways.
7. What is your favorite subject in school?
.8. Your transparency- the fact that you are willing to share your heart.
9. Oopssss.... I just realized that I put the same thing twice, so I'm going to make up something totally random here... What book character you remind me of!!!! Okay, so you remind me of Samwise in The Lord of the Rings.

Judi:

1. You are amazing at yelling at people over the email!!!
2. Hmm, this is really really hard for me. You remind me of the movie/book Emma (Jane Austen).
3. Lime!!!!
4. Hrrrr (that is my growling noise) I can't think today!!! How about something about apple jello (which sounds nasty to me)
5. That you are totally fun!
6. Flamingo. I have no idea why - that was just the animal that came to mind.
.7. There are actually two: First, how old are you? Second, do you like pink?
8. I love your writing and the fact that you push me to post *embarrassed grin*
.9. Book character: You actually remind me of one of my characters, Mark James.

OKAY!!! THAT IS IT FOR THE TAGS!!!!!!!!!!!! Everybody better give me a break for a while.

On a more pleasant note, I had some of the most exhilarating moments of my life this Friday. I went to a speech and debate Round Robin and timed. : ) What a blast....

Goodness Gracious, I'm Tagged AGAIN!!!`

2008-12-01T19:37:00.003-07:00

No, REALLY! I DID get tagged again, by Judi, this time, who has been frantically working on NaNoWriMo. It's a different sort of tag as before - this time YOU decide if you're tagged : ) I'll post the instructions and the game and you can tell me if you want to play.

If you leave me a comment on this post, in the next post I do, I'll write the following things about you:

1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you which song or movie you remind me of.
3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.(if possible. If not, I'll say something that only makes sense to me.)
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something I've always wondered about you.
8. I'll tell you my favorite thing about you.
9. I'll tell you my favorite thing about you.
10. If you play, please post this on your own blog (if you have one : )

On a different note, I have about a bazillion pages of Chemistry to read tonight (Moles... moooooles!) because tomorrow is our homeschool group's Christmas party and I'm running childrens' games!

Tagged Again!

2008-11-29T13:53:00.004-07:00

I've been tagged by my Mom, so here is my tag:

8 TAGS - HOLIDAY EDITION!

8 Favorite Holiday Shows

1. The Bishop's Wife

2. Muppet Christmas Carol (yes, I'm a hopeless Muppet fanatic - Gonzo's my favorite)

3. It's A Wonderful Life (which I saw for the first time this week)

4. How the Grinch Stole Christmas (the original cartoon version)

5. Elf ( I know, not a very intelligent, sophisticated movie, but incredibly fun)

6. The Santa Clause (refer to the above)

7. NARNIA!!!! (Duh! How could I forget that one?)

8. I can't think of any others that I don't consider remarkably stupid movies... so I'll leave you with seven.

8 Christmas Things I Did Yesterday

1. Put up the Tree of Sheba (my mom's tree)

2. Put up the Holly Jolly Christmas Tree (my siblings' and my tree)

3. Sang a million Christmas carols in harmony with my sister

4. Read my friend's Christmas card (it was actually last year's Christmas card... )

5. Looked over my very exciting choir music for Carol of the Bells that I found and am learning with my sister

6. Watched Muppet Christmas Carol (I told you - I'm a hopeless Muppet-lover!)

7. Watched the snow.

8. Worked on my Christmas short story for KOF

8 Things I Look Forward to at Christmas

1. Celebrating the birth of my Savior

2. Duh, the Christmas carols (my sister won't let us listen to Christmas music or watch Christmas movies until after Thanksgiving... it was misery this year)

3. Wrapping presents (call me weird, I LOVE wrapping presents and curling ribbon)

4. Christmas cards/letters

5. Christmas movies

6. Eggnog (mmmm)

7. Having people over for Christmas

8. Christmas break (I love school, but not enough that I don't love a break : )

8 Favorite Things to Eat at Christmastime

1. Eggnog!

2. Prime Rib

3. Apple Cider

4. Trifle

5. Jocelyn's Egg Nog Pie

6. Random things with peppermint in them.

7. Turkish Delight - and if I get a candy thermometer, I may actually get it to turn out (another continuing story- Catey's battle with the Turkish Delight. It came out once and now it goes runny every time I make it, but I think a candy thermometer may cure that... maybe)

8. Gingerbread

8 Things I Pray for at Christmas

1. Salvation of friends and family

2. My Awana kids - they really weigh on my heart during this season

3. Renewed focus - that Christ would keep my eyes trained on him.

4. Snow - or lack thereof, depending on how many people are coming over to my house (or if I'm going over to someone's )

5. Specific people who are hurting in my community

6. People who are hurting outside of my community and around the world

7. God's glory

8. That others understand the real gift of the season

I tag Judi, when she's done with her current tag game, and Never-Again, and FaithfulFollower

Just Another Chapter of My Eccentric Life

2008-11-27T22:04:00.009-07:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

I hope yours was great. Mine was. We had the entire world over to our house today. Food was everywhere! On the counters, the cabinets, all in my brother's hair...

Anyway, this isn't a typical Thanksgiving blog post. I wanted to first recommend that you read Patrick Dunn's thoughts on Thanksgiving (he's amazing and hysterically funny - check it out here) and then that you read another chapter in the continuing drama of Catey and the random store clerks. I promise - there will be a Thanksgiving-related point somewhere in here (if I can find one... no, really! There will be a point!)

This blog continues the drama of the store clerks where the posts titled "But I Don't WANT a King Soopers Card!!!" and "Why Can't I Just Have A Normal Life???" left off.

Yesterday, when I was dropping off my contest submission (yeah, the one that is exactly 1,499 words long) at PakMail, I was there with my dad. I come in and the guy behind the counter looks at me and says, "Hey! Haven't you been in here recently?"

Yeah, he was talking to me. I said that I had been. He took my envelope and said, "Is this another writing contest?"

How did this guy REMEMBER that stuff???

That's what my dad said (but without several of those question marks after it so that it sounded more civil). The guy behind the counter (who, by the way, did not have weird long hair) shrugged and said, "I don't know. I have a memory for useless stuff."

He ended up remembering a lot of other crazy stuff - for instance, that I had come with my mom the time before, that I'd stood at the other counter, that one of my other contest entries had also been going to Purcellville... It was totally weird.

What is it with me and random store clerks???

Oh yeah! The point!

When I was sitting at the table with my sister and brother with the rest of my family close by and surrounded by most of my friends in this state (and thinking of and praying for the ones who weren't with me visiting or living other places) I found myself thinking about the little experiences that make life special. Topping the list I made of things I'm thankful for was the fact that God gives me a heart for writing and that he gives me stuff to write about! Some of that is big, like my novel where the whole story idea came formed pretty much in one shot and I just had to develop and expand. Some of it is just the little things that make life unique and worth it. If I didn't have grocery store clerks going a little overboard on their job and Pak-Mail clerks stalking me, then I probably would have lost my zing for life a long time ago (and you probably all know just how zingy I am about life - some people might call it hyperactivity, but they simply don't understand that to keep up with the speed my brain's going, my body and mouth go a little fast too : ) ) In that case, my writing would dry up, my enthusiasm and fire for God would be gone. How depressing would that be? Instead, I thank God that He gives me those little things (as Patrick Dunn writes, things like raisins and puffy sea creatures - those things taht no one thinks about and therefore doesn't appreciate).

Stay tuned for more adventures of Catey and random store clerks... with my luck, there are sure to be more... many, many more...

Why Can't I Just Have A Normal Life???

2008-11-26T15:19:00.005-07:00

You know what that means. It's time for another sort-of-true story about life (but this one happens to be totally true without any embellishment)

So, you guys are probably aware of my contest and publication craze that I did last month (you can read a little bit of my opinions on it here.) This month I thought I had it easy. One CWG assignment, an easy RTF assignment, some fun KOF assignments and one contest. Well, that contest was just about the death of me.

I submitted it today. Yesterday, I was finishing up my denouement (closing) scene. Now, my denouement is usually highly significant, highly emotion-packed and my favorite one to write. So I check my word count to see how long I could make it.

The short story was supposed to be 1200 words (insert one of Catey's loudest high-pitched screams). I had used up 1147 of them. Yikes. That's a really bad situation.

About three seconds away from a heart attack, I checked the website to make sure it was 1200 words. I was quite relieved to find that it was actually 1500 words, buying me an extra 300.

Still, 300 words???? What kind of short story is this???

So, after using all but twenty of my 300 words to tie up my story (which I was NOT enjoying and didn't even sound good to me) I started to read over for spelling/punctuation errors.

And that's when I realized it. Why was this section here? I had moved that scene to be the second scene, instead of the opening. What was going on? I read down the document - realized I had forgotten to delete the scene once I moved it.

I now had 415 extra words.

And I wasn't about to let them go to waste!!! I promptly went back into my document and inserted my 415 extra words, reread and...

Realized that I was now 60 words over count. How do I ALWAYS manage to do that??

Want to know my final word count? 1499 words.

Book Review: The Redemption of Sarah Cain

2008-11-20T22:16:00.002-07:00

The Redemption of Sarah Cain, by Beverly Lewis

I’m hopelessly stereotyped as a reader. People look no further than my long hair and feminine mannerisms to assume that I’m a die-hard romance reader. They naturally place me in the category of people who read Karen Kingsbury, Wanda Brunstetter, and Beverly Lewis.
They place me with the people who cry in chick flicks and can’t stand it when characters have to suffer anything other than emotional angst over the boy they love.
They’re wrong.
I’m actually a suspense reader. My favorite authors include Ted Dekker and Sigmund Brouwer. I like books that play with my mind (a.k.a., psychological thrillers) and that make my heart race. I HATE the romance genre (any book I think I can predict in the first chapter generally loses my respect very quickly) and so, when I put The Redemption of Sarah Cain by Beverly Lewis on hold at the library, I really had no idea what I was thinking.
But I’ve been more than a little pleasantly surprised. Not only did I not have the story figured out in the first chapter, but I’ve been kept entertained and hooked through the whole book, even as a self-declared non-romance reader.
Recently publicized when its movie counterpart Saving Sarah Cain came out,The Redemption of Sarah Cain tells the story of a self-absorbed, hurting journalist whose sister bequeaths to her five Amish children, now orphaned. Told in both Sarah’s perspective and her oldest niece Lyddie’s, this story is hugely moving in a completely un-preachy way. Rich story from Sarah’s past, Lyddie and her siblings’ past and present and journal excerpts from Lyddie and her mother litter this book, giving it a real-life feel.
The Redemption of Sarah Cain, as its title suggests, is about Sarah Cain finding God, but above and beyond that, this is the story of how, no matter what, God has a big plan. Sarah Cain can’t see the reasons for a tragedy in her early career as a teacher, her sister’s leaving to become Plain. Lyddie and her siblings can’t see a reason for their mother and father’s death, why she should have to live with a woman who is so obviously against everything their family stands for. But through it all, Beverly Lewis writes the story of God’s love and faithfulness throughout the book.
So, even if you, like me, don’t “do romance”, I cannot recommend this book highly enough.

"But I Don't WANT a King Soopers Card!!!"

2008-11-13T18:43:00.010-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Catey. One day, Catey and her family were preparing to go to Co-op for the second day in a row. Catey was excited, but very tired from the Co-op the day before. That morning, Catey's mom had to put gas in the car, so she recruited Catey and her sister Jocelyn to go into King Soopers and buy shredded bagged lettuce and sour cream.

They had only one problem: They only had ten dollars and eighty cents between the three of them.

So Catey and Jocelyn walked into King Soopers, determined to buy as much sour cream and shredded bagged lettuce as their ten dollars and eighty cents would allow.

Catey is half Chinese. She inheried her incredibly frugal side from her father, who is even more frugal than she is (hard to believe, but true). So, five minutes later, Catey had found the cheapest, on-sale lettuce and a large carton of on-sale sour cream, all of which should cost her under ten dollars and eighty cents.

The man who checked her out at the checkout line is rather odd-looking. She didn't read his name, but he had long hair that is jet-black and nasty looking. He asked her, "Do you have any coupons?"

She said, "No."

He asked her, "Do you have a King Soopers card?"

She said, "No."

He said, "What? No King Soopers card? That's like the most important card ever! You need a King Soopers card." He began to fish around in the checkout stand for a new King Soopers card.

She started to not feel so happy. "No, you don't understand. My family has a King Soopers card already-"

"You should have one for yourself then." He threw a King Soopers card in front of her.

Catey was apalled. "But, I don't want a-"

He gritted his teeth. "Yes, you do. It's not a checking card and this way you get the sale prices. It's like a coupon, but it works all the time."

"But I'm a minor!"

He looked at her quizzically. "Well, that's fine. Eight-year-olds can use this card."

About now, Catey realized she was arguing with a grocery store clerk and that conflict completely terrified her, due to her very nature. "But I don't WANT a King Soopers card!"

By now, the clerk has realized that Catey is not an easy nut to crack. "Too bad." He scanned the card and slid it back to her. "Six fifty."

Dumbfounded, Catey counted out six dollars and fifty cents. "Thank you."

The End.

A Short Opinion

2008-11-12T19:38:00.005-07:00

I haven't posted in a while, so here are my less-than-entertaining thoughts about life.

Today was co-op. My mom, my friend Emily (of doomed razor fame) and I did an interview for writing class. It was so much fun, but now my brain is dead. That is bad, considering tomorrow is Chemistry (moles... moooooooooles!) and my brain can't be dead for Chemistry.

Today was also Lit class. We're reading Ivahoe, and one of the characters (Locksley is his name) is the equivalent of Robin Hood. All of us LOVE Locksley and LOVE Robin Hood. I personally think it's wonderful that in the wake of great events and substantial, formidable evils and spectacularly glorious bravery, we have such people as Locksley/Robin Hood. If we didn't have them, I'd be tempted to think that people were so very different then, so far from who I am, that I couldn't understand them.

King Arthur is my personal favorite maybe-true person. I like to believe that Arthur was real, in some form. He is so deeply imbedded in English history and mythology that it would be strange if some such person didn't exist, or maybe even several persons who made up, together, this King Arthur that we have come to love.

I was so inspired by this merry brave King that I decided to write about him in one of my stories. It is a rather unusual story, taking places over thousands of years and told in several perspectives. I put in some interesting twists to his character. His name isn't actually Arthur, but rather, his title (since he is a warrior) is the Bear. The word Arthur means 'bear'. He is sort of elected leader of his small city-state that he recaptures from the enemy, but not officially. He works through a weak monarch. He's supposed to be married to a girl named Gwynnhyfvar, who is a Welsh princess, but we all know the story of King Arthur's misfortune with his wife Queen Guinevere. This is the man I wrote to be King Arthur, but not in the same way as so many see him.

Thinks like these add interest to one's story, because they not only add credibility, but they make people, places, events and times real to a reader.

I call people like King Arthur, Robin Hood, Salome and the like the forgotten heroes of history. We don't even necessarily know they existed, and if they did exist, we are certainly not sure what they were really like. But certain actions who never have their source identified, certain character traits, certain things suggested by the story can be applied to these forgotten heroes to give them a new role in a story where they star now as heroes, and not simply characters who are and then are not.

It gives the writer ultimate freedom. If nothing is known about someone but the events and people surrounding him or her, the writer is free to do whatever he or she wants with the person. At the end of everything, this means that these people can even answer nagging questions that we've always had about a time period.

I think they're fun.

Have any of you ever thought about characters or people like these? Have any of you attempted writing them?

Forgive this rambling... it's my excuse for a blog update. : )

The reason I haven't posted in a month....

2008-11-01T13:57:00.007-06:00

Well, there are actually a lot of reasons I haven't posted in a month, none of which would sound good - EXCEPT:

As some of you may know, I was pouring out my heart and soul in no fewer than nine writing assignments due between Thursday and now. It may interest you to know that I DID, indeed, get them all done, but that my brain was fried and I didn't post on my blog. Apologies.

Well, now you may see many of those heart-and-soul-poured-out articles on my wonderful friend and fellow writer's online newsletter: kidsoffaithonline.net.

Please visit if you get the chance - the newsletter is just starting to take off. Before a few months ago, Kylie (the editor) was the one and only writer, and then I was on for a month before being taken on as the second writer. Now, much to my delight, I am one of four wonderful young ladies and one amazing young man as contributors on the site.

And - one of the most exciting things for me - Kylie says I get to run the fiction column all by myself!!!! I haven't had my fiction published on a forum in FOREVER!!!!

On a more excuse-for-why-I-didn't-post-all-month- note, I totally killed my hand yesterday (and by killed, I mean, killed). We had friends over and for some UNKNOWN reason we decided it would be fun to play monkey in the middle. Yeah... that was really smart on my part. I am very small - like 5'2" on a really, really good day. My sister is my same height (but she's three years younger) and her friend who was over is an inch shorter than us. The other person playing was my friend - a young man of barely fifteen who quite decidedly towers above me. He is no fewer than eight inches taller than me - and that makes monkey in the middle very difficult. So, I found my newest athletic talent (chortle... what athletic talent?) in volleyball. I could jump up into the air and hit the ball out of the sky, but I would end up on the floor every time. The last time I did so, I tripped over my friend's foot on the way down and ended up smashing into a wall - hand first. At least that loud cracking noise wasn't my head... that's what he said, at least. Now my hand is bruised and I'm having a hard time typing with my right hand (which is bad... because I'm right-handed).

Anyway, for all the blog posts that I should have made, but didn't, visit: kidsoffaithonline.net

Why It's Okay to Listen to That Particular Source...

2008-10-04T18:10:00.005-06:00

Hi! Here I am, back from competition and without enough brain to count to fifteen!

How I'm feeling: Absolutely exhausted.

What I did: Interpretation on Hamlet, Impromptu on the word incomprehensible. Two superb classes on acting/writing (it kind of covered both) by two of my favorite speakers among the interns.

How I felt while I competed Hamlet: Pretty good. I was shaking (but I always shake when I act, whether I'm in front of people or not) but confident. I didn't forget anything.

How I felt while I was doing Impromptu: Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.... Please, please, please don't expect me to do amazingly on this.....

What I did in between Hamlet and Impromptu: I prayed. For about twenty minutes without pausing, I prayed for my heart - a focus and unparalleled passion, that I would accurately represent God as an approved workman who is not ashamed. I prayed for my fellow speakers, the young man who was competing Impromptu before me, my friend who was doing Extemp (Extemporaneous). I prayed for my friend who was taking the SAT at the time. Ultimately, I prayed that God's will would be done.

What was on my ballots: On my Interp: Two first place ballots. On my Impromptu: One third place ballot with a promise that I would get a higher score if I did a more complete conclusion (which I considered somewhat fortunate, considering I really didn't have a conclusion...)

The announcements: I took third place in Impromptu (second place and above are announced). I took a first place with my Interp (which I thought was kind of scary, since I had never performed an Interp in front of people and Interp is the most frequented event).

How I feel about it: Well, overall, like I really need an adrenaline burst. But, I thank you for praying. I was encouraged that I did as well as I did.

An Important Sidenote: My friend who I came to the conference with is an aboslutely brilliant young man. He is a genius if ever I have met one. He is a purely incredible speaker. In the three events he competed (Extemp, Impromptu Sales Pitch, and Original Oratory - he gave a speech that was essentially a revised version of the essay he wrote for my writing class! -) He took two first places and one second place. That put him as the winner of the tournament, overall. You can applaud now :)

As A Secondary Important Sidenote: Because I'm still a selfish little person, I kept praying, "God, PLEASE let me have just one ballot where I'm not fifth and below [the lowest possible score]. Just one." I think he was listening :)

Why You Should Probably Check Your Own Sources....

2008-10-04T06:49:00.005-06:00

Hi, everyone.

Today I'm at a Communicators for Christ conference, speaking at a mini-tournament on my second day here.

Confession: I happen to be a little nervous about my Impromptu.

Reason: I don't feel prepared:

Why that's not really an oxymoron: I thought I was signing up for Apologetics but as it turns out, the smart person I trusted to tell me whether I'd be able to compete Apologetics or not was wrong and I can't.

My outward reaction: Smile. "Okay... it'll be an adventure!"

My inward reaction: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

My current feelings: Maybe I can do this.... or if I stink really badly, maybe my Interp will make up for it.... Why did I sign up for something I've never done before?????

Why this isn't a justified feeling: I only have to speak for two minutes and I'm not speaking against any of my debater/speaker friends (whew!)

What I'd like you to do: Pray for me :)

Okay, all joking aside, I think today's going to be really fun. If it's anything like last night, there will be a lot of humor, some very relaxed acting, and a moving message. And I think I'll probably do okay on my speeches too - considering I've never done them at least.

Joss

2008-09-26T15:50:00.007-06:00

Last night I had just gone downstairs to go to bed when I hear the door to the basement slam open.
"Catey?" A timid voice calls from the top of the stairs.

Great. Getting into bed late again. "What do you want?"

"Ummmmm, I can't tell you what happened, but where's the Neosporin?"

This isn't usually something you want to hear from the injury-prone sister of the family at 11pm. I ran up the stairs. Joss is standing there, flashing one of her impossibly large, impossibly goofy and unreal grins. "Hi Catey."

"Why do you need Neosporin?" I already had a million crazy thoughts running through my head. This is the same sister who ate rocks as a toddler, broke her finger twice playing volleyball with balloons, and almost broke her nose when the swing she was sitting on broke. (Needless to say, none of these things were her fault. But that's the scary thing- what if she had accidentally severed an artery or something????)

Joss pulls me bodily by my pajamas into the bathroom. "I kind of sliced my finger." She held up her thumb, adorned with a Cars bandaid. (The only kind in our house)

"Meaning?"

"You know that new razor Dad gave me?"

Oh no. Joss is the most razor-challenged person I know (with the honorable mention going to my friend Emily) She's sliced her legs so bad they scarred. My mind raced. What was my dad thinking, giving her a sharp razor????

Then I remembered. She wasn't even showering that night. What had happened?

"Well," she continued, "I was looking at the razor, trying to open it. And I looked and it had this little arrow: up, close, down, open. And I was like, 'Okay, I'm so smart, I know how to open a razor.' And I went down and shing! it slices my finger open. Blood is everywhere. I'm not even in the bathroom! I had to get Carli to open up for me."

Twenty minutes, five bandaids, and about a quart of Neosporin later, I sent Joss upstairs with a newly bandaged finger.

I couldn't help thinking of Delilah and Samson.

Heaven help whatever man gets between my sister and her razor!!!

An Interview with Emily Weber

2008-09-26T14:02:00.003-06:00

A few days ago, I shared an interview with Kate Weber about her unique calling to boldness in Christ. I’d like to share an interview with Kate’s older sister, Emily Weber, for her perspective on this.

When Emily Weber came back from her short term mission trip to Uganda, she told me that Africa felt oddly like home. Now, two years later, Uganda will be her home- at least for the next year or so, before Emily returns to the States for College. That’s really not a surprise to people who know her. Emily can tell you countless stories of how she would witness to Muslim kids at McDonald’s playgrounds or pray over people at her fast-food job.

Here’s what Emily has to say.

Catey: Have you always known you would want to be a missionary?

Emily: Absolutely . . . not! As a matter of fact, being a missionary who left America was something that I did not wanted to do at all . . . ever. It's amazing how God changes your heart . . . and even your desires, if you let Him!

Catey: That’s a surprise to me! How has God revealed his plan for you in your life?

Emily: God's primary plan for my life is this: for me is to love Him with all that I am. Beyond this, God shows me His plan for me one step at a time . . . it can get frustrating at times, but then I remember that if I love God and continually push into Him with everything within me, I'm going to end up right where He wants me.

Catey: What's the spiritual climate like in Uganda?

Emily: In Uganda, and in most of Africa I'd assume, the spiritual realm is so much easier to see. The darkness there is so dark, but the light shines so brightly. Because of the stark contrast between Jesus' followers and those who've fallen into the traps of Satan through witchcraft (mixed with "Christian" or Muslim beliefs), miracles and works of God are so visible there. The spiritual climate is intense: either you are going to be all-out for Jesus, boldly standing up for him even in the face witchdoctors, demons, and evil - or you are going to go home scared and defeated.

Catey: What are some fears that you have about becoming a missionary family?

Emily: Personally, I get scared sometimes when I think about coming back to the States for College. Since I'm the oldest, the rest of my family will be in Africa, and my friends will be in a state that I can't attend college in, I'm going to be alone by the world's standards. I have to continually remind myself of God's promise: that he will never leave or forsake me.

Catey: What are you most looking forward to?

Emily: The people, for one! It's difficult to explain with words the way the people there love. I hope to learn from the American staff there as well . . . who knows what lessons I can take from this new experience that God will use for the future!

Catey: How can we get involved in supporting God's people in Uganda?

Emily: There are many different ways you can get involved with different organizations. If you would like to know more about New Hope, you can go to http://www.newhopeuganda.org/. For information about our family, you can go to http://www.urmyhope.blogspot.com/. There are many other good organizations out there as well. No matter where you get your sources though, a couple of things you can do are . . .
PRAY. Please pray for the children of Uganda, as 50% of the population there is under the age of 14. Pray for open hearts. And please pray for those that are working there for God's kingdom, that they will be protected and that they will bring God's light to the darkness of this world.

Catey: Any advice for teens who are looking for ways to be more bold in their faith?

Emily: Make sure you have your priorities straight. You will be boldest about what is most important to you. If you don't feel like Jesus Christ is the most important thing in your life, tell Him so. Ask Him to help you fall in love with Him and make Him the "one thing" that's worth living for in your life. It's a hard way to live . . . but it's the full, abundant life Jesus talks about in the Bible. And trust me . . . it's worth it.

An Interview with Kate Weber

2008-09-22T09:27:00.005-06:00

Kate Weber is a normal American teenager. She’s a homeschooled high school student who likes to write but doesn’t like speech, who loves her dog and watches TV on the weekends. She lives with her mom, dad and three siblings and goes to church every weekend. But despite her average lifestyle, she’s an absolutely extraordinary young woman. In fact, all that ordinary stuff she’s used to is about to change in the blink of an eye.

Kate is moving with her family to Uganda.

Her dad and older sister Emily have been to Uganda once before on a short-term mission trip, but God worked out an incredible way for their whole family to leave behind the world of comfortable and safe to be bold and radical by leaving everything they’ve ever known. They plan on staying indefinitely.

But that’s enough from me. Here’s what Kate has to say.

Catey: Have you always known you would want to be a missionary?

Kate: Actually, I never wanted to be a missionary, and considered it to be God’s call to other people. Like when Mr. Gary Wood told dad that they needed an accountant, I was like “Good luck finding one, because we sure aren’t going!”

But God did a work in my heart, and I now know that it is what I have always wanted to do. I always wanted to help the orphans, I always wanted to live in the jungle, and I always had a heart for Africa. I just now realized that I will work for God this way.

Catey: How has God revealed his plan for you in this area of your life?

Kate: We started out in Indiana, in a comfortable environment, as in, a neighborhood with a pool, ice cream place, a four bedroom, and three bath houses. We also grew up in a church where we were all spiritually dying, until we left that church, and became a part of a home church.

When my dad told us we were moving to Colorado, I flipped out. Leave our family, friends, comforts of home, to go help out a friend start a company? Give me a break! But we still moved, and I loved our house that we moved into. Three story house, on three acres of trees. It was heaven. My dad and sister went on a mission trip to Uganda. A couple of months after the trip, our renter kicked us out. As soon as that happened, my dad lost his job at the company he worked for, so we had to downsize, majorly. . . He was without a job for a couple of weeks, but it felt like forever! Finally, Dad got a good job. That was when God decided to say, “Okay, they are comfortable now, let’s see what they would do if. . .” and that’s how the Uganda started.

Catey: Wow! What a neat way to start out an adventure! What’s the spiritual climate like in Uganda?

Kate: I haven’t been there myself, but from the stories that I have heard it is very black and white. As in wherever you see darkness, there was always light battling it. I really can’t explain it because I have never been there.

Catey: What are some fears that you have about becoming a missionary family?

Kate: Well, it might be obvious, but I am going to be a missionary to a place that I have never been. The farthest I have been from the USA is Mexico, right across the boarder. So I guess that I am a little afraid of the unknown. Also, I had my life all planned out, but now with the whole Uganda thing thrown into the picture, it is hard.

Catey: What are you most looking forward to?

Kate: Definitely the adventure. I am a person who LOVES adventure! I dream it, I write it, and now I have the chance to live it! To not do it would be like a guy offering you a million dollar check, and you slam a door in his face. Not knowing is on of my greatest fears, but it is also the very thing that pushes me forward.

Catey: How can we get involved?

Kate: New Hope Uganda is a non-denominational ministry that cares for orphaned children in Uganda, East Africa. NHU (New Hope Uganda) strives to bring glory to God through caring for orphans, showing them love, pointing them to His Kingdom through Christ, and bringing them to a life-changing understanding of the fatherhood of God.

Their staff of almost 80 Ugandans and foreign missionaries care for New Hope’s children through the Kasana children’s center (where they run a primary school, secondary school, vocational school, clinic, agriculture program, etc.) Kobwin children’s center, the New Hope Institute of Childcare and Family, and their new youth camp and training center.

Please pray for God’s blessings on New Hope Uganda, and please, be in prayer for the Weber family. We have much to do before we are prepared for this next chapter in our lives.

There are many types and sizes of needs. For information, you can visit the fallowing website: http://newhopeuganda.org/

Catey: Any advice for teens who are looking for ways to be more bold in their faith?

Kate: I don’t consider myself any bolder than anyone else can be. Actually, I still have growing to do in my faith, a lot of growing. But my advice would be to just get in your bible every day, and pray for God to speak to you during that time. I pray for God to speak to me, sisten to worship songs, read three chapters, and pray one more time for God to help me through out the day.

For more information on the Weber family’s mission and supporting them, visit their blog at: http://urmyhope.blogspot.com

Whose Idea Was It to Play Tag Over Cyberspace, Anyway?

2008-08-26T14:31:00.004-06:00

I've been tagged. Here are some things about me:

I am: eccentric.

I know: that I am made the way I am for a purpose.

I have: always loved chocolate.

I wish: it wasn't overcast.

I hate: being looked down on.

I miss: almost every ball I'm supposed to hit. :)

I fear: messing everything up.

I feel: like singing.

I hear: very little. My brothers are napping, so I'm supposed to be quiet.

I smell: lunch.

I crave: peanut butter sometimes.

I search: my brain, trying to find where I left that verse.

I wonder: where the phrase 'in a pickle' comes from. (I've been told that it maybe has to do with baseball, but I'm not sure yet)

I regret: as little as possible.

I love: Jesus!

I am not: an angry person.

I believe: there is someone who loves me more than life itself who stands waiting in the heavens.

I dance: a very, very, very little bit.

I sing: in harmony! (and often)

I cry: when something touches my heart (which is also often)

I don't always: clean my room (sorry, Mom. I did this morning)

I fight: not against flesh and blood, but against that which is unseen.

I write: all the time.

I win: at Speed!

I lose: my mind sometimes.

I never: eat caramel with braces like some (ahem) other people I know.

I always: smile when I see people.

I confuse: other people when I use strange words (like effervescent, pulchritudinous, chintzy, splendiferous, or chimaera... all of which are real words, by the way)

I listen: to Christian music, as a general rule.

I can usually be found: at church more than once a week.

I am scared: of making a fool of myself (which is why I end up doing that as often as I do)

I need: to do Chemistry homework.

I am happy about: just about everything. (All of you who don't know me in person, I'm just about always happy)

I imagine: what I will be like when I am older.

I look forward to seeing what everyone else writes. I tag my mom and Aunty Shirin and AAAH!!! Judi! I think you tagged every single person who has a blog in the entire world! Well, since Judi took all the other people, Mom and Aunty, consider yourself next. :)