Musings

What does it mean to love your country?

This past week, our campus has had several speakers share with us the grave state of America. We are heading for destruction. Our government is running in circles, accomplishing nothing of substance. Israel and ISIS demand an answer. Meanwhile, we’re slaughtering our own children by the millions and claiming it’s only the politically correct thing to do. 

Things are hardly getting better. Today’s anniversary of the 9/11 attack has brought a sad state of mind to my campus, and the chilly weather underscores the seriousness of our nation’s well-being. 

I’ve been hit over the head by my lack of love and gratefulness for this country. America is definitely going down the tank, but when was the last time I prayed for my government? For the

I love my friends.

Here we are, Saturday night, heading out to the observatory next to the Adler Planetarium to get a picture-perfect view of the last summer fireworks. The skyline is breathtaking over there. Navy Pier is lit up like a birthday cake. There’s a substantial group: twenty of us or so. 

We’re talking, telling stories, discussing our churches and experiences and thoughts. As the fireworks die down, half the group decides to cash out. A few more folks leave. Finally, it’s just six of us, getting our stuff together when someone says, “So, are we doing it?”

Uh, what?

Turns out for the past twenty minutes three of my friends had been formulating a plan to jump into Lake Michigan. With their clothes on. Right there,

In four seconds, my schedule got full.

Yep, it’s that time of year again. School.

I love it. School is my favorite. Always has, always will. Add in the fact that I have the blessed privilege of living life with other Christians in the greatest community I have ever known….well, it’s pretty awesome. 

As I methodically recorded syllabuses, coffee dates, weekly meetings, and Gospel Choir rehearsals into my planner, I realized that a lot is coming. It’s almost the weekend, and so far, I’ve had plenty of time. But that commodity is about to come at a high price. Cue the 12-page papers, overlapping ministry events, and forgetting I had planned to meet someone for lunch today.

When a lot is coming, or a lot is here, we

The hazy skyline reappeared as a jumbled assortment of lights. A siren, no, make it TWO sirens, screeched in the distance. I walked onto campus. I was back for another round of Chicago, Bible college, and life lessons.

Since arriving on Sunday night, I’ve been caught in a weird sort of limbo. Let me put it this way: it’s going to take a lot longer than I originally thought to become familiar with the unfamiliarity. 

The average college turnover rate is minimum 25% because of graduating seniors, let alone the people who transfer, take time off, or don’t return at all. Things have to change; that’s life and growth and moving forward. It’s exciting, it’s weird, it’s hard to like, it’s great….

It’s difficult, but in the best way.

So there’s this thing about living and working in the Northwoods. It’s called “meeting Canadians.” Now, to be honest, my Northwoods are still a few hours from the Great White North, but it’s still close. Once in a while, the following happens at the toy store:

“Hi there, all set?”

(nods)

(scanning items)

“Alrighty, your total is $7.54.”

(customer fishing around in wallet and/or pockets)

(silence)

“Uh, do you accept Canadian quarters?”

The hard thing is that these people (Canadians or otherwise…don’t get me wrong, this isn’t just something Canadians do. Also, I have some dear Canadian friends back at school, so nothing against anyone here) are sincerely

I don’t frequently spend time alone. I love to be with people too much, BUT yesterday night I was really needing some Kaitlyn time. (Translation: half watching a movie on my computer and half watching my brother play video games.) So, I was feeling an old favorite–you know, a “classic,” so I started watching the movie “Grease.” You know, that great movie with John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John, with the great music, and the great ’50s stuff.

I got mistaken for a twelve-year-old today. Kind of a weird deal, seeing that I’m nowhere close.

I celebrated my birthday this past week, It was awesome; I love birthdays. However, it’s strange to really sit down and think about time. Have you ever done it? I mean, really: we cannot stop it. We cannot control it. It just…goes. Time flies, passes, moves, and rolls on. We cannot feel it, but we are all encased by it and it affects everyone. The fourth dimension. Attempts have been made in vain to slow it down, to control it, to manipulate it, but answers don’t lie in our hands.

As a matter of fact, they lie in a Book. They lie in the hands of the Master.

I find it comforting and yet also astounding

It’s the one possession of mine that I value the most, yet it’s the one I think about the least. I take it for granted, I forget it exists, but I absolutely require it every day. I cannot function without it. 

Living in the Northwoods, there is a constant expectation that your day will, at some point, be rudely interrupted by a grotesque and hideous monster known formally as Ixodes Scapularis. In laymen’s terms, you may know them as ticks. My count this summer is seven, one being a deer tick (known for carrying Lyme disease) and one deciding to show up on the back of my neck at 11:37pm in the middle of my shower.

Gross gross gross gross gross.

A lot about life is gross. People can leave a sour taste in our mouths. Memories can disgust us and the news can make us want to throw up or run away. When the ticks of our days invade our carefully cultivated comfortable spaces, we are faced with the decision on how we’re going to handle them.

Conflict resolution, anyone?

I believe there are three ways to