See Something More

As I looked at my schedule for the day in front of me, I saw very few empty spaces. Class from 8:00-5:30, then a babysitting job from 6:00-8:30. Why did I take that babysitting job? It was going to be a busy, busy day. By one o'clock, I sat quietly in my Bible class, waiting for one more hour to pass. The class quieted at the sound of the first bell. Our teacher stood behind the podium and took a breath to begin class. "Please open your Bibles and begin a search for characteristics of Jesus. You can look in the gospels, in Isaiah, the Psalms, or really anywhere. When you find one, write it down with the verse reference. In the next ten minutes, try to find at least seven." The room filled with the sounds of pages turning and papers shuffling. Once the ten minutes passed, the professor returned to the front of the room to continue his instructions. He pointed at the blank dry erase board that lined the entire wall behind him. "Now I would like you to come up

We all sat cross-legged on our blue checkered picnic blanket. The grass tickled our barefoot feet as we ate lunch out of our to-go boxes from the cafeteria. On a day like this, it wasn't good enough to sit inside the cafeteria and look at the sunshine through the window- we had to be out in it. One thing that I love about being back on campus for my sophmore year is the sense of togetherness. My friends and I eat togther, study together, go to church together, play games together, laugh together, pray together, and tuck each other in bed at night. We are around each other so much that we have become our own little family in a way. The togetherness that we experience every day has created a tight bond. That is how I would define community. Community is  togetherness . In Nicaragua this summer, God opened my eyes to see how big my spiritual family, the body of Christ, really is. I used to think of my family as my parents and sister, which will always be my closest family. Yet a

When everything seems to be going smoothly, thats when it hits. Stress. Last weekend, my first weekend in the dorms, was smooth sailing as I got to sleep in, catch up with friends, eat long meals, and play games. Then Monday came and BOOM - the stress hit like a hurricane. First, I realized why people wrinkle their brows and say, "Oh, I'm sorry" when I tell them I am taking eighteen hours. I have fifteen of those eighteen hours on Monday, and my to-do list was already a mile long after going to class from 8:00 to 5:30. Then, I received a call from a publisher, talking to me about potentially helping me self-publish my book. But the cost is quite an investment, so I began to plan how I could raise the money. All of these events turned my "mundane Monday" into a "maniac Monday." I am in no way complaining because I love all of my classes and am unbelievably excited about the possibitliy of publishing and working to raise funds, but all the excitement m

I logged onto my computer in order to distract my mind from what was really on my heart. I had been holding in emotions all day long, but I pushed them deeper inside as I occupied my mind with the computer screen. In the bottom right corner, a little orange bubble popped up announcing that one of my close friends was on Skype. (Skype is kind of like a telephone on the computer.) I hadn't talked to him in a while, so I called and he answered. It was just an ordinary conversation, but God knew it was just what I needed. He just happened to ask how I was doing, and all the things that I had been dying to talk about came rushing out of my mouth. After both of us opened up with each other, we began to pray together...and God joined us on Skype. Through the heartfelt words and cries of our prayers, I knew that God was listening and speaking words of encouragement to us through each other. Skype may be an ordinary thing, but God allowed me to see something more through it. No convers

My sister and I were snuggled in bed, reading our books to the light of the lamp in her room. The gentle whirring of the fan made it difficult for me to keep my eyes open, but suddenly my mind awakened when I heard a new faint sound. I looked up from what I was reading so that I could focus my senses on the mysterious noise. It sounded like the low rumble of a helicopter, but what would a helicopter be doing flying over our house at 11:00 PM? After a few seconds, the low vibration did not go away or fade into the distance, so I glanced at my sister. Her head was buried in her book as if nothing were happening. "Kaysi." I hoarsely whispered across the room. She looked up. "Do you hear that noise?" She noticed the concerned look on my face and stared at me stranglely. "The fan?" "No...." I shook my head and listened closer. "It is beneath the noise of the fan. And it just started a second ago. A low grumble. Kind of like a helicopter.&qu

Tonight I smelled up our entire house with the aroma of corn tortillas, fried plantains, and gallo pinto, which is a traditional beans and rice dish in Nicaragua. In memory and celebration of my summer, I cooked my family a full-blown Nicaraguan feast. After two months of eating gallo pinto almost every day (and sometimes for all three meals), you would think I would get tired of it, but I don't. Instead, I crave it. The smell of gallo pinto brings me back to breakfast at the mission. When I patted the tortillas tonight in my kitchen, I thought about learning to make them with Marina in her kitchen. No matter how many times I've eaten beans and rice this summer, I will always have room for more. It never gets old because it reminds me of the places where I've been. In fact, it's so good that I just had to make it tonight so that I could share it with my whole family! After dinner, I showed them pictures and told them stories for an hour and a half. I had the time of m

All I could hear was the dancing of the wind as it wisped through the tops of the pines. Everything else was quiet – no car horns, no television noise, no airplanes, not even a bird chirping. My hammock swung gently between two tall evergreen trees that overlooked the peaceful blue lake. As I rocked back and forth, I leaned my head back and watched the clouds pass over the pointed tops of the trees. The sky was so miraculously blue, like the curtain of the smog of civilization had been peeled back to reveal the sky’s true color. Here I was, in the middle of the wilderness of Quetico Provincial Park in Canada. It was so still, so quiet, so void of distraction, that I closed my eyes and became lost in my own thoughts. As I felt the sun warming my face, it reminded me of the weather in Nicaragua. As I felt the cool breeze, I could have convinced myself that when I opened my eyes, I would be standing at the cross overlooking Jinotega. When I paddled in the lakes in Canada, the motion re