one-word-descriptions around a late night bonfire.

My cousin’s going to China.

I think it still feels slightly unreal. I’ve known Katie since diapers, back when we were stupid and naïve and played with cardboard and almost annoyed each other to death every time we got together to play. Fortunately for us, we grew out of those tendencies once we hit the teen years, and we’ve been best friends for quite some time now. 

Katie’s also worked at camp with me for the past four years – ever since I’ve been there, she’s been there too. She left this morning to go home, headed halfway across the world for a five week internship in just a few short days. Last night, the entire camp staff had the wonderful opportunity to sit around a bonfire and tell everyone what they appreciated most about her. We all came up with different words that best described her, and then expanded on why we chose those words.

Faithful. Spirited. Questions. Quiet force to be reckoned with. Uplifting. Delightful.

For this sure to be awkward blog post (Katie’s uncomfortable with so much attention focused on her), I decided to elaborate on the three words that I chose. Because at the very least, someone as beautiful and courageous as Katie deserves to have a blog post written about her.

Servant- Katie lives her life in a constant state of servitude to others. She has this constant posture of stooping below people to lift them up, not to gain anything for herself, but because the love of Christ pours out so abundantly from her heart, she can’t help but put others first. It doesn’t matter how uncomfortable, inconvenient or challenging it is for herself, she presses on anyway because she sees people for who they really are: beautiful image bearers of Christ. Because of this truth, she can’t help but serve them whenever possible.

Comfortable- Katie’s one of the most comfortable people to be around. It’s like she wears this big welcome mat around her heart, standing with open arms where anyone can come in for a hug, some laughter and a cup of coffee whenever they need it. My first year on camp staff, I felt pretty uncomfortable in such a new environment, surrounded by new people. It was mainly because of Katie that I came into my own skin and felt comfortable coming out of my shell. She just has this incredibly simple way of making you feel like you’re sitting at home with close family and friends and are able to relax no matter what stress the day held earlier.

Passionate- I will never forget the night that Katie left me an at least five minute long message, ranting and yelling about one of her friends that was convinced women couldn’t be pastors. While I could really only make out about half of it, I’m still always a bit taken aback by Katie’s passion. She stands firm in what she believes in, planted on Christ The Solid Rock, and it’s so encouraging to see her so unwavering in her faith. She is stable. She is steady. She truly is a quiet force to be reckoned with. I have seen the same passion come out in the way she talks about China. It’s been a desire pressing on her heart for many years now, and her commitment to spreading the Gospel there, no matter how dangerous or challenging it is for herself, has never faded. My cousin has guts.

Another purpose for this blog post is to serve as a reminder, a reminder to lift Katie up in your prayers, to call out to the Lord for her safety, but also for her mission, that the light of Christ would burst out so powerfully from her heart, it reaches people and pierces past their walls, sinking deep down into their souls.

I love you, Katie.

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

--Joshua 1:9

my dad did teach me to ride a bicycle.

This was my present to my dad for Father's Day.

* * *

If you’ve read even just a verse of my, “I Am Not A Man” poem, you’ll catch on quick that I don’t exactly fit the ‘manly man’ ideal. Ever since my toddler years, I’ve had a flair for the dramatics, preferring acting, singing, writing, and piano playing over any kind of sport. I tried. Oh, I tried my hand at quite a few sports (volleyball, soccer, and basketball, to name a few). But I just didn’t enjoy them. So I stopped. I opted for high school choir over the football team, and I graduated without ever having been on a sports team beyond the fifth grade.

My dad, on the other hand, played sports all the way through college. So, as you can predict, upon hearing the news that it was a boy, he jumped to quite a few assumptions about me. I can just see him, looking into my eyes as he held me for the first time, imagining playing football with me in the park, teaching me how to swing a baseball bat, competing against me in one-on-one basketball games. Oh, the list goes on. Now, knowing what you already know about me, this story seems to be heading straight downhill. Sports-loving father has a boy who grows up to suck at all sports and excel at the arts.

Don’t be so sure.

It’s funny, because I actually am very similar to my father, in terms of personality and quirks and what not. I think it took a while for him to realize that the typical, pre-paved path he was planning on just wasn’t going to work out (for that, God gave him my sister). But once he grasped that, he did exactly that: he grasped it and moved on. There were no special strings to be pulled or shady tricks up his sleeve – he loved me just the same as when he first saw me.

And I think that speaks a lot to my dad’s character. Because he never did have a son he could sit back and watch football with. He never had a son to play Horse with or a son that would get excited with him when he landed free tickets to the Packers game. But never have I felt like that’s changed his constant love for me. He still read every short story I wrote, even critiquing them for me and inspiring me to better my writing. He still sat through every eternal piano recital, pinching himself as he sat quietly through song after song. He even acted in the homemade movies I’ve made, giving it his all, like he always does. I’ve never felt judged or like ‘less of a man’ for who I am (and he’s never used the wretchedly horrible ‘man up’ phrase on me).

My dad loves people, no matter how different they are from him.

This is true not only with me, but with everyone who comes into contact with him. This is true of the way he leads the Disability Ministry at church: with open eyes that see people beyond the outer layer, digging down underneath to find the heart, where it beats and bleeds and yearns for authenticity. It doesn’t matter if you can’t speak, have a cognitive disability or don’t fit into a typical cardboard-box-role. Dad has this ability to treat everyone like a human being, one that deserves to be loved and be heard and be seen.

I’ve had some people tell me that they find my dad intimidating, to which I always respond with laughter. Because that’s probably one of the most absurd statements one could make. Sure, I definitely see why people feel that way. Before you get to know him, he can seem pretty uptight, serious and monotone. But for anyone that takes the time to crack a joke with him or get on a subject he enjoys talking about (football, anyone?), he comes crackling to life with bright colors and hooting laughter. He’s probably one of the most laid back, relaxed people I know. He’s one whom I can both joke around with and have a deep, intellectual conversation about the church with. He doesn’t pretend like he knows all the answers and he’s not shy to admit when he doesn’t. He speaks the truth, whether or not that makes him look like some big, tough macho-pastor man or not.

I’m expected to give him a Father’s Day card today with a little boy in a blue baseball cap, sitting next to his father, fishing on the lake or running to catch a football. It’d say some kind words about how well he raised me, and how he taught me to ride a bicycle (all in bold, black, masculine font), and then I’d sign my name and maybe say ‘I love you’ (depending on how feminine I’m feeling).

But that’s not my dad and that’s not me and that’s not how I feel.

Dad, I love you. I love you for your incredibly humble strength, the way you lift others up to go before you, unafraid of how that will affect your reputation or image, but dedicated to serving people and letting them know that they in fact are people and that they are beautiful. I love you for encouraging me in my dreams and pushing me to go the distance, even when it was in the exact opposite direction you initially wanted. I love you for how comfortable you are to be around, for the jokes you tell and the laugh you laugh and the wisdom you speak and the love of Christ that you reflect.

You have raised me well and you did teach me to ride a bicycle. But that’s really just the beginning.

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Click here to check out the first chapter of my work-in-progress novel, Yellowtree!