Monday, December 31, 2007

On the Way Home

Chicago Midway Airport

“Did you get all of your luggages?” The lady wasn’t talking to me; I was eavesdropping because that’s what one does when waiting over an hour for luggage from a flight that was delayed more than three. I think the lady was addressing her son, but I didn’t catch a glimpse of “him” so I can’t say for sure if he was blood-related. But I didn’t really care about him and his luggages; I was more concerned with the woman’s word choice. Luggages – plural, with an s. I’ve never heard that one before. Doesn’t luggage imply more than one? Kind of like fish? Then again, sometimes there is only one fish. Hmm…is it just me or did this woman have bad grammar?

Oh who cares; I just want my pizza. I tucked a slice in my luggage before checking it in Detroit thinking that it would be the perfect treat once I arrived in Chicago. I thought it would only be 3 hours before it would see the inside(s or no s?) of my stomach. But upon arrival in Chicago we were already well into the 7th hour; my soul (or something) was crying out for my Cottage Inn Pizza leftovers.

I tried to do some reading on the flight to calm my hunger, but the book I was reading wasn’t very good. I feel bad for thinking that because it’s one of those books that youth and college pastors insist that their students read. But I have to tell you, I did not enjoy reading Don’t Waste Your Life by John Piper. It’s not that the content is “bad,” the book is just boring to read. I read the first half on my flight to Michigan and intended to finish it on my way back to California, but I’m not certain that I will - especially since I have plenty of other things to think about, read about and write about. And probably ought to pray about as well.

I confess my prayer “life” hasn’t been the greatest since I’ve been on break. Sometimes I find myself vacationing from God while on vacation. It’s terrible, I know. I get altogether lazy – eating a bit more and working out a bit less. Reading my Bible becomes an optional activity – and praying happens only at meal time or when something traumatic happens.

And something traumatic did happen to me this break. It may not seem all that awful to you, but you have to remember, I’m a writer, so this is a major loss. You see, I had a rental car for my first weekend home and when I turned it back into Alamo rental, I also turned in my journal. It’s like I’ve lost 6 months of my life, possibly more, in the swoop of one careless car return. I’m rather certain it slid under the passenger’s seat. I filed a report, and prayed, but I’m convinced that it is gone.

Kind of like my eternal crush. He lost his eternal crush status when he called me up Christmas Day wanting me to set him up with one of my friends. He had one in particular in mind. I tried telling him that they aren’t a match. And he tells me, “Katrina, I need you to help me out here. I need a nice, Christian girl and if she’s friends with you she’s got to be pretty cool.”

And what’s wrong with me again?

So I ask my friend if she would ever consider dating him. She responds, “Hmm… I’m not sure. He’s prettier than me.” I inform her of his interest; she is flattered, but concludes that they probably wouldn’t work; I gloat in my rightness and inform my FORMER eternal crush that she didn’t think they were a match. And then I do the unthinkable. I succumb to confessing over a text message that I’ve been crushing on him for years. He thinks I’m joking; we’ll probably leave it at that.

My 8th grade crush asked me the other night if I was worried that I may never get married. We were out with friends from high school. There was lots of royalty present – a homecoming queen, a homecoming king, and a couple of prom queens (me being one of them). Everyone came with their spouse, fiancĂ©, or significant other – except me. I can’t remember exactly what I told my 8th grade crush, but I do remember him telling me he thinks I’d make a great mom.

The answer to his question of course is yes. Yes I fear that I may never marry. What’s interesting is that when I was 21 years old I wrestled with question, “Are you willing to die for the sake of the Gospel?” My answer was YES and I told God, “Take me anywhere. I’ll do anything so that others might come to know You - even if it means dying along the way.” The question wasn’t all that difficult for me to say yes to, but I struggle in answering yes to this question. “Are you willing to be single for rest of your life for the sake of the Gospel?”

My honest answer - hell, no. And I don’t use a lot cuss words, maybe 5 or 6 a year. The majority of which are spoken while I’m out surfing; some waves are brutal and there is nothing else you can say when you’re about to be pounded.

I was out surfing Trestles a couple of summers ago and I met this man who wanted me to write articles for his surf magazine. We talked for quite some time and he posed the question, “If you had to choose between marriage and a book deal, which would you choose?” The answer was easy – marriage.

But I feel lame for even talking about being single, because it’s like whining, and not being content or thankful for the many ways in which God has blessed me. People don’t want to hear about what you don’t have – like that slice of pizza. Where is my luggage?!?!

Wait. Is that it?

I grab my suitcase off the conveyer belt and wheel it to the side. I plop down on the ground, unzip the suitcase and there it is - my smooshed slice of cold pizza safely stowed in a zip lock bag. I open the bag, and then my mouth. Ah pizza. It has never tasted so good.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

I'M not ENGAGED!!!

In my family it’s some sort of sin not to write a Christmas newsletter. It’s a duty; kind of like filing your taxes – you do it whether you want to or not. It’s not that I don’t want to write this. It’s just that I have a lot to say and I already know the average person will only read a quarter of this newsletter before checking out. Unless, of course, 2/3 of the way down I write in big, bold letters - I’M ENGAGED! But I’m not, and besides, I used that tactic a few years ago and I don’t feel comfortable using the same lie twice.

My biggest news of 2007 does not involve an XY specimen, but rather some special equipment that I’ve acquired to help me in my journey towards co-hosting a talk show. The following book excerpt explains.

Beginning of Excerpt
At the age of 29 I decided to commit social suicide. I had wanted to commit social suicide in junior high when all the cool kids were doing it (i.e. when it wasn’t so much social suicide), but the dentist told my mom it wasn’t all that necessary to have metal placed on my teeth to make them straighter. I successfully fabricated a retainer out of a paper clip, but I missed out on those pimp, colored rubber bands all because my dentist managed to convince my mom that my crooked teeth added personality. I think he told her this because he knew my parents were tight on money and paying the dental bills was already hard enough. He kindly waited until I was paying my own bills to recommend that I get braces.

Once I turned twenty-one I made it into a Leap Year-like tradition to go in every 4 years to get a free orthodontic consultation. Each place made me fill out bunches of paperwork before they would consult my teeth – I think to make sure I wasn’t a criminal. I hear they use dental records to help identify bad people, dead people, and sometimes bad, dead people.

The first place I went asked me to provide a reason why I needed braces. I jotted down, “I want to be a news anchor.” When I met with the orthodontist he adjusted my answer to “crowding of teeth.” I felt silly for writing down the answer that I did, but I didn’t feel too bad because it was an honest answer and I am certain the orthodontist recognized my integrity in my answer and was relieved to know that I wasn’t a criminal.

Although I enjoyed my first two orthodontic consultations, I passed on the braces both times because I thought perhaps I’d be moving to Africa to live where orthodontists do not. But instead of Africa, I moved to Southern California to live where nice teeth are more important than starving children.
End of Excerpt

Zondervan Publishing continues to be interested in my writing. And I continue to be interested in finishing the manuscript of my book – without the pressure of deadlines. The project is taking me much longer than I anticipated, mainly because of my job (still an RD at California Baptist University), my seminary work (still at Fuller), my surfing adventures, and my weekend excursions to cities such as Paris, France, San Francisco, and Phoenix, AZ.

For much of 2007 I felt rather incapacitated and didn’t progress much in my writing as I was going through some sort of hell. The torment ended in May when the Dean of Students affirmed me by saying, “Katrina, you have proven yourself this year. You have persevered and have displayed great character. You did a really good job this year. No wait - you didn’t just do a good job; you did a great job.”

Funny how James 1:2-4 is the passage that I never let go of. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

I continue to learn to lean on and trust in God’s character (i.e. his goodness, his faithfulness, etc.) throughout all seasons of life; I encourage you to do the same. Hold onto His promises; hold onto Him.

Merry Christmas Friends & Happy New Year!!!

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Tap Dancing at Starbucks

So I was tap dancing at Starbucks...

... yep. It's true. It happenened about an hour ago.

As one boss of mine (i.e. Kenny Grimes) once told me, "Katrina, you have no need to ever get drunk or high."

Hmm... I think he's right.

For the record, I've never been drunk or high, but I have jumped off a cliff, ridden a pig, and been mistaken for a homeless person.

The cliff was in Portland.
The pig was in Onsted (Michigan).
And the homeless mistakeness was in San Diego.

In other news, a friend mine (who I have an eternal crush on) recently asked me what I thought about online dating. I shared my e-harmony testimony (how I spent one hour on it) and explained that I would never return to the "that" scene again unless it was to use men for book material.

But is that ethical?

Friday, November 23, 2007


This should probably be a journal entry rather than a public blog because what I am about to write will be less than brilliant, less than entertaining, and less than worth reading. But my paper journal is no longer inviting to write in - I think because there is no delete button and if I ever wanted to post a portion of my journal online, I’d first have to type it out. And in the process of typing I’d decide it isn’t worth posting unless I first spend an hour reworking and revising because rumor has it that Zondervan Publishing occasionally visits my blog.

I’m writing from a fancy, schmancy hotel lounge located at the Westin Mission Hill Spa & Resort in Rancho Mirage. For those of you who don’t speak geography or $$$, I’m writing from Southern California just down the road from Palm Springs, a couple hours inland from the Pacific Ocean. My sister and MBA Harvard-in-law booked a suite for the Thanksgiving holiday and that’s why I’m here.

It’s the type of place that reminds me that if I ever have a family, we’ll be going tent camping, because there’s no way in heck we’d ever be able to afford a place like this for family vacations. It really is a bit like paradise and I considered earlier today that perhaps the architects scammed some of their design ideas from the Bible’s description of heaven.

The resort reminds me of the resort I stayed at when my mission team traveled to Mombasa, Kenya (i.e. East Africa) for a 2 night stay at the White Sands Resort. The main difference is the view of the neatly groomed golf course rather than the Indian Ocean. But what is most similar is how alone I felt then, and how alone I feel now. So maybe it’s not so much heaven.

I’m sitting here not wanting to go home, because as soon as I go home, I work. And I’ve been working since June, so I’m not wanting to go back to my dorm world just quite yet – because someone will ask me a question or inform me that a fire alarm is beeping, or someone will have puked and I’ll need to go clean it up, or someone is…oh, wait, that’s confidential. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, I love my girls, I love my RA staff – it’s just hard at times to live where you work.

So I thought maybe I’d get hit on tonight. But this isn’t the type of establishment that brings in a lot of singles, and even if it did, without my surfboard, it probably wouldn’t happen because men only seem to hit on me when I have my board with me. That’s why July is a “good” month – or at least it was this past summer.

Santa is outside. So is a Christmas tree – neatly framed between two Pal m Trees. And it’s snowing, but not really. It’s fake - kind of how I feel about many of my relationships – they feel a little less than authentic. I realized today that even my sister hardly knows me. I miss the days of best friends – Kristen, Billie, Jonna, Sally, Christina, Melissa, and Emily – they’re all gone – or so it seems.

And I just want to be known again – deeply and intimately.

You may be tempted to point out Psalm 139. I already know it.

The question is will I cave in search for a new best friend? My friend Joy recommends e-harmony. But how specific can you get on e-harmony? Can you preference men that are willing to die for the sake of the gospel? And men that would make great co-hosts for my future talk show? Hmmm…


So I did it. Under my favorite fake name, I created a profile and discovered that I have 8 matches in the world - that aren't really matches at all. I've deleted my fake account. Forget e-harmony. :)

Sunday, November 11, 2007

The SHE Tribe

The Title of my next book project:

The Uncovered Stories of the SHE Tribe

This is a book I won't be writing alone, but rather it will be the voices of many women who have banded together in Los Angeles to form the SHE tribe. The SHE community consists of women from around the world of diverse backgrounds, but of the same God. The women will tell stories. . .

I'll be back to finish this post.

Angela, if you're reading this, what do you think? :)

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Tonight I Would Say

Dear Friend of the Past,

Tonight I would say, never mind what I told you last night.
I just heard the news - congrats on your engagement.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Tonight I Would Tell You

Dear Friend of the Past,

Tonight I would tell you that I heard Nick speak last night. I would tell you that his talk changed my perspective, or shall I say my frustration with why God only heals some of the time. I would tell you that I'm glad you had the opportunity to meet him on your way to the airport.

Tonight I would tell you that I picked up the latest Jimmy Eat World CD. I would thank you for introducing me to their music and I would ask, "Are they still your favorite band?"

Tonight I would tell you about Megan's dream job. And I would ask, "Can you help her get it?" because I know you know the right people.

Tonight I would tell you that I remembered today the time we were supposed to meet up the beach, but our plans were thwarted by the rain.

Tonight I would tell you the brilliant song lyric that I came up with. "Words may slip. And so might I. I slip your hand into mine." And I would offer it to you because you're the better song writer.

Tonight I would tell you, I'm glad we're friends again.

Tonight, well, tonight would never happen.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

The Best of Text Messages Still in my Phone

April 4, 2007 Fr: Mike Duff
On the plane right now. Call you in awhile.
Um… isn’t your cell phone supposed to be turned off?

December 29, 2006 Fr: David Douglas
Did mike give you a reply? He is being evasive and putting all the decision making on me.
Um… who uses the word “evasive” in a text message?

October 3, 2007 Fr: Lauren Pollard
I love you more than albino squirrels
Um… thanks? Actually there are albino squirrels in Minneapolis; I saw one in my sister’s neighborhood.

July 15, 2007 Fr: Shannen Norman
Sooo…I served phil wickham tonite, yup its true
Um…that’s just cool.

December 21, 2006 From David Douglas
I think I have just the guy for you…
Um… okay. Could you ship him Fed Ex from New York to LA?

September 2, 2007 Fr: Cindy Steiger
I had a dream that you were pregnant – do you need to tell me something?
Um… no sex here. Unless the Holy Spirit is working over-time in my life, I think I’m in the clear.

June 22, 2007 Fr: Laura Paulus
Sorry if I am waking you up but wanted to share that Sarah just asked Jesus into her heart. We have been talking about it for several days and she prayed.
Um… Laura’s 5 year old daughter prayed the prayer, but her 3 year old daughter thought it would hurt too much to have Jesus come and live inside of her.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Slower Than Slow

The thought occurred to me tonight that I won’t be able to do it – that I won’t be able to finish this book that I keep talking about and that people keep telling me they can’t wait to read.

A different someone asks me every day how the book is coming along. My response is always the same: slow. Is there a word for slower than slow?

My job is not conducive to being a writer. And my seminary work doesn’t help. I’m envious of Rick Warren who was able to set aside 7 months to simply write. No wonder his book was a best seller.

I guess I’m a bit discouraged, because I really was almost finished. But then I had to go and change directions in my writing and any brilliant work that I had accomplished was thrown to the wayside.

I’m feeling a bit uninspired. Maybe I need better background music and picking up the newest CDs by Phil Wickham, Jimmy Eat World, and Dashboard Confessional is the answer.

Or maybe I need a different scented candle to burn.

Erwin McManus tells me that there is no such thing as writer’s block. So why do I have it?

Don’t worry, I’ll finish the book.
Determination, perseverance, and commitment are a part of who I am.
I wouldn't leave you all hanging.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Hit On at In-N-Out

For those of you unfamiliar with In-N-Out most have two drive-thru lanes to choose from. Tonight I wrongly chose the lane on the right and was accosted by a customer on the left.

“Welcome to In-N-Out. Can I take your order?”
“Um. . .” Do I want regular fries or animal fries?
“I’ll just have an order fries.” Decision made.
“Is that all?” Hmm… I could still switch to animal fries.
No… I just need something to drink, but I already had 2 Diet Cokes today…
“Could I also get a glass of water?”
I smiled at the speaker because my scant order seemed a bit ridiculous.
A guy in the passenger’s seat of a truck in the neighboring lane smiled back at me.
Uh oh.
“1 order of fries and 1 glass of water. That will be $1.28.”
“Is that really all you’re going to get?”
So truck man wants to talk.“Yeah. I’m not super hungry.” It was a late night snack – not dinner.
“So where are you headed from here?”
“Back to CBU.”
“Do you go there?”
“Kind of.”
I work there, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Oh, well I live in the apartments right next to campus.”
“Huh. That’s cool.”
Why is this guy talking to me? And why is my car window still unrolled?
Oh good. His truck is moving up. Roll up the window – quick.
And don’t look back over in his direction.
Okay… $1.28. I have a lot a pennies; maybe I can get rid of some.
1…2 ….3… 24…25
I jumped.
Are you serious? I can’t believe this guy is actually standing outside of my car.
I politely unroll my window and am doused with the smell of pot.
“Are you single?”
“Yes. But I wouldn’t say that I’m available.”
I’m definitely not available to date you. Call me picky, but I’m just not into scraggly, 21 year old pot heads, but I suppose I should give him some sort of explanation.
“I’m working on publishing a book and I think I’ll be able to market it better being single.”
“So I would be roadblock for you?”
“Yeah… I guess.”
“Well, have a good night.”
“You too.”

He returned to his truck and I returned to my pennies, feeling somewhat guilty for not introducing myself. And I could have been nicer. And… no I won’t feel bad… he was sketchy.
“Hit On” Evangelism is just too tricky.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Dream Job on the 93rd Floor

Her name was Meredith and she longed for a Titanic romance – not one involving a tragic death, but rather one in which she would meet a handsome, young man on cruise ship. She lived down the hall and was hard to love at times, but we loved her anyways. We’d invite her to Bible study and to other Christian events happening on campus, but she always used the excuse that she needed to study. Michigan’s Business School was ranked #1 in the nation and she wanted to be certain to get in.

Every once in a while Meredith and I would talk about spiritual things. She told me that she’d like to read the Bible and explore Christianity a bit, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. She didn’t have the time; she needed to focus on her studies so that she could get into the Business School. She dreamed of a high paying job and vacations on cruise ships.

Meredith made it into the Business School and even before receiving her diploma she was offered her dream job. After graduation she moved to New York to settle into her office on the 93rd floor. She booked her cruise for the month of September, but she never got to go on it; she never got to meet her Prince Charming. Because Meredith’s dream job was on the 93rd floor of the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

I don’t know where Meredith stood with God when the Towers crumbled to the ground. And I don’t know where each of you reading this stands with God. But I do know that our time “here” is limited. You’ll always have your reasons to brush God to the side, but those reasons won’t help you on your departing day.

Do you know Jesus?

Have you been brushing God to the side?

How are you doing in loving the people around you?

If you would like to talk more about this particular post, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I would love to dialogue further with you. This post is written in memory of Meredith Whalen.

Monday, August 20, 2007

A Confused Identity

* Please see June 30th's post for background information on this post.

Sunday, January 18, 2004

A Confused Identity

Pen names, a stage name, an alias, all conceal the identitiy of what is real. Hidden behind another name, preconceived notions and misconceptions are laid aside. Finally, freedom is obtained to be anything because nothing is expected. One becomes new, untainted by the past. For the past has faded away and only freshness remains.

Samuel Langhorne Clemons is my hero for he understands my position. I like the brilliancy of writing to write rather than writing to be someone or something in someone's mind. For when one reads and knows not the person behind the words, it is only the words that are heard. And words want to speak without being judged. But eventually the pseudonym becomes someone and a warped reality prevails leaving the truth behind. Is it Samuel Langhorne Clemons or is it Mark Twain? And if he is Mark Twain, then who am I? Goodbye Modesty Blogspot
~Katrina Marie Blank

touche, it is not the writer but the writings that matter here, but if an alias is needed than so be it, for we all enjoyed what you had to say. [estaban}

"why not go back to paris and find her?"
"it couldn't work out. . ."
why stephen, correct me if i'm wrong, but i do believe an intellectual decision has been made and with that decision i welcome you to the choice cult. ~ marie

touche marie, i have been outwitted yet once again - stephen

Thursday, August 2, 2007

Love at First Sight?

* Please see June 30th's post for background information on this post.

Friday, January 16, 2004

Love at first sight? What do you mean love at first sight? Do you mean the 6'4" model I met at a dance club while I was on Spring Break? Do you mean the guy I stayed up all night with on the cruise ship so that we could watch the sun rise? Do you mean the summer fling that was ignited by Fourth of July fireworks? Or perhaps the stranger who noticed me while I was waiting at the bus stop - the one who came and slipped his phone number into my hand and asked me to call him if I'd like to go out for coffee sometime. Maybe it was the boy who rode my bus in 5th grade that passed me a note asking if I would go out with him. Circle Yes No or Maybe. Maybe it is the man in this story.

It is well past midnight. The others are probably wondering where we are, but I am in no rush to leave. In fact, I wish this moment would never end because I know I'd be happy staying in it forever. And I know you feel the same as you sit just above and beside me gently strumming your guitar. The crashing of distant waves and the crackling of the fire bring perfect harmony to the songs that you sing. The dune enclosed around us bounces the light of the fire into your heart and into mine. With my back against the log, I turn my eyes to the heavens and I see stars I've never seen before. One shoots through the sky, but with this star I don't make a wish, because everything I want is true.

The fire begins to grow faint; only embers remain. So you strum the last strum and tell me that we should probably head back. You pack up your guitar, sad to leave this place behind, but I am still thankful for the walk that remains.

You lead me to the gulf's edge with your guitar in one hand and mine in the other. Careless words may ruin everything, so we choose to only allow are our hearts to speak. Halfway back you set down your guitar and pick up my other hand. Our fingers move about together while the moon shines in your eyes and connects with mine. "There's something I want to tell you. . ." I wait expectantly, but not for the words that follow. "I have a girlfriend."

I never wanted to learn how to play the guitar after that. I didn't want to take away its romance. But eventually I gave in and learned. And romance has been gone ever since.


mam that may be the best piece ever loaned to modesty. i had a smile across my face the entire time, and the "girlfriend" line completely caught me off guard. im sure it caught you off guard also. your right what is love at first sight? i personally call it lust at first sight since i think hormones play a bigger part than an instantaneous connection.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Fate First, Then Decision

* Please see June 30th's post for background information on this post.

Thursday, January 15, 2004

Fate First, Followed By Intellectual Decision

Call it fate, call it divine appointment, call it whatever you would like. But whatever you call it, somehow life's circumstances have led you to someone. And they will continue to lead you to many different someones. Some will make you weak in your knees, twitterpated if you will, others you will allow to pass by going unnoticed. But when someone does catch the attention of your heart and mind, choice steps in.

Will he have the nerve to pursue this woman? Or will he allow intimidation and fear of rejection stand in his way? And how will she respond? Will she run from him in fear of falling in love and having her heart broken once more? Are both parties ready to be committed to someone else? Has he fallen for whom she really is or has her outward beauty seduced him? Has she fallen for him simply because he is showing her the attention she desires? Or has she fallen in love, not with his accomplishments, but with the man that he is?

Is a relationship even an option or does age difference or life calling stand in the way? And can barriers, such a geographical distance, be overcome? Is the person worth the sacrifice? Is the person worth the effort? Is the person worth taking your own life and intertwining it with theirs? Hopefully some day we will all have the opportunity to say yes to these final three questions, but until then . . .


M, so many questions- what happened to love at first site..This sounds more like love after first interrogation, which is love by choice not love by fate. assessing the other person, finding their positives and negatives, seeing if you can live with their flaws and not being able to live without their touch. my friend you have joined the choice cult.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007


* Please see June 30th's post for background information on this post.

Thursday, January 08, 2004


Swarms of people stream by while I drudgingly wade through the crowd. I glance from side to side wondering if he's passing me by. A few glances are returned, but with each reply I know it's not him. I wonder if he's thinking the same as me, questioning where is this person with whom my life is to be intertwined? Has destiny slipped beyond my reach? We both wish that we would fall upon each other's eyes and simply know the stranger we see, is no stranger at all. We'd halt in our tracks and in silence acknowledge the soul standing in arms length away is finally in reach of a life together. Tears creep from my eyes, for this is the moment of fate that I have been praying for.

The Other Side

The man of wisdom stood before me, speaking words of truth and destruction - the truth of his theology, the destruction of my hope.

"I could have married many different women and still remained in God's will. There's not a 'the one' out there until you've chosen one and then at the words of I do, she becomes 'the one.'"

Psalm 139:16 All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came into being.

Before we even came into being, God knew our life's course. He knows, but amidst his omnisciency, He allows choices to be made. Although there may be a more perfect spouse for everyone in this world, commitment supersedes wandering aimlessly year after year wondering if this will be the year that the most perfect someone will fall into view. The most intimate of human relationships is as the mystery of Christ and the church - a mystery in which glory is given unto God. God is love and a Godly marriage exemplifies Christ's love, as those who live in Him make his love complete.

Yet the "enemy" prowls, perhaps even before the fate of realizing beauty. For it is known that two beautiful people together will bring heightened beauty to this sore-filled world. So as in the movie Serendipity, two individuals on two separate elevators choose the same floor to build their future. But a child of "the enemy" destroys the path of destiny by pushing buttons that delay the meeting until the chance has forever passed. And both are left all alone.

~Marie Devonshire

how eloquently put, but what is the balance between faith/destiny/ and choice m? how far do we let ourselves pursue? Do we sit back and wait for destiny (faith) to drop an open door upon our lap, or do we "seek and (you will) find"? God never told us who to love, but how to love. (love your neighbor as yourself, do unto others...)

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Footprints in the Snow

* Please see June 30th's post for background information on this post.

Tuesday, November 25, 2003

I was already in bed, but it didn’t take much convincing for me to leave its warmth and to join yours. The temperature outside screamed single digits while our hearts longed for double. That’s why you called. And that’s why I got out of bed. I waited for your knock to confirm the reservation. But you had none and neither did I. The snow wasn’t planned; it simply happened and so did we. Your gentle knock on the door beat through my entire being. A deep breath and a turn of the handle, my heart was awakened.

I stepped outside, but it no longer felt cold for your smile had removed the chill from the air. Instead only laughter and snowflakes remained. Together we made fresh footprints in the snow as we walked to the park. While the world around us slept, our hearts were alive. We sled down the hills, threw balls of snow, and made angels underneath the night’s sky. That’s when I offered you a taste of the falling winter. You were skeptical, but I assured you that it would be fine. So your city lips touched snow for the first time. And then they touched mine.

~ Marie Devonshire

my favorite part is when you said "your city lips", very descriptive. much like hawthorne in 'a blithdale romance'. try clarifying the timeline, also think of other activities because not many people sled at night. i like it though!

(But we did go sledding - on stolen tray's from U of M's dining hall!)

Tuesday, November 25, 2003

"I still play with cardboard boxes." -marie

Friday, July 6, 2007

To Re-Live Last Night

* Please see June 30th's post for background information on this post.

Thursday, September 25, 2003

today i recieved this:
stephen, Sept. 5 you wrote "If I could re-live last night over, I would."
And on Sept. 6th I wrote this:

If I could re-live last night over, I would. And that's all you write. That's all I have to ponder. No tone of voice. No facial expression. No story behind the words to ease my curiousity. Of course, when I first read the words on the screen, I immediately sensed romance. At least that's what female intuition assumed. A night - an encounter with a woman whose beauty and smile captured your entire being. I suppose you strolled the city together until you came across a local coffee shop. There the conversation intensified and so did the emotions as you shared your life dreams, your faith, your authors, and your philosophies. If only the ocean were nearby, you would continue the evening with a walk along the beach, the sand between your toes and her fingers entwined with yours. The stars claim their presence in the sky reminding you how small and insignificant you are. But as you lay down on the sand to breath in their gaze, you know for this night, they shine for you.

dear mam, who are you? have you read the romance novels i write in my head? though this sounds like an amazing evening, (the evening of sept 5) nothing of the sort happend at all that night. true there was someone else with me, but it was not as romantic as i wish your short story was, if that type of night would ever take place i would have a bit more optimism in my music, and a larger smile on my face presently. please keep writing to me i was lost in your words envisioning that the girl in your story was the girl in my present thoughts.

Saturday, June 30, 2007

Coming Soon: My Original Blogspot Work

I’ve decided to reclaim some of my original blogspot work - which, for the most part, was written under the guise of Marie Devonshire. My middle name, followed by the last name of a friend who taught me how to both surf and fall in love in the same day, is the name that became my pen name. 5 years ago Mr. Devonshire told me that he would fly out to Michigan and marry me if I was still single the eve of my 25th birthday. I didn’t believe him, but I liked him for some time and eventually he did come to Michigan – not to marry me, but rather to introduce me to his fiancĂ©. He married her and a year later he divorced her. I think because of his love for gambling. Skilled at playing poker, Mr. Devonshire has left his wife and the field of youth ministry to pursue a career in gambling. However, he continues to maintain the same desire as my favorite ex-boyfriend to someday run a youth camp; I have faith that he will, but not until much later on in life when he grows weary of the game and remembers his first love (i.e. God). Last time I spoke with him he was getting ready to go to the Playboy Mansion for a celebrity poker tournament.

The blogspot I wrote upon was moderated by Stephen Christian – the lead singer of Anberlin. I have much admiration, and some jealousy, for the ambitious life that Stephen now leads. I think because his life seems to have greater eternal significance than my own. Long before Stephen’s rock stardom, I considered the possibility that he might like me. I think the invitation to the Presidential Inaugural Ball, along with the mix CD and Valentine’s Day card he sent me, led me to believe that he had some interest in me. Or maybe it was the plane ticket he offered to buy me so I could meet him in New Orleans. I’m uncertain now what he meant when he told me “You have a lot of qualities I hope for in a future love” because last month he informed me that he was never interested in me. I think his brother would disagree with his no interest claim because he had to fight Stephen for the computer as they were both waiting upon and writing e-mails to girls in Michigan (or so Stephen once told me).

So maybe Stephen was never interested in me, but I think he was rather fond of Marie Devonshire. I’ll let you decide. Over the next month or so I’ll be posting old blogspot writings that I had written for his site several years ago. Please keep in mind my book writing is nothing like the writing you will find here. This stuff isn’t funny; my book is (and so am I – or at least I'd like to think I am).

Sunday, May 27, 2007

In the Green Room

I’m doing something I probably shouldn’t. I mean, it would be fine if there was anonymity involved. But he knows my name and where I live both online and off. He’ll be reading this piece and I’ll regret writing it.

Last night I returned to Coffee Depot. My intentions, once again, were to spend the evening working on my book – which I did do for quite some time. I sat in my favorite chair – the comfy old one that sits closest to the unused fire place – reworking a section called “Turbulence.”

As the evening progressed, so did the number of distractions. I contemplated packing up and going home, but then I remembered Coffee Depot’s upper room.

I considered that it might be in use by the bands that were lined up to play. But when I climbed the stairs and peaked around the corner I knew the room was no green room. Okay, so it was painted green, but what I’m trying to say is the room was not packed full of musicians.

Only empty tables and chairs filled the room, with exception of one chair that held a man, whom I’ll describe as handsome. He was reading (or least pretending to read) when I walked into the room.

I quickly found a corner seat and opened my laptop, extending my writing break by checking my e-mail and MySpace. I was in the process of composing a reply to my favorite ex-boyfriend when the man across the room initiated a conversation.

I wish I could provide you with actual dialogue, but none of it seems to stand out. Maybe because I was too intrigued by him to really pay attention to what was being said.

I mean, I know we talked about his 9 (or 10) years in Kenya as an MK (i.e. missionary kid) and my aspiration to someday be on Jay Leno. And we discussed our books – the one I’m writing and the one he’ll be writing later this summer. (His book will be better than mine, but I can’t tell you what his book is going to be about because someone reading this might be tempted to steal his idea.)

I learned that he is not only a writer, but a musician as well – a guitarist, of course. For him, the room we were sharing was a green room; our time together ended when he had to go on stage.

I stayed for the show, sitting in back wondering about him, wanting to know more.

Afterwards we exchanged smiles and salutations, but not phone numbers - which is funny to me, because for once I would have actually been okay with giving mine away.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Meeting With A Stranger

My stomach is feeling a bit uneasy. It's possible that I'm hungry (I popped some popcorn just in case), but more than likely my gut is responding to the conversation I had an hour ago. Because it was a rather intense conversation to have with a complete stranger. I was finishing up a section in my book called "Beer" when a nearby patron at Coffee Depot decided to strike up a conversation with me.
"I caught you."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, I caught you pretending to look at your computer screen when you were looking over at me."

Okay, so true. Yes, at one point I was looking at him. I usually do take in my surroundings; this is an especially good thing to do when you are driving.

I politely continued the dialogue, not minding a small break from my book writing. But then he started asking questions... spiritual questions... and I knew my book writing was done with for the evening.

So we talked about God for a while; he was raised in the church, but his current claim is that he is an agnostic. I happen to have my copy Erwin McManus's new book - Soul Cravings - with me, so I asked if he was reader. He said yes so I offered the book, and he offered me the book he had been reading - a book of poetry by Walt Whitman called Leaves of Grass. He said that he wasn't finished with the book and that he'd like it back; I said the same - which means he and I will be meeting up again in the near future.

But he didn't want to talk just about God. He also wanted to talk about love. (Which is somewhat ironic being that God is love.)

"What do you think it means to be in love?" He pulled out his journal. "If you get to use any of our conversation in your book. I'm at least going to write down your answer in my journal."
“That’s fair enough, but I don’t think I have a good answer for you. I could talk about love being a choice or the intense longing to be with someone, but…” We dialogued for a bit attempting to formulate a good definition.

He then asked, "Have you ever been in love?"


"How did you know?"

"I almost hit another car." (Actually I did gently bump into another car; the story is in my book) "And when things were over between us I wanted to commit suicide."

"Yeah... like trying to figure how many pills it would take?"

"Actually I was trying to figure out how long it would take to fill the garage up with carbon monoxide. That's how I knew I was in love." He and I were both smiling. We did our best to stay lighthearted, yet we both knew the painful reality of losing someone you'd give anything to spend the rest of your life with.

"So you're not dating anyone?"

"Nope. I don't have much luck when it comes to guys."

“Why do you think that is?”

“I’m 5’8"? I honestly don’t know.” That’s been the mystery question ever since I entered into high school. What makes Katrina Blank undatable?

“Well, you’re certainly an attractive woman and you’re easy to talk. You can actually hold an intelligent conversation.”

“Well thanks.”

“So my fiance… or exfiance… she thinks I need some time to be by myself. I’ve always been in and out of relationships, never being without a girl for more than a month.”

“Maybe it’s time you start looking at God.”

“My dad…” He continued, telling me how he has been wounded by his father. But wow, what an interesting response to my suggestion.

I left Coffee Depot wondering why I had been dragged into this man’s spiritual journey and feeling responsible now to uphold him in prayer. And as I drove home I continued to think about what it means to be in love. Tonight I miss Shane.