zach n kali

You know how, when you get the common cold, it's super annoying, and you feel crummy, but life still has to go on, and everyone gets them, so you can't really even complain?  Yeah, that's what killed my mom.   My mom died from the common cold.  The obnoxious annoying runny nose and cough that most of us easily work through, quickly recover from, and usually beat multiple times a year. It took one cold in the year 2019 to begin the rapid timeline of my mom's passing.  One cold that, for her MS-weakened body, quickly turned into pneumonia, which again, is something that we healthy people regularly recover from. But for my mom's immunocompromised body, it was too much. On January 8th, 2019, Jesus brought his good and faithful servant home, handed over to Him by her husband and children.  She was only 59. I know many people aren't afraid of COVID-19.  I know many people think that those staying home are just living in fear. I know many people have the attitude of &q

I NEED TO PEE NOW KID SUDDENLY NEEDS TO PEE SO I HOLD MY PEE

  Despising any kind of stereotype, I swore I would absolutely not be a casualty of the Christian college's "Ring by Spring" stereotype. Which meant I inevitably was. I met Zach during the first semester of our freshman year. Because I had made it my MO to say yes to everything, I ended up helping a friend with his student film - a musical based on Queen's Loverboy, something which Zach had literally been dragged to help with as well. After a final late night practice at the end of the semester, a group of us ended up at the beach where he and I talked for hours. I didn't see him again until 6 weeks later when the Spring semester started. My course-load was much heavier and I quit my friend's film project. Turns out Zach quit the same night I did and called a few days later asking me out. Our first date made an impression to say the least. He met me in the dorm lobby where, upon seeing me, he turned on his heel and said over his shoulder, "I'm park

     Most people enter college with a sense of excitement and anticipation. While I definitely had those feelings, they were accompanied by a deep sense of disappointment that I wasn't at my preferred school. By the end of the first week, the Lord softened my heart and I felt a deep sense of peace as I walked around campus. I could palpably feel the Spirit. I began to be stretched in ways I never thought possible. Naturally shy, I quickly realized that I needed to get out of my comfort zone and open myself up to strangers. For the first time in my life I didn't have friends placed in front of me as I had while attending a small youth group or school. I was terrified of being away from my family, but because I was willing to open myself up to a new community I wasn't lonely. I made it my mission to say "yes" to anything I was asked to do or join, so long as it didn't conflict with my values. Because of this, I made dear friends, played sardines all over campus,

     With a new attitude and new opportunities, I began high school. High school provided me with all the activities and creative outlets I had longed for - friends, theater, choir, a small band, missions trips, worship team, and student government. I began to flourish and the main person behind this was my mom. D espite the physical limitations caused by MS, my mom was incredibly involved in every area of my life. Regardless of how tired she was, my mom never complained and showed up at every choir concert, every play performance, every fundraiser, every basketball game, often recording for my dad or other parents. The school should have a plaque in her honor. Each late night after practice or rehearsal when we got home after dinner time, she sat with us while we ate and listened as we recounted the banalities of our day. Each morning began with her softly knocking on our doors and ended with her screaming at my brother that he would once again be late for school if he didn'

Moving to Chicago opened doors that I didn't know existed.  I discovered youth group, cheerleading, class electives, student government, and, because of my very passionate music teacher, the Beatles. Though there were typical junior high struggles, I developed a core group of friends and developed a passion for being deeply involved in the things I loved.   In 1999, with my Dad's coursework complete, we moved back to Austria.  I was devastated. My hormonal, Jr. High soul felt crushed. My parents were taking me from everyone and everything I loved. The school I would be attending for 8th grade was a small private Christian school, with less than 200 students, Kindergarten through Seniors.  There would be 18 students in my class.  No band, no sports, no student government  Our church didn't have a youth group. By the end of the year I had sunk into a deep depression. I was angry that my parents' ministry was ruining my life.  I didn't understand why God, if He really

In 1997 our family moved from our small Austrian village outside of Vienna to the suburbs of Chicago where my dad began a PhD program in Intercultural Studies. I started junior high while my brother and sister attended the local elementary school.  My dad's program was demanding and took up most of his time.  One of his few respites was Monday Night Football.  Growing up, John Elway was a household name. My brother had his smile. My dad would watch tapes of games my grandpa would record for him. As a young girl, longing for her father's attention and approval, I struggled feeling like my dad was often either working, traveling, or watching football. When I was in 6th grade my Dad's beloved Broncos won their first Super Bowl in history and were looking strong once again as I started 7th grade. It was then that I decided I would either need to accept feeling ignored on Sunday and Monday nights or I would need to learn about football. I chose the latter. At this time, t

I was born into a Christian family with a strong long-standing Christian background.  My dad's parents had been in Christian ministry as long as he could remember, and though my mom's parents were not saved, they supported her decision to follow Christ at the age of 14.  Both my parents had a passion for ministry and a desire to lead the world to the kingdom.  They moved to Austria a month before my second birthday.  While my parents worked in theological education in East Germany, I attended Kindergarten and began developing Austrian personality traits.  Today I am still a person who is very reserved until I am comfortable in my surroundings, and I still eat using my fork with my left hand while holding my knife in my right.  I grew up playing with my younger siblings, exploring everything that the woods behind our house had to offer.   In 1991, the Cold War ended and the Iron Curtain came down.  It was at this time that my dad felt it was time to move our family to Romania,

Using his best Sean Connery imitation, this was Zach's sage advice for me as I whined about my lack of projects during this quarantine.  As natural doer, having nothing to do has been rough.  To be a doer who's not doing is... "unnerving" as Lumiere puts it in Beauty and the Beas t. Which is why Zach has tried to get me to write, regularly quoting Finding Forester to try and motivate me. The problem is that I don't like to write unless the words are flowing out of my soul with ease. My fingers fly over the keys, barely keeping up with my thoughts, my body feels as though something is quite literally brimming inside of me that is spilling out onto the page.  When I don't have words... punching the keys feels like a chore. A discipline. Work. As I thought about it some more, I realized that, while I may not have any new words, there are words I've written that haven't been shared. More correctly, they have only been shared with a very small group of pe