a beautiful day

This weekend was completely beautiful. I had been anticipating and planning for months - phone calls, emails, crafts, notes, lists, shopping. So much planning that I almost forgot what I was planning for. We worked all day Saturday - I would imagine something and Abby would create it, as if she was in my head or could see the same end product that I could see. It just worked, like a rhythmic machine - no glitches, no speedbumps, just a gentle soothing beat as we marched throughout the day. It was simple, but it took a lot of work to make it that way. There was a flow, but it took strategic design to create it. On Sunday, we added finishing touches and waited. And then, people came. The poured in the door and poured out love and support and said "we'll be here with you!" And Ali was blessed. Which was the whole point anyway. Her new baby boy will be coming in December and everything I am loves the tradition of throwing a shower to help get the family ready. A shower to say that you're not alone, that your whole world will be turned upside down, but we want to help you get through it- we want to walk alongside you and carry you when you cannot bear another step. And that's what it was - an outpouring of love and blessings and gifts for a growing family.
We had a sketched tree in a frame so that people could put their thumb print and write their name. This will hang in the new nursery...There were branches in vases that people could come in and write a blessings for the baby on...A clothesline hung on the wall with precious baby clothes and a homemade sign, painted by Abby...His name was painted on pumpkins and sitting on the mantle, with baby pictures of Ali and Danny...

Baby blocks, pumpkins, flowers, fall leaves and candles were scattered around the room sitting on tables and shelves and creating an atmosphere of warmth and calm.
People filled the room right at 2:00 and the chatter began - 60 women in a house, joyfully laughing at the past and looking forward to the future; fervently catching up on job status, kids, church life, recent events; and paying close attention for when Ali would get to their well thought out gift. Ali laughed easily and truly was glowing the whole day, utterly overwhelmed by the generosity and affection of the women we hold so close. She opened each gift and the room ooohed and ahhhed over the tiny socks, jersey onesie, hand-made blanket, monogrammed bibs, and perfect belongings. A dear friend prayed towards the end for this new life, that he would grow in faithfulness and trust in the Lord, that he would know how great his parents are, that they would have the patience needed and the support of friends, that they wouldn't be too hard on themselves, but would find grace. Tears were shed and joy in its finest form floated through the air.
The women lingered, drinking coffee and eating cupcakes and continuing to laugh. And I didn't want it to end. But at some point people began to clear and the space began to feel big again, still full but more open. With a heart overflowing, we said goodbyes and made plans to see each other soon. We hugged and took pictures and tried to hold on to this unforgettable day. Once just the seven of us were left, we went back through to truly get a good look at the tiny clothes and the baby gear and only then did it set in.

Caleb is coming.

Oh how beautiful the group of people who cannot wait to meet him.

and the Oscar goes to...

Growing up we acted like we were the same age. I was only 18 months older so virtually every stage of life was stepped into together. She is my only little sister and for that I am so thankful. We are best friends and we understand each other most of the time. We used to play invisible uno together and enjoyed calling each other to invite the other over for a sleepover (literally we used the phone in my mom's office and the home phone and would call to see if the other one wanted to come spend the night - hysterical laughter always ensued because let's be honest we are funny). We would make up plays and dances and songs (one major hit as I recall, right Ke?).
But over the years, differences emerged. I found a nitch for organization and communication and this little one found a free spirit and stage lights. After years of practicing and performing, today the baby is going to perform in her first play as a paid actress. We are ecstatic. And of course we are acting like we're going to the Oscar's - seems there is a dramatic flare in this whole family! Roll out the red carpet because this is the Keila Christine Lorenc. She will play the lead role and I know she will blow me away, as is usual for one of her plays. She can be funny, serious, emotional, dramatic, lighthearted, or just about anything else. And she is believable. The minute she steps onto the stage something happens to her - it's like I forget she's my sister and start believing she is someone entirely different. It is thrilling. The gift of live theater is often overlooked, but I am lucky - I have a sister who is passionate about it, who never lets me forget to respect the theater, and who has the rare ability to listen, understand and interpret. Someday we'll be sitting among the stars, listening as a clip from her most recent success is played and then the presenter will say those words we all know so well... but the thing is, whether she wins or not doesn't matter. Because I will know that she has poured her heart and soul into this. I will know that she cried and lost sleep and loved every second. And I will know, even if we never get there, that this girl has got it. She found courage and she is out there doing it.

So, today I am the proudest big sister around (well we'll say tied for proudest sister, with two others who will also be front and center).

Break a leg, dear one. I cannot wait to see you step onto the stage tonight.

well crap

it's official.
There is absolutely no way I am ever going to be taken seriously in a store like Home Depot or Lowe's.
This used to upset me. I mean no matter what I go in there for, I always get eyed like I shouldn't be there or I don't belong. As if a girl wearing a nice blouse, earrings and wedges can't hold a hammer. I mean come on what is this 1950???

But now I sort of understand where they are coming from and today I think I pretty much sealed the deal. The painted nails and long blonde hair were already grouping me into a certain category, but then I just had to approach the customer service desk, asking about my uncle, who my mom had told me worked at Home Depot. You see I'm working on a project for a baby shower I'm throwing and needed a few things. My uncle, whose expertise is lumber, was supposed to be my go to man for getting this project finished in a timely (and inexpensive!) manner. The burly customer service men were skeptical before I even started speaking. Apparently my babbling about the baby shower and my uncle who works there were not impressive in the least. After I finished my way too long explanation for why I was ever so confidently standing in front of their "real" customers, they looked at each other, stroked their beards and said they had never heard of him. Well there you go. I asked if maybe they hadn't met him since the store is quite large and they agreed that it might be a possibility (progress!). So I boldly asked if they would mind paging him. After a few eye rolls and half sympathetic glances - I'm sure they were thinking this poor girl is so lost - they called for him over the loud speaker and muttered we'll see what happens .... and then we waited.
and waited.
and waited.
and waited. And he didn't come and they still stared at me, thinking I have completely lost my mind.So then my confidence began to waiver. I frantically texted my mother, who was clearly at fault for this situation I found myself in. Her text back said one word and one word only: Lowes. 
c
r
a
p
So I looked around one last time and said "Well he must be on his lunch break - I'll just catch him later!" and with that, I turned and briskly walked out of the store making eye contact with no one and holding my redder by the second face as high as possible.
Guess I'm not meant to shop at Home Depot. I did go across the street to Lowe's to see if he might possibly be there. After a similar (more sympathetic this time) conversation with the customer service desk, we found out that my uncle was in fact on his lunch break. So there you have it: the disheartening truth that I do not belong in a hardware store. Maybe I'm okay with it or maybe someday I'll go back to Home Depot armed with a hammer and teach those customer service reps a lesson or two. Although if I try that and miss I dont think I'll recover. So maybe I'll just know in my heart that I can use a hammer and a wrench if I have to. I have unscrewed a doorknob or two and my mother and I even disassembled and then reassembled a fan one time. Sure we almost got electrocuted and maybe it makes noise when it goes around and sometimes the blades look like they might fly off but... but...

oh forget it

finding strength

well for work I had to take a strength finder test. it was probably one of the worst experiences of my work life and led to a minor meltdown in my office. now - meltdowns in general are not that rare for me but a meltdown at work, followed by a complete come apart? now that is not something to brag about. however, it is something to address. so here i am (bravely) confronting it:

Dear Meltdown,
You are not invited to my workplace any longer. I'm not sure how the invitation ended up in your mailbox originally, although I have my theories. I will not allow you to just waltz into my office like you own the place, set up camp and then completely unravel as you did yesterday. No thank you. Although, I do realize you had good reason. The strength finder test is completely overwhelming and no matter where I decided to embark on that journey, I'm sure you would have accompanied me there. However, please do your best to stay away from my office. I prefer for you to visit me in my car if you must come by. At least there I am relatively protected and Little Dorie doesn't mind seeing you every once in awhile. I also have my suspicions that it was not the strengths that invited you nor the book that beckoned. It wasn't the authors and most certainly it wasn't myself. So who would I guess? Well correct me if I'm wrong, but I bet that my little not-so-great friend Perfectionism set up your welcome mat. I will have to address that "friend" later, but I wanted to make sure that I was clear with you first: The office is off limits.

Thank you for your consideration and respect.
I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon!
Katie


there. that otta do it.

One Man, Five Times a Hero

Many people pitty him. And maybe they should. He does have four daughters and no sons. He is without a doubt out-numbered and has been for the better part of his life. A sports fanatic, who couldn't get any of his four daughters seriously interested in golf, tennis, basketball, or any sport he knew well. We grew up as dancers, cheerleaders, cross country runners, actresses, majoring in elementary education, communication, Spanish and theater. None of us quite walked down the paths he knew so well - basketball and business, but he didn't resent that. He didn't wish he had boys (at least he never let on that he did). He just learned what we loved and helped us love it more. He became the number one hero in five women's lives and is the spitting image of soft protection and strong comfort. Boys tend to fear him, which I happen to love. To us he just a big softy, but to them he is strong and silent, intimidating would be putting it lightly. He is the first one in the house up on Saturday morning and he runs errands for the day before any of us even start thinking about moving. By the time we get up, the coffee is ready and he sits with his back against the window in the kitchen, reading the newspaper and waiting for someone to share his findings with. He made up songs and stories when we were little and entertained us by dancing with the vacuum cleaner doll, coordinating his Halloween costumes with ours, changing song lyrics to make them applicable to the moment, laughing when we were funny, and helping with any and all school activities, most importantly stomping on hundreds of cans for recycling campaigns. I still have a postcard he wrote me while on a business trip when I was not even a year old yet. He taught five girls how to ride their bikes, play putt putt, and hit a soft ball. He learned the name of every motion and skill in cheerleading and would frequently comment on the arabesque or toe touch someone had done. I remember specifically after one game, he told me that my hurkey looked so pretty- I thought I might cry. He knew, loved, cared, and supported. He took pictures at prom and always remembered to tell us we looked beautiful. He answers the phone when I call and puts up with my ridiculous questions about budgeting, car insurance, my job, what I'm going to do with my life. He still wonders what he is going to be when he grows up. He listens to songs that I like and will text me when they're on the radio. Him and my mama sponsored several gas tanks between here and Abilene and lovingly paid for my education and one of the best experiences of my life. He took us on beautiful family vacations and drove the whole way to Florida, while we played gameboys or watched movies. He loves my mom - so much it makes me want to cry. They are a beautiful picture. He is my beloved Dad. A man who has clearly demonstrated the picture of what being a father means and should look like. I could play the "my dad is better than your dad" game all day long. And although I am confident I would destroy you, I would rather just take today to celebrate mine and all wonderful Dads. Your daughters need you. They need to know that you believe in them and that you trust them. They need to know that you will protect them from anything that comes along and they need to know that you will sometimes let them walk out on the limb to see how steady they are. My dad has had to catch me several times and I am confident that he will even more in the future. I know where I stand with him and I know I can ask him anything. I know he'll be there for me, but he taught me boundaries so that I know when to ask and when to figure it out on my own. Someday I'll get to meet my Heavenly Father face to face, but in the meantime, I am so thankful for an earthly one who will stand up and fight for me - it makes the ache of waiting for the real thing a little more dull.
Happy Birthday, Hero of my Heart. I am blessed to get to celebrate you today.

Life as of Late

Well I have been out of the game for awhile now. It seems I lost touch of what to blog about and somehow couldn't get inspired. I have a new job now. It is a big job and everyday I am asking the Lord for guidance on what to do and where it's taking me. I have had several situations already in the last six weeks that I was not sure how to handle. And even now, I wonder if I did the right thing. But in a job like this, there is very little room to turn back. You make decisions and move forward. Part of me loves that and part of me wants to keep mulling over whatever major thing happened in the day. I have slept less than what I would prefer and my stress level is at an all time high, but I still really enjoy what I'm doing. It's all for the greater purpose of a child's education and development  We tell our staff all of the time that we are helping children become who they are going to be - and that makes all of the other things seem smaller somehow... Plus I have had some funny stories along the way...
First there was the little girl who was so shocked and astonished that I used to be a cheerleader. To her it was as if she was in the presence of someone famous, like Miss America. She made me stay where I was and ran to get the rest of her friends, who of course didn't believe her so they came to ask for themselves. Celebrity status was not half bad...
At another school a little boy came and sat down by me to tell me about how many crazy stories he had because of things he had seen in his long 5 years of life. I knew right away that this would be good so I got out a piece of paper and began to draw as he spoke. One time he got a giant keychain that said his name on it at a pier so I drew a giant keychain and a pier. On this same pier, he saw a man balancing a bicycle wheel on his head, so I drew that. Eventually, this little one caught on to the fact that his words were becoming pictures on my page so he would say something and then ever so subtly look down and over onto my paper to see it appear. It was priceless. He was mesmerized and carried on for half an hour about juggling torches and stars flying in the sky and what he wanted to be when he grew up (he wants to work on a pier).
There is another tiny Kindergartner, who always seems to have dirt on his shirt and food on his face. He still has little puffy hands and doesn't stand more than two and a half feet off the ground. He was in a lot of trouble when I got to the school so I asked him what had happened. He went on for fifteen minutes about the whole situation where a kid had taken a ball away from him and ended with "so I pushed him on the ground, shoved his face in the wood-chips and pounded on him for awhile" I almost died. It was all of my strength not to laugh hysterically.
A sweet, very quiet 2nd grader was playing with dolls when I sat down to accessorize them with her. She was gathering them out of the bin and picking out outfits for each one, complete with matching purses and shoes. When all of a sudden she pulled one doll out who had obviously been through some sort of life crisis - she had a buzz hair cut and was missing one leg and half an arm. The 2nd grader looked at the doll, then looked at me and said, "Man, she's having a rough day"

My job is crazy and I feel like I am all over the place, but the moments when I get to sit down and listen to a kids are priceless. More stories to come... Until then, take a minute and let a kid just talk to you. They're hysterical. And they have a lot of valuable things to say :)