KSA- noun- an acronym that stands for Knowledge, Skills, and Abilities. This term can describe a candidate for employment, a current employee, or a job position.
KSA's. I swear they never covered these in my professional development class in college. Granted, we were more focused on begging for internship spots and applying for grad school, but with the prevalence of this term on job applications and the like, you'd think there would have at least been a paragraph or two for us.
The government seems to like KSAs a lot. Of all the jobs I applied for right out of college, only the government jobs asked for this. The first few times, I struggled while writing my statements. After all, wasn't the point of the cover letter, the resume, and my references supposed to cover this? And didn't someone tell me that I shouldn't repeat the same information over and over again? How else can I present this? Maybe I'll write a paragraph or two of prose to cover that information...
Eventually, I became proficient on writing my KSA statements. They really just became one more instance where I could spin the same mundane terms into ridiculously technical celebrations of my very minor accomplishments as a college student. Ultimately, I got my job here at DHEC and totally forgot about KSAs. That is, I forgot about them until last month.
Living in a hurricane-prone area, you can imagine that there is quite a lot of preparation for a natural disaster that might never happen. We have several trainings each year, refresher e-learning courses, and a gosh-awful eight-hour educational nightmare courtesy of FEMA. New to me this year was a KSA questionnaire that more or less asked us what we could help out with after a hurricane. By far, this was the most interesting KSA I've ever had the pleasure of completing.
First we had to sign off that we understood the following terms that we would use to rate our proficiency in the various fields listed. For example: "Experts" could successfully complete a task in a given subject area and lead others. "Skilled" individuals would be able to successfully complete a project with no supervision. "Novices" would know what they were doing, but would need supervision. The state would assume anyone who checked "no" would not know anything about the given field.
Some of my co-workers gave great and careful thought to their answers. They checked "novice" in a number of areas and used the comment box like crazy, explaining things like, "Yes, I can speak basic Spanish and would be able to provide basic instructions to a Hispanic client, but I'm not fluent," or "I probably could direct traffic, but I would want someone else with me." Then there was me- I decided that if I didn't want to be put in a situation where I would be more of a hindrance than a help, I wasn't clicking anything but "no."
The KSA was VERY through. There were questions about specific fields like engineering and biology, questions about training we had received, professional licenses we held, etc.. My favorite part though was the assortment of questions related to completely random topics. With these questions, we were asked to rate our ability on things like forklift operating, graphic art design, and public speaking. I felt fairly confident in a few of these areas, so as of last month the state knows that in addition to my normal, boring, everyday job-specific skills, I am proficient with most of the Microsoft Office suite, I can copy write, I am health educator extraordinaire, and I can take care of farm animals.
It's the little things that provide amusement. While just a minor bit of paperwork, this project provided my clinic with a few hours of excitement. And this year, if there is a hurricane, I might just be taking care of some cows. Which actually, wouldn't be bad, because I have this really random dream to show cows at the fair, and taking care of cows would be, like, one step below that. On a more normal note- enjoy the nice weather, get a tan, and for all of you thinking about working for the government: get familiar with KSAs.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Joggle
Joggle-verb- move or cause to move with repeated small bobs or jerks.
Ten days after I moved here, and only my third day as a DHEC employee, I went to my first staff meeting. Not really knowing what to expect, I imagined it would be a long, drawn out event, where we discussed many important things relating to the office. In my mind, everyone would report on various things happening in their respective departments, and the meeting would take a good hour or so.
Not so. In a format that's been recreated 17 times since I've started working here, we had a brief meeting, followed by a minor report from another co-worker, and then we broke out to have department meetings. That first department meeting is where I first heard the word "joggle."
All of the WIC people had filed into the break room, and we started with introductions, seeing as how I knew no one. Before long, we were talking about various personal hobbies, and not long after that, someone brought up the topic of my supervisor's business, which she runs with her husband. Together, they build and sell joggling boards. I forget how she initially presented the concept of the business to us, but more than a few of us had a confused look on our face. After a few moments of purposely throwing around some business-related lingo to confuse us a little more for her amusement, she took a little time to explain what exactly she and her husband create. It's actually a pretty interesting lesson in history, so joggling boards will be today's topic. Enjoy your Southern trivia for the day!
First of all, let me describe a joggling board. Traditionally, they are made out of pine, which is a more pliant type of board. This is important, as the main function of the board is to move...a lot. The vertical ends of the boards have rockers on the bottom, allowing the board to move side to side, and are topped with decorative finials. The main part of the board itself can be somewhere between ten and sixteen feet, and is traditionally painted "Charleston green."
The history of the joggling board in the U.S. starts in Stateburg, South Carolina, at the Acton plantation. The owner of the plantation was a widowed man who, after the death of his wife, invited his sister to come live with him and take care of the house. The sister suffered from rheumatism, and wrote to some of her Scottish cousins about the toll the disease was taking on her body. According to popular lore, upon hearing that the previously active lady's only source of exercise was to ride around the plantation in a modified carriage that could accommodate her chair, her cousins sent her a model of a joggling board, hoping it would allow her to get some exercise that wouldn't exacerbate her condition.
It must have worked, or at least been interesting enough, because joggling boards soon became popular and started popping up all over the "Lowcountry" and remained popular until World War II, when the price of the materials used for the boards became prohibitive. Historians also like to point out that during the height of their popularity, joggling boards played a part in the courtship of many young Southern couples. According to historians, the man would sit on one end of the board and the woman on the opposite side, and through "joggling," they would eventually end up sitting together in the middle of the board.
So, by now you're either laughing at the word joggling, or just getting over laughing at the word. I purposely didn't try to define the term, other than what's at the beginning of the post, because I've found that I can't really do it justice. So rather than search for words I don't have, I'll leave you with this YouTube link. This is actually a joggling board my supervisor, Kristi, and her husband made and displayed at a local home show last year:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G43yIxuB8lo
I hope you've enjoyed this tiny peak into another part of Southern life. Happy Sunday!
Ten days after I moved here, and only my third day as a DHEC employee, I went to my first staff meeting. Not really knowing what to expect, I imagined it would be a long, drawn out event, where we discussed many important things relating to the office. In my mind, everyone would report on various things happening in their respective departments, and the meeting would take a good hour or so.
Not so. In a format that's been recreated 17 times since I've started working here, we had a brief meeting, followed by a minor report from another co-worker, and then we broke out to have department meetings. That first department meeting is where I first heard the word "joggle."
All of the WIC people had filed into the break room, and we started with introductions, seeing as how I knew no one. Before long, we were talking about various personal hobbies, and not long after that, someone brought up the topic of my supervisor's business, which she runs with her husband. Together, they build and sell joggling boards. I forget how she initially presented the concept of the business to us, but more than a few of us had a confused look on our face. After a few moments of purposely throwing around some business-related lingo to confuse us a little more for her amusement, she took a little time to explain what exactly she and her husband create. It's actually a pretty interesting lesson in history, so joggling boards will be today's topic. Enjoy your Southern trivia for the day!
First of all, let me describe a joggling board. Traditionally, they are made out of pine, which is a more pliant type of board. This is important, as the main function of the board is to move...a lot. The vertical ends of the boards have rockers on the bottom, allowing the board to move side to side, and are topped with decorative finials. The main part of the board itself can be somewhere between ten and sixteen feet, and is traditionally painted "Charleston green."
The history of the joggling board in the U.S. starts in Stateburg, South Carolina, at the Acton plantation. The owner of the plantation was a widowed man who, after the death of his wife, invited his sister to come live with him and take care of the house. The sister suffered from rheumatism, and wrote to some of her Scottish cousins about the toll the disease was taking on her body. According to popular lore, upon hearing that the previously active lady's only source of exercise was to ride around the plantation in a modified carriage that could accommodate her chair, her cousins sent her a model of a joggling board, hoping it would allow her to get some exercise that wouldn't exacerbate her condition.
It must have worked, or at least been interesting enough, because joggling boards soon became popular and started popping up all over the "Lowcountry" and remained popular until World War II, when the price of the materials used for the boards became prohibitive. Historians also like to point out that during the height of their popularity, joggling boards played a part in the courtship of many young Southern couples. According to historians, the man would sit on one end of the board and the woman on the opposite side, and through "joggling," they would eventually end up sitting together in the middle of the board.
So, by now you're either laughing at the word joggling, or just getting over laughing at the word. I purposely didn't try to define the term, other than what's at the beginning of the post, because I've found that I can't really do it justice. So rather than search for words I don't have, I'll leave you with this YouTube link. This is actually a joggling board my supervisor, Kristi, and her husband made and displayed at a local home show last year:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G43yIxuB8lo
I hope you've enjoyed this tiny peak into another part of Southern life. Happy Sunday!
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Inundate
Inundate- tv- to overwhelm someone with a huge quantity of things that must be dealt with; to flood, to fill a place with water.
The day started out sunny and warm. In Ohio, it would have been a perfect summer day. Here in SC, just another February morning. Robins were singing, mockingbirds were flying from tree to tree squawking incessantly, those white birds I still haven't identified were searching the land for bugs. The sun was filtering in through the pine trees and casting a rosy glow on the apartment buildings. Martins Creek was at peace.
By noon, the clouds were starting to fill the sky. At first, it was just a few wispy clouds, but you could see the heavy storm clouds off in the distance. Not too far from Summerville, someone was getting drenched, but right now, all was well in the town.
Just a few short hours later, I finally had an opportunity to peer out the window. Where once there had been a peaceful and enjoyable spring day there were now large, dark clouds floating in quickly from the southwest. The wind had picked up, and through the front windows of the clinic I watched a parade of pine cones, Spanish moss, and pine needles float by.
This is when I started to plan. You see, all day long I had been keeping an eye on the weather, because I had heard we were supposed to get storms, and storms in South Carolina are like no other. The thunder is louder, the lightning brighter and more persistent. The rain falls straight down in some of the largest drops you've ever seen, and all of this is happening at a frantic pace. The worst storm I remember in Ohio is on par with the storms usually seen here. Therefore, knowing this I started planning how I was going to get out of the clinic right at 5:00 p.m. and beat the storm home- before the roads became covered with standing water, before the rain started falling so hard I couldn't see ahead of me, and before the lightning and thunder got so strong that I would scream in surprise at each strike (It's sad. And true.)
Finally, at 4:30, my last client was out the door. Hurriedly I reviewed my notes for the day, checking for perfection. Swiftly and thoroughly I cleaned the lab (Keri, I clean the lab better than I ever cleaned the doughnut case), and with that same speed I straightened my office and headed to the shredder with my confidential documents from the day. I had my lunch box in hand and was poised to make a break for it, and I had ten minutes to spare.
4:50 p.m. "Kate, the client says they lost their keys. Help us look for them." Okay, I can do this. We'll find them.
4:59 p.m. "Kate, we've looked everywhere and still can't find them. Let's check again." Ahhh!!! A worried glance let me see that rain was beginning to fall.
5:01 p.m. "Can you go look through the trash cans?" Aside from the used infant diapers inside, it's still a trashcan, and still gross. Also, the wind was starting to pick up. I want to go now...
5:05 p.m. "Well, we've checked everywhere. I guess you can go...I'm going to stay here with them until someone comes to pick them up. That way they're not huddled out in the rain. Poor babies." Guilt trips don't work, especially when I see the family climbing into their car. Keys were in her pocket the entire time. Now the sky is black.
5:10 p.m. "Kate, you're back! Hey! Don't give me that look!" I almost walked out of the office without my cell phone and had to back track. I'm not going to make it.
5:11 p.m. I took a deep breath and made a run for it. The rain was falling harder than before, and now the parking lot was full of large, deep puddles. Not only was I wearing flats- I was wearing flats made out of fabric that seems to drink the water and, as I had discovered earlier in the day, had holes in the seams of the heels. Not a good combo. Rain was running down my face, and I was questioning why I thought the car was a good place for my umbrella that morning.
After I reached the car and hurried to get in the seat, I took a few minutes to recover. My shoes HAD to be off because I can't stand wearing wet shoes. I clipped my hair up so it would stop dripping water down my back and arms. I dug up every napkin I had stored in the car to dry my face and get the water out of my eyes and then dry my hands so I could actually grip the steering wheel.
Inundated yet again by a Carolina storm. Maybe if I had been going somewhere special or wearing something nice, I'd have been mad, but for today I didn't mind it all that much. And to be frank, even if I had been going somewhere special and been inundated with all that rain, I still would have had the good end of the deal, because in a small town just an hour from my house, a tornado went through and destroyed one home and damaged another. Craziness!
Here's hoping to a week of nice weather for everyone! Happy Leap Day!
The day started out sunny and warm. In Ohio, it would have been a perfect summer day. Here in SC, just another February morning. Robins were singing, mockingbirds were flying from tree to tree squawking incessantly, those white birds I still haven't identified were searching the land for bugs. The sun was filtering in through the pine trees and casting a rosy glow on the apartment buildings. Martins Creek was at peace.
By noon, the clouds were starting to fill the sky. At first, it was just a few wispy clouds, but you could see the heavy storm clouds off in the distance. Not too far from Summerville, someone was getting drenched, but right now, all was well in the town.
Just a few short hours later, I finally had an opportunity to peer out the window. Where once there had been a peaceful and enjoyable spring day there were now large, dark clouds floating in quickly from the southwest. The wind had picked up, and through the front windows of the clinic I watched a parade of pine cones, Spanish moss, and pine needles float by.
This is when I started to plan. You see, all day long I had been keeping an eye on the weather, because I had heard we were supposed to get storms, and storms in South Carolina are like no other. The thunder is louder, the lightning brighter and more persistent. The rain falls straight down in some of the largest drops you've ever seen, and all of this is happening at a frantic pace. The worst storm I remember in Ohio is on par with the storms usually seen here. Therefore, knowing this I started planning how I was going to get out of the clinic right at 5:00 p.m. and beat the storm home- before the roads became covered with standing water, before the rain started falling so hard I couldn't see ahead of me, and before the lightning and thunder got so strong that I would scream in surprise at each strike (It's sad. And true.)
Finally, at 4:30, my last client was out the door. Hurriedly I reviewed my notes for the day, checking for perfection. Swiftly and thoroughly I cleaned the lab (Keri, I clean the lab better than I ever cleaned the doughnut case), and with that same speed I straightened my office and headed to the shredder with my confidential documents from the day. I had my lunch box in hand and was poised to make a break for it, and I had ten minutes to spare.
4:50 p.m. "Kate, the client says they lost their keys. Help us look for them." Okay, I can do this. We'll find them.
4:59 p.m. "Kate, we've looked everywhere and still can't find them. Let's check again." Ahhh!!! A worried glance let me see that rain was beginning to fall.
5:01 p.m. "Can you go look through the trash cans?" Aside from the used infant diapers inside, it's still a trashcan, and still gross. Also, the wind was starting to pick up. I want to go now...
5:05 p.m. "Well, we've checked everywhere. I guess you can go...I'm going to stay here with them until someone comes to pick them up. That way they're not huddled out in the rain. Poor babies." Guilt trips don't work, especially when I see the family climbing into their car. Keys were in her pocket the entire time. Now the sky is black.
5:10 p.m. "Kate, you're back! Hey! Don't give me that look!" I almost walked out of the office without my cell phone and had to back track. I'm not going to make it.
5:11 p.m. I took a deep breath and made a run for it. The rain was falling harder than before, and now the parking lot was full of large, deep puddles. Not only was I wearing flats- I was wearing flats made out of fabric that seems to drink the water and, as I had discovered earlier in the day, had holes in the seams of the heels. Not a good combo. Rain was running down my face, and I was questioning why I thought the car was a good place for my umbrella that morning.
After I reached the car and hurried to get in the seat, I took a few minutes to recover. My shoes HAD to be off because I can't stand wearing wet shoes. I clipped my hair up so it would stop dripping water down my back and arms. I dug up every napkin I had stored in the car to dry my face and get the water out of my eyes and then dry my hands so I could actually grip the steering wheel.
Inundated yet again by a Carolina storm. Maybe if I had been going somewhere special or wearing something nice, I'd have been mad, but for today I didn't mind it all that much. And to be frank, even if I had been going somewhere special and been inundated with all that rain, I still would have had the good end of the deal, because in a small town just an hour from my house, a tornado went through and destroyed one home and damaged another. Craziness!
Here's hoping to a week of nice weather for everyone! Happy Leap Day!
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
EFGH
So, back at the beginning of the year, I thought it would be fun to title each blog with a single word, and have the content of the blog be somewhat related to the title word. Also, I thought it would be fun to have the title words follow an alphabetical order. By the time the year was over, I would have gone through the alphabet twice! Then...I don't know, the last four weeks happened. I thought about giving up and just going back to just writing on a particular topic and coming up with creative titles for each. However, I decided I wasn't going to give up, and that letting all the letters pile up like this was going to let me make up my own word. Therefore, I introduce to you:
EFGH- all four letters said quickly together creates a word that allows me to vent my frustration and then laugh about it. Don't think that's possible? Observe a great example of creating random words that express frustration but make you laugh...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSrdlacQIe4
Having seen that, you now understand that I can make up that word and it is totally valid!
It helped today when I missed out on a totally awesome deal on contact lenses because I decided not to use my government computer to make a purchase on Groupon. (It's common sense, really, but I still felt bad when I missed the deal)
It helped when I missed making it to the bank by two minutes because of an incredibly frustrating situation at work. Also, I was going to the bank (a traffic nightmare away) to cash some checks (worth $1.50 and $6.00) that I got as repayment for a washer eating my money and three dryers that refused to work.
It helped when the dog started yelping because he hurt himself...again. How so? He thinks that when I walk up to the door, it magically opens in front of us. So as I reach to pull out my keys and unlock the door, he lunges forward to head in the door, and hits his head on the door.
It helped today after I spent an hour working on making eggplant Parmesan for dinner. It is probably the worst dish I have ever made. I have made it successfully before, but had no such luck this time, even after picking out a great recipe, learning how to pick out a ripe eggplant, and spending an inordinate amount of time trying to cut the eggplant "just so."
In the long run, it really is just a word, and it really doesn't mean anything, but any time I think about it, I end up laughing, and that's all that matters!
Have a wonderful evening everyone.
EFGH- all four letters said quickly together creates a word that allows me to vent my frustration and then laugh about it. Don't think that's possible? Observe a great example of creating random words that express frustration but make you laugh...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSrdlacQIe4
Having seen that, you now understand that I can make up that word and it is totally valid!
It helped today when I missed out on a totally awesome deal on contact lenses because I decided not to use my government computer to make a purchase on Groupon. (It's common sense, really, but I still felt bad when I missed the deal)
It helped when I missed making it to the bank by two minutes because of an incredibly frustrating situation at work. Also, I was going to the bank (a traffic nightmare away) to cash some checks (worth $1.50 and $6.00) that I got as repayment for a washer eating my money and three dryers that refused to work.
It helped when the dog started yelping because he hurt himself...again. How so? He thinks that when I walk up to the door, it magically opens in front of us. So as I reach to pull out my keys and unlock the door, he lunges forward to head in the door, and hits his head on the door.
It helped today after I spent an hour working on making eggplant Parmesan for dinner. It is probably the worst dish I have ever made. I have made it successfully before, but had no such luck this time, even after picking out a great recipe, learning how to pick out a ripe eggplant, and spending an inordinate amount of time trying to cut the eggplant "just so."
In the long run, it really is just a word, and it really doesn't mean anything, but any time I think about it, I end up laughing, and that's all that matters!
Have a wonderful evening everyone.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Divine
Divine- adj- of, relating to, or proceeding directly from God.
I left church yesterday in a mess of tears. I couldn't help it.
Now, I am an ugly crier, and therefore I do my best to not cry. But when I do cry it's usually for one of several reasons: 1.) I am tired/frustrated and something overly emotional happened. 2.) I have been physically hurt. 3.) Something sad has happened or 4.) I have been embarrassed in some way. These are the main reasons I cry, but every once in a blue moon, I am struck by something so wonderful that I process the emotion through tears and I break down, and that's what happened yesterday. It was a beautiful sight. Ha.
Anyways...Yesterday started out like any other Sunday. Me trying to get a few extra minutes of sleep in, only to rush to church, only to remember that we never start on time. My Sunday School class has been reading through The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I find this book to contain some deep material and, even though I think I'm a pretty smart person, a lot of the material just went over my head prior to this class. I wondered what I would learn from this book when I joined the class back in September. To keep it brief, let's just say that I've been amazed at how pertinent the information is to my own life. Some weeks I leave thinking, "Well, that's good general knowledge to have, I guess, " but most of the time, I have taken away some very important lessons. We've covered everything from what it means to "become" a Christian to what qualities display outward signs that we are Christians, and from gluttony to marriage and relationships. I've been making a few changes in my life, many of them small to this point, but they have all been inspired by the conviction I have felt while learning these lessons.
Following the class, I usually head over to the main worship ceremony. I'll skip over all the little details that I like about how Crossroads does it's worship, and just move on to the main part of yesterday. We had been traveling our way through the book of Philippians, before our pastor and elders felt that we should be discussing other material. So Philippians is on the back burner for the time being, and we've been discussing different things mainly relating to us being a light to the world. This Sunday covered the story about the Good Samaritan. Talk about a typical Sunday School story that you could recite in your sleep. This Sunday lesson wasn't much different. We talked about the traveler in the story being a "marginal" person, one on the outside, one who most of us would probably look over. Again, pretty routine stuff. For a few minutes, anyways.
As part of what we've been learning, we've been asked to be intentional in showing our "light" to others. For the last week I have been lamenting the fact that I seem to have very few opportunities to go out of my way to be intentionally kind to others, and this sermon seemed to add some misery. I didn't know any "marginal" people I could help, and I didn't think I was going to look for them. Then, suddenly in the service, I was alert and focused. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn't getting any opportunities to be kind because I wasn't looking for them, even though I had a huge opportunity in the form of my workplace! I like a lot of my clients- the ones who think like I do and behave like I do. But I have always had a problem with "the marginal." The ones whose actions I didn't understand, who didn't seem to be living a life directed by God, or even common sense. I tended to not do much more than the basic requirements when I was with these people.
I was, and still sometimes do, complain about all of the ridiculousness I put up with at work because of them. But in that moment, I was able to see a clear opportunity staring me down: I might not be paying for any stays in an inn, I might not be bandaging any physical wounds, but I could go out of my way to be intentionally kind to everyone- to be a genuine smile, to be the calm spirit, to be a pair of listening ears. This is where I can show kindness and love. It's not going to be easy, for sure, but it is a challenge I intend to meet.
Even for as cool as I thought this all was, the crying started when all the good stuff bubbled over just a few minutes later. For some reason, the pastor felt compelled to share a story about a man saving a father and daughter from a burning car. Not that the story wouldn't have been touching enough, but the main characters were three people in the church who I know to be exceptional men and women. As I teared up a little over the amazing details of this story (a story for another day), the woman beside me, a person I don't know, decided to be comforting and put her arm around me. Now, people my age seem to be remiss to share "mushy" feelings with others their age, but she leaned over anyways and said, "I can't let you leave today without telling you that you are fearfully and wonderfully made." Here's where I lost it for real, because for a good portion of my time at work over the last month, I have been wondering why I was even here. In my mind, I wasn't as smart as one, as kind as another, not as analytical as I could be. But here I was, with a total stranger speaking words that had to have come from God, telling me that even when I don't feel like it, I do possess the special gifts that allow me to not only operate successfully in my current capacity at WIC, but also to be a person with a purpose in my day-to-day life.
If this were a one-time occasion, I'd probably be happy. I'd be spiritually full for a long time. But this isn't an unusual occurrence (save tears) since I've been at Crossroads. Long before I moved down here, I prayed that I would find out where I needed to go in life. South Carolina seemed like the place to me and I always said it was because I liked the scenery, I liked the weather, just because, etc. But today, even with the work experience I've gained and the new friendships I've made, I would say with certainty that one of the reasons everything has aligned to bring me to Summerville, SC was so that I would be brought to Crossroads- to meet some incredible people at an incredible place in history. I've been trying to finish this paragraph for the last half an hour now, and it's ridiculously hard to find the words to describe the depths of my feelings for this place.
Enough mushy time! I'm probably breaking rules by writing this at work, but this is my time waster in between clients. I probably need to be dry-eyed when my co-worker comes around with my chart, so I'm going to take this chance to say adios, before I get happy tears again. Have a wonderful day!
I left church yesterday in a mess of tears. I couldn't help it.
Now, I am an ugly crier, and therefore I do my best to not cry. But when I do cry it's usually for one of several reasons: 1.) I am tired/frustrated and something overly emotional happened. 2.) I have been physically hurt. 3.) Something sad has happened or 4.) I have been embarrassed in some way. These are the main reasons I cry, but every once in a blue moon, I am struck by something so wonderful that I process the emotion through tears and I break down, and that's what happened yesterday. It was a beautiful sight. Ha.
Anyways...Yesterday started out like any other Sunday. Me trying to get a few extra minutes of sleep in, only to rush to church, only to remember that we never start on time. My Sunday School class has been reading through The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I find this book to contain some deep material and, even though I think I'm a pretty smart person, a lot of the material just went over my head prior to this class. I wondered what I would learn from this book when I joined the class back in September. To keep it brief, let's just say that I've been amazed at how pertinent the information is to my own life. Some weeks I leave thinking, "Well, that's good general knowledge to have, I guess, " but most of the time, I have taken away some very important lessons. We've covered everything from what it means to "become" a Christian to what qualities display outward signs that we are Christians, and from gluttony to marriage and relationships. I've been making a few changes in my life, many of them small to this point, but they have all been inspired by the conviction I have felt while learning these lessons.
Following the class, I usually head over to the main worship ceremony. I'll skip over all the little details that I like about how Crossroads does it's worship, and just move on to the main part of yesterday. We had been traveling our way through the book of Philippians, before our pastor and elders felt that we should be discussing other material. So Philippians is on the back burner for the time being, and we've been discussing different things mainly relating to us being a light to the world. This Sunday covered the story about the Good Samaritan. Talk about a typical Sunday School story that you could recite in your sleep. This Sunday lesson wasn't much different. We talked about the traveler in the story being a "marginal" person, one on the outside, one who most of us would probably look over. Again, pretty routine stuff. For a few minutes, anyways.
As part of what we've been learning, we've been asked to be intentional in showing our "light" to others. For the last week I have been lamenting the fact that I seem to have very few opportunities to go out of my way to be intentionally kind to others, and this sermon seemed to add some misery. I didn't know any "marginal" people I could help, and I didn't think I was going to look for them. Then, suddenly in the service, I was alert and focused. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn't getting any opportunities to be kind because I wasn't looking for them, even though I had a huge opportunity in the form of my workplace! I like a lot of my clients- the ones who think like I do and behave like I do. But I have always had a problem with "the marginal." The ones whose actions I didn't understand, who didn't seem to be living a life directed by God, or even common sense. I tended to not do much more than the basic requirements when I was with these people.
I was, and still sometimes do, complain about all of the ridiculousness I put up with at work because of them. But in that moment, I was able to see a clear opportunity staring me down: I might not be paying for any stays in an inn, I might not be bandaging any physical wounds, but I could go out of my way to be intentionally kind to everyone- to be a genuine smile, to be the calm spirit, to be a pair of listening ears. This is where I can show kindness and love. It's not going to be easy, for sure, but it is a challenge I intend to meet.
Even for as cool as I thought this all was, the crying started when all the good stuff bubbled over just a few minutes later. For some reason, the pastor felt compelled to share a story about a man saving a father and daughter from a burning car. Not that the story wouldn't have been touching enough, but the main characters were three people in the church who I know to be exceptional men and women. As I teared up a little over the amazing details of this story (a story for another day), the woman beside me, a person I don't know, decided to be comforting and put her arm around me. Now, people my age seem to be remiss to share "mushy" feelings with others their age, but she leaned over anyways and said, "I can't let you leave today without telling you that you are fearfully and wonderfully made." Here's where I lost it for real, because for a good portion of my time at work over the last month, I have been wondering why I was even here. In my mind, I wasn't as smart as one, as kind as another, not as analytical as I could be. But here I was, with a total stranger speaking words that had to have come from God, telling me that even when I don't feel like it, I do possess the special gifts that allow me to not only operate successfully in my current capacity at WIC, but also to be a person with a purpose in my day-to-day life.
If this were a one-time occasion, I'd probably be happy. I'd be spiritually full for a long time. But this isn't an unusual occurrence (save tears) since I've been at Crossroads. Long before I moved down here, I prayed that I would find out where I needed to go in life. South Carolina seemed like the place to me and I always said it was because I liked the scenery, I liked the weather, just because, etc. But today, even with the work experience I've gained and the new friendships I've made, I would say with certainty that one of the reasons everything has aligned to bring me to Summerville, SC was so that I would be brought to Crossroads- to meet some incredible people at an incredible place in history. I've been trying to finish this paragraph for the last half an hour now, and it's ridiculously hard to find the words to describe the depths of my feelings for this place.
Enough mushy time! I'm probably breaking rules by writing this at work, but this is my time waster in between clients. I probably need to be dry-eyed when my co-worker comes around with my chart, so I'm going to take this chance to say adios, before I get happy tears again. Have a wonderful day!
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Conflicted
Conflicted- adj.- confused or ambivalent because of competing desires, possibilities, or impulses.
Friday morning, I received two texts with pictures of single digits on a temperature gauge, one picture of an icy drive to work, and a picture of my dad all bundled up for work. Honestly, with each text/picture message, I felt a slight twinge of jealousy. I imagined being back in Ohio. If I was at home, I would love nothing more than to be curled up on the couch with a warm blanket, Kitty as a foot warmer, and a good book. I would glance up every once in awhile and see the blowing snow and sigh contentedly, reveling in the warmth of my house. If I was heading to work, I'd be wrapped up in my warm winter coat, taking on the challenges of driving in snowy conditions. After a determined drive in, I'd be proud of myself for navigating over the hilly roadside. I'd love it.
But I was conflicted...as soon as I thought about how nice it would be to have snow again, I thought about the warmth that we've had down here the last few weeks. Going outside in mild temperatures, feeling the sun on my face, enjoying the fresh air drifting through my open apartment windows...definitely no Seasonal Affective Disorder here. I have a distinct memory of sitting in the Schrank South computer lab at UA, realizing that my mood had improved greatly just by looking at pictures of sunny South Carolina. This is why I moved down here, and I love it.
Last night and today, I have been talking with a few of my friends from Ohio, as well as my mom and my aunts. With each conversation, I thought about how much I missed being near them, and being able to talk face to face, rather than communicating via Facebook, text, and brief phone conversations.
But I was conflicted. You see, today I got to spend time at a budgeting seminar at church. Whoa, you say. Stop having so much fun Kate! But actually, I did have a good time. I was fortunate to be able to see Tracy, the education minister who has been leading an awesome study of The Screwtape Letters with my Young Adult class. I got to sit with Kim, someone I've known only a few months, but who I've come to know as a great person that I enjoy being around. As much as I was boo-hooing the fact that I wasn't in Ohio, I couldn't help but think about all the great people I wouldn't know, and all the great learning experiences I would have missed by living down here.
WIC is under USDA in terms of government hierarchy. Recently, they came up with a few new mandates that basically create longer, less desirable working hours without any type of compensation for the extra time we'd be spending in the wonderful world of WIC. Now, in reality, we all still have jobs and we don't have it all that bad, but still, no one likes these kinds of changes. In the initial moment of shock, we all made statements about "looking around" for other jobs.
I don't even know why I'm putting this in here. I'm not really conflicted here. I need a job and this one pays enough to cover the bills and whatnot. I guess I'm putting it down in the blog because we talked about how hard it would be to leave, knowing that it would be hard to find any other jobs that offer a decent number of holidays, paid vacation days, and sick days, making it hard to decide to leave. By Monday, the shock will have worn off, but hang around until Saturday, April 21st. We're going to be on Day 6 of that work week, and I'm sure we'll be less than cordial to each other or our co-workers. But, c'est la vie, right?
Anyways, my next conflicting moment is fast approaching: Should I clean the apartment, or sit here, enjoying the sound and smell of rain, while watching some Community. (Sometimes it makes me wish I was at Wayne again!)
Friday morning, I received two texts with pictures of single digits on a temperature gauge, one picture of an icy drive to work, and a picture of my dad all bundled up for work. Honestly, with each text/picture message, I felt a slight twinge of jealousy. I imagined being back in Ohio. If I was at home, I would love nothing more than to be curled up on the couch with a warm blanket, Kitty as a foot warmer, and a good book. I would glance up every once in awhile and see the blowing snow and sigh contentedly, reveling in the warmth of my house. If I was heading to work, I'd be wrapped up in my warm winter coat, taking on the challenges of driving in snowy conditions. After a determined drive in, I'd be proud of myself for navigating over the hilly roadside. I'd love it.
But I was conflicted...as soon as I thought about how nice it would be to have snow again, I thought about the warmth that we've had down here the last few weeks. Going outside in mild temperatures, feeling the sun on my face, enjoying the fresh air drifting through my open apartment windows...definitely no Seasonal Affective Disorder here. I have a distinct memory of sitting in the Schrank South computer lab at UA, realizing that my mood had improved greatly just by looking at pictures of sunny South Carolina. This is why I moved down here, and I love it.
Last night and today, I have been talking with a few of my friends from Ohio, as well as my mom and my aunts. With each conversation, I thought about how much I missed being near them, and being able to talk face to face, rather than communicating via Facebook, text, and brief phone conversations.
But I was conflicted. You see, today I got to spend time at a budgeting seminar at church. Whoa, you say. Stop having so much fun Kate! But actually, I did have a good time. I was fortunate to be able to see Tracy, the education minister who has been leading an awesome study of The Screwtape Letters with my Young Adult class. I got to sit with Kim, someone I've known only a few months, but who I've come to know as a great person that I enjoy being around. As much as I was boo-hooing the fact that I wasn't in Ohio, I couldn't help but think about all the great people I wouldn't know, and all the great learning experiences I would have missed by living down here.
WIC is under USDA in terms of government hierarchy. Recently, they came up with a few new mandates that basically create longer, less desirable working hours without any type of compensation for the extra time we'd be spending in the wonderful world of WIC. Now, in reality, we all still have jobs and we don't have it all that bad, but still, no one likes these kinds of changes. In the initial moment of shock, we all made statements about "looking around" for other jobs.
I don't even know why I'm putting this in here. I'm not really conflicted here. I need a job and this one pays enough to cover the bills and whatnot. I guess I'm putting it down in the blog because we talked about how hard it would be to leave, knowing that it would be hard to find any other jobs that offer a decent number of holidays, paid vacation days, and sick days, making it hard to decide to leave. By Monday, the shock will have worn off, but hang around until Saturday, April 21st. We're going to be on Day 6 of that work week, and I'm sure we'll be less than cordial to each other or our co-workers. But, c'est la vie, right?
Anyways, my next conflicting moment is fast approaching: Should I clean the apartment, or sit here, enjoying the sound and smell of rain, while watching some Community. (Sometimes it makes me wish I was at Wayne again!)
Monday, January 9, 2012
Bathroom
Bathroom- noun- a room containing a bathtub or a shower and usually also a washbasin and toilet.
I got to my door today to find a postcard tucked in between the doorknob and the frame. It contained an exciting message: "I will be by tomorrow to complete repairs to your ceiling." I let out an audible cry of: "Yes!" and did a little happy dance, considering this to be the best part of my day. Who knew a 3.5x5 piece of card stock could be so exciting.
This time last week, I was making my triumphant return to Summerville. Triumphant for the fact that I had made it 681 miles with no problems other than a little snow in Ohio. As I relished in the 60+ degree temperatures and the waning sunlight, I happily unloaded my car. Deciding to be even more productive, I began unloading all my bags that second. The first bag I grabbed was my "bathroom" bag.
Singing a happy little song, I took two steps into the bathroom before my foot hit the rug. There are a lot of sounds you don't want to hear, and one of them is "squish." That, however, was the exact sound that I heard. Coupled with the cold, wet feeling under my foot, I began to panic. Sure enough, I looked down and saw the water all over the floor.
Panic set in as I looked at the toilet first (nothing is worse than sewage!). My next thought was even more disturbing, as another possibility was burst pipes. I scrambled through all the closets and drawers trying to find the source of the leak. Everything was dry as could be. Maybe the tub was leaking and overflowed? To my horror, the tub had several inches of standing water. What had I done? Did I leave the water running for some bizarre reason before I left?
Closer investigation revealed nothing dripping from the faucet. Something made me look up, and that's when I noticed it: A foot long crack in the ceiling, sheet rock sagging, and a clear view through the sub-floor of the apartment. To make matters worse, twenty minutes later as I waited for the maintenance man, water started pouring through a previously solid part of my ceiling.
Kudos to Robert, who came over to my apartment with his trusty ladder and what I believe was a band saw. One 12x12 hole, one 8x11 hole, and a little tiny poke into the ceiling later (which released more water, which landed on his head), he determined that my bathroom ceiling was a victim of a tub leak in the upstairs apartment.
Tomorrow is the day though, new ceiling and/or new patches to ceiling. After that, I am bleaching the crap out of that room. I'm guessing there has to be mold spores somewhere, and in response to whoever said, "At least tub water is better than toilet water": You're mostly correct, but water coming from someone else's bathroom is still water from someone else's bathroom and it has contaminated mine. (And that is how I will spend part of my three-day weekend).
Well, I am eagerly awaiting a chance to have someone look at my car and determine why it sounds like eighty-bajillion (real word) crickets are living inside, so I must go. Have a happy Monday!
Panic set in as I looked at the toilet first (nothing is worse than sewage!). My next thought was even more disturbing, as another possibility was burst pipes. I scrambled through all the closets and drawers trying to find the source of the leak. Everything was dry as could be. Maybe the tub was leaking and overflowed? To my horror, the tub had several inches of standing water. What had I done? Did I leave the water running for some bizarre reason before I left?
Closer investigation revealed nothing dripping from the faucet. Something made me look up, and that's when I noticed it: A foot long crack in the ceiling, sheet rock sagging, and a clear view through the sub-floor of the apartment. To make matters worse, twenty minutes later as I waited for the maintenance man, water started pouring through a previously solid part of my ceiling.
Kudos to Robert, who came over to my apartment with his trusty ladder and what I believe was a band saw. One 12x12 hole, one 8x11 hole, and a little tiny poke into the ceiling later (which released more water, which landed on his head), he determined that my bathroom ceiling was a victim of a tub leak in the upstairs apartment.
Tomorrow is the day though, new ceiling and/or new patches to ceiling. After that, I am bleaching the crap out of that room. I'm guessing there has to be mold spores somewhere, and in response to whoever said, "At least tub water is better than toilet water": You're mostly correct, but water coming from someone else's bathroom is still water from someone else's bathroom and it has contaminated mine. (And that is how I will spend part of my three-day weekend).
Well, I am eagerly awaiting a chance to have someone look at my car and determine why it sounds like eighty-bajillion (real word) crickets are living inside, so I must go. Have a happy Monday!
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