Always get them to laugh before you walk away; that’s what they’ ll remember. That was Katie’s unwritten motto.
Besides, how could she tell these potential new friends that the nickname she grew up hearing from her parents was “Our Little Miss Take”?
No, none of them would understand what it was like to be unwanted. Katie had explained it to Rick last winter as growing up feeling tolerated as a child, ignored as a teen, and now set aside as a nearly forgotten nuisance. She told him that all she ever wanted was to belong.
Rick had surprised her with his reply. Part of her had hoped he would say something like, “I want you, Katie. You belong to me now. I’ll take care of you.” He didn’t say that. But his answer was the best one, really. “You belong to Christ, Katie.”
Katie drew in that truth and held it like a fully executed adoption form. It didn’t make her feel different. It certainly didn’t make her feel warm and special the way she knew she would have felt if Rick had said, “I want you. You belong to me.”
But it was truth. And truth, the kind of truth that has the power to set free, sometimes comes with no emotion. Like an anchor, it simply holds fast. Katie’s identity storm was subsiding. Even today, while the winds and waves of insecurity kicked up, the truth of Rick’s words stayed fixed in Katie’s heart. They came back to her now as she put aside the “Our Little Miss Take” nickname and heard Rick’s strong voice in the back of her mind. You belong to Christ.
Katie wondered if the old nickname her parents had given her was the reason she was leery of Rick’s nicknaming her. She didn’t want to be labeled as anything other than herself. Her college-woman self. Katie. Just Katie.
She knew that if last winter Rick had said, “You belong to me,” she would be a different person than she was now. She wouldn’t have had the freedom Rick opened to her to establish her own identity. Katie knew she would have attached herself to Rick and gone wherever the winds and waves took his life.
“All right. Let’s go on to the next question,” Craig said. “You’re up, Nicole.”
Nicole’s question from Craig was, “If you hadn’t come to Rancho Corona, what do you think you would have done instead?”
Nicole thought a minute. “I think I would have gone to Australia to live with my sister for a year.”
Her answer produced lots of fake accents and chatter about kangaroos and koala bears.
“Okay,” Craig broke up the down-under discussion. “The next question for Nicole needs to come from one of you.”
The exercise continued around the circle. Lots of information about each RA was shared. Katie realized she wasn’t the only one with a bumpy childhood. The honesty of the others helped her to relax and to feel as if maybe, just maybe, she could fit in with this group. If she had been the last one in the circle, she knew she would have been more open with her responses.
Craig concluded their session with a summary of why he had them do the exercise. “I want all of you to learn to listen to each other as well as learn how to answer honestly. Boundaries need to be honored, and I think all of you did a pretty good job in that area. We are a team, and we need to learn how to work together as a cohesive unit. Learn to ask the right questions of each other, and more importantly, learn to listen to the answer.”
The training session continued without a break until after 6:30. Craig managed to make it through nearly all the remaining sections in the binder, including security procedures and health procedures. The final subject that perked up the returning RAs was the mention of the two-day retreat all the RAs would embark on the next morning.
Before the group broke for dinner, Craig passed out two large black trash bags to each person and made one final statement that didn’t make sense to Katie. Instead of interrupting the flow of the meeting, Katie waited until they were on their way to dinner.
She took Nicole aside to ask, “What did Craig mean when he said we should only pack what we can fit in the trash bags? Did he mean we’re going to put our luggage into the trash bags?”
“No, the trash bags are your luggage. You’re supposed to pack the bare necessities, and those items fit into one trash bag. That includes your sleeping bag.”
“Don’t you mean it has to fit into two trash bags?”
“No, only one. The bags have to be doubled for strength.” Nicole smiled.
Packing light wasn’t a problem for Katie. She didn’t mind being a minimalist. What bothered her was that she didn’t know where they were going for the retreat. None of the students knew. That made packing a challenge.
As Katie and Nicole walked into the cafeteria behind the rest of their group, they sniffed the air, turned to each other, and said in tandem, “Fish sticks.”
“And french fries, no doubt,” Katie added.
“I don’t think I ever ate a fish stick in my life before coming to college,” Nicole said.
“Oh, all the taste sensations of freezer-burned food that you missed during your childhood.”
“No, I experienced the taste sensations from freezer food. My mom used to make frozen chicken potpies all the time. Not the fancy potpies with the name-brand labels. She would stock up on the generic store brand and cook them for us on a cookie sheet that would get caked with the overflow goo when the potpies exploded, which they always did. Guess who washed the dishes and tried to scrape off the burnt chicken potpie goo?”
“Okay, you win,” Katie said. “Your childhood least favorable food is worse than mine. And to be honest, I actually like the fish sticks they serve here. As long as they have french fries too. If you put both in your mouth at the same time, I think the french fries cancel out the fish taste.”
“I’ll try that. I usually cover the fish sticks with ranch dressing. That works too.”
Katie’s phone was vibrating so she took a peek at the text message that had come in. It was from Rick. MOVIE? 7:15.
She texted back, STILL IN MTG.
As Katie and Nicole picked up their trays and started through the line, Rick came back with, 9:20?
“Do we have anything after dinner?” Katie asked Nicole.
“I’m sure we have something, but I don’t know what. Last year we just hung out to get to know each other more as a team.”
Katie texted back, CAN’T.
Rick’s response came before she had made her way to the ranch dressing. STILL? AT 9?
SORRY. CAN’T TONITE.
Katie paused and looked at the table where the rest of the RAs were waiting for her. This wouldn’t be a good time to duck out. She sent a message back to Rick that she would call him later. She hoped he would understand. She was working. She had a new job. This was it. The hours of RA training weren’t neatly defined like the hours at the Dove’s Nest.
Rick would understand. He wasn’t her anchor. This was the next chapter of their relationship, and it was going to be different from the previous ones.
15
By the time Katie returned to her dorm room on Monday night, it was after eleven. She had her two black trash bags that Craig had passed out to each of the RAs as well as some papers she had to fill out before they left for the staff training retreat in the morning.
What she didn’t have was a settled feeling about what lay ahead. Katie usually gave the appearance of someone who enjoyed living spontaneously, in the moment. She did love the idea of new adventures and taking new steps of faith. However, when it came down to the moment of risk, she often found herself anxious and full of doubts. These were the times she seemed to come face-to-face with her truest self. The Katie who didn’t always have a quick comeback or a funny facial expression. That was the Katie reflected now in the full-length mirror on the back of her dorm room door.
“What are you trying to prove?” the unveiled Katie asked herself. “Why did you take this RA position? You don’t know how to counsel anyone. Truth be told, you’re probably the one who needs counseling. When you try to lead, do you honestly think anyone is going to follow you?”
>
The clear-eyed Katie in the mirror didn’t answer.
“Is it too late to back out? Can I go back to the Dove’s Nest and just be with Rick every day? Is it possible for my life to flip back to what it’s been the past seven months?”
Katie walked away from the mirror. She could hear the unveiled Katie reply, “For the past seven months you’ve been looking for something more. Remember how restless you’ve been? This is what the Lord has placed in front of you. Take it and be thankful.”
Katie smiled. The last line she just heard from her psyche was from a video she had watched several months ago, back when she actually had enough time in her life to do such things. The film opened with a scene in an orphanage in which all the quivering children lined up for their spoonful of castor oil. The cranky orphanage matron gave each child the evil eye before thrusting the medicine into his mouth. To each of them she said, “Take it! Take it and be thankful!”
Katie smiled because she knew in her heart of hearts that this opportunity of serving as an RA wasn’t a distasteful spoonful of castor oil. This was a gift. She was thankful. She had taken the position willingly and with gladness.
With her hands on her hips, she spoke aloud into the room. “All of you insecurities and doubts have to go now. Go to the place Jesus sends you. You’re not welcome here. Get out.”
Her words surprised her. Where did that come from?
All she knew was that the room seemed more spacious. Her thoughts felt lighter.
Another note to self: Be bold when the lies come at you. You belong to Christ, Katie. Follow close after him.
An image came to Katie of a bunch of lies and doubts nipping at her heels. The image was like a cartoon sketch of a bunch of slimy green slugs with razor-sharp teeth inching along behind her and snapping their jaws. Yet, when she drew close to the Lord and started to walk in step with him, the slimy slugs shrieked and crawled in the opposite direction. Lies perish when they get close to truth.
In keeping with the freshness that laced her deep breaths, Katie decided to make her bed. She wasn’t, by nature, a bed-maker. The past two nights since she had moved into this room at Crown Hall, Katie had slept in her sleeping bag on top of the bed because that was the simple, fast, and convenient thing to do. Now that she needed to pack her sleeping bag for the RA training retreat, she wanted to really move in and get situated in her new surroundings.
Going to the corner of her room, Katie opened the top box that teetered on a stack of four lopsided containers. The bottom box was beginning to cave in. Setting to work, Katie released her belongings from their cardboard prisons and found her sheets and favorite Little Mermaid pillowcase that she had bought last year at the Bargain Barn. Scooping up a bag of dirty clothes, Katie tromped down the empty hallway to the laundry room, stuffing her sheets and clothes into two of the washing machines.
While her clothes washed, Katie placed her belongings into the dresser drawers with plenty of room to spare. Total move-in time, approximately twenty-eight minutes. She thought of how it took almost that same amount of time to simply plant and raise the beach umbrella for Tracy and Doug when they went to the beach with baby Daniel. She never would have guessed the two of them would have turned into a traveling circus with all their baby gear. They were even talking about buying a bigger car and moving into a larger house.
She then thought of Christy and Todd, who had run out of closet space for all their gifts and gadgets. Their apartment still contained some stacked-up boxes of wedding gifts. They were trying to decide if they should keep or exchange some of the items. Their married life was full of “domestic stuff,” as Todd called it.
A few weeks ago Christy had convinced Katie to go “returning” with her after work one evening. Katie’s response had been, “Sure. I still have a gift certificate from your aunt that I need to use for something. I could do a little shopping.”
“No, no, no. Returning is different than shopping,” Christy explained. “You have to answer questions, fill out forms, and try to decide right then and there if you want to look around for something to use your store credit. Returning uses a different sort of mental energy than shopping, and I’m sick of going by myself. Todd has only gone returning with me twice. I’m at the point where I can only stand going to one store per trip.”
Katie felt like a pack mule on the returning excursion, carrying into the store a boxed blender, boxed toaster, and two boxed waffle irons. Christy carried in a bedspread in a plastic wrapper that came with a handle. With her other arm she balanced a coffee maker and a throw pillow with a palm tree on it. To the woman at the register she said, “These are duplicates.” True to Christy’s description of the process, she was required to fill out several forms and was then invited to “look around for something else.”
“No thanks,” Christy had said as she tucked the gift card into her wallet behind three gift cards to other department stores.
Katie spotted a dorm-sized refrigerator on their way out the door. She bought it and had it hauled out to Christy’s Volvo on a dolly.
As Katie now broke down the four cardboard boxes in her room, she compared her quota of “domestic stuff” to what Christy and Todd had to manage. She decided she liked the simple blessing of living trimmed down to the basics. She wasn’t ready for toasters and blenders and having to take an umbrella to the beach. But the mini-fridge was sure a nice treat.
As soon as her clean sheets were fresh from the dryer, Katie smoothed them over her new bed. For her, in the quiet of this midnight moment, this gesture was a small act of worship. Her spurt of nesting was her way of saying she was willing to “take it and be thankful.” Whatever came next, Katie was ready to take it. And without a doubt, she was grateful.
With the bed made, her clothes hung in the closet, and her drawers organized, Katie packed the essentials as listed on the retreat “To Bring” list. Her sleeping bag and everything else she was taking fit easily into the doubled-up trash bags.
Then, because it seemed celebratory, Katie took a steamy and fragrant shower before climbing into her clean, fabric-softener-laced sheets. Checking the clock on her cell phone, she noticed another message from Rick. CALL TONITE.
She was about to press #1 for Rick’s speed-dial number. Then she stopped and reconnected the phone to the charger. It was 1:15 in the morning. Even if Rick still was up, she didn’t want to try to summarize this long day in a choppy conversation. She knew he might be upset that she hadn’t called earlier, but she had a long list of legitimate reasons.
Katie decided she would call him in the morning, when both of them were fresh. A new “mercy morning” was the time to talk with him.
Lying in the clean softness of her room, Katie realized sweetness accompanies solitude when a heart is surrendered and ready for what’s next. She didn’t know that she was entirely ready for what was next, but she was willing.
I wonder if being willing is just as good in God’s eyes as being ready. Especially since it’s kind of difficult to be ready when you don’t even know where you’re going in the morning!
Katie dreamed that night of floating on a raft in turquoise waters. On her small air mattress of a raft all her belongings surrounded her. Somehow, the balance on the raft was just right. She wasn’t afraid of being toppled over by all the “domestic stuff.” Kicking back, with her elbows bent behind her head, Katie dreamed of floating contentedly for what seemed like two minutes before her alarm went off at 6:30, forcing her out of bed and out of her dream.
Groaning and mumbling all the way down the hall to the large shared bathroom, Katie shuffled in and found Nicole leaning toward the mirror, feathering the ends of her lashes with a mascara wand.
“Morning!” Nicole greeted her.
“Hummh.”
“Not a morning person, I see.”
“Baffumph.”
Nicole smiled. “Are you all packed?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Good. Why don’t you stop by my room when you’re r
eady, and we can go together to the fountain for the sign in? I know you probably remember Craig saying this yesterday, but be sure to wear really comfortable walking shoes. Last year it was hot the morning we left, and a bunch of us wore flip-flops. The bus let us out on the road before we reached the conference center, and we had to walk more than a mile on gravel. My feet were a mess.”
Katie was ready in record time. As she headed down the hall for Nicole’s room, Nicole came out of the bathroom with her makeup bag. Katie was wearing jeans, a tank top, her Rancho Corona sweatshirt tied around her waist, and her most comfortable pair of athletic shoes.
“How can you look so cute so fast?” Nicole asked. “That took you, like, four minutes.”
“I’ve decided I’m a minimalist,” Katie said. “I unpacked my room last night and realized all my worldly possessions can fit in my car with room for a friend in the front seat. Some married friends of mine just had a baby, and they took more stuff with them to the beach for one afternoon than all the stuff I own. So, last night, I decided I like being a minimalist.”
“You’re going to be a good influence on me,” Nicole said with a grin. “You haven’t seen my room yet, have you?”
“Not since I helped carry in a few boxes on Saturday.”
“Promise you won’t mock me.”
“Why would I mock you?”
“Because of this.” Nicole opened the door to her room, and Katie’s jaw went slack. The room looked like something out of a decorator’s magazine. Nicole’s bed had a dust ruffle, matching bedspread in yellows and blues, half a dozen throw pillows lined up perfectly, matching striped curtains over the window, a plush rug in the center of the room, a cushy chair in the opposite corner with a matching blue cushion in the center of the poofy-looking nest. Half a dozen framed pictures were balanced perfectly on the walls.