Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Kansas Crazy

When I was 17, I had my first legitimately crazy God experience.

I had grown up in a small town with a magical life story of love and hope and community that can only come from growing up as the only child of two teachers in a small town. I was (and still am) desperately, madly in love with Oklahoma. While all of my classmates slandered the name of our town and counted down the days until they could leave, I remained steadfast to my roots, wondering why on earth anyone would want to leave such a wonderful place as the great state of Oklahoma. I had no real idea of what I wanted to pursue in college or as a career, but I knew that I would obviously be a Sooner, born and bred and until I was dead.

And then crazy struck. Junior year was when everyone began turning up the pressure on students to perfectly map out their future. I remember one night I lay in my bed and prayed that Jesus would let me pick a career that would involve music or helping people or something related. The next morning I went to school, and my now-older-sister-figure/bridesmaid but then-assistant-band-director (whatever, it's fine) Jen called me into her office and said something along the lines of "I don't know why, but I felt like I should talk to you about music therapy. It's basically where you use music to help people." In my next heartbeat, I knew that this was what I was meant to pursue. But then when I said I wanted more information, Jen said something along the lines of "If you are serious about wanting to pursue music therapy, you need to go to the University of Kansas in order to get the best education in that field." I think my heart stopped at that moment, but when it started again, I knew without a shadow of a doubt, even though it went against everything that I wanted, that this idea was so crazy that God had to be involved, and that I would ultimately go to KU.

For the next week or so, I knew in my heart that this idea of moving to Kansas was an answer to prayer, a very clear directive to step out in faith, trusting that God would still see and hold me in Kansas as He had in Oklahoma. Still, I DID NOT want to do this. I specifically remember sitting in the high school library, typing in the website for KU, and then sobbing as I looked through pages of information on the university and its music therapy program. I mentally made an ultimatum with God: If this is something You actually truly want from me, I need confirmation. And confirmation I received. When I told my parents I was thinking about moving to Kansas, my Dad just smiled and grudgingly told me he would have to start cheering for the Jayhawks. My Mom was (and still is) supportive of me and my choices and promised her love no matter where I ended up. My two best guy friends told me "well, they couldn't keep Dorothy out of Kansas forever", referencing the many times I had worn the Wizard of Oz costume my Meemaw had made for UNICEF trick-or-treating. Eventually I gained the courage and absolute desire to move to Kansas for college. I actually don't know how 18-year-old Katie was ever brave enough to move 350 miles away to a place where she knew no one and had no tangible view of what would lie ahead. I feel as though the ease of transition experienced in moving to Kansas was just further proof that this was absolutely 100% from God and not from my own strength.

That whole experience was Kansas crazy.

The whole process of deciding to come to KU was so crazy and such a wonderful time of clinging to Jesus and learning to trust in the goodness and grace of His love. The experience of even one absolutely crazy God moment is more than one expects. But for some reason, over and over again, the things in my life that have been most worthwhile have occurred as crazy God moments, thoughts that are so crazy that I know they cannot come from me, that the only response is to take the unthinkable leap of faith. Some examples include joining a CRU project for San Diego, volunteering at camp, going to Russia the summer after graduating, moving to Iowa for internship, even dating Michael after swearing off boys. All these were crazy thoughts to which I was committed to follow as soon as I realized that the crazy thought actually came from Jesus saying "Daughter. Calm down. Trust me." I don't know why so many significant events in my life have come across as crazy. Perhaps I'm just too stubborn for my own good. But no matter the cause, I had another such "crazy Kansas" moment recently and am still in the process of being lavished in love and grace and very clear direction.

When I had originally realized I would be marrying Michael and moving to Emporia, KS, to join him, my first impulse was that I would obviously work to start a medical music therapy program at the local hospital. I've been doing a ton of research and work to prepare for a job proposal. Oddly, I was experiencing optimal levels of anxiety about the job attempt, but I chalked that up to nerves and stress over planning for a wedding and held steadfast to my dream and idea that I should obviously work in a hospital. Every time I did more research on the hospital, though, I was met with more discouragement. Despite being the largest hospital in 9 counties, it was only an 18-bed facility. They had some clinics within the hospital but they were mainly for people with scheduled doctor's appointments for check-ups. Most discouraging was the fact that every connection I attempted within the hospital didn't necessarily tell me that the hospital was a bad place to work, but strongly hinted and highly advised that I steer clear of working there. And despite all the negative things I was hearing and the voice in my heart that was telling me that this was not a wise career choice to pursue, I felt as though starting a hospital program was my absolute only option. I started losing sleep from worrying about the future, wondering if I was doomed to never find a job and asking questions about my purpose. I knew that I would eventually figure my life out, but it seemed as though I was close to tears anytime I would be asked about what I was planning to do in Emporia.

Then one night I heard that a member of our camp family passed away. I've been working at neuromuscular camp every summer since I turned 17, and I always say it's the true love of my life and passion of my heart. Unfortunately due to the condition of neuromuscular disease, losing campers is an event that happens and really hurts every time. That night I went to bed but once again found myself to be an insomniac, anxious about my future and upset about the death of my friend. After an hour of tossing and turning, I realized that lying in bed and staring at my wall was a perfect chance in which I could talk openly and honestly to God in prayer. I realize I should know better, having grown up in church and with strong examples of faith, but I have a bad tendency of shutting God out or closing down communication with the Spirit whenever I get overwhelmed or anxious. It's the exact opposite of what I should do, but that night I began to pray, even though I knew that the answers God might give could very well be different than the answers I wanted to hear. I began to pray that I could see clearly without my own ambitious desires clouding my view. I prayed that whatever job I might get would be glorifying to God and not to myself. Beyond that, I didn't know what else to pray in regards to my job choices or personal ambitions.

And so of course my thoughts strayed to camp. I remembered my friend and all the things that he had done and contributed to camp. I then started revisiting camp memories and the feeling that I always get at camp, the feeling that every breath and action I give is completely in God's will for where I should be. This got me to thinking, why is it that camp makes me feel this way? What exactly about camp has captured my heart so fiercely? I realized that it isn't necessarily the fact that it is working with individuals affected by neuromuscular diseases (although I do have and love many friends in that category) but was more related to the fact that when I am at camp I am living purposefully and giving fully and loving with all that I have. Church people always love to talk about spiritual gifts, and as I thought and prayed I started to realize that even though I'm not sure it is necessarily a spiritual gift, I am my best self when I am loving wholeheartedly and with all that I am. I was put on this earth to love freely. The next realizations came in a quick blur, but I realized that if I am alive in order to love, I should probably put myself in positions in which I could actually be around people that may not be as loved. I also recognized that I work well with differently-abled people, and that I come alive whenever I get to work with people in that classification. Like a lightning bolt it hit me: if I am passionate about working with and for and beside individuals with disabilities, why was I spending so much of my time yearning for a hospital job that would rarely allow me to interact with the disabled? Why was I spending my money on what was not bread and my wages for what would not satisfy?

So the next morning I woke up and, with waking, realized that I was going to apply to be a paraeducator with Emporia Public Schools.

Just as when I had surrendered to coming to Kansas, I had the thought, I knew the thought was insane, it went contrary to all that I knew to be true, and yet I knew with every fiber of my being that this was the path on which I should be placed. I went to have some quiet time and opened my study bible to the page where I would be reading, only to find a devotional titled: "Disabilities: Friends with Special Needs" at the top of the page. Some stand-out sentences included "If I don't reach out to this differently-abled individual with love, who will?" and "Unconditional love overlooks physical or mental handicaps and focuses on the true person, a special object of God's care and concern." Everything about considering becoming a para was absolute insanity. I mean, I still just really want to be an actual music therapist with a real music therapy job. But as I got on the school website and saw many para positions open, I felt Jesus whispering to my heart "Do you trust Me enough to follow where I am leading?" Why sure, Jesus. "Even if it means putting your music therapy career desires on hold in order to love those whom I have called you to love and serve in a place where you never expected to serve but where the need is great?" It took me a few days, but my answer to that one has become "Yes, Jesus. Let Your will override my desires and planning."

The rest of the story played out pretty quickly and effortlessly. I submitted an application to Emporia Public Schools and went through two interviews at different elementary schools. Both interviewers were incredibly enthusiastic about my music therapy background, expressing a long-held desire to hire a music therapist in the school system. The first school I visited made me an offer, and starting March 23rd, I will be employed as a Logan Avenue Elementary lion, working part of the day with the behaviorally disturbed classroom and part of the day with the life skills classroom that works with children affected by Down syndrome, Autism Spectrum Disorder, and other related cognitive or genetic disabilities. The principal has also mentioned that they would like for me to do music therapy sessions with the behavioral classroom at certain activity times during each week as a way to demonstrate to the school board and faculty how a music therapist could be used to enhance learning so that I can potentially receive funding. My long term goal is to be a para for half a year to a year and then branch out to being a full-time music therapist for the district. I do still really want to be a "real" music therapist, but I also know that for this specific season of life, I am supposed to focus on blooming where I am planted and on loving the kids that are put in my care. If the doors open to someday transition to becoming a school-based music therapist, I will greet the opportunity with open arms and a grateful heart. But if I never do get to transition to being a music therapist, I will still sing praises, grateful that Jesus sometimes asks me to do things that seem absolutely insane but that ultimately bring Him glory and give me the greatest fullness of life. I know that being a para will be a difficult job, but I know that for however long this job lasts, whether for a year or for a career lifetime, I will sing praise, and I will do what I can to follow Jesus and to love the kids with whom I work with all that I have and all that I am.

So in summary: I'm an Oklahoma girl who is marrying a Kansas boy and soon becoming a paraeducator in the school district of a town in the middle of rural Kansas. Life is most definitely, undeniably Kansas crazy, but I really wouldn't have it any other way.