I made the move

And this is where you'll find me.

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An Historical Book Lover (part two)

All through middle school and high school I fed my face with books. Fiction was definitely my favorite, but my history teacher turned me onto to some really great books like this one or this one. The latter one I received as a gift for winning the history student of year. I was such a dork.

One book really changed how I viewed my political convictions which were always liberal, but growing up in epicenter of conservatism made it hard for me to describe exactly how it felt about the world around me.

I just read it and he said things I had thought and believed and it was all in one book. It was a mini revolution in my mind. He's one of my favorite authors.

My junior year of high school I got a job at a publishing house, Tyndale. That's right, they publish... The Left Behind Series. Dun dun dun dun. And while I never bought into the theology, the boatloads of books sold meant for some very large bi-annual bonuses during the years I worked there and at the age of 17, that was a dream. Some of that money I used as a down payment on my house. I loved working around books.

I quit that job to move to Kansas City, and got a job at the bookstore. Originally the job was a part time thing but through circumstances I became a manager. There are a lot of places to find a community at IHOP. I found mine in that store. It's not easy, it's hard and challenging. But I love that prayer room and what I do helps support that. Did I come here thinking that this is what I would do? No, but there is joy in doing it. Sometimes I think people wonder if you can be a "business" person and still love that prayer room? Can you be an administrator and still be an intercessor? Can you love Jesus in the midst of sales reports, scheduling, and cycle counts? It can be done, my friends. I see my friends do it every day and I am certainly challenged in it, but I am blessed to love Jesus this way.

So that's where the love of the written word has taken me.

A Historical Book Lover (Part 1)

I realized the other day that I've been working at the bookstore for over three years, which means I've done 4 onething conferences. That's right count them: 4. One as a cashier, one as a conference manager, and two as the gen. manager, or I as prefer "queen b".

I grew up loving to read books. Oddly I used to cry as a small child thinking I would never be able to read on my own. My mother recalls with some amount of humor my anxiety over the prospect of illiteracy. I wasn't slow, I was just consumed with needing to read all my own. It was unnatural. I did read all on my own starting in kindergarten. I think that's pretty normal.

I became obsessed with reading. I would pour through books at a rate that astounded my parents; who to this day hate reading. I would read my favorite books over and over again. I began to read large novels in fifth grade and became obsessed with various historical fiction series that my fifth grade teacher was also reading. My parents would punish me by making me go outside and playing with the neighborhood kids. They couldn't banish me to my room, because I would read for days without leaving. I hated playing outside. I would cry and cry and cry.

So all throughout my childhood everyone joked that I should work at a bookstore or that one day I would run my own book emporium.

So ends part one. Hold on to your pants kids, this story is "to be continued".

Give Me a Database...

Or Give me Death.

No really, please.

Bummer and Brothers

Obviously a bummer of a night in Chicago. It will be an even bigger bummer on Tuesday morning when I have to head back to work. It's been a nice weekend away and it will be hard to go back to a conference week on the missions base. First conference since onething; that deserves a woooooohooooo.

Here's a pic from my Grandma's 80th... this is the whole fam.

This is a picture of my father and his two brothers.

My Grandmother and her two brothers.

And this is my brother.

Team Spirit Anyone?

Any other name

Names stick. To be honest I haven’t had a lot of good/solid nicknames in the past. Kristen Anderson is a pretty hard name to mock (note: this is not a challenge) and it’s a hard name to morph into something cool. Most often I am called Miss Kris, K-Rock, or more recently (and it is with great distaste that I even mention it) Jack will call me “krissy” [insert deep shudder]. I had one guy in high school call me Anderson, which was super original and very unique and half the hallway turned around every time he called out to me. Truth be told he was really cute so he could have called me anything and it would have been just fine with me.

That’s actually a pretty good transition. Because while I never had a strong nickname, I had a lot of different names; names that others had put on me. Here is the brutal truth, once you get past my calm, cool, kick butt exterior there is a pretty sensitive desperate girl; a girl who wonders about who she really is, not so much anymore, but up until about a year ago it was very true.

I realized that this insecurity really caused a lot of pain in my life. First off this insecurity was a total mystery to me, I had worked so hard on being confident and perfect that I thought that that was who I was. I couldn’t see the real me. I think people can cope for a while (sometime a long while) like this without seeing any big cracks. But slowly little inconsistencies begin to appear. For example: “if I’m so confident why am I so scared to meet new people?”; “Why am I so concerned about others evaluations?”; “Why am I always so anxious or nervous?”.

Then really big inconsistencies begin to appear. I found myself looking for affirmation and love in some really bad places. My desperation to be named caused me to do things that were so outside my character, so outside everything I believed about myself, against all my outspoken principles. They weren’t the actions of a confident feminist; the person that I thought I was, these were the actions of a desperate crazy person.

I remember when I first saw myself for real. I was freaking out, having a huge argument with someone I thought I loved. And I was basically begging this person to name me. Which looking back was really outrageous because this person was not in place to love another person well, much less speak into another person’s life. He pointed this out to me with a lot of emotion (and at this point a very raised voice), and he was somewhat incredulous at my ridiculous need. It was at this moment I was totally silent and a light totally clicked on in my head. I saw my inordinate need to be loved. It was horrifying; like a slap in the face. Now it reminds me of the story of the emperor with no clothes. Everyone else knew he was naked, but he was totally unaware. (I totally stole that analogy from Tracy S.)

Two years later, I can recount this story and say that this really provided the impetus to seek out healing; it really pushed me to get real. There was a reason I was so desperate, there was a reason I was using other people to define me. And you know I was empowered (after a lot of hard work) to take myself back. I work really hard at not letting other people’s names stick; I work hard to be sure that at the end of the day only Jesus defines me. I believe there are moments like this in everyone’s life; moments when you can glimpse past self-perception and really see yourself objectively. I’m glad I took the opportunity to stare at that desperate needy girl. It was the only way I could ensure that the reflection I found would one day change.

Oh and if you attempt to call me "Anderson" I probably won't respond, no matter how cute you are (again: not a challenge).

Praise Jesus, it's Friday.

The Week in Review

Near Death Experience
They are doing some really great improvements in my hallway at work this week. There has been a lot of hammering and sawing and one unfortunate freak accident in which no one was hurt, but I saw my life flash before my eyes. The ceiling in the office across from me "collapsed" with a fairly large crash. Needless to say I was shaken up and the accounting crew called my Chicken Little for the rest of the day.

Near Roadkill Experience
I nearly hit a three legged dog. He's a neighborhood dog, which has already been maimed. I call him Tripod in my head and I nearly killed him completely this week.

Near Nervous Breakdown
I had a kind of stressful week, but thanks to my new hot pink koosh stress ball I feel 100% better. I've named it "xanax" or Xany for short.

Near Immature Response
I'm being persecuted. It's least that's how it feels lately. I've had trouble reigning in my response to my own offense. I'm offended when people don't like me, when they don't like my expression of Christianity. I'm also challenged to live it better, to make it my own, to have a real reason for my faith. That's a good thing, but it's taken me a few days to calm down and get some perspective.

Miami, Here We Come

The Bears played a fantabulous game today and are on their way to the Superbowl. Needless to say all of Rush Street will be celebrating well into tomorrow.

Below is a picture of Buck supporting his team by clutching his toy moose, who in honor of the Bears, we have named: "Moosey" short for Muhsin Muhammad.

Go Bears!!

Children of Men - In Review

I don't think I have ever posted about a movie I've seen or loved. My father said once that I have horrible discernment when it comes to cinema. At that point in my life I stopped recommending movies. I find it to painful to offer up disclaimers for things that I love. And I love movies, all types but I love movies that make me think, that leave questions unanswered, that make me feel uncomfortable with how I think or live.

So this is a first; and there are plenty of reasons to not see this movie, but I did and I'm really glad. The basic plot is this: the world is reaching the "end", women haven't been able to have children for 18 years, and so everyone is living in hopeless chaos. And then out of nowhere a women is found pregnant. And so begins the real story, and I won't ruin it for you.

So while the movie was very apocalyptic it was also very Bethlehem. Here is this beautiful thing happening and the world is dark and evil and left to it's own devices. There is nothing innocent of colorful left. And a child is about to be born into it that could ultimately save the world from themselves.

It reminds me of anna and simeon, two people who really "saw" Jesus. They really knew who he was and they saw the mystery in his existence. As I left the theater I asked myself, "will I recognize him when he comes; will I see him for who he really is?" It's an unsettling question, it makes me uncomfortable and discontent with my life.

It was definitely a movie that will make you think about the nature of depravity, the content of hope and how one unexpected event can change the course of humanity; for the better or worse.

Duke Drama

I've debated whether or not to post this but hey what the heck; these are my thoughts, my opinions; feel free to totally disagree.

I assume most of you have heard the story of three Duke students who have been accused of assaulting a women they hired from an escort service for a party they were throwing.

As to whether these men assaulted this woman in some way; I have no idea. I lean in that direction, but I have no real way of knowing. Is this woman a credible source of information? I say most definitely not. Will there be justice in this situation? I hope so, but I doubt it. I think at this point there is no clear indication of what happened so realistically I'm not sure justice can be served.

That's actually not what this post is about. This post is about a sixty minutes special aired this week. I didn't see the whole thing, I just saw snip-its of indignant Duke student parents. They couldn't believe that someone was "doing this" to their sons. And by "doing this" I assume they meant falsely accusing their sons of assault.

Their shock I found to be somewhat shocking. Their sons hired this woman. Their sons were at this party. I guess my thoughts are really, what do you expect? Immorality begets immorality. If you live by the sword, you die by the sword. You've made your bed, now lie in it.

I guess I kind of feel like they deserve all this scrutiny, all this drama, because you know what? Thay put themselves in that position.

Those Duke students aren't innocent one way or another; assault or not. No one walked away from that party with clean hands.

I could go farther with this and I might, but I think this is a good start.

I love Jesus

And I find him in my everyday life. The last year of my life has been me, coming back to him. I'm not saying that there was a great falling away, because there wasn't. But there were all these small bits of me that were floating farther and farther away. Not just farther away from Jesus but farther away from myself too.

It's a journey to bring it all back, to piece it all together correctly. This last week I found myself in front of a lot of people sharing the story of how I had lost myself or maybe how I never knew myself. It's a vulnerable story, one I have not told to many. It was difficult but wholly freeing; to be known, really known.

All this to say that the whole process reminds of how much I love Jesus. He has been so faithful to complete me, to bring me back, to find me, to mourn with me, and to heal me. He has shoved me out into the light so that I could die and find my place at the cross. He has been good to be so painful in his love towards me. He truly is the hound of heaven.

Ice Ice Party

Do you have this at your house when it's cold and snowy and icy and you just can't leave?

That's right we have a chocolate fountain...

Times They are a Changing

We die to each other daily.
What we know of other people
Is only our memory of the moments
During which we knew them. And they have changed since then.
To pretend that they and we are the same
Is a useful and convenient social convention
Which must sometimes broken. We must also remember
That at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.
- TS Elliot

I was reading TS Elliot earlier, he is a perfectly crafted writer. Not an ounce of fat exists in his work. He is really gifted in expressing how people truly feel.

At any rate, this is been something I've been thinking about. We all change so quickly and sometimes I try to "hop" back into someone's life and expect them to be just as I left them. How self-consumed is that?

Lately I've realized that people I once was really close with; now they are like strangers to me. So much has transpired and put us all in different places, both physically and emotionally. It's interesting I think; how we ebb and flow, in and out of one another.

onething finale post

I promise you; there is product in there somewhere.

Quotes from the onething 06 conference

Walking back from lunch on the first day of onething, we passed the auditorium with Misty rocking it out. Linda the customer service representative for the Forerunner Bookstore turns and looks at me eyes wide with wonder and asks, "What's going on in there?"

"Uh, Linda that's the onething..." Kristen to Linda, eyes also wide in wonder

"the U haul is closed" Hartke to me at 7:00PM on the 31st

"the line starts over there" (insert drastic hand movements)

"we're not technically supposed to have gaffers tape on the walls, but if they don't say anything it's fine by me." un-named onething team member to me on Dec 29th

"don't hate me." Hartke to me on Dec 31st after he tore down the gaffers tape.

"Do we shop around and buy everything at once or do we pay at each display?"

When loading up the safes at the end of the conference three guys decided to come up with a cover story for their cart draped in black fabric. Upon entering the elevators they were joined by a young teen boy. One of my guys asked him, "so kid, do you want some gelato?"

Distortions in the History of Spinning

I have a onething finale post that is coming and will include pictures and quotes of the week... but until then I have one Christmas post that is left.

I come form a Nordic people. My great great great grandfather Anders Otteson came across a the ocean from Sweden over 100 years a go. He came, believe it or not in search of religious freedom (as he did not wish to be Lutheren). When he came over or when his wife came over (details are not clear) they brought a wooden spinning wheel to spin their wool. This spinning wheel is still in the family.

My mother put it in the balcony of their new house, but had no conception of how to string it. So it looked rather pitiful. My grandmother came for Christmas and made a valiant attempt at stringing the wheel so that it looked at least plausible, but in her admittance was in no way close to an accurate configuration as she had never operated the wheel and didn't know of anyone who would have. We all had a good laugh at this whole endeavor. Here is a picture of the wheel in said configuration.

The next morning we awoke to this sign (pictured below) attached to the wheel. No one fessed up to creating the sign.

Oh, the Anderson Christmas is such a colorful event