tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83541176813102057592024-03-12T17:46:50.451-07:00TOBY K.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-29534511217995936462012-03-30T17:15:00.000-07:002012-03-30T17:15:57.708-07:00My First Day!At work my co-worker and I found this link for a competition on (what better than) blog writing. Our mission was to write a "blog" and 1000 words or less about our first day working at US Bank. We found the link at noon on the last day of the competition with a deadline of 3 O'clock. So in the midst of Friday rush we both typed away madly trying to make every last second between transactions count. In the middle of a transaction I quickly copy and pasted and submitted my final product at a close 2:57...this is what I wrote, let's hope I win! (I could get an IPad) ;]<br />
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My First Day! My First Day! Oh, what a day it was. No we didn’t get robbed…and no we didn’t book a million dollar loan…and no…I didn’t make a complete fool of myself by pronouncing OPS manual, “oops manual”, but yes, it was still day to remember. I sat in my car the morning of, waiting anxiously for the clock to tick away, taking deep breathes, watching people walk by with their children and dogs, both on leashes, wondering how many of those people I would later learn to know, I would of never guessed it would be so many. I repeatedly brushed my tingling fingers through my blonde hair trying to uncurl every knot, reapplying yet another layer of lipstick after I had chewed off all the others anxiously. Finally the clock had approached and I felt like I was taking a flying leap kicking one high-heel out of the car, and then another; I was practically sky diving. I walked up to the small one handled door, above me the hundred year old wooden US Bank sign creaked me a gentle greeting, and that’s when I did it, placed my hand on the silver knob, turned and pushed- the door jerked but nothing happened. Again I turned and pushed hearing the door catch it self again and again. I looked around clueless for what seemed like forever, until I heard the sound of a key shuffling from the other side of the door. Within a moment I was standing face to face with an average height red head with a beaming smile, who would soon become not only my co-worker and TC, but one of my closest friends.<br />
“Next time, ring the door bell”, she said still sporting a smile, eyes darting over to the small round door bell I had been too confused to acknowledge. I laughed nervously and she welcomed me, opening the door just wide enough for me to walk in. The small branch seemed smaller than a cheap New York apartment. Three steps you’re at teller row, another three steps you’re hitting the back door…okay, it’s not that small, but it’s close. My manager walked me through the branch, showing me a break room with a table, a few chairs, a microwave that will later take me 10 minutes to figure out how to work, a fridge full of food far beyond their expiration date, and a broken dishwasher; she took me into a small office that had a large white board completely covering one wall that had dry erase marker plastered all over it with words and numbers that might as well been written in Chinese because I didn’t understand one abbreviation on the board. <br />
“These are our shred bins, this will be your window”, she said taking me in circles. I remember watching her float across the branch as if it was her kitchen, pulling out GL’s like cookies from her oven, calling every costumer by first name, her playful back and forth in every transaction, just some of the things that what made this small town branch truly feel like home.<br />
Most of the day was spent in front of the computer screen, reading and taking tests, watching videos, wondering to myself how I would act if some day someone told me “Give me all your money”. How would I react? What would I do? I asked myself this often in my first few weeks, with security training after security training playing on repeat in my mind and computer screen.<br />
“You did great for your first day”, she said walking me to the front door swinging her keys back and forth from her Dayton Pirates lanyard. Watching the letters shimmer as it swung would never give me the inclination that I would become so consumed with Dayton football. That Id get to know the parents and the kids, learn the name of the players, their numbers, their positions. I’d find myself weeks into the season shivering under the field lights screaming with the town as our notorious running back jetted across the field once again to land us another touchdown. Our Pirates took us so far, so far that we drove the hour and half drive the State Championship where we barely missed the trophy by a 40 yard field goal in the last three seconds. The town was crushed, the boys were crushed even more. For weeks after, the game would be our only conversation with everyone who walked through the doors. This bank didn’t just give me a job or a paycheck, they gave me a community, they gave me a family, they gave me a home, and my first day was simply the beginning. Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-9535418539251959682012-02-24T00:13:00.000-08:002012-02-24T00:13:45.504-08:00My Someday Post..Someday I wish to marry a man who inspires me. Ofcourse this will not be his sole purpose or only attribute, but just one of the many pleasantries of our already delightful marriage. I wish to be able to look at him from across the kitchen table and see visions of a whole new world, or of a kingdom in turmoil, or of a boy trying to become a man, or a young enthusiast set out to find themselve, or maybe just a little girl who lost the shiniest red button on her new red sweater that her grandmother had given to her wrapped with a kiss and big purple ribbon. I would to look from my cream colored coffee to his black sugary abyss and be able to imagine up a complete underwater world complete with mystical colorful creatures, some big, some small, some blue some orange, all from a watery city far below the coral reef, with little homes made from seashells and an evil dictator whose suit was too tight and whose wife was a blowfish. After breakfast we'd sit together on our porch swing and while he read the daily news, I'd play with his hand that rested in mine, and as our feet swung back and forth I would suddenly know the sensation of jumping from an airplane. The anticipation burning in my lungs as I gulped just enough air to stay alive, and peering out the small cut out in the plane I'd be able to see nothing but clouds and different colored squares that made up the face of our little planet. "Are you ready?!" the instructor would yell with a cheesy smile. "Yes!", I'd yell back while everything in me was screaming, "You've gone insane!"... We take a step for the door. "Three!"- oh goodness I don't know if i can do this. I hold my hand to the edge of the cut out. "Two!"...wait I've changed my mind... "One!" <br />
And I'd be back on the swing fiddling his wedding band, humming my favorite song. Later, after the days sun had yawned its last and retired behind the horizon, we'd sit along the window seal, counting stars by the millions. I'd lay my head on his shoulder and wonder about the man in the moon. I'd wonder if he'd ever been in love? In real love. The can't eat, can't sleep, to infinity and beyond, over the fence, world series kind of stuff. I could only imagine his bride, she'd have the softest smile, kindest eyes, she haven't an ounce of judgement in her character; her laughter would heel a broken heart and her tears could send a warrior weeping. She'd wait out in a far off galaxy, waiting for her groom, waiting for the day the world stops turning and her handsome prince could sweep her off her feet. <br />
Laying down to bed, I'd roll to my side and ask my husband what he thought of my stories. He'd slowly look over at me, gently kiss me on my forehead and whisper "I love them all"; leaving me with no doubt that he is my only story worth telling.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-11395728319216104692012-01-27T17:15:00.000-08:002012-01-27T17:15:28.509-08:00The Long Lost Blog! So I just found this blog! I thought I had published it months ago and I never did! So please entertain me for a moment, take yourself back to the week before Christmas. The air is crisp and dry. People are running around like chickens with their heads cut off preparing for various shows and trips and dinners and families coming in and out of town. Kaylee is stressing out and waiting anxiously for the weekend to end:<br />
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On Saturaday night we had a wonderful Christmas Concert. It was written and orchastrated by our very own Andrea and Elindsey. It was a Christmas play/concert. We had dramas and songs....two of those inwhich I drummed for the first time ever! If you've been following this blog and have impeckable memory you would remember that I started learning drums sometime around April/May and over the last couple months have continued to learn and improve and on Saturday I put my skills to the test- performing, like I said: TWO songs! My nerves were running at high speeds but the rush and the shouts from the crowd was well worth it! :)) My parents even came to the concert, they took pictures and my dad shouted out with excitment. During the very annointed alter call Andy Altringer ministered to my dad while Chris Altringer leaned into a conversation with my mom, which ended with them both stepping away without praying. I was crushed, standing at the sound board watching my mom shake her head no. <br />
The next night was our much anticipated Childrens Christmas Play. My role was that of the teacher, I had a blonde and bouncy bee-hive and a southern accent that stuck with me for hours after the play. I had slaved for the last two months, missing every Sunday evening service, having a headahe that often last for days, feeling the stress of memorizing lines and ques and constantly restraining myself from beating the many running and wild children into a living pulp..but we made it through with laughs that echoed for days, and again there my parents sat, forth row back, in the center, beaming with grins that stretched from ear to ear watching there bubbly small town daughter turned 60's southern belle. After, we exited stage, with claps and shouts of the crowd ringing in our ears, me and the kids waited in the back, butterflies still flapping their wings in our bellys and suddenly I saw an urgent eye from Courtney knocking from outside the door. "Come here!" she mouthed waving her finger at me. I rushed to the door, confused and worried...'what had gone wrong?' I thought. <br />
As I stepped out of the crowded door way she looked at me softly and grabbed my arm, "Your dad just raised his hand". <br />
'No!' I thought. It couldn't be. She pulled me into the dark sactuary and wrapped her arm around me. I could see my dad from where I stood against the flagged wall and then I heard Mark ask, "If you meant that, would you look up at me?" and suddenly I saw my dad raise his head, "did you mean that?" and he nodded yes. The tears streamed down my face uncontrolably, and my body felt numb. My dad was praying at an alter! And without delay, Chris went over to my mom and while every stood and sang, my mom sat in her seat and prayed with Chris. People flooded me with hugs and the heavy liquid eye liner I was wearing had flooded down my cheeks. <br />
I have been praying for two years that one day my parents would get saved. I could of never imagined it tho, and would have never been able to imagine the feeling I would have seeing my parents giving their lives to Jesus. I was so hopeful on Saturday night that when they didn't pray at that moment I felt so discouraged and to think that they would pray at a Childrens Play, of all things!<br />
I continue to pray for them, because I just know that if God will save them then he will surely move in their lives! <br />
-Always Toby K. A Hopeful Woman Serving the Most High God.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-26736947497126026662011-11-17T09:47:00.000-08:002011-11-17T09:47:02.518-08:00Among The RubbleI found this among some of my older drafts and I thought I'd share. It's nothing too amazing, and frankly I wish I could change some stuff with it, but I'm trying to get back in the habit of posting and since I don't really feel like writing I will use this. Hope you like :)<br />
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A seasons time has come and gone. The summer heat has turned an autumns rain, the warming ocean waves have turned a frigid tide, blooming buds have become fallen leaves; relationships have changed, passions have turned, a love has ended with the warm breeze it rode in on; it left on a whim and ruminated in a hurricane. But before long the changing weather calmed and the waters barely made a stir; people turned a blind eye and soon forgot. Tears have dried, a heart has healed. Over the horizon is nothing but a memory and beyond the memory is nothing but another season to watch the weathering changes as the heart sits on the shore waiting for the storm.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-40954497376896721762011-11-09T17:46:00.000-08:002011-11-09T17:46:45.428-08:00Have you heard? Will you listen?The souls like leaves are falling, shadowed by the lights on the street, burning under the stars and hypnotized by the moon. Howling a yawn they shout to the Lord, "catch me!" but it's too late, theyre already gone, and the Lord our God lowers his eyes to hide his tears. Before the light of the morning how many will fall, before the dawning of the sun how many will see the fire? Feel the flame? Suffer the pain? Because we turned a blind eye? Because the monster we heard sounded bigger than we thought, than we knew it truely was? Because we didn't feel that freedom, salvation, grace, and love was important enough to share? Because we didn't think that they could hear us, that they wouldn't understand? But you understood. You heard just fine. You took his gift and praised his glory, but what if no one thought you would? How far like leaves would you have fallen into the flame? For the glory of God I praise and sing, and tell the world fore I am called....fore this time I will listen, fore this time I have heard.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-40859893720255573252011-06-21T14:49:00.000-07:002011-06-21T14:49:03.871-07:00I Am Woman, Hear Me Cry.I go through these phases where I'm completely in love and infatuated with myself and then I have these days when all I do is look in a mirror and start crying. Jaime put it perfectly once saying, "what men don't understand about women is that we can love ourselfs one day and hate ourselves the next". If that isn't the most true statement I don't know what is. To love ones self one day and hate ones self the next...my life in a nutshell. I cried last week after just catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror and then in that same week I felt like the top of the world because of a pair of earrings and a good hair day. I am a beautiful young women (most days) and love myself to the fullest (somedays), and if I think really really hard about it, I wouldn't trade myself for the world.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-23782570265918159342011-06-18T22:14:00.000-07:002011-06-18T23:50:03.766-07:00A Letter To A Friend.If only for a moment, I could lift up your pain and take the world off your shoulders. If only for a moment, I could remove your veil and let all peace from God fall over you. If only for a moment, you wouldn't feel hurt, pain, or sorrow. If only for a moment you could look into the future, strip down the wall paper of time and eternity, and incrusted in your walls you'd see an everlasting promise fulfilled in every second and minute and hour of your life. If only for a moment, you could talk to God and his voice would call out your redemption for all your heart to hear. If only for a moment, I could give you all that your heart desire. If only for a moment, I could show you the beauty of your own smile. If only for a moment, you could feel the laughter of your own jokes. If only for a moment, you could stand where I stand and see you as I do. If only for a moment, you would know that on any given day you are the most wonderful you that has ever walked these roads. If only for a moment, I could tell you that I love you. And if only for a moment, you would know that I care.<br />
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Als, you know I love you; I'll see in what will be only a moment.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-20623939641261497702011-06-14T20:46:00.000-07:002011-06-14T20:46:49.913-07:00The Redeemed.Have you forgotten what salvation tastes like? What grace on your tongue feels like? Have you forgotten how heavy the burdens on your shoulders really were before they were lifted from you? Because salvation is still as sweet as when you first tried it. Nothing has changed and it only gets better over time. Salvation lingers over you, reminding you, days and weeks and months and years after, of the good God we serve. It hums lullabys at you while you sleep, lingers in your ears and rests upon the lashes about your eyes. The mercy of God scratches down deep beneath the service, digging out your imperfections with healing hands. Your lungs are opened and filled as if they have never tasted the sweetness of air, and your eyes are clear behind your misting tears. Your heart sighs with relief as the chains of iniquity that bound it are broken. You shake lifeless limbs with joy and content as they place over themselves the armor of God. The touch of the word of God against your fingertips feels like the refreshing cold of the evening tide. You sway your hand in it as the water crashes up against you and you dig further and further, not knowing where your hand might end up. Further along, salvation touches your soul. It's not something physical or something emotional, but in the hands of God abides your soul, and in his warmth comes his peace, and in his peace lies his salvation.<br />
Incase you've forgotten, that is the salvation you have. Now spread it, so all may know the God that has brought his people out of the bondage of sin and death, and all may know what it truely means to be called The Redeemed.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-91660686971282462832011-06-05T16:51:00.000-07:002011-06-05T16:51:03.463-07:00The Perfect Pair.There are a lot of people in this world; the sinners, the saved, the misguided, the false prophets, the holy, the righteous, the proud, the humble, the prejudice, racist, judgemental, the lost, the searching, the remorseful, the sorrowful, the guilty, the shamed, the hurt, the abused, the joyful, the triumphant- all of these are human. They are so different, yet so similar. No matter how much we hate to admit it, there are strands of all these characters sown into our chests, some colors more prominent than others, but all woven together to create the living beings we are today. We are the beings that talk and walk and work and live on the dry and wet lands of this little planet. We form relationships, we make bonds, we start feuds, we compromise, and apologize. But even in a sorry, a lingering guilt resides, even behind an "I love you" is a tied rope of restraint, even in a goodbye lies a refreshing and illuminating wind of relief. For some these human strings can bring demise, but for others, these strings quilt themselves together to create the most perfect pair of beings known to man- Christ and his Bride; holy and forgiven; now we have become a righteous people.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-25133661850330611612011-05-25T18:00:00.000-07:002011-05-25T18:00:26.735-07:00Spark of ThoughtsTo think, to breathe, to walk, talk, sit, stand, shake hands, hold hands, kiss, open a car door, pick up a fork, write a symphony, play hopscotch, pick daisy's or lily's or tullips or pansies, learn to drive a pick-up truck, sing off key, fold laundry, yawn, stand at the top of the Empier State Building, cry, dance in a dimly lit living room, make something, paint something, write something, act on broadway, where soft socks, peak through bent metal blinds, swing feet from over an old wooden dock, sleep in the bathtub, attend a wedding, catch the bouquet, laugh softly, laugh loudly, hang clothes over closet doors, sleep on a water bed, send a letter, marry the boy you love.<br />
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A random list of things that are sometimes in my head, sometimes not, sometimes away on vacation, sometimes thought of while writing a blog, and sometimes in a picture of the person who makes your world spin a little faster everyday.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CGPuJJGiUpsXkybvbOPLZv1rx3FUftC1rSdUMGvmnjPVE4LP8pGvKkL9OU7NSJ044A-iZkZsDJ0zNHduQlQDLp6loH2AmCieZGHAgh-VfLN0FGPv1LQgWZvtQj3tB-pwJhexcPvwK1NI/s320/IMG_4550.jpg" t8="true" width="240" /></div>Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-29717482104594560892011-05-20T02:55:00.000-07:002011-05-20T07:24:06.192-07:00All About A 6'4 Towering Piece of Perfect.I tried to duck away shyly and pass by these feelings without a second thought, but with the third and forth thoughts my feelings grew stronger and before long I didnt wanna duck away shyly anymore but rather stare head on into the dark brown eyes that stood before me. <br />
Like the moon adorns the sun in the early morning, I catch myself peeking around corners and over church rows to adorn myself; but am stopped instantly by his already adorning eyes. <br />
My hands shook last night, my foot tapped restlessly, and my stomach churned with anticipation, but just across from me in the white plastic chair, sat the most relaxed thing in the world. He'd fiddle with his hands, talk about the color of my toe nails, and tell me over and over again to Calm Down!, and eventually I did- till pastors door opened and he walked alone into the little white office and left me to wait even longer.<br />
But isn't wasn't too long that he came back out, flushed but still calm. My heart leapt, my palms sweat, my words jumbled over his, tumbling tumbling tumbling, till we walked out and into the cool of the night and he told me- pastor approved! I screamed! then hit him! I don't know why i did, but I hit him, right on the arm...with my bible! Ha! I didn't know how to react, my emotions were going crazy. My lungs felt empty no matter how many breaths I'd take, and he just stood there, hands in his pockets, smiling at me. The moon shone a little brighter that night behind his smile, and my heart beat a little faster with every word he said. <br />
Were waiting! And pastors okay with it! It's exactly the same thing we discussed last week, but this time pastor knows and he's okay with it! To think that pastor would be okay with a decision that we've made; how lucky are we?!<br />
God is so good, he really is. He has helped us so much and we'd be nothing without him, but through him, we're not nothing, we're the possibility of something, and that's more than enough for me.<br />
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This man named Jacob Pacheco, he is surely a man after Gods own heart, and through God, he got mine too.<br />
-Kaylee Johnson :]Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-44888916652325539752011-05-12T04:07:00.000-07:002011-05-13T13:31:26.738-07:00If Love Was But A Love.If love was but a love and a heart only a heart then a kiss would be nothing but a touch and touch nothing but a look. That look would be nothing but a glance and that glance would never be a stare. But if that glance fought adversity and grew into a feeling it could someday become a stare, and that stare could become a talk and that talk could become a conversation. Conversations would then bud a friendship and that friendship would blossom into adoration and before long, between the glance and a feeling, would come a love. Deeply hidden in a whisper, that love would mold into a ring and that ring would bring along a kiss and a touch and those hearts that were only hearts, would be one. Completely and irrevocably one, together, hand in hand, whisper in whisper, beat in beat, till the touch becomes cold, and the hearts stand still, the whisper not even a breath and that love could be found in the rings on the hands of the ones whose love was only but a love.<br />
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Kaylee's been a little distracted latley...can you tell?Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-65247442203033166312011-05-11T06:37:00.000-07:002011-05-11T06:37:54.778-07:00Little Drummer Girl.So kaylee can now say she is officially a drummer! With two lessons tucked under her belt she is confident this is where she wants to be; behind the dusty black and silver and gold drum set, seated on the small wooden throne banging her little heart out. <br />
It was like nothing I've ever done and according to my brilliant teachers, I did...great! I was so nervous leading up to it, poor Jacob had to hear me rant on and on for weeks about how unsure I was but then sitting there, two warn-out drum sticks in hand, my mind all fell into place and I knew I wanted to do this. I learned a simple beat, following Jacob as he moved empty hands and peddleless feet from across the drums; "one two three" I'd count off, then miss a beat, "oh wait, start over, okay, one two three" and before long I could keep a beat, do a roll, add a beat, and even make a transfer without hitting that stupid stupid snare! (you can see where I had some issue).<br />
Watching Grandma Marlane behind the drums made the whole day worth while though, "no no no" she insisted but watching as me and Jacob switched off playing, she couldn't resist and jumped right in. It was the most natural thing I had ever seen her do, balancing the sticks between her thumb and palm, leading the drums into a war with sound; and believe me, she won, taking down sounds army with the most beautiful rhythm and motion one has ever seen or heard. I loved sitting on that throne, a princess seated behind her royal court. It was something I can't wait to do over and over again. <br />
Just as we finished practice, tossing my sticks back into the pile on the floor, grandma turned to me and said "you are officially my adopted granddaughter" and that's when learning how to play drums gained a whole new meaning.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-90072977178686513282011-04-29T06:59:00.000-07:002011-04-29T06:59:15.487-07:00I think that I think about stuff too often. I think about too much, too much of the time. I think of things while I should be thinking of others and think when I shouldn't be thinking at all. I over think too many areas of my life and think too little of others. <br />
I think of Jesus, the God in the flesh, the Lord, the Alpha and Omega, and remind myself that he too is thinking of me, contending for me, praying for me as Aly reminded me. God does not wish failure for me, does not hold me back from success without good cause, does not think too little of me, but is rather wanting the world for me. For me, he thinks highly. For me he thinks fondly. For me he thinks, and his thoughts alone are enough to get me through a long sleepless night, a long slumbersome day, or one long good morning!<br />
Good morning!<br />
-Toby K.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-33380806061949571642011-04-20T07:38:00.000-07:002011-04-20T07:38:53.133-07:00Post-Noc Shift.My eyes feel heavy as if cinder blocks sit along my eye brows, and my skin feels thick as if laid with bags of moss, but the mornings air reminds my lungs how much they love the taste of honeysuckle and cherry-blossom. Long leafy tree-branches reach out over the roads, shadowing the sun that has now begun to rise. My feet clap against the pavement, clic clic clic, my car keys clang between my fingers, and my hair, still damp and scented of tea-tree oil, hangs over my shoulders brushing my neck as I walk. It is still too early to here the hum of bustling cars or the laughter from kids marching in groups of threes or fours along yellow signed school zones; it is still too early to go to the store for milk or pick and poke and prod fresh produce at the morning market; too early to mow the lawn or vacuum the floors, too early to pick up a coffee or get my hair dyed. But the clock lands on the six and as I walk across the cold pavent, clic clic clic, I listen out as the bird chirps' fill the fog and know for someone this day has only begun.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-59471188537801672762011-04-04T23:33:00.000-07:002011-04-04T23:33:54.703-07:00Life As I Know It. <span style="font-family: inherit;"> My stuff is being sorted into boxes, those boxes are being sorted into leave or keep piles, those boxes that say keep are my life as I know it. This room, it's walls are becoming bare and white again. My cat walks in wide eyed as he stares at the different picture this room now paints. He paws at the corners of the cardboard and sniffs the floor where things once sat. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> My parents are losing a daughter, sooner than expected. This was never their plan, this was never mine, but here it is. It is here in these boxes, it is here in the little brown house with the little white swing, it is here in the rain outside my window, in the breaking of my heart. I often wonder if I made the wrong choice, if I should of listened to my sister, if I should of gone to college, if I should of just stayed here in my comfort...but it's done, the decisions made, the key has been passed into my palm and in a few short days this will be the end of life as I know it, and my new life will begin. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Tonight was the first time I realized that, and tonight was the first time I cried about it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">-Toby K.</span>Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-40759900451955941862011-03-20T17:13:00.000-07:002011-03-20T17:13:12.562-07:00If I Were A Great Writer...Take me down down down, down to the rivers and boats. Take me down down down, down beneath the lands. Take me far and beyond through the valleys, through the pass. Bury me down low with waters and crystal sands. Roll me through the honey comb and brush it in my hair; cover me with sunflower seeds and grow me any where. Take me down down down, down to golden shore. Take me down down down, down past the whispy hollows. Take me down to where the meadows clear, and open me up wide; spill out my soul in the sun light and beckon it to shine.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-2793789704894061992011-03-15T21:37:00.000-07:002011-03-15T21:37:02.019-07:00Words That Flow.Tuesday March 15th 2011 at approximatley 8:15pm, Kaylee Gemm Johnson recieved her first word from Pastor Steve Pennick.<br />
<br />
I knew it was going to happen. I sat at the altar, legs crossed, playing with the buckle on my leather heals, periodically glancing at Pastor as he moved through out the crowd giving words and leading prayers, and I just knew. He moved past me going to Rigo and then moved passed me again towering over a shockingly silent Daniel, and then paused. I could see his slow footsteps out of the corner of my eye as he marched towards me. What was going through his head? How long did he have my word in there? Did he know what he was going to say or did it all come in that moment, the moment he stood above me and said "I'd like to pray for you sister". I couldn't breathe at that moment. He began to tell me about a scripture in Proverbs 13 (I think) and about the words I speak. So much was going on in my head. I didn't know if I should cry or laugh hysterically with emotion. Afterwards Jaime ran up to me, "Ha! I knew you'd get one." She was right all along, she knew I would no matter how many times I rejected them.<br />
So many times I've seen words given but I never wanted one, never ever ever. I used to pray not to get one. And then tonight during prayer before service started, I prayed to God saying, "If you want me to have a word, I'll take it- I'm ready". And I was, so ready. <br />
Now I just need to figure out what to do with it....<br />
-Toby K.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-5342025040053094982011-03-14T00:44:00.000-07:002011-03-14T00:44:57.302-07:00What Great Power It Has.I've written and deleted a million blogs in the last couple of weeks, I've written songs and rewritten songs, I've helped edit essays and even thought up some slightly original pieces of imagination...but where is that all now? It's back with my other forgotten thoughts, reminiscing with my childhood birthdays and every first day of school since kindergarden to the day I walked down the green with my red cap and gown, their throwing a game of catch with the little girl on a tee-ball team in small town Minnesota, playing twenty questions in the back seat on another sixteen hour drive for another move across little america; those little writings are lost in the collection of journals under my bed, missing beneath the paintings and books and articles and miscellaneous music videos and empty toothpaste tubes, knots of blonde curls strung through distracted far off fingers, and every complicated piece of simple me. They got misplaced between work and weddings and conference and revivals and skit and concert scenes and new songs and puppet team and Tuesday morning coffees and sleep and life. Those little things got imbetween me and writing, my second love. That's a pretty big deal for us...we'll need more remedy than a single blog to mend this gapping hole life's created; were gonna need some slow time, when the wind moves soft and we can just be us, simple us.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-63714821547443191132011-02-23T04:15:00.000-08:002011-02-23T04:15:04.038-08:00Set Fire To The Rain.This is me dancing in white, circling and circling around and round till the wild flowers dizzy and faint. This is me laying chin deep in a porcelin tub, surrounded by lit candles and creamy drapes, the scent of lavender dripping from my wet finger tips as they hang over the glossy edge. This is me on a floral couch, legs crossed, toes tapping to the beats that quietly take over the room, outside the window is green acreage as far as the eye can see. This is me on the streets of the city, heels clicking rhythms behind me, the moon radiating heat above me, my hair skips beats on my shoulders, the night passes by like the car lights from the road. This is me in a maroon cushioned chair, fans blowing on my cheeks, thin white leather bound pages lightly russle in my lap and the ring on my finger slips to my knuckle, as I adjust it I think back on our memories lullaby. This is me with a whole lot more of me further down the road...<br />
-Toby K.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-47716038648716650512011-02-14T23:59:00.000-08:002011-02-14T23:59:07.223-08:00My Latest Obsession.<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've watched these two videos, what seems like, a million times in the last two days. Cried and cried and cried. This little girl is so amazing, so so so amazing. I'm not sure what more there is to say about her, you'll just have to watch.</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/dTvStBw4_kw" title="YouTube video player" width="640"></iframe><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Get the tissues ready for this one, believe me, you'll want them.</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7t6C1UCP19U" title="YouTube video player" width="640"></iframe>Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-58211611594134651702011-02-12T23:04:00.000-08:002011-02-12T23:04:27.885-08:00Little Chunk Munsters.I've been looking around latley. Looking at my friends all getting married and having babies, or if they already have babies, wanting more. I look at all them and want that too. Why can't I just look at someone and just know...know that we're meant to be together forever and ever- "I do". But I know it will never come that easy, I do have some realism left in me. I just look around at these chubby faced chunks that bounce on the knees of stray teenagers and wonder about the little chuncks I will have to bounce around, or will I even have any for that matter? I pray all the time, about my life, about a lot of things. <br />
I pray for my husband, that if he's not saved, he'd get saved quick and that if he is already saved, that God will just bless him and guide him in everything he does. I pray for my children, that I would be equipped to raise them, instill in them the word of God, that they would grow strong and live only in the will of God. I pray that I will guide them well. I pray for our marriage to be stable, for my family to be strong. I pray for these things all the time.<br />
Then I remember- I'm so young! I'll be out of the house before I turn 19 and I'm barely keeping my job schedule on track. I have an almost non-exsistant savings account and I don't even have a car. I'll be living on my own in less then two months! I think I have enough on my plate, why would I want to throw a husband into that equation?- no answer for that one. Maybe in a few years when my life is a little more sorted. For now I'll bounce those little chunks on my knee and thank God that I can hand them back to their parents at the end of the day.<br />
-Toby K.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-36463616781861630362011-02-11T08:48:00.000-08:002011-02-11T09:19:48.143-08:00The Oxymorones!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipM9P0ofBa1b5LOCR3Y3ocijpk7o23DmQGrjvtoQKbsHt3kaqKOgx-gC8IRyMql0iXGrQaDDZb0YnygiWaZqtnts4FNDuN3otDuXdEsBCNEWEsJp2NwtMLOaw5ERGZGRWHl6iJRZsOUh4Z/s1600/the+oxymorones+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipM9P0ofBa1b5LOCR3Y3ocijpk7o23DmQGrjvtoQKbsHt3kaqKOgx-gC8IRyMql0iXGrQaDDZb0YnygiWaZqtnts4FNDuN3otDuXdEsBCNEWEsJp2NwtMLOaw5ERGZGRWHl6iJRZsOUh4Z/s400/the+oxymorones+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We are The Oxymorones. We're just about the coolest most awesome skit team you've seen this side of Heaven. <br />
I love us. <br />
I love that we fight through a majority of all the things we do. I love that we laugh through it all. I love that we've all fallen in love with the little pieces of wood and nails and carpet that create our stage. That we all know and appreciate the rush and excitment that happens right before the curtain opens. That we dance and jump and sing outreageously loud back stage as the band plays beside us. I love that without God we'd be nothing, but with God, we've been able to move on the lives of sinners, change the minds of the rebelious, focus the hearts of the wandering. We've silenced a packed room and uproared the house with laughter. <br />
We've moved on this little city and have challenged others far beyond our four walls.<br />
Skit has creeped and crawled its way into each of our lives, welcomed or not, and has made home in our hearts.<br />
It just feels like home.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYMZqD-Rdq9FYJCkKKxudS9NsPSDD6dEarKRua8q654e0MXWDprsfii_D880h68CCWit1UIv0Euhz1lQx_UQGMzqY4PLKzZtGOuGehulC67OxJDfd1RYP7wJkzFWfuM_u-X_EaRI6jMuG/s1600/the+oxymorones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYMZqD-Rdq9FYJCkKKxudS9NsPSDD6dEarKRua8q654e0MXWDprsfii_D880h68CCWit1UIv0Euhz1lQx_UQGMzqY4PLKzZtGOuGehulC67OxJDfd1RYP7wJkzFWfuM_u-X_EaRI6jMuG/s400/the+oxymorones.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-71982857195672816892011-01-27T20:50:00.000-08:002011-01-27T20:50:02.310-08:00One Period.Latley I purse my lips a lot, tilt my head to one side when I'm listening or thinking, (or thinking while I should be listening), sing in my tongues, listen to sad songs on purpose, draw still-lifes at work, clean my house a bit too much, wear sweatshirts and grey ankle boots often, stare into the sun a little too long, take pictures on the side's of roads, forget my words, think about this up and coming November, think about the summer time and the time I will not be able to spend in Prescott, think about moon hanging down low over the hills surrounding us, plump and full dripping out stars like juice from it's busting seams; I think of my family of blood not shared, their compassion and ever watchful eyes, their comfort and grace towards my ever failing flesh, I think of their hearts full of fire illuminating bright like a distant torch signaling the oncoming battle- the battle they have been fighting before my time had began; I think of the ones I will miss if I were ever to leave, the ones I would cry over, the ones I would call without second thought; I wonder about the years close to come, falling onto eachother as they pile in a line before me, dauntingly and silent they sit waiting- forever waiting; I rehearse scripture in my mind, stare into the faces of stangers I pass through a wet mist of the fog as we walk the cold and murky streets, read their hearts as they pass, asking in my heart if they were alike me, wondering if they were waiting on the <em>King above all kings</em>, or if in their heart was a sufferage, a weight, a dark and sinister power that grip tight, sufficating all it's love letting it die and exude slow and painful...if their hearts were not alike mine; these things I think of so often, perform so often, experience so often, and so often I wonder how many times a day I say the word "I" instead of the word <em><strong>"Him".</strong></em><br />
-Toby K.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8354117681310205759.post-56000973268158060542011-01-25T00:13:00.000-08:002011-01-25T00:13:03.180-08:00"If you like your ministry, then you must not be minisitering"... So lets give some updates shall we? Right now we are in revival with Alvin Smith, this radical-contagious-soulful-singer-preacher type. He's amazing! And Black! He literally sings throughout the entire sermon and during praise and worship he sings so loud from behind the song leader that you can hear him even into the 5th and 6th rows. During the sermons I find myself lurched forward in my seat digging my elbows into my knees as if getting any closer could make the annointing any stronger...He's practically the definition of supernatural.<br />
Anyways. About two or three weeks ago Ashley invitied these two girls out (I think), but they've been coming ever since. They're 14 and 10. They come to the concerts and atleast every night service. They even came to two outreaches and LOVE IT. They are so into everything, love God and aren't ashamed. Now granted they are young and defentley New Convert status so they have a lot to learn but they are defentley open to letting God use them. They have brought up to 5 visitors at one time to the concerts, and bring friends to church almost everytime. Jaime and Ash say that the girls have taken a liking to me, and I am defentley starting to see that. They practically flock me. I felt like a mother duck the other night, after service, the girls followed me single file (literally) throughout the entire church until I finally said "Okay, we're leaving, get your things".<br />
The first outreach they came to, I felt so bad---it was pouring down rain, and by pouring I mean rain was coming down in the droves. We were all soaked by the end of it, but the girls stuck through. The youngest, Lisa, was even asking why we don't do this in more public places, like pools, where we could just preach and sing and stuff. We assured her in the summer we do that much more often because the weather actually permits. Lisa is even anxious for ministry. She was itching to ask me about joining drama and is well determined to join Untold Stories, but she hasn't quite brought that one up to Ash or Jaime yet- Ha! You should of seen the look on her face when we broke it to her that she has to be coming consecutively for atleast six months to join ministry. She was so disappointed and talks about it all the time, about how she cannot wait for these six months to pass. I just laugh and assure her that they will, "believe me kid, they will, faster than you know". <br />
But a sermon by Pastor Smith defentley dealt with me concerning these kids. I really like them a lot, they are funny and nice- but they're so young. And yes I know that I am practically a bottle of uncontained energy and can usually be confused with a prepubescent teenager, but I am ubdoubtedly older. It has defentley taken a lot for me to remain nice---all the time. That dosen't sound so hard when said, but to actually do that is so difficult. I can't just act nonchalant around them like I do with my friends, I have to maintain this constant level of - happy. But Pastor Smith was talking about the powers of the Holy Spirit, and he said "it gives us the ability to deal with people"...and that is true! I've defenetley been asking for major grace towards these kids because I didn't realize before how hard it truely is to be a disciple in this sense of the word. <br />
I like it though, it's good for me. I love ministry, but so often in ministry I simply must do things I don't want to do...and this just happens to be one of those instances.<br />
-Toby K.Toby K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08769468891429556222noreply@blogger.com1