Mackenzie Standing

A little more than three months ago, I slapped a meticulously packed (48 pounds, to be exact) suitcase down at the United Airlines ticket counter, boarded my plane, and took off with more than a little apprehension to work at Moose River Outpost in Jackman, ME. I made a friend during my O'Hare layover.  I had accepted the job as office manager a few months before, excited about the idea of experiencing the East Coast and growing in a new place. As the time to leave grew closer, however, the knot in the middle of my stomach grew larger. I have never identified as an "outdoorsy" person -- my favorite thing to do in Montana is cuddle in with a warm blanket, a hot drink, and a movie or book -- so the idea of spending two months at a place that possesses a desire to "Seek Christ, build community, and embrace adventure" filled me with trepidation. Seek Christ? That's my favorite. Build community? I'm a senior in the dorms for just that reason. Embrace a...

My brother Travis played Joseph in the Christmas pageant this year. He was not excited about it. One of my favorite traditions of the Christmas season is that on Christmas Eve Eve, December 23rd -- ironically enough, Travis's birthday -- our church family gets together to begin the Christmas season with worship. Traditionally, this means we act out the Christmas story, with the roles getting assigned on the spot. People walk through the doors, having no idea that in a matter of moments they might just be led off to costuming to become an angel or shepherd or sheep. Even if they choose not to play a role, there still is opportunity galore for audience participation. There's no rehearsal, no guarantees that technology will work or the actors will get all their lines out, but there's a whole lot of laughter and an atmosphere that I think would have a strong correlation with the first Christmas -- a little chaotic and the sense that you really don't know what will happen ...

What can I give him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part; yet what can I give him: give my heart. --Christina Rossetti, "In the Bleak Midwinter" I love giving gifts. One of my favorite aspects of the Christmas season is the way it creates space to honor people and show them our appreciation. As much as I think that Christmas shouldn't be focused on the presents -- because it shouldn't -- and that there's great benefit that comes with being content with what you have -- because there is -- there's a certain beauty in being able to give my friend a present just for being  her,  and no one thinks it's strange. I appreciate that. The problem, though, is that I am  not  a fantastic giver of gifts. Attempting to find the perfect present that both means something to the other person and has sentimental value in our relationship (always a plus) stresses me out to no end. I still have no idea ...

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called  Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. -Isaiah 9:6 The first Bible verse I ever memorized was Matthew 6:34. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. My little twelve-year-old heart, still reeling from the fact that Jesus loved me  and desperately trying, in her own perfectionist way, to incorporate that love into her life, clung to this verse. Do not worry, the verse says. So simple. Except... When it's not. I have struggled with anxiety for years. Panic attacks. Hyperventilation. Sobbing myself to sleep over things that are really not important. Stressing for days over events that were in the past, or events that never happened. Over time, it's become much more manageable. As I've grown more into who God made me to be and placed my identit...

There's a deep-set love in my heart for traditions. Whether it's hunting for a live Christmas tree with my family every year, stopping at the same gas stations on road trips, recreating pictures or making sure every trip home is marked by a Wendy's Frosty, my pattern-hungry brain can make any similar event or date important. I love traditions. Many of them are so silly that I refuse to mention them to other people (what, you don't feel a compulsive need to go to dinner at 6pm every Wednesday?), but trust me, I notice them. Perhaps that's the reason why I so appreciate the church calendar-- Advent and Lent in particular. I can root myself deep in these traditions that are far older than me and will last far longer than I will. They remind me that these times in the year have far more significance than my own personal calendar-- that December means more than last minute study sessions, final examinations, and gingerbread house building, as good as those tradit...

Halfway through the worship set, the sound cut out. For a moment, it was actually quite funny. There was a loud pop, then suddenly all you could hear was a distant echo of the song. The slight strum from the acoustic guitar player's strings. The beat of the snare and the buzz of the trumpet, muted behind their plexiglass screens. The murmur of the lead singer's voice, barely carrying through the huge room. The sound cut out, and the worship team kept playing. And the Church kept singing. The problem was fixed before the song was over. Almost as if it was planned, the worship team naturally began to crescendo, when suddenly the sound was back. As if there had been no problem at all, the worship team kept playing. And the Church kept singing. All was well--until it wasn't. Halfway through the pastor's sermon, the sound cut out. For a moment, it was actually quite funny. There was a loud pop, then suddenly all you could hear was a distant echo of his voice....

When I was in high school, Disney Channel started a cartoon that quickly became popular. It was a witty show about two stepbrothers who spend their summer break using their brains and creativity to engineer some pretty epic adventures. I must admit that I quite enjoyed it when kids I babysat would want to watch Phineas and Ferb  -- and when I received my own Phineas and Ferb lunch box for Christmas, I insisted on using it for the rest of my senior year. The past couple of days the theme song has been running through my head: "There are 104 days of summer vacation / And school comes along just to end it / So the annual problem of our generation / is finding a good way to spend it." Ironically enough, this is my 104th day of summer vacation. Today also happened to be the day I went back to Bozeman. Class doesn't start for two more weeks, but summer vacation feels like it's over. School definitely came along just to end it. I'm wanting to cultivate gratitude th...