tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8895300695551236212024-03-12T19:03:18.341-04:00life from 5 feetponderings and observations from my little lifeKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.comBlogger693125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-69662226469645484032023-11-30T11:13:00.001-05:002023-11-30T11:13:25.517-05:00rounding out a year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXgX9eBu_alZTZCAaekRaaS-Nc82teF1HuS3TKYEQY1Kh74YBAqcAqURvtP4kWHhcksmDdu-p9MfB-PRpN3llZXj5yzRg1ymgSe-GIomb8lWliWIxLLgvAKMMqzfD560RiaqlOReLxuHR8XPgWhPXjIu1ibNSzL7jlhsZaeUYaJ_VDVx5Z_HzivUp7PDgl/s4032/IMG_2488.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXgX9eBu_alZTZCAaekRaaS-Nc82teF1HuS3TKYEQY1Kh74YBAqcAqURvtP4kWHhcksmDdu-p9MfB-PRpN3llZXj5yzRg1ymgSe-GIomb8lWliWIxLLgvAKMMqzfD560RiaqlOReLxuHR8XPgWhPXjIu1ibNSzL7jlhsZaeUYaJ_VDVx5Z_HzivUp7PDgl/s320/IMG_2488.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">this morning in the car on the way to school we had a short discussion on time. our son told me that this year - in 5th grade - seems to be going much faster than his 4th grade year did. our middle daughter agreed that the days at school seem to go so quickly, but sometimes the weeks seem to last forever.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i've thought a lot about time lately. as i get older time moves faster. maybe not technically, but since each day makes up a smaller and smaller percentage of my ongoing life, the argument can be made nonetheless. </div><div style="text-align: left;">and right now i'm trying to get a hold of things that do not want to be held.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">my kids growing up. this year flying by. even the fleeting moments i only seem to realize are the best ones as they're sliding past. </div><div style="text-align: left;">they will not be held. </div><div style="text-align: left;">we cannot hold water with a closed fist. the only way is to remain open-handed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">as we slide ever faster to the end of the year, the end of november squeaks by and brings with it all things christmas. they are here in full force. the calendar flipping to december means decorating the house, getting the tree, and moving entirely into the chaos that generally leads up to christmas.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">{i could spend a while on the chaos alone.</div><div style="text-align: left;">but. it's probably best if we keep moving.}</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">this fall proved busier than we would have liked, but brought with it some really sweet moments of growth as individuals, and as a family. we watched a lot of soccer between each of the kids' teams, college games, and of course, the premier league.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">work slowed down after a summer capped off with a national champions trophy, but the preparation for next summer began after a few weeks of respite and will start to pick up faster and faster again over the next few weeks, and we will be fully off and running come january. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we just finished our giving tuesday campaign which raised $25K to help sustain our program through another season. videos accompanied our campaign, and the full giving tuesday video was such an encouragement to me. if you support my work - or even if you don't - and you haven't seen it, you can take a few minutes and watch it below {or watch a better quality of it <a href="https://vimeo.com/857514286" target="_blank">here</a> }. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz5ytJIcDyfg7aIrtTOwxfQE555vcsoqWmE9chZbueBJQrhu0FME4Q2BMeF8QSPrXYGULSiFBcKBI9TNLrMUg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">this is what we work for. this is what your support provides. it provides a way for us to put in the work throughout the year so that we can have a summer that <i>looks</i> <i>like this</i>. {sidenote: if you'd like to contribute, you can do that <a href="https://bit.ly/LEgivingtuesday" target="_blank">here</a>.}</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i know the ladies' stories are great places to point to when we talk about impact, but when i stop and really think about it what baffles my mind more than anything else is how the Lord has sanded off some of my rough edges through this work. {yes, there are plenty more because i don't do things halfway. i'm a full-on sharp-edged mess.} you all pour into me so that i can pour out into the ladies that step on the field each summer. the way that your sacrifice has borne fruit in my own life is nothing short of amazing.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">when i started playing soccer at six years old i had no idea the impact that the game would have on me. and i had no idea that the Lord would use that game and the pieces of my life story wrapped up in it to share His love and goodness. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">that is the big picture. people knowing Jesus. my heart transforming more and more each day to look more like Him and to be a better picture for others of what it means to follow Him. to spur others on as they spur me on. but it's so easy to lose my balance. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">on one side i can get stuck in the idea that i have to do certain things in order to show people Jesus. <i>but it's not up to me</i>. it never was. and no matter what i do, it never will be. i'm called to be obedient to what the Lord has called me to do. to "put my hand to the plow" in the space i'm in. i'm no one's savior. not even my own. {although if i'm honest, i forget this a lot. sanctification is a <b>process</b>.}</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">on the flip-side it's really easy to get lost in the minutiae of everyday life and think that nothing i do matters. it's easy to miss the pieces that matter and concentrate instead of the things that just don't. so often i get in the way of what i'm trying to do because i forget the why. i get lost in the check-boxes and forget why i wrote down those check-boxes to begin with. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">many days i feel like i'm not doing anything that really matters. this is true across the board, in just about every role i play, because there are so many small things. things that seem so insignificant. </div><div style="text-align: left;">but why do i do the small things? </div><div style="text-align: left;">because all of the small things contribute mightily to the big thing. </div><div style="text-align: left;">am i being faithful with what i've been given?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">this morning i read the end of the book of john. the recounting of when peter asks Jesus: what about john? what will happen to him? and Jesus tells him, "what's it to you? you, follow me!"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">am i following Jesus? exactly where he put me? with clear eyes focused on him? </div><div style="text-align: left;">this season, and each season, may we remember to keep our eyes focused on him.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-57992692552317704152023-10-03T13:37:00.001-04:002023-10-03T13:55:18.501-04:00the long-awaited fallhi friends. as we get going i have to give you fair warning: this will likely be another long one. so, maybe go ahead and warm up some coffee or apple cider, grab a blanket, and a cozy spot to read. <div>i'll wait...<div>ready?</div><div><br /></div><div>alright. well, here we sit at the <strike>end</strike> start of another month. september went by far faster than i thought any one month could. i suppose that each month - and moment - of our lives fly by faster and faster as we age, we just don't always see it go. <div><br /></div><div>i've been sitting out on the porch to do my work for the last week or two. any time i can, really. because the majority of september gave us lovely fall-ish temperatures. this surprised the heck out of me in the best possible way since most of our septembers {since 2006 anyway} have felt more like a sauna than anything resembling the autumns of my childhood memory. </div><div><br /></div><div>but i digress. life has felt altogether different from the summer in both good and hard ways. all three kids have been in school for well over a month now and i've started to get used to having more space in my days. granted, this means i expect far more out of my days by way of productivity, and i can get stuck in a cycle that is, well, less-than-healthy.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqjaOEockZzeDGk6AckmdDo2z5mZceUGlM1js_ea3pFpbOgDI7mKSon8VzcM_mcRhq2mxN1CuFeIhzZ9iNHbq2o4cMJfhP-0gA6z1Pkwe9yv3BTs3Okm2ofvWzhj4JXRS46Rqf1lfafZJTI2V7ZPeEL333o4P_Ff_tEVXgfJB8mi0iRqdhkGExJ4hVEtU/s4032/IMG_2594.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqjaOEockZzeDGk6AckmdDo2z5mZceUGlM1js_ea3pFpbOgDI7mKSon8VzcM_mcRhq2mxN1CuFeIhzZ9iNHbq2o4cMJfhP-0gA6z1Pkwe9yv3BTs3Okm2ofvWzhj4JXRS46Rqf1lfafZJTI2V7ZPeEL333o4P_Ff_tEVXgfJB8mi0iRqdhkGExJ4hVEtU/s320/IMG_2594.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div>by now i have realized that i should not put 18 things on my daily to-do list even if i think it's possible to <i>maybe</i> get them all done. because that doesn't leave any space for the unexpected and as much as i like to be in control - or feel like i am - i'm not actually in control of much at all.</div><div><br /></div><div>you would think that spending years working in ministry, and coaching sports, and <i>parenting</i> would have hammered that reality into my brain long ago. but what can i say? </div><div>i'm stubborn.</div><div>and i have a very short memory.</div><div><br /></div><div>but fall has certainly given me more time to think despite the busy-ness of family life and kids' activities - ie: lots and lots of soccer - picking up again. i've thought around in circles about what the Lord would have me do, and where he's leading. i've questioned and questioned and questioned some more about whether i should stay put, or pivot, or change course entirely, and i can't say that i've landed anywhere that feels solid. it's more that i can only see a step or two in front of my face and the road hasn't turned yet. {sidebar: did you ever read anne of green gables? and her analogy of the bend in the road? i think about that all.the.time. in these situations.}</div><div><br /></div><div>this is an opportunity to trust. and i hate those, if i'm honest. because that reminds me of how helpless i really am of my own accord.</div><div><br /></div><div>without the Lord we have no breath in our lungs. he is the giver and sustainer of life. but somehow i still think i can figure this thing out on my own.</div><div><br /></div><div>on the ministry front fall is the calmest season we have. the ladies have made their way back to their schools and their lives, and we have jumped back into preparing for the next year. we follow along with our players through their college seasons. we go to their fields when we can. we lift them up in prayer and send texts and insta dms back and forth. we pray for them and bring them to the feet of Jesus. </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-FKkiijMRlXm8paUdLiz1ecLV6qkhj-WgHPVbShnglfCa05Hd5DzHTUUtJyyv1BLonmU_IyIIvpnLEic7Uq9IUUSRDGN88Xehc_fr0gLsaCcOAiYyg1tpAt5Mknsj0oODSbOd12NeNqK8p0SIvEcNQyv33wTgDvXwPr6sPhau1i__YdRyHmK17IVBm7a/s4032/IMG_1872.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-FKkiijMRlXm8paUdLiz1ecLV6qkhj-WgHPVbShnglfCa05Hd5DzHTUUtJyyv1BLonmU_IyIIvpnLEic7Uq9IUUSRDGN88Xehc_fr0gLsaCcOAiYyg1tpAt5Mknsj0oODSbOd12NeNqK8p0SIvEcNQyv33wTgDvXwPr6sPhau1i__YdRyHmK17IVBm7a/s320/IMG_1872.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYJfF7AnMjH4IE6z4brBtYqNMQcyl2YPPscRqDa5vZR7OvYf2z_MFQhEZ9hyCW8nup8Gc-JFpFKvpzUuULvR2CRbHwBc4hH7CHSibuf2KD_F5E10Rpw7e2Erz_ikOXoVxREgmWcqFYtyARMuF-fWfu22G7ZKiSjXnu4qb7X6ll4IuZi7a7y7Rr4GgFpV3D/s4032/IMG_2791.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYJfF7AnMjH4IE6z4brBtYqNMQcyl2YPPscRqDa5vZR7OvYf2z_MFQhEZ9hyCW8nup8Gc-JFpFKvpzUuULvR2CRbHwBc4hH7CHSibuf2KD_F5E10Rpw7e2Erz_ikOXoVxREgmWcqFYtyARMuF-fWfu22G7ZKiSjXnu4qb7X6ll4IuZi7a7y7Rr4GgFpV3D/s320/IMG_2791.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div>we take our adult league team to a couple of tournaments. and we begin the praying and planning process for the summer of 2024. we plan and plan knowing all the while that at least half of the things will not happen as we planned them. and that's where that whole trust thing comes in. we trust that the Lord is really actually in control of it all. and frankly, even if we don't trust it, </div><div>he still is.</div><div><br /></div><div>as i think back over the season, and even this past spring where all of the planning ramps up, it has me thinking about the pieces i really love about what we do. one of the things i love most about the lady eagles is something that started long before me, and is not particular to the eagles, but it is hard to find in general: </div><div>a lack of compartmentalization. </div><div>walking with Jesus is not something you do off the field, divorced from who you are on it. who you claim to be as a christian is not who you are inside the walls of a church, or who you are in the midst of a philosophical discussion about what is right and wrong, moral or immoral, ethical or unethical. but how you allow the Lord to mold and shape your whole life. every aspect of it. </div><div>your belief about God informs every single decision. </div><div><br /></div><div>and it's a work in progress. <b>we</b> are each a work in progress. </div><div>that's why we have each other. </div><div>to sharpen each other.</div><div>to shave off the rough edges.</div><div>to call each other out.</div><div><br /></div><div>it's a summer full of stumbling and falling on our faces</div><div>next to our sisters.</div><div>where 25 sets of hands will reach down to help you back up.</div><div><br /></div><div>the more lady eagles alums i meet, the more i hear about what this community of sisters means to them. the more i hear about the flipped-upside-down transformation that occurred over the course of a summer or two. how gracious of the Lord to continue to work in and through this ministry, in and through this game, to bring women to himself. that they may know how wide, and deep, and long, and high his love reaches.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJS8rCjza7Hs0j3B4x4i08Q2cbrTnB2SYRAhPqhCoT4mb_60PZdmpjyJVXsRaOif7SwPvrHFnj0cus-3UJ1QE58fZrBV1ZNp_8nu4Duba0eLZrDN1ixUgBGf5IrZam_Mcwm9mKX5sptKsxwRrDyKCtHBOWgYY4w90xWGmSMD_wdMUChsNeC3Rr9LedK8On/s1170/IMG_2842.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="783" data-original-width="1170" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJS8rCjza7Hs0j3B4x4i08Q2cbrTnB2SYRAhPqhCoT4mb_60PZdmpjyJVXsRaOif7SwPvrHFnj0cus-3UJ1QE58fZrBV1ZNp_8nu4Duba0eLZrDN1ixUgBGf5IrZam_Mcwm9mKX5sptKsxwRrDyKCtHBOWgYY4w90xWGmSMD_wdMUChsNeC3Rr9LedK8On/w320-h214/IMG_2842.jpeg" title="courtesy of wpsl" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">courtesy of <a href="http://wpslsoccer.com" target="_blank">wpsl</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVn3ThZB9zz0-n_u1WQlqbBQgAxRi8yPOwRYQx91FbXYXk7obQDv8lf-tFYSY5HworLP9PbnO7I9WFTRVxH8itj6sAhIHPlnJy9zhKF-3mLwWUK1VaNWuOjSK2aJHOIQCz2cSB78Trno8jtVCze-tzX7tpyVwkw14bOUu71mibQBykN9JX5b0XY3PiZte5/s3903/IMG_2843.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2602" data-original-width="3903" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVn3ThZB9zz0-n_u1WQlqbBQgAxRi8yPOwRYQx91FbXYXk7obQDv8lf-tFYSY5HworLP9PbnO7I9WFTRVxH8itj6sAhIHPlnJy9zhKF-3mLwWUK1VaNWuOjSK2aJHOIQCz2cSB78Trno8jtVCze-tzX7tpyVwkw14bOUu71mibQBykN9JX5b0XY3PiZte5/s320/IMG_2843.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our adult league ladies at the beer city cup in asheville</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>yes, a trophy is nice. but we cannot take that with us at the end of our days. </div><div>a giant game of pick-up soccer in heaven though? </div><div>i'd be okay with that.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-9402622125460253682023-08-23T13:34:00.003-04:002023-08-23T13:34:56.368-04:00we are the champions.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7gMRFI1lAah40CdMAVjFqk8f7KZ5vOi65StD7HyvRtf4ycCAXUGSaiy1AxlijEwvqjrCiub8jVRzRGlAJX91OyHvfgKCw_ZjregyDbLjXa9ty75AIx5WSsEKdwmrIkbCholeoNbL9Ss4q85L3F9KRR8jBJn515kZZdYy1TbxWFHa7iR79oQOY1KIiWeW_/s5472/starters%20huddle%202023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7gMRFI1lAah40CdMAVjFqk8f7KZ5vOi65StD7HyvRtf4ycCAXUGSaiy1AxlijEwvqjrCiub8jVRzRGlAJX91OyHvfgKCw_ZjregyDbLjXa9ty75AIx5WSsEKdwmrIkbCholeoNbL9Ss4q85L3F9KRR8jBJn515kZZdYy1TbxWFHa7iR79oQOY1KIiWeW_/s320/starters%20huddle%202023.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>hello, friends! </div><div>i know, it has been a little while. between then and now i got to live in the midst of a crazy and chaotic story with the lady eagles this summer. one that only the Lord could write. and while at times i wondered - and asked - if he was sure that this is definitely and actually where he wants me to be, i still have the overwhelming sense that i should remain where my feet are, and be here now.<div><br /></div><div>i like to know what's coming, but i'm not God, and he hasn't shown me more than here. so i'm going to stay here until he shows me a different way.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbznEwQRfQK7ChhjNLT3IghaBhEgXl-UyVOf37lLUTK46gUqgceyWkBCISnauqJfz_2t0kQM4tSvRBESkVu8WcpjRkpl_OJ1tjTYer3Mo5efq-fgCAh9E9wgc-NsTFlLJUN23IRDNmFP4dadYdqRMMhyTGNz0Fjf8Gdi-mppqsHluwG25oOIkwhd_UuwTK/s4032/IMG_2306.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbznEwQRfQK7ChhjNLT3IghaBhEgXl-UyVOf37lLUTK46gUqgceyWkBCISnauqJfz_2t0kQM4tSvRBESkVu8WcpjRkpl_OJ1tjTYer3Mo5efq-fgCAh9E9wgc-NsTFlLJUN23IRDNmFP4dadYdqRMMhyTGNz0Fjf8Gdi-mppqsHluwG25oOIkwhd_UuwTK/s320/IMG_2306.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ebenezer night</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>this summer was an absolute whirlwind. and while the title of this post may give away the ending, the lead-up is still just as crazy even when you know how the story ends. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3sZQJsBbuqqxT9mpKnQRpjNwzXlgFaP5kfcHv8CQplyiBHRD5VtrPFhAdrfwP-v08WDei4sC1JxcJ5RRWE50Ep3lQQy_Gan2xPNCdTd2IOd-4gq6drpLOq15nzaI4kFQimxm_WFVlaZqzjyort_D-PkgreQ0ycVYFwIcttH7rmyk1H9fVYAdETZlbMo-/s1311/IMG_2679.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1311" data-original-width="1170" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3sZQJsBbuqqxT9mpKnQRpjNwzXlgFaP5kfcHv8CQplyiBHRD5VtrPFhAdrfwP-v08WDei4sC1JxcJ5RRWE50Ep3lQQy_Gan2xPNCdTd2IOd-4gq6drpLOq15nzaI4kFQimxm_WFVlaZqzjyort_D-PkgreQ0ycVYFwIcttH7rmyk1H9fVYAdETZlbMo-/s320/IMG_2679.jpeg" width="286" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">via our @charlotteladyeagles instagram</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>so let me take you back to july 1st. the team went into a big game against nashville - in nashville - knowing that we had to win. yes, we had another regular season game after this one. but if we didn't win on july 1st then nashville would be at the top of the conference, and we would have no way to assume that position even if we won our last game. this would mean no post-season play. </div><div>our season would be done after our final regular season game on july 5. </div><div><br /></div><div>we wanted more time together as a team. we wanted to keep playing so we could stay together. and, as competitors, we also wanted to win. </div><div><br /></div><div>july 1: the game remained a 0-0 draw for the first 85 minutes of the {90-minute}game.</div><div>and then, </div><div>we made one mistake in the back. </div><div>one bad pass in the wrong area. </div><div>it fell to the wrong player on the other team. </div><div>and she put it away.</div><div>1-0 nashville. </div><div><br /></div><div>and that's how it would end. a 1-0 defeat. which meant that was it. we got one more game together, and then </div><div>the season would end. </div><div>way </div><div>too </div><div>soon.</div><div><br /></div><div>leading up to our july 5 match against another charlotte team we were given a glimmer of hope. another likely conference champion wouldn't be able to field a team for the regional tournament. if they did win, but could not field a team, then the second place team in the hosting conference would get the first option to go. that second place team was us. </div><div>as long as we won on july 5. </div><div><br /></div><div>we had a chance to keep going. </div><div>to stay together for longer.</div><div>to play on.</div><div><br /></div><div>we beat this team before. but it was a hard-fought game. a 2-0 win. </div><div>definitely not a given.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTb_cvy6HMvvYOmbXH4z3Ohz2JN41G593_WZHcpesJtkmXaJTbPTtTbLQEstkVGfU0hX47LArxHqdsRc4vEqlNjJbZYMeRqGTITSeoIMlVRCV3Da-A0K6gizmEdS4FPqwxFMZoW611uZPO5MQwpDxwi1gdHDjITLkN2HES3ObosmwQND3lsSXQzG9chiMB/s5472/tay%202023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTb_cvy6HMvvYOmbXH4z3Ohz2JN41G593_WZHcpesJtkmXaJTbPTtTbLQEstkVGfU0hX47LArxHqdsRc4vEqlNjJbZYMeRqGTITSeoIMlVRCV3Da-A0K6gizmEdS4FPqwxFMZoW611uZPO5MQwpDxwi1gdHDjITLkN2HES3ObosmwQND3lsSXQzG9chiMB/s320/tay%202023.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div>but when the game started we were on our back foot. </div><div>we proceeded to go down 2-0 in the first 30 minutes. </div><div>it felt like the wind got knocked out of us. </div><div>why in the world were we playing like we didn't have to play?</div><div>we managed to claw back and make it 2-1 just before halftime. </div><div><br /></div><div>but we needed the wake-up call. </div><div>it wouldn't just <i>happen</i>. </div><div>in order to keep playing we had to step up.</div><div>we had to <b>play</b>. not just step on the field. </div><div>but play with all we had.</div><div><br /></div><div>and let me tell you. </div><div>when we scored off a header to make it 2-2, our bench erupted.</div><div>but when we scored with about 10 minutes left to make it 3-2?</div><div>it was positively electric. </div><div><br /></div><div>a 3-2 result meant we had given all we had to keep going. </div><div>but it still wasn't up to us. </div><div><br /></div><div>the following weekend we got the official word that one of the conference champions couldn't go to regionals, and we would have the opportunity to step into their vacated spot.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>one week following that word, the team headed back to nashville. </div><div>we won 1-0 in the regional semi-final against a good team out of florida. </div><div>but the next day we got our chance to play nashville.</div><div>again.</div><div>at their home field.</div><div>again.</div><div><br /></div><div>this game went very different from the first.</div><div>we scored in the first few minutes of the game. </div><div>1-0 good guys.</div><div>but then.</div><div>they scored 4.</div><div>back-to-back-to-back-to-back.</div><div>thankfully we put one away before the end of the half to make it 4-2, but dang.</div><div>it was like a sucker punch.</div><div><br /></div><div>so coming back and tying the game 4-4 by the end of regulation? it showed incredible fortitude.</div><div>and then winning 5-4 in OT after scoring in the first few minutes of OT, but having to see out the non-golden-goal OT anyway? </div><div>oh.my.goodness.</div><div>what a feeling.</div><div><br /></div><div>it was almost unbelievable. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFrsm956YWMO1WmZk2PVBChwYeKmBQr4PN-TWMF0D9ZfMKrn5TfV0cWso5LYSPQ8OzI0z-MUUa1I5SONYEInh48u7DXu0Lw7UQgnRG8UWZMGSxpTcvpoCsMk9Vq4BEtnH8HRJ6vBk0j52cd90Vn2bGBH323GJXdom2GTItzeTALDhfUFd3BXyLKWAj49x/s5472/corner%20kick%202023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFrsm956YWMO1WmZk2PVBChwYeKmBQr4PN-TWMF0D9ZfMKrn5TfV0cWso5LYSPQ8OzI0z-MUUa1I5SONYEInh48u7DXu0Lw7UQgnRG8UWZMGSxpTcvpoCsMk9Vq4BEtnH8HRJ6vBk0j52cd90Vn2bGBH323GJXdom2GTItzeTALDhfUFd3BXyLKWAj49x/s320/corner%20kick%202023.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>after a <b><i>hefty</i></b> week of planning on the staff side of things, our ladies made their way to stillwater, OK for the national championships along with the other regional champions from the east, west, and central divisions.</div><div><br /></div><div>the semi-final was such a good game. against a formidable opponent out of RI. </div><div>but finally in the 88th minute, we put one away. </div><div>1-0. </div><div>we'd go to the 'ship, </div><div>and play for a national title.</div><div><br /></div><div>the next day - sunday, july 23rd - the game didn't start until 7pm CT. i didn't travel with the team, so peter put the kids to bed as i set up the livestream on the tv. </div><div>here we go.</div><div><br /></div><div>and man oh man, it was a game. </div><div>it was so.much.fun. to watch.</div><div>we were so evenly matched. </div><div>there was so much back and forth.</div><div>i honestly didn't know which way it would go. </div><div><br /></div><div>we sailed toward OT, still scoreless as the game drew on.</div><div>but then. <i>in the 91st minute</i>. </div><div>a loose ball bounced about 12 or 15 yards out. </div><div>and our outside back - the same outside back who had stepped up to score goal number 3 in that 3-2 win back on july 5th - stepped up and put it away.</div><div><i>in the 91st minute</i>. </div><div><i>of the national championship</i>.</div><div>1-0 eags.</div><div>national champs.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeyDl5TNXkZ1QSr9slqGUGvOgK95sVv-gshlNux0qvfgLDMSXQJbuTDuRFCQ5xDAuNPnzHD4yKA_dmqunkJLA2EU_Kw4nQBVa6V8OkC0bY13Yh_bORMq_76RoMnygADB9x2aiK7124fTJhRVAP2fcngPb4yBakIpqjagM82qNV715jykxyektLSx0-16Ic/s1302/IMG_2680.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1302" data-original-width="1054" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeyDl5TNXkZ1QSr9slqGUGvOgK95sVv-gshlNux0qvfgLDMSXQJbuTDuRFCQ5xDAuNPnzHD4yKA_dmqunkJLA2EU_Kw4nQBVa6V8OkC0bY13Yh_bORMq_76RoMnygADB9x2aiK7124fTJhRVAP2fcngPb4yBakIpqjagM82qNV715jykxyektLSx0-16Ic/s320/IMG_2680.jpeg" width="259" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">via our @charlotteeagles instagram</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>as we talked about it after the fact, we just kept coming back to this: </div><div>only the Lord could write that story.</div><div><br /></div><div>and honestly, there is still a tiny little part of me that isn't sure it actually happened because living it was so incredibly surreal.</div><div><br /></div><div>what a gift to be a part of it.</div><div><br /></div><div>granted, getting the team home from victory proved to be a trickier task than planned as american decided to cancel their flight about 7 hours before it was supposed to take off which led to a middle-of-the-night wake-up that i was not at all prepared for. </div><div><br /></div><div>but they made it back. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM2NYLqyGH4tBZt2eTBZorg9WUtgd5e5e9v-rWCC5ZcEnX1CZMRwILJ015fzSD3TS74ds_ZHPvS3RoPgbEhRqB9FVNjCIZ8KwYnWF9oCsZzcm6GNJ18FdhSHMJf8hjTLmedFdrGZoBPFPeCF-Ygkz1F21vJpE-2o2dxDsKrxRUNpfG0EfMtJfNwn_sf_K5/s4032/IMG_2389.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM2NYLqyGH4tBZt2eTBZorg9WUtgd5e5e9v-rWCC5ZcEnX1CZMRwILJ015fzSD3TS74ds_ZHPvS3RoPgbEhRqB9FVNjCIZ8KwYnWF9oCsZzcm6GNJ18FdhSHMJf8hjTLmedFdrGZoBPFPeCF-Ygkz1F21vJpE-2o2dxDsKrxRUNpfG0EfMtJfNwn_sf_K5/s320/IMG_2389.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div>and we met them at the airport with cheers. </div><div>i hugged each one of their tired necks.</div><div>and we gave thanks for an absolutely incredible season.</div><div><br /></div><div>i'll save the updates on the home-front for their own post. because this has been a long one already. </div><div>for now, let me just say: thank you! thank you to those of you who have supported me and the lady eagles. thank you for supporting the work and coming alongside us in various ways throughout this whirlwind of a season.</div><div><br /></div><div>trophies do not always indicate the best seasons, but this one was one heck of a ride.</div><div>trophy or not, God is so good.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-25545919877515205012023-06-15T14:51:00.000-04:002023-06-15T14:51:00.699-04:00eagles & life. all the updates.<div style="text-align: left;">hi friends. did you forget about this space too? </div><div style="text-align: left;">i think i might've because it has been a minute or five. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i had the realization earlier this week that i still have this space here. and i need to send out more regular life and ministry updates so i might as well smoosh the two together.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the last handful of months have been <i>busy</i>. the kind of busy that i never wanted. the kind where you kind of feel like you're drowning because real rest is so rare.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>dramatic? maybe a touch.</div><div>but it was <i>a lot</i>.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">work has been crazy busy, of course, all the prep work for two teams of ladies migrating to charlotte for the summer will do that. but on the life front: maycember is a real thing, and this year it seemed to take over april as well. {if you don't know what maycember is, this will help: <a href="https://youtu.be/S8_IszUUAkw" target="_blank">maycember</a>.} our kids are now rising 5th and 3rd graders, and our baby is a kindergartener! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">they wrapped up soccer, preschool, and school through may and as soon as soccer was done they immediately moved on to summer swim team.</div><div style="text-align: left;">some days i had to remind myself to breathe as we navigated through the spring. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZqaV5ZWO_EWTv_9efnohckb7M_ZD45rkSYyYWi5XGeSFYNKMVPuf4Q5rSsH6bHA60P7rEdoq70qUKqR37m0aSnnCozjkN3eaDonZrJioXoLSIDl-J6stxRm10i6zh5XZw6Fp9aWT9gHvK1CdZApgt2X9BxqMP5Sdrom2KxKBwA967Ab5Y9pGUcrxjWg/s4032/416F7BB5-CF1C-414B-8FBD-7648F7F3B423.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZqaV5ZWO_EWTv_9efnohckb7M_ZD45rkSYyYWi5XGeSFYNKMVPuf4Q5rSsH6bHA60P7rEdoq70qUKqR37m0aSnnCozjkN3eaDonZrJioXoLSIDl-J6stxRm10i6zh5XZw6Fp9aWT9gHvK1CdZApgt2X9BxqMP5Sdrom2KxKBwA967Ab5Y9pGUcrxjWg/s320/416F7BB5-CF1C-414B-8FBD-7648F7F3B423.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmo8kBuG4sut7H4S9Lm6J6S2txj7p0LvH4qYjYwnA8OzbIE9q60MrBgnGMQDYkumW9COUhzZolOki2zWKfamTyxBI0q6879WTatPx79ApELkzsuMcIU_ZWraA1Rl8Igcgw0LKuYU2o3YCTbL2ZcbmrSgRg_aAUIgLdxRdY66jEXzN9CgaBbKaCZT6ng/s4032/EC6E6F6A-F5FD-4FEA-82E7-5E97EC2DACC9.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmo8kBuG4sut7H4S9Lm6J6S2txj7p0LvH4qYjYwnA8OzbIE9q60MrBgnGMQDYkumW9COUhzZolOki2zWKfamTyxBI0q6879WTatPx79ApELkzsuMcIU_ZWraA1Rl8Igcgw0LKuYU2o3YCTbL2ZcbmrSgRg_aAUIgLdxRdY66jEXzN9CgaBbKaCZT6ng/s320/EC6E6F6A-F5FD-4FEA-82E7-5E97EC2DACC9.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">now we're still in the midst of a busy season, but the type of busy has shifted. because the ladies of the lady eagles arrived back in may, and this season is at the heart of what we work for all year. because while we have three different teams that we organize, two of them are only here for the summer. so the majority of what we work for happens now. </div><div style="text-align: left;">this is what we've worked toward for nine months. </div><div style="text-align: left;">for this time. </div><div style="text-align: left;">with these ladies. </div><div style="text-align: left;">on the holy ground of a soccer field. </div><div style="text-align: left;">where the God of the universe dwells because {more than} 2 or 3 have gathered in His name. </div><div style="text-align: left;">to play the game for His glory.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigTCAQAX1GJtcefZBx3Usi4N6IgGkUvsPUQYFl4Svd3XqblLjye_Pzp4v2Zb-k1Hsz0cs3lew9_i1gkofZjNNbkf_n6ehgvxu4vn4ZaV6UDwSBF_5beb0GNXWytGi2xTYj_NNgDODgcRWCnlPP7QTe2LPHVYUzqpDMIjNSNui76yW_bRDRE-sFM4FuZw/s5472/3I3A2588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigTCAQAX1GJtcefZBx3Usi4N6IgGkUvsPUQYFl4Svd3XqblLjye_Pzp4v2Zb-k1Hsz0cs3lew9_i1gkofZjNNbkf_n6ehgvxu4vn4ZaV6UDwSBF_5beb0GNXWytGi2xTYj_NNgDODgcRWCnlPP7QTe2LPHVYUzqpDMIjNSNui76yW_bRDRE-sFM4FuZw/s320/3I3A2588.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: left;">i still have moments of wondering whether or not i can sustain this type of pace for much longer, but having the ladies here, having the constant reminder of why we do what we do - so souls made in the image of God can know Him better, and walk with Him more closely, and glorify Him in how they play the game and how they live their lives - helps me remember. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7mR9QGA8NcCzLCNi7clL69VSHX4My3SsqPMPmEXiWxcqS7tb5-EAkRKPACj7QqrvkfWTDoNVcaBmJSz3Ft7UUiIGPs6dWBe8888mEbNQGZl-a5y4Pl0ctUWPXcSCBSaY1ZYocq7hf30aZecG8fYQZjdsp6uSnH6745meajK5iBINw-9X5s8XkHGDng/s3456/IMG_1633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="3456" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7mR9QGA8NcCzLCNi7clL69VSHX4My3SsqPMPmEXiWxcqS7tb5-EAkRKPACj7QqrvkfWTDoNVcaBmJSz3Ft7UUiIGPs6dWBe8888mEbNQGZl-a5y4Pl0ctUWPXcSCBSaY1ZYocq7hf30aZecG8fYQZjdsp6uSnH6745meajK5iBINw-9X5s8XkHGDng/s320/IMG_1633.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">{rec day: when our teams dress like they did as rec players}</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: left;">do i forget a lot? yes, of course. i'm human. how quickly i forget. {you do too, just in case you were feeling a little unsure.} </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we are all like the israelites wandering in the desert constantly shown God's glory - in the pillar of cloud, in the pillar of fire, in the face of moses, and in the manna & quail falling from the sky -</div><div style="text-align: left;">but we still construct the golden calf. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but then, on monday nights, i come together with our wpsl ladies for team dinner. we worship through fellowship and song and study the word together, and i get a little bit of a taste of how God is sanding off the rough edges in each of our lives. </div><div style="text-align: left;">and it's a little bit easier to remember. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6I51JPiDerDvlZcq-_WGvczxmVGKz0hAP06GGdFAXAosdNba9d-wayKrjrKNEhJvCqA0JA2j84Kr8w9q5DfLr4bLAGlyn7RpIj7ilO-2nYiHKAIYrCInoA3NSzmK-xJzkACZLIlEPRAyMHxQQ-m4odmKKaN4gDQFATYtV8yb9F-UI-ADaFDzB6Oa0Q/s3456/IMG_9922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="3456" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6I51JPiDerDvlZcq-_WGvczxmVGKz0hAP06GGdFAXAosdNba9d-wayKrjrKNEhJvCqA0JA2j84Kr8w9q5DfLr4bLAGlyn7RpIj7ilO-2nYiHKAIYrCInoA3NSzmK-xJzkACZLIlEPRAyMHxQQ-m4odmKKaN4gDQFATYtV8yb9F-UI-ADaFDzB6Oa0Q/s320/IMG_9922.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">supporting my work means supporting the hours and hours {and hours} of preparation for this year's tour {ie: soccer missions trip} to medellin, colombia. the generosity of support poured out for me means that 26 of our people boarded airplanes and used the tools of a soccer ball and a field to share the love of Jesus with kids in colombia. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3_PzAIVD4mbmsjerr9Kb5QHYobBU2_8CId3zgHEbBJAQ_rfTfwK3h98U9c3RbG4mQe0u9dQQUOTM5Jy80FlYhZa9-cdJvhpGVTxOuVRuij10-p4Pw8nY25uRcru6Tx-KVAz3nXfQKTvNGZ5G-dug9j5ZIaxMKpeBn3wrt3JzQ2l-dS29RmFesd-rBQ/s645/IMG_5431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="430" data-original-width="645" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3_PzAIVD4mbmsjerr9Kb5QHYobBU2_8CId3zgHEbBJAQ_rfTfwK3h98U9c3RbG4mQe0u9dQQUOTM5Jy80FlYhZa9-cdJvhpGVTxOuVRuij10-p4Pw8nY25uRcru6Tx-KVAz3nXfQKTvNGZ5G-dug9j5ZIaxMKpeBn3wrt3JzQ2l-dS29RmFesd-rBQ/s320/IMG_5431.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">{in medellin, colombia}</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: left;">it means we got to organize a team of our adult league ladies who went to regionals in texas last weekend. they stayed together for the weekend, and got to both catch a glimpse <i>and</i> be a glimpse of what it means to play soccer to glorify the Lord.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEJDsoqLk81mcBFauUOwciWSz-pWw6LxPJNF13estLc-FMoYU-5qd0bOm1qUlXUbsLlb96u-icrLtFn01Xv25EZ0chBJv8kSpdEmMlluoNDq6-Ywi7WrjjH-O5wutfMBI8UnVGnSZYEdltXPqRaLVPbs1AUwWZMFfub9LsRjzKXEYp5qPWYLmoGDsoTg/s2000/Image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1126" data-original-width="2000" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEJDsoqLk81mcBFauUOwciWSz-pWw6LxPJNF13estLc-FMoYU-5qd0bOm1qUlXUbsLlb96u-icrLtFn01Xv25EZ0chBJv8kSpdEmMlluoNDq6-Ywi7WrjjH-O5wutfMBI8UnVGnSZYEdltXPqRaLVPbs1AUwWZMFfub9LsRjzKXEYp5qPWYLmoGDsoTg/s320/Image.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">{our adult league squad}</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: left;">supporting this work means helping us bring about 50 ladies to charlotte for the summer. they come together as teams and communities who are poured into by their host families, coaches, staff members, teachers, dinner hosts, and teammates, and have the opportunity for their lives to be completely transformed by the gospel.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">because of a silly game. and because of the pricking of the hearts of people across the world who recognize that God is the God of everything, including this beautiful game. and the God of everything can use this game to impact lives and hearts.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi7RqWnAEKpj5KunhrESJP5_b0_9KCrjQ7qfpO5Gk5oRZgNuvN_2wRZUVpiE8Tv8D6dVdfuTd9ZQvcYpooROka0r80skvAv7dd8mPyB3iHnHa_BL1QUfyC5KyFvW0o-SaRvRjewQJEanYaoGkWr5mTC9XoLd-eBJ60hkk0KbuGL1cemLboNfOWywsywA/s5472/3I3A2691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi7RqWnAEKpj5KunhrESJP5_b0_9KCrjQ7qfpO5Gk5oRZgNuvN_2wRZUVpiE8Tv8D6dVdfuTd9ZQvcYpooROka0r80skvAv7dd8mPyB3iHnHa_BL1QUfyC5KyFvW0o-SaRvRjewQJEanYaoGkWr5mTC9XoLd-eBJ60hkk0KbuGL1cemLboNfOWywsywA/s320/3I3A2691.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseR4uNc434PqkLF6w0Mpal1lI6rBhzvK-vuYgQW_rQPi9hCJs24VyhAaIa2CCcIvqgtlo7Bu21VPJQF1A2n-K2sr8bj0P1oX7EZ3XLPOinRxSEMMhaXuSMQxtk3HvAkhoIrQ0COkEE0Mw7DKaS_-MtF9Z3063DFLN1FKuRXthfuVcoyRRS0YMktB-cQ/s5472/3I3A2648.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseR4uNc434PqkLF6w0Mpal1lI6rBhzvK-vuYgQW_rQPi9hCJs24VyhAaIa2CCcIvqgtlo7Bu21VPJQF1A2n-K2sr8bj0P1oX7EZ3XLPOinRxSEMMhaXuSMQxtk3HvAkhoIrQ0COkEE0Mw7DKaS_-MtF9Z3063DFLN1FKuRXthfuVcoyRRS0YMktB-cQ/s320/3I3A2648.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">so thank you for supporting <a href="https://bit.ly/kwilliamseagles" target="_blank">the work</a>. </div><div style="text-align: left;">and if you don't support this work, find the one {or ones} that prick(s) your heart. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the Lord calls us all into the work He is doing. one way or another. He lets us be a part of it. we get to do His work. and support His work. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we get to be the toddlers who sweep the kitchen floor.</div><div style="text-align: left;">despite the ways we mess it up, we still get to help. </div><div style="text-align: left;">not because we deserve it, but because He is gracious and He loves us.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">what part does He want you to play?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMBpTuuXRc0RXER4uoKnF8tUBJKqHN_86FmMvJ695SLhJk9FVqbPX8Y4zF0yGAnE62zebCWZqlSt7MR_xNAOggVGQdrqIdV987W2rZkcmb3aO9duto128jwakmm_ikVzd9ffrjeZqSlicQZoKxtcKVuROo3sFTrITZYR7CkNaCu79QQENsRybVyM62Hw/s5472/3I3A3019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMBpTuuXRc0RXER4uoKnF8tUBJKqHN_86FmMvJ695SLhJk9FVqbPX8Y4zF0yGAnE62zebCWZqlSt7MR_xNAOggVGQdrqIdV987W2rZkcmb3aO9duto128jwakmm_ikVzd9ffrjeZqSlicQZoKxtcKVuROo3sFTrITZYR7CkNaCu79QQENsRybVyM62Hw/s320/3I3A3019.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-47192249335223937242023-03-30T22:22:00.000-04:002023-03-30T22:22:50.266-04:00running<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOnXsKGtmsz6feaWnZUnBW781tkywo7eyulb-Iza7X8r6lVHyan6UwFYaidIkJGIVO59pLpx07gzd2fhH50i-TadHI4lVboZhAVKO4-8VvYA-zv6_jzolIlgCAVRAS_flgT8zQefZirnIqvDTIxRJXa6tnX4cnnp38F3CZSMK4rLwJh1PmXRTmJmDJYQ/s3667/B9814A79-0EE8-4B23-BB20-DE16B0743EDA.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2605" data-original-width="3667" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOnXsKGtmsz6feaWnZUnBW781tkywo7eyulb-Iza7X8r6lVHyan6UwFYaidIkJGIVO59pLpx07gzd2fhH50i-TadHI4lVboZhAVKO4-8VvYA-zv6_jzolIlgCAVRAS_flgT8zQefZirnIqvDTIxRJXa6tnX4cnnp38F3CZSMK4rLwJh1PmXRTmJmDJYQ/w320-h227/B9814A79-0EE8-4B23-BB20-DE16B0743EDA.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i go for runs</div><div style="text-align: left;">in the early morning.</div><div style="text-align: left;">when nothing moves</div><div style="text-align: left;">save for the deer</div><div style="text-align: left;">and the rabbits</div><div style="text-align: left;">with their fluffy tails and</div><div style="text-align: left;">sideways eyes</div><div style="text-align: left;">darting out of the way just in time.</div><div style="text-align: left;">my legs churn.</div><div style="text-align: left;">they eat up the pavement.</div><div style="text-align: left;">and i remember to breathe.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i'm bad at it.</div><div style="text-align: left;">bad at slowing down.</div><div style="text-align: left;">bad at taking the time</div><div style="text-align: left;">to look back</div><div style="text-align: left;">and remember how far i've</div><div style="text-align: left;">come.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">no.</div><div style="text-align: left;">forward we must go.</div><div style="text-align: left;">forward. pushing</div><div style="text-align: left;">on.</div><div style="text-align: left;">pushing myself</div><div style="text-align: left;">faster</div><div style="text-align: left;">and harder</div><div style="text-align: left;">until my legs</div><div style="text-align: left;">and my lungs burn</div><div style="text-align: left;">and i am spent.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">some days i run myself into </div><div style="text-align: left;">the ground</div><div style="text-align: left;">just to try</div><div style="text-align: left;">to find myself in there.</div><div style="text-align: left;">underneath.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">mom,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but not just mom.</div><div style="text-align: left;">wife,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but not just wife.</div><div style="text-align: left;">employee,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but not just employee.</div><div style="text-align: left;">friend,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but not just friend.</div><div style="text-align: left;">daughter,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but not just daughter;</div><div style="text-align: left;">daughter of the king.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">all of these pieces</div><div style="text-align: left;">trying to work back</div><div style="text-align: left;">to the reminder</div><div style="text-align: left;">that i am made</div><div style="text-align: left;">in the image of the father.</div><div style="text-align: left;">fearfully.</div><div style="text-align: left;">wonderfully.</div><div style="text-align: left;">made.</div><div style="text-align: left;">created.</div><div style="text-align: left;">designed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">even when i feel</div><div style="text-align: left;">anything but.</div><div style="text-align: left;">when the shards </div><div style="text-align: left;">of my brokenness</div><div style="text-align: left;">cut sideways</div><div style="text-align: left;">and deep.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">which {let's be honest}</div><div style="text-align: left;">happens most days.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">on those most days</div><div style="text-align: left;">i try to </div><div style="text-align: left;">earn my worth.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i work</div><div style="text-align: left;">and i strive</div><div style="text-align: left;">and i </div><div style="text-align: left;">fight </div><div style="text-align: left;">tooth and nail to prove</div><div style="text-align: left;">that i am enough.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">why don't i</div><div style="text-align: left;">remember?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it is finished.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it is finished.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i can come to him</div><div style="text-align: left;">shards and all.</div><div style="text-align: left;">he already bled for me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't have to </div><div style="text-align: left;">be enough.</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-73587185616713611242023-02-22T20:45:00.000-05:002023-02-22T20:45:34.120-05:00macaroni & cheese<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRa_jVCUKOGU9AhohGNzxV0bcXp-QnB902IC-KfL-0RJDc2vq3neY3ct4m84FE8YK-mR5VkE7ITKXxMtgxyZ4gXLXFJf8L1CjbH7isV5hta8PR8l1TPRJ80ubR83qCIYw6uv2Zn9P-bZUu3lP122yKBQAiKvHA4c7yS6Qthi00i1zIuWq-E-bzixWd3w/s4032/F27BE9C3-B470-4381-B55E-3D3ACA10468D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRa_jVCUKOGU9AhohGNzxV0bcXp-QnB902IC-KfL-0RJDc2vq3neY3ct4m84FE8YK-mR5VkE7ITKXxMtgxyZ4gXLXFJf8L1CjbH7isV5hta8PR8l1TPRJ80ubR83qCIYw6uv2Zn9P-bZUu3lP122yKBQAiKvHA4c7yS6Qthi00i1zIuWq-E-bzixWd3w/w206-h274/F27BE9C3-B470-4381-B55E-3D3ACA10468D.jpeg" width="206" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">so many kids over the wide space of this country clamor for mac & cheese at lunchtime. it’s the mainstay on kids’ menus for a wide variety of cuisines in this country. pizza place, chinese food, sandwich shop: it makes no difference. macaroni & cheese will show up at every single one for the benefit of the 12 & under crowd.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">my kids are no different. but on monday at lunch - when they were all home from school for presidents' day - i didn’t hear the normal clamor of demands for mac & cheese. instead, my 10 year old just went to the kitchen, got out the pot we use for mac & cheese {yes, there’s one specifically. in fact, if i use it for anything else my 4 year old thinks we’re having mac & cheese and gets disappointed if it’s anything else}, and proceeded to make it. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">just.</div><div style="text-align: left;">like.</div><div style="text-align: left;">that.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">like it wasn't his first rodeo. </div><div style="text-align: left;">like all 10 year olds do this all the time. {maybe they do?}</div><div style="text-align: left;">like i've expected far too little of him for far too long. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>he didn't have many questions. didn't need me looking over his shoulder. he cut cucumbers and apple slices to go alongside said mac & cheese and served it all to his sisters. </div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and it hit me yet again, for at least the 1 millionth time since he's been alive. </div><div style="text-align: left;">he was not made to stay with us forever. </div><div style="text-align: left;">he is not meant to stay little.</div><div style="text-align: left;">he was made to grow.</div><div style="text-align: left;">raising him means preparing him to fly.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and that whole flying thing is closer than i would like.</div><div style="text-align: left;">and far closer than i imagine.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-77377408350319841172023-01-07T17:50:00.000-05:002023-01-07T17:50:27.681-05:00it cannot be held<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUZkiwQzgVGpC_aQgnWFxtEPZlK-HY7vN4tzLmO7brImYtr7SNpNCPg4LWuKXj6ywfWH_x5ldfLWiiJHVFzWv8FYsBggNe00p-ibqsJ-aAe1KIPpPpZ2RCTf6ZSmnm68aNp9pyolyyT7fBuypZS5MA4ijvHwJeofAcFce4eGJexCLGD08LUBHikjGqQ/s4032/474AFC62-78AE-4BBD-A7EC-422C1F2190A2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUZkiwQzgVGpC_aQgnWFxtEPZlK-HY7vN4tzLmO7brImYtr7SNpNCPg4LWuKXj6ywfWH_x5ldfLWiiJHVFzWv8FYsBggNe00p-ibqsJ-aAe1KIPpPpZ2RCTf6ZSmnm68aNp9pyolyyT7fBuypZS5MA4ijvHwJeofAcFce4eGJexCLGD08LUBHikjGqQ/s320/474AFC62-78AE-4BBD-A7EC-422C1F2190A2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i cannot grasp it.</div><div style="text-align: left;">this life.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i want to hold it</div><div style="text-align: left;">but i can't.</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's like happiness --</div><div style="text-align: left;">as soon as i focus on it,</div><div style="text-align: left;">it slips away.</div><div style="text-align: left;">it cannot be held</div><div style="text-align: left;">only appreciated</div><div style="text-align: left;">and relished </div><div style="text-align: left;">in the moment</div><div style="text-align: left;">like a morsel</div><div style="text-align: left;">of really good chocolate</div><div style="text-align: left;">on the tongue.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the best ones remain</div><div style="text-align: left;">not as they actually were</div><div style="text-align: left;">but as we choose to remember them</div><div style="text-align: left;">in the "always" of their funerals.</div><div style="text-align: left;">in the memories of them we carry</div><div style="text-align: left;">with us</div><div style="text-align: left;">until our light fades</div><div style="text-align: left;">back into the ground here.</div><div style="text-align: left;">and we are forgotten too.</div><div style="text-align: left;">dust to dust.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">dust then made whole.</div><div style="text-align: left;">the not yet made yet. </div><div style="text-align: left;">made now.</div><div style="text-align: left;">made into the should've always been </div><div style="text-align: left;">we each hold in our hearts </div><div style="text-align: left;">and desperately want to be true</div><div style="text-align: left;">but just isn't. </div><div style="text-align: left;">not here.</div><div style="text-align: left;">not yet.</div><div style="text-align: left;">not on this side of heaven.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">what must it be like </div><div style="text-align: left;">to hold forever?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-35918260736044145262022-12-09T14:34:00.001-05:002022-12-09T14:34:36.595-05:00on the other side of the world<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSmLpxnw5B769jyYo6l6k_K2vUvrAlHI_fGXXNkVcFXdIBK_pgBabU4anQOSpK4u20ZCkwcimdIXSU25R0bVy1DSwJ6qf6OGnwuV6GeJNMSvuF6kzbkFK-nhtDaqDfIo-kJrz0MuuWLKftQ4JsoOBfRFttLqaXatDAXBoDqK5db-kBWbB7UFNxZ41VA/s4032/F2F2EECA-3013-4950-A187-3B1B20E0430A.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSmLpxnw5B769jyYo6l6k_K2vUvrAlHI_fGXXNkVcFXdIBK_pgBabU4anQOSpK4u20ZCkwcimdIXSU25R0bVy1DSwJ6qf6OGnwuV6GeJNMSvuF6kzbkFK-nhtDaqDfIo-kJrz0MuuWLKftQ4JsoOBfRFttLqaXatDAXBoDqK5db-kBWbB7UFNxZ41VA/s320/F2F2EECA-3013-4950-A187-3B1B20E0430A.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it's early, even for me. i couldn't sleep. i've been up since about 3:15 and my mind is spinning 1000 miles a minute. even in the middle of the night my mind cannot let go of all of the things i need to do. all of the things i want to do that i don't have time to do. and all of the things i forgot to do that i should've already done.</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's maddening. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">there's also a slow burn of processing my trip to bangladesh. because a trip like it doesn't result in all of the mental spaces getting tied up in a neat package in your mind when you get back to your normal life. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the long and the short of it is that it was both amazing and really hard. the coaches we trained were young - mostly 15 and 16 year-old girls - because of the cultural norms in bangladesh. women wouldn't really step on the field and coach. so we trained the girls who can step on the field and coach. the girls who want to help teach and model and mentor those younger than them and still have the space to do that. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">they came ready to learn. and they soaked up a lot. but i think the best session for me happened the evening when we kicked out the guys and got to really talk with the girls. we had all female translators as well so the girls would hopefully feel more comfortable to share. </div><div style="text-align: left;">and they did share. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we talked about the challenges that they face. it started as the challenges of the youth they'll be coaching, but since they're pretty young it also included <i>their</i> challenges. and that discussion broke my heart. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we all tend to be ethnocentric in our thinking. and if i doubted that before, this trip showed me just how ethnocentric i am. i recognize that so much of what i thought comes through my own cultural lens. my own normal. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">tears came to my eyes that night because there are so many opportunities these wonderful girls are not afforded. each culture has its own wonderful amazing pieces. and each culture has it's own broken, "that's not how it should be," side to it too. and for too many of these girls they will grow up not seeing themselves as worthy and valuable because of how women are seen in their culture. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we had an incredible opportunity to remind them that they are created in the image of God and they are <i>his</i> masterpieces. that even when their opinions are not valued by people around them that they are still seen and known and loved by the God who spoke the world into being.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">to remind them that God's opinion is the only one that ultimately matters. and that Jesus will walk with them through the good and the hard. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i'm not so naive as to think that those few days changed the lives of all of these girls. but i know God called us to go and we went. i know that we had the opportunity to speak truth and life over them. and i know that God's word does not return void. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it's entirely possible that for some of the girls this time was simply the first seed being planted. i don't know what will happen in the future. but honestly? that's not my jurisdiction. </div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't have to know. {which is good because i don't.}</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">as we prepared to leave and hugged their necks, bittersweet-ness welled up in me. they are so full of joy and life and excitement to go back to their communities and coach. I love that. i also pray that they remember who<u>se</u> they are. that they trust in the Lord with all that they are. that they remember there is a God in heaven who made them and knows them and loves them. and that they lead out of that.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't know where each of their stories will lead. i don't know where they will end up or if i will ever see any of them again on this side of heaven. but i sure as heck hope i get to squeeze their necks again when we get there. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-25428911371920796032022-11-20T22:07:00.001-05:002022-11-20T22:07:44.134-05:00a little bit of life in 20 years<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBp2MZNrEUuZzYB9-fXdlDDtP_HmQN-Nq5CS2hsYoHbxuPZz0ml9wslX3Khb_TWKinuGzOSDAPYAyif0tGUBanU7L8bgYwmbSnLHyR4_xOAf5_JBIs5VJlfFjVwC8aTiQ9tBygDiRey2rENxMrctQERklKCbpHnu-XTLFDE8wkqDO2xK1PhubxolxTEg/s3613/9793D3F9-D512-4028-A5E2-5D6168C39ED4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3613" data-original-width="2409" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBp2MZNrEUuZzYB9-fXdlDDtP_HmQN-Nq5CS2hsYoHbxuPZz0ml9wslX3Khb_TWKinuGzOSDAPYAyif0tGUBanU7L8bgYwmbSnLHyR4_xOAf5_JBIs5VJlfFjVwC8aTiQ9tBygDiRey2rENxMrctQERklKCbpHnu-XTLFDE8wkqDO2xK1PhubxolxTEg/s320/9793D3F9-D512-4028-A5E2-5D6168C39ED4.jpeg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">lately i've spent a lot of time thinking about my own mortality. that sounds macabre, i know. </div><div>mostly because it is. but it has been on my mind regardless. </div><div><br /></div><div>this world is fallen. and there's so much hurt wrapped up inside of it. sometimes that truth makes it really hard to appreciate the good.</div><div><br /></div><div>but some of the good slipped by - not unnoticed, but - unremarked upon due to all of the other things both happening and about to happen right now.</div><div><br /></div><div>we hit the 20 year mark. </div><div><br /></div><div>no, we haven't been married for that long, but we have been together for that long. we went on our first date 20 years ago. </div><div>november 3, 2002.</div><div><br /></div><div>2002!! an actual lifetime ago. </div><div><br /></div><div>a couple of weeks before we went on our first date i got introduced to the majority of peter's family at a men's college soccer game by his cousin who was more of an acquaintance than a full-fledged friend then. {peter and his cousin nathan were both playing in said game.} and when i say the majority of his family, i mean: his mom, sister, brother, {in an unexpected and random occurrence i had already met his dad,} grandparents, an aunt, and an uncle.</div><div><br /></div><div>so, you know, just a few people. </div><div><br /></div><div>and i had only met peter himself once or maybe twice at that time. but a few weeks later we went on our first date. and 20 years later, here we are. </div><div><br /></div><div>a lot can happen in 20 years. and there are many "crazy parts" about this. because i've reflected on a lot of things over the last few weeks thinking about our full history. thinking about our relationship being as old as a college student. thinking about who we were then and who we are now and all of the things that have stayed the same, and the many more that have changed. </div><div><br /></div><div>but one thing that has changed still has me processing because it just happened. it hit me in the gut this weekend. expected, but not expected right when it happened. and that is that we just lost his grandmother yesterday. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUAxvP5CWQJcnsEXnBrnZqiYIWvl0qB4aCXwyIMDqPJXzUzfxTxSYHZr_G0FysqJ941Shq1lUsPjxg5fWfnf9hK7nG1dVQ5t1t1YPYe3hSTtUVyWuj8OwWuVp6Z-mtbe0sI_ILdp9JgoUF6rlviwGGXuTkjxJBZVH1DkRMB77wuWZS8cWftInRkT7kCw/s2544/9D99DE7C-E9FB-4803-83CB-3DB52F207A23.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2544" data-original-width="1696" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUAxvP5CWQJcnsEXnBrnZqiYIWvl0qB4aCXwyIMDqPJXzUzfxTxSYHZr_G0FysqJ941Shq1lUsPjxg5fWfnf9hK7nG1dVQ5t1t1YPYe3hSTtUVyWuj8OwWuVp6Z-mtbe0sI_ILdp9JgoUF6rlviwGGXuTkjxJBZVH1DkRMB77wuWZS8cWftInRkT7kCw/s320/9D99DE7C-E9FB-4803-83CB-3DB52F207A23.jpeg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>the same gran that i met at that soccer game twenty years ago. the same one who welcomed me with open arms when peter and i were dating and danced with her husband of 56 years at our wedding three weeks before granddad succumbed to cancer. the woman whose middle name became our daughter's first name. the one who set the bar and the standard across the board. the one who was a true example of what it means to put God first in your life and your marriage, and that women can and should be just as capable and sharp as their husbands. </div><div><br /></div><div>she was one of the women who showed me what it meant to continue to unapologetically hold high standards for yourself and for others. </div><div><br /></div><div>she told me once or twice that peter reminded her most of granddad. and honestly? that always intimidated me because in my mind that meant i needed to live up to her. and those are some big shoes to fill. </div><div><br /></div><div>i remember just sitting with her for a little while at granddad's wake - feeling like a fish out of water since peter and i were basically as newlywed as newlyweds can get - and just holding her hand. i didn't know what else to do. but she let me be in that space even as she mourned. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUw-jJqSNdQY1_QF3lGX_Un3PNd7Bp4z00MsTe4o2ijBmUADbaJWqS4ptts_efcUmtucJuBvkbalcfmwKCiuDv3ORtwI04NI82G-vJraHWCm5Mk-cZ6IJMTChLsPipZgYBXkpiKrktHlgqKMFZgg8u_RPY1IeR0dvVEGOVcBxyegpwTiOUAq1CLZRijA/s2048/CCA84F29-721A-45CE-AA92-AA7AFBAF243F.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUw-jJqSNdQY1_QF3lGX_Un3PNd7Bp4z00MsTe4o2ijBmUADbaJWqS4ptts_efcUmtucJuBvkbalcfmwKCiuDv3ORtwI04NI82G-vJraHWCm5Mk-cZ6IJMTChLsPipZgYBXkpiKrktHlgqKMFZgg8u_RPY1IeR0dvVEGOVcBxyegpwTiOUAq1CLZRijA/s320/CCA84F29-721A-45CE-AA92-AA7AFBAF243F.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">{not the first time, but one of my favorites nonetheless}</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>i'll never forget the look on her face when she met adele - the oldest of her namesake great-granddaughters. i loved listening to her tell stories about granddad. one of my favorites was the time she wanted to look nice for him when he came back from deployment so she went and bought herself a dior suit. <i>a dior suit</i>! high standards, i tell you. she laughed so hard when she talked about <i>his</i> response to the money she spent on that suit, but i always loved that story. </div><div><br /></div><div>how the two of them held each other up. how she held up the family when he was gone in korea and vietnam. and how he was the same kind of rock for his family that his grandson is to mine today.</div><div><br /></div><div>she would've been 99 in january. </div><div><br /></div><div>she buried her husband, her sister, one daughter, and countless friends. she left seven grandchildren and thirteen great-grandchildren. the last couple of years we were mostly shielded from her hardest days because she always perked up when the great-grands came to visit. she loved playing games with them, and in her later days she seemed to just enjoy watching them as she ate her nightly bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. </div><div>because at some point she started giving the side-eye to anyone who would withhold her ice cream from her. i guess she figured that since she made it to her nineties she was going to be okay with eating a bowl of ice cream every day and not worrying about it. </div><div><br /></div><div>gran taught me a lot over the last 20 years. and looking back on it now, i also know that there's a lot i took for granted. because when someone loves you as close to unconditionally as you can get on this earth, we tend to take it for granted at some point. </div><div><br /></div><div>but she was a gem. </div><div>and i miss her.</div><div>and i'm sure i always will. </div><div><br /></div><div>i thank God that she is fully healed and whole, walking - and maybe even golfing - in glory right now.</div><div>i thank God for the legacy that she and granddad left, and that my marriage is easier because of the example they set for their children and grandchildren. </div><div>i thank God for her.</div><div><br /></div><div>and i thank God for my husband. </div><div>i thank God that 20 years ago he called me up and asked me to go see a movie with him.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-66180093755385008012022-11-13T22:07:00.000-05:002022-11-13T22:07:16.589-05:00to the ends of the earth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFL3F38mk2H6_3sM7tYGfnPIzFCeTSLZpGzBkFotdxWrXkatoxKaOaWiEcoUUOOsYr8xaRlJtN62B0bAlo38cuhyAtYO84EG1q1gw03_swZxOisoSWOMBRw4lvaKyqdcwksAlU4A0dIYz2k0OWM-z0YmU9WOuCLvcYBA_goLsfwShaBN22G2aIuQnsQA/s1600/5812A082-F373-4214-8941-07C949DEFC4F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1204" data-original-width="1600" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFL3F38mk2H6_3sM7tYGfnPIzFCeTSLZpGzBkFotdxWrXkatoxKaOaWiEcoUUOOsYr8xaRlJtN62B0bAlo38cuhyAtYO84EG1q1gw03_swZxOisoSWOMBRw4lvaKyqdcwksAlU4A0dIYz2k0OWM-z0YmU9WOuCLvcYBA_goLsfwShaBN22G2aIuQnsQA/s320/5812A082-F373-4214-8941-07C949DEFC4F.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the last few days bangladesh has been on my mind. </div><div style="text-align: left;">a. lot. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">because i'm going there in less than two weeks. </div><div style="text-align: left;">i'm </div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>going</i> </div><div style="text-align: left;">to bangladesh.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">WHAT?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">seriously. it's flippin' crazy. </div><div style="text-align: left;">when i stop and think about it, i'm holding how crazy it is in one hand, and my assurance that i've been called on this trip in the other.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it doesn't make sense. those things feel mutually exclusive.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i've been freaking out in small ways for a couple of weeks as we get closer and my fear of the unknown grows bigger.</div><div style="text-align: left;">because i feel like the common thread in my life lately has been: <i>i don't know what i'm doing.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">i've been here, there, and everywhere in my mind. i've wondered if anyone knows what they're doing or if we all just bumble around pretending. </div><div style="text-align: left;">what memo did i miss? </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">bangladesh truly feels like going to the ends of the earth. the opposite side of the world. a culture and a language i've never experienced. and i don't have any clue what God has for me there. i feel completely unprepared because i have no real frame of reference. i don't really know what to put into my big box of expectations and i'm wildly afraid i'm going to screw it all up. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't even know how i think i'm important enough, or capable enough to screw up God's plans considering that he's God and i'm not, but there you have it. you'll find both my pride and my insecurity rolled up in that one neat and tidy package. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i've flown back and forth in my mind between off-the-wall-excited and what. the. {bleep.} am. i. thinking??? why did i think this was a good idea? i get a pit in my stomach every time i think about it because i have to hold everything with an open hand. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">me. the one who likes to plan everything and know what's coming. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>that person</i> is about to fly to the other side of the world to an unknown space and hang out with people i've never met and try to help them learn a thing or two about this game i love so much, and the God who made us all {and the beautiful game for that matter}. our trip leaders have told us more than a couple of times that we may get there and figure out we need to scrap everything we planned and change it all up on the fly.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and all i can think is: greeeeaaaatttt, because i'm <i>so good </i>at that.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it's terrifying.</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's terrifying because all i can do is trust. i'm like the cartoon who jumped out off of the cliff already and i just realized i'm hanging in midair. my feet have started scrambling for solid ground, but i don't know whether it'll show up for me or not. i have no clue where i'll land.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">don't get me wrong i really enjoy traveling. but this is not just traveling. and i feel so out of my comfort zone that all i've been praying is that the Lord's will be done. but if he could do it without me screwing everything up? yeah. that'd be fantastic. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">because we're not guaranteed that. </div><div style="text-align: left;">just because God calls me to go somewhere doesn't mean that it's going to be "successful." it just means that he's called me to be a part of whatever he's doing there. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">plenty of missionaries have died at the hands of people they were called to serve. and that doesn't mean that they were somewhere different than they should've been. </div><div style="text-align: left;">it simply means the story wasn't about them. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and the story isn't about me either.</div><div style="text-align: left;">there are no guarantees that walking in the way the Lord guides us isn't going to land us somewhere we don't want to be. it doesn't mean that all will go well for us. </div><div style="text-align: left;">it just means that in the midst of it, all will be well with my soul. </div><div style="text-align: left;">because he's God. and he can do that.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">when i think about that from a human perspective i want to curl up in the fetal position and never leave my house. {we could get lost in the pointlessness of this action too, but we're not going there today, mmmmkay?}</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't understand God's thoughts. they may make sense one day, but on this side of heaven, they also may not. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">will i trust him anyway? </div><div style="text-align: left;">will i trust him when i can't quiet the worry?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">will i follow him when i'm terrified? </div><div style="text-align: left;">will i follow him to the ends of the earth?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-83713794882517964052022-11-02T15:25:00.002-04:002022-11-02T15:25:38.583-04:00not enough<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNt7qCgcA2szPqQwI-bRJsbbtZlMm3ARCJPSRDOPkMnTk8rdcziMQURGcXCkxk1BpDCrUHLRmWAOGIU2STv52836zFQtEjNPRSTnTuw3Ck7qUqBIa22xCWL1XCO51e9HHegoIqIJyxHz39rXxj6DhZ1K3NHgjhoBCrzzIGT6Wuh972IG1frLN7_EmZtA/s4032/490C876E-3C62-4161-8BD3-F0A47FF74AC7.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNt7qCgcA2szPqQwI-bRJsbbtZlMm3ARCJPSRDOPkMnTk8rdcziMQURGcXCkxk1BpDCrUHLRmWAOGIU2STv52836zFQtEjNPRSTnTuw3Ck7qUqBIa22xCWL1XCO51e9HHegoIqIJyxHz39rXxj6DhZ1K3NHgjhoBCrzzIGT6Wuh972IG1frLN7_EmZtA/s320/490C876E-3C62-4161-8BD3-F0A47FF74AC7.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i'm struggling to get stuck in today. my mind has been reeling all day long. i feel like i'm flailing and i don't fully know why. i had to come outside to try to focus. i couldn't even stay in my home office because too many distractions called to me there. too many things sit close at hand trying to pull me outside of what i want to do and into other worlds instead.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the wheels in my mind turn and churn, but instead of pulling me out they drive me down deeper. i sit here grateful for so much, but questions still push their way to the surface. <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">last night our middle daughter fell off of the cargo net on our swing-set and busted her mouth open in two places. shockingly her teeth are fine, but blood poured out of her mouth - and i do mean <i>poured</i> - and i was terrified of what we would find underneath. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i am beyond grateful that as of now she'll likely heal up without any need for a doctor or a dentist, but holding her in so much fear and pain hurt down deep to the primal mama bear level. later i walked outside and looked at the splatters of blood all over the leaves and choked back tears. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it probably didn't help that this incident came on the heels of our oldest's birthday. </div><div style="text-align: left;">does any parent ever look at their newly-minted 10 year old and <i>not</i> wonder where the time went?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">a decade is a long time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">right now i'm sitting and wondering if the remaining years will speed up or slow down. if there's any way to turn on slow-mo for my life and my kids and make sure there is enough time to teach them all of the things they need to know. i say this while recognizing that "enough time" doesn't exist. because eden is gone and no matter how much i want to smooth the road for them, that doesn't serve them on this side of heaven. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">some lessons are harder than others. </div><div style="text-align: left;">parenting lessons squeeze out the sponge of my heart because they don't just affect me. it's not just me screwing up my own life. it's me realizing that i'm the reason my kids may one day need a therapist. because i step in it more than i get it right. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't know what i'm doing. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">some days i take solace in the fact that no one else knows what they're doing either. and, more so, that we don't have to have it all figured out. we don't have to be enough. we weren't designed that way. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but i carry it more days than i don't. i carry that "not-enough-ness" with me. it weighs me down hunching my shoulders and turning me inside out. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">why do i hold onto it when it's not mine to carry?</div><div style="text-align: left;">and</div><div style="text-align: left;">why do i let something that might happen in the future steal today's joy?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the fact that my son will {likely} be a sophomore in college 10 years from now makes my heart drop into my feet. how will i prepare him for life? will i teach him enough? will the world make him cynical and jaded and unkind like it does to so many others? will his heart survive the onslaught that's coming? </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i have to let go and trust that God has him in the palm of his hand. He is sovereign, i am not. and i have so many questions about that. so many questions about why some things happen and other things that should happen, don't. </div><div style="text-align: left;">so.many.questions.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but. just like job, i didn't place the stars in the sky or name each and every one. i didn't set the world in motion. i don't even know the names of all of the animals. </div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't know.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">so i have to trust. </div><div style="text-align: left;">we all put our faith and our trust in something.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i need to stop defaulting to myself instead of the God who <i>did</i> place the stars in the sky, and who knows the name of each one.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i think i'll be chewing on this for a while...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-24197854162724915512022-10-01T15:58:00.000-04:002022-10-01T15:58:09.895-04:00found<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguHzI_e2VMZ4lL6kqT7MPdMBVp_x3wskpNLC9SXGtdfztrG3qb0PrutkxQewYAWf9bRbnuzakG2n8c40Ix4NneaB5ycz3v7UHgTf7DIqiNrMiR2Y6lDS4yn9Hg68rJklGMkXbnrapIcdc9HOctVt_C_8MC6ceiHdSuFNDDhsXpfr2a8669qKP0ia6jrw/s2016/IMG_5104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguHzI_e2VMZ4lL6kqT7MPdMBVp_x3wskpNLC9SXGtdfztrG3qb0PrutkxQewYAWf9bRbnuzakG2n8c40Ix4NneaB5ycz3v7UHgTf7DIqiNrMiR2Y6lDS4yn9Hg68rJklGMkXbnrapIcdc9HOctVt_C_8MC6ceiHdSuFNDDhsXpfr2a8669qKP0ia6jrw/s320/IMG_5104.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i have a thing for found objects {much to my utilitarian husband's chagrin}. </div><div style="text-align: left;">i love them. found objects, one-of-a-kinds, thrifted antiques. </div><div style="text-align: left;">really, i have a thing for the story behind what's in front of me. and that thing is mainly that i want there to be a story.</div><div style="text-align: left;">take our coffee table for instance. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">there's a piece of driftwood on it. a small one. it looks like a 7 which is why i initially picked it up on the beach. folly beach to be exact. if you're not familiar with it, folly beach is just a stone's throw from iop outside of charleston, sc. and iop is where our family grabbed a long weekend in the midst of a confused and reeling world in february of 2021. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">our family walked along this stretch of beach - there was no swimming allowed due to the undertow - and got sand in our toes and salt air in our hair. we stopped for shells and to watch the birds and the giant container ships making their way to port. i also had the opportunity to explain an f-bomb to our son since some lovely person had been a bit liberal with some spray paint on a sign. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">that piece of driftwood is tied to that time and place. that piece of family time we stole back in the midst of a chaotic world. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">our house is full of these stories. the mugs i collect from various trips and adventures, most of the furniture we own, many of my clothes and shoes, the majority of my jewelry; it's handmade, handed-down, or found. thrifted. storied. tied to a memory in my mind. sometimes it's tied to a person and sometimes it's simply tied to the person i was when i found it. but life feels richer when i surround myself with memories. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the coffee table itself i bought at goodwill for $10 six months before i moved to charlotte. it lived in my in-law's basement for 9 months until we signed a lease on our first apartment. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">our dining room table lived in my grandparents' house for about 30 years and even withstood their dining room chandelier falling out of the ceiling onto it. granted it survived without a dent from that experience because my grandparents were hoarders and there was so much piled on said table that the chandelier's blow was adequately cushioned and no damage was done to the table.</div><div style="text-align: left;">{yes, really.}</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i love a good story. they remind me that i'm alive and connected to other people and places outside of myself. i love to look around my house, or look down at what i'm wearing, and remember that this life is not about me. and not only that, but those little stories of connection embedded in me remind me that we're all inside of a much bigger story. one that is not about any one of us, but is <i>for</i> everyone. {as i read once} Jesus came for <u>everyone</u> and <u>every one</u>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and that's the best story there is. </div><div style="text-align: left;">because it's true. </div><div style="text-align: left;">and it ties us together and to eternity</div><div style="text-align: left;">like nothing else can.</div><div style="text-align: left;">like no one else can.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i once was lost, but now am found.</div><div style="text-align: left;">praise be.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-10567230758959097032022-08-25T21:58:00.009-04:002022-08-26T06:46:06.794-04:00sunshine & vinegar<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSkacCgGYGH2jYzlo2eFLjGofjBHBIoma2PLuueFVoN-j53MZ6qyU2z_cVLKAEtXgt3J_ooHJa3h4M5e-SwDbIcX0LSbyf727UG1LBbBsGaCBHz3qgjdvQRHxopvt50HeEg3idB52fcZGO65zvm6nSXHt7JM4n0qAZow8ewy7-NvA1JOO1KlNwRgnHw/s4032/2917F3DA-8B94-4B1F-90B2-EC4C317AF81B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSkacCgGYGH2jYzlo2eFLjGofjBHBIoma2PLuueFVoN-j53MZ6qyU2z_cVLKAEtXgt3J_ooHJa3h4M5e-SwDbIcX0LSbyf727UG1LBbBsGaCBHz3qgjdvQRHxopvt50HeEg3idB52fcZGO65zvm6nSXHt7JM4n0qAZow8ewy7-NvA1JOO1KlNwRgnHw/s320/2917F3DA-8B94-4B1F-90B2-EC4C317AF81B.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">she's full of sunshine</div><div style="text-align: left;">and vinegar</div><div style="text-align: left;">speaks her mind</div><div style="text-align: left;">and can turn on a dime.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">she's wiry</div><div style="text-align: left;">and fiery</div><div style="text-align: left;">and strong.</div><div style="text-align: left;">built like her mom.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">some days i forget that she's still young. </div><div style="text-align: left;">yet there's so much of me that doesn't want </div><div style="text-align: left;">to let her</div><div style="text-align: left;">grow up.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but i have to. </div><div style="text-align: left;">i have to let her.</div><div style="text-align: left;">after all, we have kids</div><div style="text-align: left;">to nurture them as they grow.</div><div style="text-align: left;">and watch them go out on their own.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">no, no, </div><div style="text-align: left;">not yet.</div><div style="text-align: left;">eight is not eighteen.</div><div style="text-align: left;">but still.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">still it feels like too many years</div><div style="text-align: left;">have slipped by unwittingly.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">she makes me want to be better.</div><div style="text-align: left;">to know more about</div><div style="text-align: left;">what the heck we're doing.</div><div style="text-align: left;">in this "raising up humans"</div><div style="text-align: left;">arena of life.</div><div style="text-align: left;">does anyone ever really know?</div><div style="text-align: left;">i’m convinced most of us</div><div style="text-align: left;">don’t.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">she brings life with her</div><div style="text-align: left;">wherever she goes.</div><div style="text-align: left;">unless she's carrying </div><div style="text-align: left;">a storm cloud of a scowl that</div><div style="text-align: left;">sucks the air out.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but when she lights up</div><div style="text-align: left;">she carries the room right with her.</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's inescapable.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">some days i look at her and am sure that she knows herself</div><div style="text-align: left;">now </div><div style="text-align: left;">better than i did at 16. </div><div style="text-align: left;">and that is a gift.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">how will she change as she grows?</div><div style="text-align: left;">God only knows.</div><div style="text-align: left;">but i hope and pray i like each iteration</div><div style="text-align: left;">as much as i like the one who's here today.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">because i look at her</div><div style="text-align: left;">and all i can do is give thanks.</div><div style="text-align: left;">give thanks for the wild, unexpected,</div><div style="text-align: left;">over-the-top-amazing girl who reminds me</div><div style="text-align: left;">daily </div><div style="text-align: left;">- just by her being here -</div><div style="text-align: left;">just how good God is. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">happy birthday, nugget.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i love you BIG.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-44358582414636634192022-08-16T21:30:00.001-04:002022-08-16T21:30:44.366-04:00it’s coming<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTSKyje7CEvKyzKqwbf05ZjRcNSsSKU3PICkh7xKEZz95aDFsOiXmhxoOcVyMcv5RUfzxhOcmReeYCXvke_COXkX4wMST_iirT62Kz2oAYQOxNKmGRl1Z_2rJwqdJSLcGAqTSbyHHQcH-SY4tRak8JKFuO2gXkTbfvAw3_t6aT3RvDgC4mLtbTYgpcTg/s4032/A6D87DC5-8F65-4D92-B66B-2B74B817B671.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTSKyje7CEvKyzKqwbf05ZjRcNSsSKU3PICkh7xKEZz95aDFsOiXmhxoOcVyMcv5RUfzxhOcmReeYCXvke_COXkX4wMST_iirT62Kz2oAYQOxNKmGRl1Z_2rJwqdJSLcGAqTSbyHHQcH-SY4tRak8JKFuO2gXkTbfvAw3_t6aT3RvDgC4mLtbTYgpcTg/s320/A6D87DC5-8F65-4D92-B66B-2B74B817B671.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the last few mornings have had a twinge of fall in the air. it has cooled off more with the nights growing longer which makes morning runs absolutely lovely. today the high only reached the upper 70s and it’s bringing out all of my cravings for sweaters, bonfires, warm socks, and hot coffee on the porch under blankets.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i've tried to live in the present and enjoy each season as it comes. i've tried to let august be august and not try to force october into it. as per usual though - i can’t wait for october. {september in nc is what we call fake fall, so it doesn't always get included in my autumnal musings. probably as a way to protect myself from disappointment...} fall brings with it so many things i love and i want it to hurry up and get here and then sllooooooowww down and stay a while. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">today was overcast and moody and the perfect day to write and light candles and make muffins and play board games. granted, i mostly did laundry and chores and worked and took my kids to their music lessons. i didn't have time for most of the things i’d <i>really</i> like to do on a day like this, but i’m grateful for the ambiance nonetheless. and i <i>did</i> light a candle.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we haven’t had a full day of overcast for a while and i was getting a little bored. in addition to other things, i’m a writer, and we need our moody days to go through the full range of emotion. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">every time the temperature drops outside during the summer it reminds me how good it tastes to have a chill in the air, and i want to move to the mountains and never move anywhere else. that's probably why we've never truly considered a move to the mountains. i think peter secretly knows i wouldn't budge after that. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but here's the thing that's been rolling around in my head for the past couple of weeks. places leave their imprints, yes. people impact you. situations slowly chisel away at you like the river on the rock. but. places cannot fill you. {not even the mountains.}people cannot make you matter. situations cannot give you the significance you crave.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">no matter how well-known you are for whatever you want to be known for, you will still be you. you will still be the same person you were before. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i have to remind myself of that sometimes. {ok, all the time.}</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">moving somewhere else will not make me a different person. i will still have struggles. life will still ebb and flow. stress will still find me. the place will not fix all of the things that are wrong with me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i am significant because i am made in the image of God.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i didn't make myself that way and i can't earn it either. </div><div style="text-align: left;">i can wish for other things and other places and to matter more, but i don't really understand what that means at the end of the day. because nothing i do is going to get me to that "home" place. where it's 100% good. we have our moments, sure. but why do we all have this longing for a true home if we weren't made for a place like that?</div><div style="text-align: left;">and the thing is, if i can't get there on my own then that must mean that it's not up to me to begin with.</div><div style="text-align: left;">and in case you're wondering, it's not up to you either.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we were made with the ability to do so many amazing things. but God is the only one who saves.</div><div style="text-align: left;">he's the one who makes us significant.</div><div style="text-align: left;">he's the one who brings the changing seasons. he's the one who gives us a day of respite in the middle of august just to breathe and give thanks for today.</div><div style="text-align: left;">a day that reminds us to dream about what's coming - whether the horizon is october, or forever.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-85533664248489440632022-08-10T21:44:00.000-04:002022-08-10T21:44:15.311-04:00again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfcEL0TnmCkJ4Qj5dz0V2lo2JUU3i3gdx--5see4hL3GXyK87JpO5UkNi0J3r0KAvebrExgdgXTxV6CNma0g9mJKpNDp1l991MLyLDAgZESwdOce9btsa4PPI21WGeb_BSu8D8CWRhT5iXiCyEla-pBiOFM1j_J63iasgCLoPVAxNFjjuIrW_vB4fT_g/s4032/1FE4964B-A9B5-4E73-ABF5-388A2F4E41AA.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfcEL0TnmCkJ4Qj5dz0V2lo2JUU3i3gdx--5see4hL3GXyK87JpO5UkNi0J3r0KAvebrExgdgXTxV6CNma0g9mJKpNDp1l991MLyLDAgZESwdOce9btsa4PPI21WGeb_BSu8D8CWRhT5iXiCyEla-pBiOFM1j_J63iasgCLoPVAxNFjjuIrW_vB4fT_g/s320/1FE4964B-A9B5-4E73-ABF5-388A2F4E41AA.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it's that time again. it sneaks up on me every year. some of that is because it has actually gotten earlier, and some of it is because as i get older each day is a smaller percentage of my life so it actually seems to go faster too. </div><div style="text-align: left;">or at least that's my theory. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but school is upon us. yes, school. my older kids had their first day today. </div><div style="text-align: left;">earlier this week i thought i was ready. the kids were bickering while i was trying to get work accomplished and i thought i would be good with sending them back and dive back into the world of focus {at least during nap-time}. but as i sit here thinking about it all starting again, i'm getting that squeezy feeling on my heart. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">they both said they had a good first day. and it's a relief that they're ready to be back in the swing of things. </div><div style="text-align: left;">but i'm not quite sure i am.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i have to keep reminding myself that they were born to fly. it takes longer than most beings for humans to learn to use our wings, but we were not born to stay tethered forever. the goal of parenting is to guide them into competent, caring people who know how to manage their own ish. right?</div><div style="text-align: left;">we were not made to stagnate.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it gives me a peek into my soul to recognize that while there are many <i>many</i> days when i'm completely confident that i have no idea what i'm doing when it comes to parenting my children, there are also many times when i want to always be able to make it better for them even though i simultaneously know that this is the opposite of the goal. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">that's not what it's about. </div><div style="text-align: left;">solving their problems for them creates bigger problems.</div><div style="text-align: left;">{see also: college students who cannot do their own laundry}</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">so we move forward. </div><div style="text-align: left;">our kids grow older and get bigger. </div><div style="text-align: left;">they try new things. </div><div style="text-align: left;">we try to guide them through the things. </div><div style="text-align: left;">and sometimes we all end up a big heap of hurt. </div><div style="text-align: left;">we screw it up.</div><div style="text-align: left;">we apologize.</div><div style="text-align: left;">and we try again.</div><div style="text-align: left;">{and sometimes we cry because we don't want to try again.}</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i've never felt so completely inadequate in any other endeavor than i feel as a parent. </div><div style="text-align: left;">every day i'm sure i'm screwing it up. </div><div style="text-align: left;">and let's be honest. </div><div style="text-align: left;">i am. </div><div style="text-align: left;">i know i screw up at least a few times every single day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but i'm working on this whole <i>brave over perfect</i> thing. </div><div style="text-align: left;">and trying to rest in the fact that God loves my children even more than i do.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and as they go back into their classrooms, and more and more out into the world, </div><div style="text-align: left;">i cannot protect them from everything.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i wasn't meant to protect them from everything.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but striking the balance between letting them try on their own and not letting them fly too close to the sun... my heart jumps to my throat every time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">off they go again. </div><div style="text-align: left;">up and at 'em. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but God alone knows how much i miss them </div><div style="text-align: left;">while they're away.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and isn't that part of the beauty of it all? they feel safest to try to fly when they know they have somewhere to land if they fall. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WllmOnJK6mH8i-z6kLz3BkUBo4es-pMehcxEVjHQGv0XS2-3tyoSbzdMunoZ9zCh4PjC3Z3GCfdJhFQPh12WK4wE9jaTMGcz37t_aqH2x8jD5PoWN8BfzOzkFZgFr00xIYpTAQ8Xul-qQcQa-4B0x0HvJEQDv2oQ7BM8iaBV2PYAQvTQ19qtcVv4Mg/s4032/31DB9BA8-86E6-4276-8AF1-ED1DDCD4D4A6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WllmOnJK6mH8i-z6kLz3BkUBo4es-pMehcxEVjHQGv0XS2-3tyoSbzdMunoZ9zCh4PjC3Z3GCfdJhFQPh12WK4wE9jaTMGcz37t_aqH2x8jD5PoWN8BfzOzkFZgFr00xIYpTAQ8Xul-qQcQa-4B0x0HvJEQDv2oQ7BM8iaBV2PYAQvTQ19qtcVv4Mg/s320/31DB9BA8-86E6-4276-8AF1-ED1DDCD4D4A6.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">may they always know they have a place to land.</div><div style="text-align: left;">and may i remember that as well. </div><div style="text-align: left;">there's no better place than inside the hand of the Father.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-65186235955499337592022-08-03T21:46:00.003-04:002022-08-03T21:46:46.007-04:00inputs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQqnVvWMqhZZia1or3Bi_3B6310t_eY1-Lr7bbb78tnuMPcnlCzuXLo3GpSAvKAiO7HnHph35ug0MEEFkgxGo_c4iezz2AC6NtPW9CPdljVL-W1yAuM_KTO_ATRwk4s3ofGUAfJlDrtuMlqMxzrIGg3HZrnYJgPD5EDzw6uTU58XsNZie2SyEq9c3mA/s2048/F3EE97EE-B12C-4598-8DD7-AD180B5D64E7.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQqnVvWMqhZZia1or3Bi_3B6310t_eY1-Lr7bbb78tnuMPcnlCzuXLo3GpSAvKAiO7HnHph35ug0MEEFkgxGo_c4iezz2AC6NtPW9CPdljVL-W1yAuM_KTO_ATRwk4s3ofGUAfJlDrtuMlqMxzrIGg3HZrnYJgPD5EDzw6uTU58XsNZie2SyEq9c3mA/w240-h320/F3EE97EE-B12C-4598-8DD7-AD180B5D64E7.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i have so many inputs over the course of the day. some purposeful. some accidental. </div><div style="text-align: left;">some i wish i could fully purge from my mind. </div><div style="text-align: left;">some make me think. some should, but don't. and there are various things day in and day out that make me pause. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">better days happen when i don't just pause, but pause and process. pull out the bits that matter. understand the world through a different lens. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and i realized over this past week that <i>that</i> is part of why i enjoy road trips. because i have to be present on a road trip. it makes me queasy to read or write or scroll for too long. planes don't bother me - give me a good book on a plane any day of the week - but driving i have to be. just be. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">nowhere else is that the case. so my husband and i have some of our most eye-opening and heart-revealing conversations on road trips. because we're all there. dialed in. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i've listened to a couple of different podcasts over the last 24 hours. i've read bits and pieces of 3 or 4 books, and every single one has made me think. some have made me tear up. some have made me gain a better understanding of how i'm put together. some have made me analyze differently than i did before. some have given me insight into a world i've never known. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">this world is both ugly and full of beauty. it's black and it's white. </div><div style="text-align: left;">so often i want to take the gray out of it. </div><div style="text-align: left;">i want it to be something it's not. i want it to be clear-cut. </div><div style="text-align: left;">i want to know who to hate and who to love, but the reality is that we're all just broken people and some of us are more broken than others. </div><div style="text-align: left;">none of us are perfect. </div><div style="text-align: left;">we're both black and white wrapped together.</div><div style="text-align: left;">we're wonderful and terrible creatures.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it doesn't make wrong choices right when you admit that there's some other motivation driving people to do horrible things. but in the midst of that i'm still reminded that God created us all in his image and with him all things are possible.</div><div style="text-align: left;">{though it doesn't mean all things are probable. and it very much means that many things are impossible without him.}</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">every time i slow down i feel a pull to write. but now that i sit down to do it i feel like i'm simply knocking the rust off and hoping for the best. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but it's not supposed to be a finished product. it's a process. and this is my process. put it all down and see what sticks. see what keeps coming back and is here tomorrow. i start from the place that survives the day. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">----</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't want to miss august. </div><div style="text-align: left;">that's where i've landed. i don't want to miss it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we're in this weird space of time where our older two are about to start school, but our youngest doesn't go back until after labor day. it's a mini-season unto itself. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">everything hasn't started, but a few things have. we're easing into fall when i'd much rather jump in with both feet and drag the temperature down with me. because that will always be true. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i have so many ideas of so many things that i want to do. but the truth is, i have to choose. because no matter how many things land on my list, i only have 24 hours in a day and all the experts tell me i'm supposed to sleep for close to 8 of them every night.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i can make my plans, but the Lord determines my steps. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i know, i know. i'm all over the map tonight. herky-jerky and touchy with the brakes. </div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't know where i'm going either. </div><div style="text-align: left;">isn't that the beauty of letting go? sometimes it's freeing to just go where you'll go and not have a set plan to land in any one place. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">because that's life. we have plans, sure. ok, not sure. <i>of course we have plans</i>. i don't do fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants very well. i'm not put together that way. i want to know the where and the when and the why too. but sometimes we just fly. sometimes we just run. sometimes we just open our eyes and look around at what's here now. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we look at the beauty coming from the ashes we never wanted and we say -- only God could do that. only he could make it happen that way.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">sometimes we have to hold on for what feels like forever to get to the moment when the sun crests the hill. when it pierces the ocean of inky sky.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but it's coming. it won't be how you thought it would be. </div><div style="text-align: left;">some dreams do die. sometimes we have to let go of the things we always wanted. {as anne lamott says: all of the things i've ever let go of have claw marks on them}</div><div style="text-align: left;">but that light is coming. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and what do i need to remember? </div><div style="text-align: left;">to hold tighter to God than i hold to my plans.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-79501609295772826792022-07-19T08:27:00.000-04:002022-07-19T08:27:06.161-04:00just as good: an open letter to my team<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAIIU8hqru_VyGzxd80npmd3IaIyuJcHXNLxfoJ-YhXjBCtABzGynqOro8KuocLHVR-25sSeD9aOZdQTKZ07yxPbAdWWW6SOdkwfyM7Kn3Eg46yk1FBHcEaS56Y2jBgKpNfLACm58texpzqdbDZdrHkWV_XcgCOUX30kEfdq_TZBVdD6bQUObRoMO9w/s1280/IMG_0005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAIIU8hqru_VyGzxd80npmd3IaIyuJcHXNLxfoJ-YhXjBCtABzGynqOro8KuocLHVR-25sSeD9aOZdQTKZ07yxPbAdWWW6SOdkwfyM7Kn3Eg46yk1FBHcEaS56Y2jBgKpNfLACm58texpzqdbDZdrHkWV_XcgCOUX30kEfdq_TZBVdD6bQUObRoMO9w/s320/IMG_0005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>i don't know quite how to start if i'm honest. <div>i've come to the end of seasons before - lots of them - and it never gets easier, but i think this one feels like the most abrupt one in a long time. </div><div>or maybe ever.<div><br /></div><div>granted, i don't need to tell you guys that.</div><div>still. somehow the "lasts" are all piling up and bittersweet seems too simple a word to describe this feeling. because you're my girls now. every last one of you. even those of you i don't know as well and didn't get as much time with. </div><div><br /></div><div>it doesn't matter.</div><div>you're still forever connected to this team and this time this summer. and that makes your lives forever entwined with mine and with each other's. </div><div><br /></div><div>and holy moly am i thankful for this summer. and for each and every one of you. </div><div>what a fun ride it has been. what a gift it has been to be a part of it. all of it. the ups and the downs. the games and the goals, the songs, laughter, tears, prayers, dinners, and a long-stinkin driving tour of florida.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>but i wouldn't have changed it. not a single second {except maybe the second that i smashed my phone in the van door}. because God was in and through it all. </div><div><br /></div><div>and i hope that is what you remember when you look back on this summer. i hope you remember that God is good now and always. i hope you remember how much he loves you. i hope you can play the beautiful game in total freedom, knowing that your worth is not dependent on how well you play. i hope you can play with joy regardless of the circumstances. that you can play with open hands for an audience of one. i hope you hold onto your ebenezer and feel the weight of it when you walk through the valleys. because he will carry you and sustain you through the valleys just as he has on the mountaintops. </div><div>he's still just as good.</div><div><br /></div><div>that song really has been the theme of the summer, and as soon as i started the car to leave our last team dinner last night it came on in the midst of the random mix. </div><div>because God is in the details. </div><div><br /></div><div>so as you go from this place and we wrap it up and come to an end, don't forget to remember that you are seen and known by the God of the universe. and he loves you more than you will ever comprehend. </div><div><br /></div><div>love you all.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-33258891236924229382022-05-10T07:41:00.003-04:002022-05-10T07:41:20.372-04:00piano bench<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiiNeZHWb-FekVHa6BPQqqOHORZ3YcViSGSSzWlfta-XrQBRke-mA6BWqUwhbZWaQFNdU8twL6ZLTdHmWX9ZEy8zq_62J3WRFn_n-R8KefVbMtCnHw7ciVbsPnF9tRfJxDMvLKFVuVPcs7IksRgfRQ7id6YQG5aYFrpg3QiSN70VbY8uPHPkLpBfpj1g/s4032/8FC09A6F-26A7-4F76-A207-AAB1E2B479B5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiiNeZHWb-FekVHa6BPQqqOHORZ3YcViSGSSzWlfta-XrQBRke-mA6BWqUwhbZWaQFNdU8twL6ZLTdHmWX9ZEy8zq_62J3WRFn_n-R8KefVbMtCnHw7ciVbsPnF9tRfJxDMvLKFVuVPcs7IksRgfRQ7id6YQG5aYFrpg3QiSN70VbY8uPHPkLpBfpj1g/s320/8FC09A6F-26A7-4F76-A207-AAB1E2B479B5.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">my daughter asks</div><div style="text-align: left;">me to sit with her</div><div style="text-align: left;">when she sits</div><div style="text-align: left;">down to</div><div style="text-align: left;">practice piano.</div><div style="text-align: left;">every time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">tonight after</div><div style="text-align: left;">she was in bed</div><div style="text-align: left;">i tucked in the</div><div style="text-align: left;">piano bench</div><div style="text-align: left;">under the keys.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and i thought</div><div style="text-align: left;">ten years into the</div><div style="text-align: left;">future.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">she won't ask me</div><div style="text-align: left;">to sit by her</div><div style="text-align: left;">then.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">these days will</div><div style="text-align: left;">pass like the</div><div style="text-align: left;">vapor they are.</div><div style="text-align: left;">and she will grow </div><div style="text-align: left;">into a woman</div><div style="text-align: left;">who plays her own</div><div style="text-align: left;">songs.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">without</div><div style="text-align: left;">me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">that's what we</div><div style="text-align: left;">raise her</div><div style="text-align: left;">to be.</div><div style="text-align: left;">capable.</div><div style="text-align: left;">competent.</div><div style="text-align: left;">grown.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">so for just a</div><div style="text-align: left;">little longer</div><div style="text-align: left;">i will sit next</div><div style="text-align: left;">to you</div><div style="text-align: left;">while you play.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i will brush your</div><div style="text-align: left;">hair after your</div><div style="text-align: left;">shower</div><div style="text-align: left;">and tuck you in</div><div style="text-align: left;">nice</div><div style="text-align: left;">and tight.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i will kiss your</div><div style="text-align: left;">girl cheeks</div><div style="text-align: left;">and pray you</div><div style="text-align: left;">don't wake</div><div style="text-align: left;">a woman</div><div style="text-align: left;">too soon.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-32161039272679966012022-05-02T07:01:00.001-04:002022-05-02T07:01:33.366-04:00am not<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQwCuHcLG-e5fiSZHfR1U29zVT2M4LTSAICyHS5sXNkEsM7w5NKgiA-r7ExPpzo_eNvFu0uInnLSaaQTiMeWUker7FvxczGB8tdKH-uEjdSb6EFZk_Nk19XD7kUeXNdFYk4bqvvfFBLGHAtxqmkC1nLOUIhkGzcKWrgHmLKCnvB9WhUdHNtLfzwZ7Fw/s3046/D58F7850-1C5E-4B5D-AF2C-A3C206AF898B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3046" data-original-width="3008" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQwCuHcLG-e5fiSZHfR1U29zVT2M4LTSAICyHS5sXNkEsM7w5NKgiA-r7ExPpzo_eNvFu0uInnLSaaQTiMeWUker7FvxczGB8tdKH-uEjdSb6EFZk_Nk19XD7kUeXNdFYk4bqvvfFBLGHAtxqmkC1nLOUIhkGzcKWrgHmLKCnvB9WhUdHNtLfzwZ7Fw/s320/D58F7850-1C5E-4B5D-AF2C-A3C206AF898B.jpeg" width="316" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>i want to cry.<div>run.</div><div>hide.</div><div>slip away</div><div><br /></div><div>just for the day.</div><div>or a week,</div><div>or a month.</div><div>become someone different</div><div>for a minute.</div><div><br /></div><div>not completely new</div><div>just something else.</div><div>something i thought</div><div>i'd do.</div><div>one day.</div><div><br /></div><div>but i didn't.</div><div>haven't.</div><div>am</div><div>not.</div><div>doesn't matter</div><div>what i thought.</div><div><br /></div><div>it's an odd</div><div>grief,</div><div>but a real one.</div><div>that one of</div><div>what might have</div><div>been.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-68181872218306820842022-04-22T09:37:00.000-04:002022-04-22T09:37:26.747-04:00pieces<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwMOKnZKHe2e4PzEVOiiVthQaxkzjgchYqQQk3p3pCuXLl4lJ7IwI8wE5E_0hzJgspEdTXiDAW_uDJZI5QmV5otEDlsWmmXP2NbaYdtc1RVP9qrOfJFAu_uaTL6M2dd9Fdz-an0rQvFEwmrvFl1_nUcsGoyFxtp6QKuazWqZGAdhaUWmpFyK_0UGtvQ/s4032/9A8AD7BB-3CF6-4030-9A97-87F0A50F71A1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwMOKnZKHe2e4PzEVOiiVthQaxkzjgchYqQQk3p3pCuXLl4lJ7IwI8wE5E_0hzJgspEdTXiDAW_uDJZI5QmV5otEDlsWmmXP2NbaYdtc1RVP9qrOfJFAu_uaTL6M2dd9Fdz-an0rQvFEwmrvFl1_nUcsGoyFxtp6QKuazWqZGAdhaUWmpFyK_0UGtvQ/s320/9A8AD7BB-3CF6-4030-9A97-87F0A50F71A1.jpeg" width="240" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">don't walk away</div><div style="text-align: left;">turn and stay.</div><div style="text-align: left;">stay here with me.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't want you to</div><div style="text-align: left;">leave.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">why do i keep getting</div><div style="text-align: left;">lonely?</div><div style="text-align: left;">why do i feel like an</div><div style="text-align: left;">outsider</div><div style="text-align: left;">and ugly?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i talk to myself in</div><div style="text-align: left;">ways you wouldn't</div><div style="text-align: left;">believe --</div><div style="text-align: left;">unless you're like me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">struggling to hold</div><div style="text-align: left;">the pieces of your</div><div style="text-align: left;">brokenness together too.</div><div style="text-align: left;">trying to find the glue.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">instead</div><div style="text-align: left;">should we let the gold</div><div style="text-align: left;">show through?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">highlight our broken pieces</div><div style="text-align: left;">and show who we are</div><div style="text-align: left;">behind all of the scars.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the fear and anxiety</div><div style="text-align: left;">bubble to the surface.</div><div style="text-align: left;">tell me</div><div style="text-align: left;">what my worth is.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">if i let down my guard</div><div style="text-align: left;">there is no going back.</div><div style="text-align: left;">a city without walls</div><div style="text-align: left;">and all of that.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but how else do we heal?</div><div style="text-align: left;">don't we have to feel?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i have to own my own life</div><div style="text-align: left;">even if there's a knife</div><div style="text-align: left;">in my back.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">let it all fade to black.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">then arise</div><div style="text-align: left;">let the light pour in </div><div style="text-align: left;">behind my eyes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>try again</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it's the only way to grow.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and what happens </div><div style="text-align: left;">if we don't?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-22678061712823998792022-04-19T07:38:00.000-04:002022-04-19T07:38:54.420-04:00andy & brenda's<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7cWs1vHucCooJcmwVGrM8hGYiEeevFyZfckJbhwgbvFivSSWWLXZ3S7x1W6TAL0DwfDhdU_8p-oI9AKO4FDjVB9NFpgAMDWrRiJDGGx5XtZytswbCxT5qeRwVI2P8B-G-hKsdv8qKyxi_Fd79wWCrxYSqzrKgLrY2GxBbeTdB4omBY4Vj6HUhrItcQw/s1752/8AC02295-72C8-46E5-A85E-4BDC2E21D3DD.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1752" data-original-width="1752" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7cWs1vHucCooJcmwVGrM8hGYiEeevFyZfckJbhwgbvFivSSWWLXZ3S7x1W6TAL0DwfDhdU_8p-oI9AKO4FDjVB9NFpgAMDWrRiJDGGx5XtZytswbCxT5qeRwVI2P8B-G-hKsdv8qKyxi_Fd79wWCrxYSqzrKgLrY2GxBbeTdB4omBY4Vj6HUhrItcQw/s320/8AC02295-72C8-46E5-A85E-4BDC2E21D3DD.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">our kids had spring break last week. we travel for easter every year and this time around we left for pittsburgh earlier so we could stop in richmond to spend some time with peter's uncle, have dinner with a couple of his cousins, and spend a good chunk of a day at busch gardens.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i've started keeping little note cards with me so i can write down writing prompts that pop to mind at random times. while we were in richmond i simply wrote down: andy & brenda's house. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">because despite the fact that our aunt brenda is with Jesus, andy & brenda's house will always be andy & brenda's house.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it will always be a place that feeds the hungry, gives drink to the thirsty, houses the weary, and whose walls are infused with the love of Jesus. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">their generosity has always astounded me, and their house has always been a place that brings comfort. i've gathered around their dining room table more times than i even remember over the years, and what always comes through is this: "you are loved."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we see you. </div><div style="text-align: left;">we're glad you're here. </div><div style="text-align: left;">you </div><div style="text-align: left;">are </div><div style="text-align: left;">loved.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we are called to be the light of Christ to a hurting and broken world. {and i know i don't need to belabor the fact that we live in a hurting and broken world. we all know that. we all see it, day in and day out.} we are called to shine like stars in the universe. we are called to point to something bigger and something more by working for the Lord and not for men. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">what would it look like if our homes all felt like andy & brenda's? if we opened our hands and were radically generous with the gifts we've been given? what would it look like if we opened our doors to welcome the weary and weak? to feed the hungry? and to let the light shine in the world?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">what prevents this from happening? what are we afraid to lose? </div><div style="text-align: left;">and if we lost it, would it matter eternally?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-37447209352821814322022-04-11T07:07:00.002-04:002022-04-11T07:07:59.532-04:00logs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_1X48fxmDXVGS1YwayWGBuMVM8RQMDyK-gHqBCibAZSdvniDC4Mh-AeoNwUf5lzgmwH9GlFuEUfp5hqYERxRgJCBg6A4yC7QPwCcrU6NqM1Rdz38kBPJX9bzeMG7WFqCsQgghkkcInBTtQcakmEDVMakMr8opV_zXEmKT_vRR1uXyktrfc2vubYEQA/s4032/7DFD0CBE-C2E4-4E34-8A55-B21BC11720BF.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_1X48fxmDXVGS1YwayWGBuMVM8RQMDyK-gHqBCibAZSdvniDC4Mh-AeoNwUf5lzgmwH9GlFuEUfp5hqYERxRgJCBg6A4yC7QPwCcrU6NqM1Rdz38kBPJX9bzeMG7WFqCsQgghkkcInBTtQcakmEDVMakMr8opV_zXEmKT_vRR1uXyktrfc2vubYEQA/w300-h400/7DFD0CBE-C2E4-4E34-8A55-B21BC11720BF.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i didn't start with </div><div style="text-align: left;">first things this</div><div style="text-align: left;">morning.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i let time slip away</div><div style="text-align: left;">instead.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i hate getting behind.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i hate losing my head.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but now i'm sitting</div><div style="text-align: left;">quietly with a hot</div><div style="text-align: left;">drink in my hand.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">my heart weighs heavy.</div><div style="text-align: left;">my mind on edge.</div><div style="text-align: left;">your peace eludes my</div><div style="text-align: left;">grasp.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">pause.</div><div style="text-align: left;">breathe deep.</div><div style="text-align: left;">{like a box.}</div><div style="text-align: left;">begin again.</div><div style="text-align: left;">start fresh.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">reorganize.</div><div style="text-align: left;">rearrange.</div><div style="text-align: left;">listen to the still small voice.</div><div style="text-align: left;">listen.</div><div style="text-align: left;">to the voices floating</div><div style="text-align: left;">up the stairs.</div><div style="text-align: left;">listen to the wind whipping through</div><div style="text-align: left;">the trees and the eaves.</div><div style="text-align: left;">listen to the bass pounding through</div><div style="text-align: left;">the space from</div><div style="text-align: left;">the house next door.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">listen.</div><div style="text-align: left;">pause and listen.</div><div style="text-align: left;">change the tune.</div><div style="text-align: left;">listen to a new song.</div><div style="text-align: left;">stop accepting things</div><div style="text-align: left;">i <i>can</i> change.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">stop acting like a victim</div><div style="text-align: left;">even for a moment.</div><div style="text-align: left;">because i'm not.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">my attitude?</div><div style="text-align: left;">my choices?</div><div style="text-align: left;">my effort?</div><div style="text-align: left;">all</div><div style="text-align: left;">mine.</div><div style="text-align: left;">they're on me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">don't call it out in others</div><div style="text-align: left;">and then leave the log alone.</div><div style="text-align: left;">there's a word for that:</div><div style="text-align: left;">hypocrisy.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">you are responsible for</div><div style="text-align: left;">your behavior.</div><div style="text-align: left;">you are still responsible</div><div style="text-align: left;">for your actions even</div><div style="text-align: left;">when you're mad.</div><div style="text-align: left;">even when you're frustrated.</div><div style="text-align: left;">even when you're hurt.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but some days i don't </div><div style="text-align: left;">want that to be true.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i want to sulk.</div><div style="text-align: left;">to wallow</div><div style="text-align: left;">and to point out</div><div style="text-align: left;">the specks in the eyes of others.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">ignore my log.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">those friggin' logs.</div><div style="text-align: left;">i wish they would go away</div><div style="text-align: left;">without being dealt with.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it's kind of amazing</div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't have a whole forest</div><div style="text-align: left;">growing out of my face</div><div style="text-align: left;">blocking my vision</div><div style="text-align: left;">entirely.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i wish that an</div><div style="text-align: left;">actual alarm would go off</div><div style="text-align: left;">inside my head.</div><div style="text-align: left;">until i take a chainsaw out</div><div style="text-align: left;">and cut it down to size -</div><div style="text-align: left;">this forest of my mind.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">bring the loggers through</div><div style="text-align: left;">cut them down and move</div><div style="text-align: left;">them out and let</div><div style="text-align: left;">the sun reach the</div><div style="text-align: left;">forest floor again.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">let the light in.</div><div style="text-align: left;">see the sky again.</div><div style="text-align: left;">let the spirit move</div><div style="text-align: left;">unheeded,</div><div style="text-align: left;">unhindered.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">undo me.</div><div style="text-align: left;">undo my </div><div style="text-align: left;">hypocrisy.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-56096086939662957312022-04-08T09:17:00.000-04:002022-04-08T09:17:06.573-04:00blenders & clay<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR_pzzHu9qBM9KMqhCW9Yhzdp40fHWtx8oyOqArjSzRe0i6AG0b-8J_pZLpkIjPtVQFfnr4hccSsICloqC-QzQQZYCGzIAfnKt6FkaDpTEqeBRifkRWWb9up_w9rRkxzIcd86mSk1pB7AZ6bZYOcnmrxLgR022wm2J1--0Da0ctZadiFXYA4voFjdHUw/s2048/69E23700-D2C1-4B96-9C06-BFF696A095BC.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR_pzzHu9qBM9KMqhCW9Yhzdp40fHWtx8oyOqArjSzRe0i6AG0b-8J_pZLpkIjPtVQFfnr4hccSsICloqC-QzQQZYCGzIAfnKt6FkaDpTEqeBRifkRWWb9up_w9rRkxzIcd86mSk1pB7AZ6bZYOcnmrxLgR022wm2J1--0Da0ctZadiFXYA4voFjdHUw/s320/69E23700-D2C1-4B96-9C06-BFF696A095BC.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">life is a strange and funny thing.</div><div style="text-align: left;">and lately i've realized how much i don't remember. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i've realized how much time has passed in my life,</div><div style="text-align: left;">how many days and moments have come and gone,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and how many of those days i don't remember at all.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">even though i don't remember each and every moment {not even close},</div><div style="text-align: left;">they all got blended together inside of this flesh and blood and made me who i am on this day right now.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">there are plenty of parts and pieces that are shaped by things outside of my control too. </div><div style="text-align: left;">moments in which i acted, moments in which actions were outside of me.</div><div style="text-align: left;">but i think sometimes we mix up what we can and cannot control.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the pendulum swings from my thinking i have a lot of control over all of the things - you know, the part of me that fell with the eating of the fruit and mistakenly thinks i'm "like God" - to thinking that i have no agency to act on my own life at all. that i cannot speak up or make a difference or have any effect whatsoever <i>on my own life</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">both sides of this coin are total b.s. it's counterfeit currency no matter which way you flip it.</div><div style="text-align: left;">the truth is somewhere in the middle {as per usual}. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the truth is that God is in control.</div><div style="text-align: left;">AND that we have agency to act and make choices that affect our lives.</div><div style="text-align: left;">AND that we are responsible for the choices that we make even though he painted the big picture.</div><div style="text-align: left;">{yes, paint<b>ed</b>. because it is <i>finished</i>.}</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">paradoxical? </div><div style="text-align: left;">yes, of course. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the clay doesn't understand the work of the potter.</div><div style="text-align: left;">but the potter has a purpose for that hunk of clay. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">we may be in the part of the process where it feels like we're getting beaten up,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but maybe {maybe} it's because he's really softening us up to shape us into something more beautiful than we can picture in the state we're in right now.</div><div style="text-align: left;">{sidenote: just because God uses the crud of our lives to help shape us despite it being crud does not mean that it isn't crud, or that he condones the crud itself.}</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">in the midst of all of the paradoxes of life i go back to the words of a wise friend of mine: "we don't know what the future holds, but we know who holds it." </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">psalm 119:105 tells us that the Lord is a lamp unto our feet and a light for our path. </div><div style="text-align: left;">there is no implication from this that we can see the big picture, or understand it in the minutiae of our everyday lives. </div><div style="text-align: left;">but he is faithful to show us the next step.</div><div style="text-align: left;">he</div><div style="text-align: left;">is</div><div style="text-align: left;">faithful.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i hope and pray that we each draw closer to the one who holds the future each and every day.</div><div style="text-align: left;">and as we throw more days into the blender of our lives that we incrementally look more and more like Jesus. </div><div style="text-align: left;">that we take comfort in the fact that it is already written.</div><div style="text-align: left;">that it is already finished.</div><div style="text-align: left;">and that we can rest in him.</div><div style="text-align: left;">that we can trust him with the future that he already holds.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-15971841571810082172022-04-07T07:41:00.001-04:002022-04-07T07:41:51.604-04:00making it complicated<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4FYi5f0RKC_IFDv4mgmE4f0YzpAYw5aTr1aLT_geY_oJGpU_FkmfhzM_yUDf1VTCnByq7dRCTLkKaWorKPcdfTkvedrmmMSM2HTAxNkNVprL_M6vj5wgp84O8yKEwIhysMPbQkEz0OrAZzkcS7sl1oa68boJZ93QY9YGU4VSIcXo8zhlKWP2WDhVfhA/s4032/9209D40A-7DCF-4E46-8B99-6F4BCD1973A9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4FYi5f0RKC_IFDv4mgmE4f0YzpAYw5aTr1aLT_geY_oJGpU_FkmfhzM_yUDf1VTCnByq7dRCTLkKaWorKPcdfTkvedrmmMSM2HTAxNkNVprL_M6vj5wgp84O8yKEwIhysMPbQkEz0OrAZzkcS7sl1oa68boJZ93QY9YGU4VSIcXo8zhlKWP2WDhVfhA/s320/9209D40A-7DCF-4E46-8B99-6F4BCD1973A9.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>i tend to over-complicate my life. and usually it's because i think that life is supposed to be easier than it is. so i dive in and over-analyze. and make it even more complicated. {at least in my mind}<div><br /></div><div>but why do i think life is supposed to be easier than it is? </div><div>because that's what i've been told "the good life" is. the good life means that everything is easy and i have nothing to worry about. bad things aren't supposed to happen. not to me.<div><br /></div><div>which is a giant -</div><div>and i mean GIANT -</div><div>load of </div><div>bullsh*t.</div><div><br /></div><div>life is hard because the world is broken, but it's also hard because if it's not hard then you're doing it wrong and missing out on a whole bunch of growth opportunities {and by you i mean me. <span style="font-size: x-small;">or maybe we</span>.}</div><div><br /></div><div>it's not that we should be miserable all of the time, or that there shouldn't be any respite. that's false too. but. if we only live inside of our comfort zones then we don't grow. and only when we live inside of our comfort zones is the world mostly easy - and {let's face it} boring.</div><div><br /></div><div>why is "the good life" paraded around that way? why is "the good life" called the good life? most of the people we truly admire {and remember} are not people who chose the easy path. how many people changed the world by following all of the rules of their time? why do we think this is "good"? </div><div>hasn't history proven otherwise?</div></div><div><br /></div><div>where are our blind spots? </div><div>are we brave enough to ask those around us? </div><div>are we brave enough to take courage and dive deep even if it means bringing something out into the light from the dark recesses of our being?</div><div><br /></div><div>the second law of thermodynamics says that in a closed system entropy will not decrease. or, more bluntly, things will move from order to disorder. we constantly have to fight against the entropy that pushes us toward disorder.</div><div><br /></div><div>i don't know about yours, but i feel that down deep. </div><div>my life feels like it's spinning out of control on a lot of days. </div><div>like the disorder outweighs everything else and all of the things on my endless to-do lists may end up swallowing me whole.</div><div>i've felt that a lot this week.</div><div>things are crazy-busy. and i'm t i r e d.</div><div><br /></div><div>the king of chaos constantly pushes us toward crazy. </div><div>or at least toward busy.</div><div><br /></div><div>because if we're too preoccupied with all.of.the.things to hear the still-small-voice</div><div>we can't love God with all that we are.</div><div>if we're too preoccupied to notice the neighbors around us,</div><div>we can't love them as ourselves.</div><div><br /></div><div>and in our minds people stop being full people created in the image of God.</div><div><br /></div><div>so what's the antidote? </div><div>time with God so we don't miss his voice,</div><div>and leaving space to ask people how they are and actually listen to the answer.</div><div><br /></div><div>what would happen if we just started there?</div><div>and stop making it so complicated.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-889530069555123621.post-48837578122320840252022-04-04T07:00:00.001-04:002022-04-04T07:00:32.654-04:00already written<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzckR2J5zhLVQQrHl_yu16EjWENoaNgtrCsihhZrQrjRrTgdlw8gT7CTQtuPOY9NeOwR82yfFm2A9ItrWUeNi-WU4JDp1GgmEk8Ky1PqtATYcdneUTyBC6aEnaQody2gUjeiiHjGuJnqP4p4CdwTvlOAo-yVmujIfcIrlWfaOWUSI8mva4Swv5hloRw/s3598/4CD5E150-D0BB-4E4D-B69A-45DB6A3DC2BB.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2424" data-original-width="3598" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzckR2J5zhLVQQrHl_yu16EjWENoaNgtrCsihhZrQrjRrTgdlw8gT7CTQtuPOY9NeOwR82yfFm2A9ItrWUeNi-WU4JDp1GgmEk8Ky1PqtATYcdneUTyBC6aEnaQody2gUjeiiHjGuJnqP4p4CdwTvlOAo-yVmujIfcIrlWfaOWUSI8mva4Swv5hloRw/s320/4CD5E150-D0BB-4E4D-B69A-45DB6A3DC2BB.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">lately i've been trying to see farther down the path than what i can see. i've mentioned it here at times. some times more obtuse than others. but i think the thing that has given me more comfort and rest than anything else is the realization that the story is already written. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">yes, i recognize that can be maddening {and some of you think i'm crazy for believing that's true in the first place, which is fine}. but here's the thing. i either trust that God is in control and outside of space and time and therefore he knows what hasn't happened yet in the trajectory of my space-time continuum, or i don’t. but if i believe that, <i>then it is already written</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">this doesn't mean i'm not culpable. it doesn't mean that i cannot make choices, or have no effect on my own life. but it means that he already knows. and my name is written in the book of life. and the things that i struggle with right now are just as fleeting as the happy moments that are so good i can taste them. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">this life is a mist. and most days it makes less sense than i would like it to. but here it is. this mist, this grace, this life. it’s a mist, but it’s here. and i can simultaneously be grateful for the gift of these fleeting misty moments, be appreciative of my agency encompassed inside of them, and know, trust, and believe that</div><div style="text-align: left;">it</div><div style="text-align: left;">is</div><div style="text-align: left;">already</div><div style="text-align: left;">written. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">xoxo</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14083547016514008063noreply@blogger.com0