growing.

“I don’t want to grow up.” I tell myself as sleep eludes me and I watch as the moon changes it’s shadow across my carpet. The hours slip one into the next. 25. I’m going to be 25 and the years have slipped one into the next. Why is it so hard? Why am I digging in my heels and clinging to traces of summer nights at Elizabeth Park, bike rides with my Dad, spending hours lost in creativity. Where have the years gone? and how do I move forward?

Maybe it’s not that I don’t want to be 25 but it’s that I’m afraid.

Why does fear do that?

It robs us of our joy in an instant.

I remember when my mom turned 40.

I remember her joy that day. This adventure of life was only growing and she chose joy instead of fear. A celebration into a new chapter and she walked boldly into it. “she laughs with no fear of the future.” Proverbs 31.

My mom laughs with no fear of the future.

She turned 49 this month and she still faces the future with confidence and expectancy, trusting, moving forward, curious, strong.

So I remember where I come from.

I remember what she instilled in me through my years growing up. I remember to do the right thing even if I’m standing alone. To trust in the one who made my heart. To be brave.

I have everything I need.

Childhood is over.

It’s time to face what lays ahead with confidence and joy and trust…

in Him who made me.

Sweetly

I’ve been quietly wading through each layer of all these days. Holding heavily onto heavy backpacks, bags and books with care. Through rain, I tread in puddles of doubt. It’s been this way for quite some time….and then I see a gentle shift in clouds misting above my rain drenched head. The hood I wear no longer seems of any use and shreds of blue peer through and light wraps around my heart within the heavy. My heart within a storm that has raged for far too long. I put down my heavy load, not all at once but one by one. and each time I place one on the ground, I receive something in return. Something far more valuable and freeing than a filthy back pack giving me blisters on my weary shoulders. All these days. all these days of fear and chaos, and lies I never had to carry. But I look forward with hope and peace because every time I exchange my burden and leave it on the trail behind me, a little more sun peeks through the stormy clouds and a little less rain weighs me down and I begin to see that I was never alone on this trail, on this journey. I still have a lot to lay down.

But I choose to keep on laying these down.

“My burden is light, and my yoke is easy.”

I sigh with relief. He’s never lied to me. The truth is what He gives me. Relentlessly. Graciously, Sweetly.

He quiets me with His love. Over and over and over again.

I am free in His love and the depth of it overwhelms me.

It’s that she wandered

I have a few things in my heart

A hopeful blur

I can’t depart

from words spoken, layered after years

a few things turned to some

and then a hoard.

Filled to the brim,

left no room

for. me. to. breathe.

A year, then two

a third came soon

My heart swam in fearful gloom

joy escaped me

words erased me.

What once brought life, twisted in.

the truth obscured within the truth

list’s, to do’s, be more, say enough,

stand up taller, say it right

lead us farther, face the night

what once brought life

created gaps, created chasms

I could not cross.

Then…

I finally caught that flight

Home.

It called my name

and what once brought life

came sweetly back

caressing my stubborn feet,

my face, my hands, my heart so hard

took one step down the street

a dialogue so incomplete

yet time ahead to fill the holes.

patience came with each new mold.

I have a few things in my heart

to mend and not retreat

hold your ground

deep breath

stay here

don’t leave

What once brought life

will be redeemed

breathe deep my love

and live.

A Dissection

These words sit heavy on my flustered heart

A spiral of hopeful resolution,

but they never find one.

A swirling mess of conversations, ideas

remains a questionable truth.

And my scalpel is aimed, poised above…

evolution

Christ an illusion?

a delusion?

My eyes shift uneasily as I lay my own heart down.

A truth wraps around it, silver and strong and faithful

I watch as it guards what’s inside

and I have to make a choice…

dissection?

or reflection?

Dissection crowds in with all it’s bleeding parts

creating a chaos within.

Reflection is a quiet correction

and it graciously whispers His truth…

So secure. so peaceful

so pure

I choose Him.

A line in the Sand.

I draw a line in the sand-crossing borders and valleys.

I know I can’t comprehend what all this means right now.

Cause I’ll listen and obey though obedience I can’t contain and I guess my whole disguise is that I can but then I won’t.

It’s that I should, but then I don’t.

I want to trust so thoroughly that whatever He says, it’ll grind right in and it’ll stick.

Not out of misery or pride, but a privilege to decide that His ways are above mine and this fabrication of life I’ve created won’t last, won’t land, won’t be a firm foundation. It’s so that, nothing will come between this honesty, this softened heart, and the gentle reassurance that the line I drew- that line in the sand, it was meant to define my liberty and my freedom from a law that no one can keep.

That the fruit from this life, is one that is sweet.

But the bottom line, is that I don’t need to try.

At the end of the day, I am enough

and the Grace that created that line to set me free

that grace covers me.

completely.

Covers my frail hands that create out of false hope that what I make can be great.

I am incomplete and my light only shines so bright without that tender line…

reminding me to trust.

Remaining

I’ve been wrestling with this idea the past few months. What does it mean to remain.

I’m  slowly rearranging my frame, my point of view, my perspective at the moment.

I have a fresh cup of coffee sitting next to me. A quiet fire across the room, inviting stillness, and worship music filling my mind. And yet, deep within myself, I feel a restless pull to do something else, be somewhere else, be someone else.

Why do I feel that?

There is a beautiful painting leaning idly against the wall in my house, patiently waiting for me to align the nails and hang it up. People have been asking if I painted it, and I wish I could answer yes. This painting is so much of what I want to be as an artist. The colors are perfect, the composition outstanding and the very character and nature of the painting is inviting and calming. I want to be that. Not just in my art, but in who I am.

Whatever it is, I know it will take time. I am impatient, and antsy, anxious and hopeful…I want to see what’s around the next bend, I want to know that I’ll be alright.

There is a season I am rubbing up against. Closing certain doors, saying goodbye to one who held a key to my heart, beginning anew. When I look at the painting across from me, I see a finished product. a beautiful masterpiece. But the artist had to begin with a white canvas. They layered, and layered and layered. every brushstroke done in tenderness and love until the painting took it’s first breath of life. I know the artist stepped back in wonder and awe. Because I think the painter knew, it wouldn’t be just to her delight, but to others as well.

God is working on this stubborn and yet tender heart of mine. I walk with a gentle hesitancy, unsure of the next curve. But my heart is stilled when I remember who holds the paintbrush. Each stroke with tenderness and care. I am in safe hands and I will remain secure in them.

What’s been layered already is simply a part of the masterpiece.

For we are His workmanship

let things grow

Maybe He’s not seen in the way we think He’ll reveal Himself

I believe He’s in the words of a friend

In the sunrise

the full moon

He’s in our creative actions

our gentle brushstrokes

our laced up running shoes.

He reveals who He is in what He has created

We just need eyes to see

ears to hear

and the patience to let things grow.

Mama

My Sweet Mama,

I can’t count the words I’ve written to you over the years, but even if I could write all the words in the world, they would never quite capture how deeply I love you.

“I love you,” could never express the depth I feel towards you.

You are the most beautiful woman I know. In every way, I want to be like you. The way you love Dad and the way you love the three of us is a gift of so much worth, my heart bursts a little.

I was so lucky to get to grow inside you

To call you Mama.

 

To be held by you and be nurtured with an unconditional love.

 

Holding a baby, rocking a baby and entertaining a two year old…need I say more. You are incredible!

 

I was (am) your shadow. I was (am) your cuddle bug. Thank you for making room for me on your lap. Even at 22 years old.

 

I love this picture because its a perfect representation of how I remember you. Not just your awesome plaid jacket 🙂 but that you were with us. All my memories include you. You never skipped a beat with us and you never wavered in your love for us.

 

First day of Kindergarten. I remember we drew horses to help distract me from the inevitable…when you had to leave. Thank goodness I had a buddy (Calvin) to remind me you would come back. and you did, and you still do.

 

This is just priceless.

 

When I was traveling in Indonesia, I remember once on a long van ride listening to Rock Lobster and smiling to myself thinking of our crazy times in the car rocking out to the B52’s. I LOVE our spazzy times of cracking up and making Dad roll his eyes. HAHA! It is SO funny 🙂 Love being crazy and a half shell with you!!!

 

Reenacting womb life…

 

So my dear Mama, so many miles from me. I always remember, the moon is our meeting spot. Whether we’re in Switzerland and Nepal, or American and Tunisia, you are always in my heart. I think of you everyday and am more than blessed to call you my Mom. You are everything a daughter could ever ask for.

I wish there were more words to tell you how amazing you are. You make me strong, you make me smile, you have made me into the woman I am today.

Happy Birthday Mama and Happy Mother’s day.

Thank you for who you are.

I love you.

Love,

Katie cat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Staying

I remember the sense of adventure I felt as I flew over the rolling green hills of Switzerland three years ago and how I knew in my heart that it was the right decision.

I remember sitting in a small coffee shop (which I often found myself in on later trips back and forth), sipping an expensive cappuccino and wondering what the next 9 months would hold.

The other day my Dad asked me if I was going through this emotional roller coaster (that I am in at the moment) because everybody else in the family is going off on their own adventures; Tunisia, Germany and Tennessee… but I don’t think that’s it at all. I feel like a whole new adventure is about to unfold for me. Even though I won’t be packing my suitcase (which I actually stole from my brothers roommate…it’s not even mine) or going through airport security, or meeting people who don’t speak my language. Even though all that stuff isn’t going to happen, there are so many new things that still await me. Long walks on the Boulevard catching up with dear friends. Early morning runs and the anxious slash sometimes exciting feeling I get when I drop off a resume at a job I’m not even certain I want…because even in that, is adventure.

I look back on my time in Switzerland and I loved those first 9 months…every second of them (except when I had to paint in front of 250 people), I loved the girls I went to school with and I loved my crazy staff. I went back to be on staff for those extra 2 years because I wanted to be able to give future students that same sense of adventure and abandonment and joy. I felt like I lost some things along the way those last 2 years… a little bit of my joy from that hole in my pocket, a little bit of the peace I was sure I stuck in my satchel… a little bit of that adventure…

But I’m realizing that pockets can always be mended (probably by sweet grandma’s who still have the skill to do things like that), and I can always find a new satchel (maybe one with a cuter pattern on it this time:) and I guess I’m realizing that adventure is a choice (as with most things). I don’t have to fly across the Atlantic ocean to feel alive…I’m alive right here in Bellingham Washington, and I will be alive in each step I choose to take with joy. I know about the one who steals the joy and to be quite honest, I’m sick and tired of “him” coming around. It’s time I took my joy back. And I am. I do it every time I pick up my paintbrush or strum a few chords on my guitar.

I think the biggest thing is to find what makes you feel alive. Those little activities, like building a fence or painting a picture or learning a new song on the guitar, and sticking with it. Even if the fence isn’t as straight as you hoped it would be, or that painting isn’t nearly as accurate or colorful as you wanted…and maybe you suck at playing that song on the guitar for the first time…but at least you tried, right? and once you start something you have to keep working at it until one day your singing and strumming and your heart is smiling because you not only sound good, but you feel good too.

And all that is to say, I’m okay to stay in Bellingham, and I am okay with the up’s and down’s of life overseas. Sure there will be days that I have to continue wrestling with the experiences, but thanks God that your mercies are new every morning.

and I meant all that stuff I said up there. Because as I wrap up this blog post, I realize it only came out of sitting down and trying…even though I was kind of afraid that it would suck…

Even there…was some adventure:)

Time Takes us…

Looking at this picture today brought with it a flood of memories that made me stop and reflect or rather come to the place where I realize…my childhood…is over… I mean, yeah, I’m 21…and therefore have been an “adult” for 3 years now…and seeing as I’ve been living in a foreign country for almost 2 and a half years, I should have this adult thing pretty nailed down…but so often I still feel like a child, with the way I think or what my actions show and in a way thats okay, because it reveals to us how much we are capable of growth…and that there’s always something we can work on in our character…so I guess I’m not neccesarily talking about letting go of having childlike faith or understanding my need for growth…but about that childhood “thing”, where you get tucked in at night, a bedtime story…a place to run in the middle of the night from a nightmare…parents who make you dinner and ask you to do the dishes afterwards, while you grumble and complain even though you know it’s only fair:) I don’t want to forget those good times (and they really were good times) I want to remember the walks to school with my dear twin brother and the long and laughter filled dinners where my sister caused most of the ruckus:) I want to remember always the sound of my Dad’s voice as he spent endless hours in the evening sharing the rich stories of Narnia or Harry Potter. And I definitly don’t want to forget how often I snuggled up close with the one and only Mama bear; always with an open lap, open arms and a chest to lay my head on. And I know I won’t forget because what has changed are merely the years…time has taken us as it takes all of us…and now we’re 21, 23, 45 and thousands of miles apart…but for such a time as this…it’s okay. There will be plenty of stories to tell around the dinner table in time and long walks will be filled with thoughts and stories and smiles…the evenings will be open again for novels and tales to unfold…and those safe, familiar arms are always waiting.
I guess I’m just coming to a place of peace.
And these past years have been amazing…meeting new people, being exposed to a new language and making myself tired trying to understand it…traveling to far off lands, India and Indonesia…I wouldn’t trade this time…I’ve learned so much, and I hope what I have learned, I can share…with you, with your friends, with friends of your friends…because there really is so much to share. and I’ll listen to you too and we can sit and talk about the way time takes us and shapes us and challenges us and brings us to the place of surrender. I choose (or am choosing…) to surrender to God. Because I know he knows what he’s doing…even when I can’t see my way, I know he guides these clumsy feet of mine…The days when I doubt are the most important, because it’s on those days when I make the most important decision again and again and that is to continue walking this way. Wherever He is leading.