You make me brave.

I recently talked with my sister about how I feel like the last three months have felt like God is setting me up for the rest of my life. She, being one of "my persons" who's seen me through thick and thin, wholeheartedly agreed.

They say the brain has generally ceased developing (in a "growing up" sense) by the age of 25. Who you are by the time you're 25 is most likely going to be who you'll be for the rest of your life, as far as wiring, instincts, and lifestyle go. And I think it is no coincidence that my life took some serious shifts in thinking/acting between May 3rd, 2013 and last Saturday when I turned 25. Undoubtedly the most eventful year of my life, and inarguably the most life-changing.

I moved away from my home of fifteen years and lived in a foreign city with strength I didn't know I had.

I faced my darkest memory to date with strength I didn't know I had.

I embraced 100% solitude with strength I didn't know I had.

I acknowledged the ocean of shame I'd been treading water in my entire life with strength I didn't know I had.

I made a second move, relatively unexpected and unplanned, with strength I didn't know I had.

The takeaway: I lived life with strength I didn't know I had. Because I finally began to understand what true strength is; how to hear it, how to sing it, how to walk upon it, how to breathe it in, how to dance in it.

I grew keenly aware of my instincts, keenly aware of Who put them there, and keenly aware of how to respond to them.

For example, here's a story not many of you know in detail...

I now live in Nashville, Tennessee.

I knew in late February, clear as day, that it was the next chapter, despite it making ZERO SENSE on so many levels. I loved my grad program in Portland. I loved my two jobs in Portland. I loved my budding friendships in Portland. I could see myself getting used to the idea of Portland being home, even if the spark wasn't there yet.

Nashville had been a shadow of a thought for awhile. There was an MFT program through Lipscomb University that caught my eye. A lofty idea. An open door as an option, and I assumed the stars needed to align in such a way to make it a viable choice.

Stars never aligned. At least not in the way I thought they would.

I was driving home at 11pm one night, deeply sad and disappointed about a conversation I'd just had, not looking forward to what the next few weeks/months would feel like because of it, and I heard my own voice in my head say "Now I know Nashville definitely isn't happening."

thunk.

My gut instantly felt hard as a rock, churning around, restless and constricting. Alert and alive.

The cloud of doubt and question vanished before me, and all I could see was Nashville.

Not a full second passed between me consciously thinking "Now I know Nashville definitely isn't happening" and me then thinking in a quieter voice "I'm moving to Nashville."

When? Probably after my term at George Fox ends in early May.

Where would I live? Dunno. Don't have connections there.

Where would I work? Dunno. Don't have connections there.

Is George Fox an unsatisfactory school? Nope. It's changed my life even after a few months.

Has Lipscomb accepted you for their program? Nope.

Is there a particular reason/person to move for? Nope.

Why then?? Dunno. But yes. Absolutely yes.

Within 24 hours of making this decision, a friend in California I'd known in Phoenix randomly texted me asking about life. After the brief update, it felt right to add "...and I'm planning on transferring grad programs to one in Nashville." Weird, since I hadn't told a single soul yet. His response: "Oh I know a few people in Nashville! I'll get you in touch!" I joked: "Welp, let me know if any of them need a roommate, haha." And the conversation ended.

I planned a budget for a move in early May, worked two jobs and saved as much as I could, and began looking on Craigslist for roommate posts. 88% Sketchy/creepy, 10% Decent but too expensive, 2% Manageable on all fronts and got an email from me. Fall through here, fall through there, the search continued.

My dad found himself staying in Portland on one of his trips during all this, and we ended up having dinner and talking for a few hours in a really meaningful way. I told him about my plans, expecting him to poke holes in my reasoning and/or strongly encourage me to stick with what's already working just fine in Portland. His reaction was the exact opposite. He encouraged me forward, he offered to make the drive with me to Nashville when the time came, and even told me he'd help financially. I dropped him off at his hotel and felt more loved and validated by him than I probably ever have in my life. That, if nothing else, solidified the truth that God Himself was putting down the stepping stones leading me to Nashville.

One day I was working on an assignment for my class at my favorite coffee spot, breezing through it with no struggle or frustration. Then suddenly:

you can stop this now.

...huh? This is due tomorrow. I'm already halfway finished.

you can stop this now.

And I began to understand.

I believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that Nashville was my next step. In the transferring process of grad programs, only a certain amount of credits are transferrable. The class I was taking at the time wouldn't be transferred to the Nashville program, so it was useless if I was moving. But if I didn't move, dropping the class would put me behind a semester and mess up the process I had going for me in Portland. Dropping the class also opened the door for moving to happen an entire month earlier than previously planned, because this class was the only thing to stay in Portland for.

I felt like I was being nudged toward the edge where I'd have to make an actual leap of faith.

Do I drop this class and truly choose moving? With nowhere to live, nowhere to work, and before I've even finished the application process to Lipscomb? Or do I cling to it "just in case", just to be safe?

Do I jump from Portland before I have anywhere to land in Nashville?

My brain was upset.

NO. DON'T DO THAT. WASTEFUL! UNNECESSARY RISK! UNCOMFORTABLE! YOU LOSE CONTROL OF THE SITUATION IF YOU DO THAT. CLING TO WHAT YOU KNOW!

A quieter voice was insistent.

you can stop this now.

it's time.

The inner commotion led me to stop what I was doing, walk out the door of the shop, drive home in silence and prayer, get home and sit on my bed with my laptop in front of me, getting the online process of dropping the class set up. All that was left to do was click the "Drop Class" button, and the tears started streaming down.

I trust You. And I believe You're leading me there.

If that's true, then I genuinely don't need this class, and it's actually taking away from my ability to prepare myself for this next step.

The door is open, and You are pointing forward.

Forward is out of my line of sight. I'm terrified. But...

I trust You. And I believe You're leading me there.

...

...click.

More tears. But even more peace.

More roommate searches. More job searches. I started focusing most on nanny jobs through Care.com, because I was really loving the setup I had in Portland.

Something felt absolutely right about planning for a weekend trip out there (shout out to the pops for the gift of Buddy Pass privileges) to meet potential roommates I may find or families to talk with that I may nanny for.

I had no leads in either of those categories. I had the smallest of connections to potentially have a place to stay nearby when I visited, but it was shaky.

I was planning a trip...with no plans. But it was right, I knew it, and I found myself yet again leaping with nowhere to land yet.

While setting up that trip, one roommate situation shined through the others on Craigslist, so I sent an email and we set up a Skype conversation to chat.

Things were polite. Both the girls seemed down to earth and great.

But it wasn't right, I could feel it. And that was discouraging. I was going to stick with it if it was my only solid option and meet them when I visited, but something told me to keep my ears open.

So I prayed.

I know this is the way forward.

But I also know what it's like to live in a place that doesn't feel like home.

Please.

If it's out there, let me find a home.

The NEXT day, I was on my lunch at work when my California friend texted me again, weeks after his first text.

"When are you moving to Nashville again?"

Again, with the same friend, I found myself verbalizing for the first time what had only been a thought previously.

"Well, now I'm actually thinking it'll be the beginning of April, in a month or so."

And he proceeds to inform me of two of his friends new to Nashville who are looking for a third roommate in their new place. He described them briefly, gave me one of their numbers, but I was texted  by one of them before I even had the chance to first.

"KATELYN!!! I hear you're moving to Nashville!?!"

I remember having the biggest smile on my face. Because I knew I'd found what I'd been looking for.

The three of us talked on the phone, clearly felt the love like crazy, and we talked logistics of what the next month would look like. They'd just found the cutest cottage in the perfect location for a fantastic price, and my name found itself on the lease, and suddenly I'd be sleeping in my future new room with my future new roommates on this little trip a week away that I'd been planning before there was anything to plan.

Sometime in the next few days, I found what felt like the perfect nanny position on Care.com, fell in love with the family just in how the mom described her kids and her dogs and her husband, and I knew I wanted this job 1000x more than any of the others I'd applied for that I'd either never got a response from or things fell through. I applied, re-read my application email about a hundred times, and sent it through, praying so so hard to be able to meet with this specific family during my planned trip.

I distinctly remembered the pain of moving somewhere without a job lined up, and I wanted to do whatever it took to not be in that position again. So much prayer, it felt like every exhalation was a prayer of trust and peace and grace.

I was in a Wendy's drive-thru when my phone alerted me of a new email. It was the mom of the family. She wanted to meet me.

That joy. I'll never forget it.

After a few back-and-forth emails, I had plans to meet with the entire family for breakfast on one of the days of my trip.

The trip itself was incredible, validating, and all-around a beautiful experience. By the end of it, the three and a half weeks to moving couldn't come sooner.

A few days after coming home, I got an email saying I got the nanny job.

Before I knew it, I was walking through the door of my new home, exhausted but ecstatic, ready to make a life in Nashville.

This all took place in the span of five weeks or so. 

I am a changed person in the midst of such a journey, and that is only a fraction of what the last bit of time has entailed for my soul and my heart. It is a testament to what He has been up to the last six years or so of my life. All the steps toward vulnerability, toward loosening my grip on my own will, toward trust, toward learning His voice and His touch, toward the outskirts of my comfort zone...all steps necessary for this process to have taken place.

It was tough at first to express all the colors of my heart in this moment of life. I feel strong, yet weak, yet confident, yet humble. It felt too complex to feel all at once, then I heard this new worship song at church last week, and it broke me, and I knew the words I needed to sing.

I've heard You call my name

I've heard the song of love that You sing

So I will let You draw me out beyond the shore

Into Your grace

As Your love, wave after wave

Crashes over me, crashes over me

For You are for us, You are not against us

Champion of Heaven, You made a way

For all to enter in

'Cause You make me brave

You make me brave

You call me out beyond the shore into the waves

You make me brave

You make me brave

No fear can hinder now

The promises You've made

This past year has been my year of bravery, being brave enough to jump and know He'll catch me. Brave enough to trust my instincts and my prayers. Brave enough to be confident in His path, even if others (or my logical brain) raise their eyebrows or shake their heads. Brave enough to be weak under His strength.

Brave enough to surrender my fear, and walk into the unknown of His steadfast promises.

Yeah, I'd like to think God is setting me up for the rest of my life with that kind of footing as I walk into true adulthood.

So let's do this.

Free Fallin'

Welp. Other than this blog and Instagram (which I trimmed down to posts within this past year), I am officially off the grid of social networks for the first time in probably ten years (if we're including cute little Myspace).

I can't describe to you the freedom I am experiencing in that. Even knowing that you're probably reading this because you clicked on the link in my Instagram profile...which takes a few more intentional steps to see how I'm doing as a human than a streaming Facebook news feed dangling the link in your face...that's pretty great to me. Even if I get 5 views rather than 500, damn, you're the only five people I'm really writing to anyway. :)

Anyway, yes. Freedom.

Not because Facebook was an addiction of mine, or a platform for drama, or I'm on a high horse about technology sucking the life out of mankind.

I'm simply learning more and more that the human process of figuring out life is an absolute mess, even when you have a good head on your shoulders and all the best intentions in the world.

And after taking an objective look at how my Facebook and Twitter portrayed who I am and where I've been, I decided I didn't like the idea of my messy and flawed human process documented with words and photos for someone to comb through and assess me by. The past 7+ years have shaped me into the person I am today, and I share the memories of those years with those who were meant to be part of them. Who I am today is something entirely different, and my future as the person I am is so much more relevant to my relationships than my past journey in getting here.

Along with that, it didn't sit well with me that someone would need to use those platforms to get to know me in the first place. If we don't have the ability/desire to know each other in real life, what is the point of status updates and years' worth of pictures of me? Or, if they already know me, it didn't sit well with me that they'd use those platforms to keep up with how life is going for me...rather than an intentional text/phone call that take a little time and effort.

There's also a level of entering into the professional world rather soon, and if I were to ever hop back into the Facebook realm, I'd want to start afresh with a very intentional mindset on what/when/why I use it at all.

Moving on my own and away from "my people" into a new city...for a grad program all about the human condition...have, if nothing else, taught me that we are neurologically interwoven with a lifelong need for human connections. We can't survive without them. And our brains are wired for those connections to be three-dimensional and physically present with other humans. Technology doesn't have the capacity to support the type of connections we need, and I doubt it ever will. I have tried so hard to live vicariously through technology in hopes that my life may as well be happening in the same city as the people I miss who don't live here with me, and it always left me feeling unrested. Meanwhile, my co-workers want to talk about their relationship situations and their families, and my classmates are sharing some of their stories when something we're talking about in a lecture really resounds in them...there are humans right next to me reaching out for the connections I've been staring at my phone for trying to feel with people thousands of miles away. I'd lost touch with the concept of my community being with whoever I lay eyes on, not whoever has private access to my Facebook statuses and pictures.

So I'm feeling free.

Free to let my distant human connections be what they are, and put actual time/energy into them if they really are worth it.

Free to let my local human connections grow in organic ways that take advantage of our proximity...coffee hangouts, grabbing lunch/dinner, anything involving the actual humans I'm living my life next to.

Free to let my hunger for human connections push me to genuinely talk with someone I may not have in a more comfortable state, like the stranger sitting next to me at coffee or the customer at the drive-thru window who's forced to sit there anyway while their drink is being made.

Free to live in the reality that we were never meant to have 500+ friends to keep up with and share our lives with, but respect the comings and goings of those who cross our paths and keep our attentions most focused on those put in front of us this very moment.

This may be my last post for awhile...mainly to push myself to share my heart with real humans rather than whoever can find me online. I'm sure I'll have a few painfully inspirational rants to share, knowing me. And I also know that I've had some genuine encouragement to keep writing, and that what I've written in here has really made some impacts. I want to honor that. So I'm not going anywhere in the long run.

But for now, I leave you for the treacherous road of living life with flesh and blood humans. If that can't be you, text or call for some you-and-me time. If you don't have my number, but want some you-and-me time, but we can't do that in real life...well...let's cross that bridge when we get to it? Hah.

We'll talk soon.

Oh Death, where is your sting?

There was one point...one chapter, really...of my life when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who would be on my mind if I knew I was about to die. Or on my deathbed, if I was able to ask for anyone I wished to come be with me in my last moments...no question, I knew who I would ask for.

That's a profound feeling, knowing who you'd ask for if you were about to die. Knowing the ghost in the deepest parts of your being whose hand you'd want to hold as you faced the end.

I knew who that would be until about a year ago. Or I should say, it would have been true until about a year ago.

After that, thanks to life happenings and choices, I was scared out of my mind to die. And at the same time, welcomed the end of trying to live here.

Then about five months ago, after dealing with some of the darkness I've shared on this blog and other shadows unmentioned, I started the process of slowly but surely getting to a place of facing my mortality with peace again.

And once more, I knew who I'd want with me in my last breaths. But it wasn't the same face, the same name.

It was the Face I'll be staring at when that time comes. The One I'll want will be right in front of me, the One who's walked with me every step on this earth, the Face I've longed to gaze on for so so long. I'll be reaching for His hand, no question.

This is all coming from a distinct dream I had last night that brought me an overwhelming peace, even in its morbidity. I dreamed I was in a car accident up here in Portland away from every one of my loved ones, flown from the car and bleeding out on the street. A man was crouching down next to me until an ambulance came, but I knew I wasn't going to make it.

So I looked at the stranger, and I said these words with tears in my eyes:

Tell my family I wasn't in pain, and I wasn't afraid. Tell them I can see Him, and He's so beautiful, and I'm ready.

I woke up, I cried in real life, and knew everything will be okay.

It's a profound feeling, knowing the human you'll want next to you in the end.

It's an even more profound feeling knowing that even if you are alone in the end, you won't be alone.

And that knowledge changes everything.

It makes the important things worth their pain and risk and patience.

It makes the unimportant things fade out of focus and lose their scariness.

It sets you free.

When death is welcomed, so is truly living.

This is a happy post, I swear. :)

Go and live abundant lives, my friends, and feel the peace of the Presence that will abide in you until the end.

On Lewis and Horses.

I know I'm abnormal in that C.S. Lewis' writing style flows through my brain seamlessly...he loves his run-ons and tangents. But bear with me, and chew on his words. I'll break it up for easier readability:

"Now it will be seen that, in so far as the tame animal has a real self or personality, it owes this almost entirely to its master. If a good sheepdog seems 'almost human' that is because a good shepherd has made it so [....]

I am now going to suggest - though with great readiness to be set right by real theologians - that there may be a sense [...] in which those beasts that attain a real self are in their masters. That is to say, you must not think of a beast by itself, and call that personality and then inquire whether God will raise and bless that. You must take the whole context in which the beast acquires its selfhood - namely 'The-goodman-and-the-goodwife-ruling-their-children-and-their-beasts-in-the-good-homestead'. That whole context may be regarded as a 'body' in the Pauline sense; and how much of that 'body' may be raised along with the goodman and goodwife, who can predict? So much, presumably, is necessary not only for the glory of God and the beatitude of the human pair, but for that particular glory and that particular beatitude which is eternally coloured by that particular terrestrial experience.

And in this way it seems to me possible that certain animals may have an immortality, not in themselves, but in the immortality of their masters. And the difficulty about personal identity in a creature barely personal disappears when the creature is thus kept in its proper context. If you ask, concerning an animal thus raised as a member of the whole Body of the homestead, where its personal identity resides, I answer 'Where its identity always did reside even in the earthly life - in its relation to the Body and, specially, to the master who is the head of that Body.'

In other words, the man will know his dog; the dog will know its master and, in knowing him, will be itself. To ask that it should, in any other way, know itself, is probably to ask for what has no meaning."

I love that. An animal finds their 'almost humanness' within the context of their human master. Just like we can only find ourselves within the context of the true Self. It brings to life the expression that people and their pets start looking/acting alike over time, and why there have been so many stories of true life-changing relationships between animals and humans.

It also solidifies the parallels I have always made between my dog Ayda, my ownership, love, and shepherding of her, and my relationship with my Shepherd.

One of my best friends and old roommates used to work at a Christian summer camp that centered around horse riding and training, and using horse training parallels to shed light on how God leads us, and how we tend to respond out of our fear and ignorance as flawed humans.

She said something once that has since stuck with me.

Apparently horses have no depth perception and very little color vision, so unknown objects moving toward them or on the ground in front of them get them easily spooked. This is why they're sometimes blindfolded or have blinders on in horse trailers or in crowded public places.

With this, one of their biggest fears are large tarps on the ground. They basically look like gaping holes the horse could fall into, so they're terrified of walking on them. A horse trainer works with the horse to ease them into being able to walk on the tarp successfully. Once they are willing to walk on tarps, they can walk through water and other land that they wouldn't have been able to before.

The tarp never looks less scary to the horse.

The tarp never makes sense or is understood by the horse.

The tarp will always...always...look like a gaping hole in the ground. The horse's brain does not have the capacity to register it as anything else, and will alert the nervous system and the adrenaline glands of danger over and over again. Despite that response becoming desensitized over time, it will never truly go away.

But here's the thing...

The goal is to gain the horse's trust to the point that the horse would walk straight into a gaping hole in the ground if its master guided it there.

This is when animals could possibly find their 'almost humanness' to me, when they transcend their instincts in dedication to their master, and therefore glorify the heart of our God. I see myself so painfully clear in this picture.

Because oh, how I love scanning the horizons for the gaping holes in the ground of my life.

There have been a legitimate few, and they led to broken bones and scars and regrets. And somewhere inside myself I vowed never to let myself fall into one again. I'd avoid any situation necessary, any relationship necessary, any feeling necessary, to avoid falling into a hole like that again.

Just like with horses, some of this is survival instinct and holds a beneficial fear of danger in order to survive and stay healthy.

But when the Master leads you to danger, you must trust Him above your instincts.

Even if it's straight into a gaping hole in the ground.

That vow of no more gaping holes has been challenged by Him over and over again in His leadership of my soul.

I'd even say I'm in the middle of such a situation right now. One where my brain is on edge and I'm looking around for all my exits, making sure I have a quick and painless escape if necessary, even searching for excuses to use them now before potential disaster hits. Some of this is healthy, and it means I'm being smart about my surroundings. But when I am called deeper, when I sense His voice is in front of me and not behind me telling me to walk away, I must follow His footsteps on top of that tarp and trust that He is my God, He is my Shepherd, and falling into a gaping hole with Him is more beautiful than avoiding those holes without Him.

And so I quiet my soul, move forward, and keep myself open to His guidance. I give Him my fears but do not let them rule my steps. I let Him be my Master, and lead me where my feet could never wander alone.

And maybe one day I'll be as brave as some horses are out there.

Die Trying

"It was a draining and depressing year for [Geoffrey]. He felt each morning as though he were going to work in a burning building, as though his job was simply to rescue as many kids as he could from the flames. 'It was almost primal,' Geoffrey told me, looking back. 'We were literally just trying to keep our children alive.' There were plenty he couldn't save; for many kids, the pull of guns and drugs was impossible to resist. For years, he offered martial arts lessons to a small group of young men and women from the neighborhood, mentoring them, hoping to show them an alternative to the violence on the streets, and he became closer to them than any other children in Rheedlan's programs. And then two of his top students told him that they had decided to go into business selling cocaine."

This is an excerpt from a book I'm currently reading for class. It is about Geoffrey Canada's noble fight to save the children of Harlem from the systematic oppression of their poverty level. I have to read it for a writing assignment on socioeconomics.

But this idea...this idea of a career path feeling like a burning building...that's sticking with me today. I think that will resound in me in profound ways once I am meeting with clients I want to "save". The child from unnecessary ADHD medication. The woman from the abusive relationship. The man from clinical depression. The marriage from heartbreak. The family from dysfunction. The human from darkness.

I have a long road ahead of me. I think that may be why I've been consciously preparing the way for this career path for almost a decade now...I've always known this is what I wanted to do. And I'm just now sensing the toll it may take on my soul.

At the edge of the abyss. That image is still with me when I imagine myself hand in hand with a client as they face themselves. All the mystery, the fear, the unknown, the mess.

I'm sensing now that I may witness too many clients dive into the darkness and lose the will to try anymore.

I'm sensing now that I may be tempted myself to lose the will to try anymore.

Geoffrey Canada's story is so moving because his vision - to save the children of Harlem - remained in tact year after year, decade after decade, program after program, failure after failure, during the highs and the lows. I know my own vision - to make peace in hurting marriages/families - is in my bone marrow, and will flow through me until my last breath. I hope to have the same resolve Geoffrey had, and to remember that God works in quiet, gradual, and unsuspecting ways, where I'd rather have glorious one-time-ends-all victories in living out His will.

We're not called to win. We're called to die trying.

Lord give me the strength to lose, to fail, to not know what to do next. Set me free from the fear I feel in those shortcomings, set me free from the lie that my worth is in my victories and my wisdom. Set me free from the shell I crawl into in the face of feeling too much tenderness.

Give me the strength to be weak.

My weakness within the sanctuary of Your love is where I find my true strength.

The strength I'll need to die trying.

Come Awake.

I'm learning more and more that walking with God isn't so much about getting questions answered, or receiving prophetic messages to follow, as much as it is simply partaking in moments. Some as a fruit of intentional time set apart for them, others that sweep you up in the middle of the day without warning.

I'm learning more and more that His gifts mean nothing without His presence. No gift of His could ever replace His absence.

I'm learning more and more that I know I am experiencing His presence when my brain feels as alive as it does when I am in another human's presence...neuron synapses firing away as I gaze upon their face, watch their eyes, notice their quirks. I know when He shows Himself to me, and I sense that I truly know that beautiful face.

I'm learning that Jesus hungered for Him while on this Earth. Not even the Son of God could feel a satisfying amount of His presence here. I'm learning that there is a definitive correlation between hunger, desperation, and risk, and His presence within me.

I'm learning that I need His power. I can't survive without it. Only God dwelling within me can follow God; I don't have the strength for it, my flesh has no consequence. I can only run on batteries for so long. I can only run on memories for so long. I need His power for every breath.

I'm learning that I need His affirmation, just like Jesus did at his baptism before he took a single step into his ministry. I need to know God is satisfied with me before I feebly attempt at being satisfactory. I need to know that I have already won what I foolishly try to earn.

These warm blankets of truth are a "moment" in and of themselves for me. Because I am coming out of what I believe to be a time of dormancy, darkness, and absence...a perceived absence of Him and even an absence of myself.

I'd say that time frame has been about five years, if I am being brutally honest with myself. Even before then, I'd say that darkness was on the horizon creeping in.

I think of those vast, elaborate English estates with around six levels of rooms and entire wings for all sorts of uses. Libraries, drawing rooms, ball rooms, parlors; even little secret nooks and hiding places. Then fields and fields of land with lakes and streams for even more adventures to be had. That's what I see when I think of the set-up of my heart, with all its passions and desires and movements.

And I'd say the past five years I effectively closed off room by room as time chipped away at my resolve, and some rooms felt haunted with painful ghosts, and others seemed useless despite being dear to me. Slowly but surely, I'd cover the furnishings and close the door, trying my best not to be sad. Trying my best to believe that maybe God never planned on using my whole heart anyway. Maybe some rooms weren't meant for me, even if I'd made space for them.

I think it was that thought...the thought of a God who did not affirm all of me, the thought of a life lived with empty beloved rooms, the thought of needing to be "less than" who I am to be acceptable...

Man, those thoughts knocked the wind out of me.

Defeated.

That's the truest word for the feeling of it all.

Tonight at church, the guest pastor John asked, "If the presence of God was subtracted from my life, what would stop working?"

I think the last five years have been an ebb and flow experience of what would stop working in me; I would stop working altogether.

There are so many elements, known and unknown to me, that went into how I got to that place in life.

Likewise, there are so many elements, known and unknown to me, that went into getting me out of that place in life.

Little nuggets of truth falling into place, making a small piece of the puzzle make more sense.

Something catching my attention that never had before, illuminating elements of my past and my present.

Beautiful moments that felt like sunlight peaking through boarded up windows, finding the weak spots in the defenses, warmth slowly melting the ice.

The births of my niece and nephew, and their painfully beautiful souls revealing themselves with age.

So many things. Big and small. But in the end, it was all the same process: I was waking up.

A room here, a room there. Door opening. Coverings thrown off. Curtains opened to let the sun in. A walk-through recalling how happy I had been here and how sad I was to have had it out of my life for so long.

Tonight, in all of its elements, felt like the grand opening of my heart. No room or hall or wing left unprepared for Presence, for Affirmation, for Power, for Love. The revelation that I have never been called to be less than myself, but in fact to be used for purposes greater than I can even comprehend. The estate of my heart is meant to be filled up to every square inch. Even farther: to overflow.

If that wasn't enough, we sang this song tonight in that huge sanctuary and I about died with life, haha. The chorus was my soul, begging God to do what He has been in the process of doing the past five years in my pain...to awake me from my sleep.

Spirit of the living God, come fall afresh on me

Come awake me from my sleep

Blow through the caverns of my soul

Pour in me to overflow

Hi.

Or, should I say, Good Morning. :)

Who Knows What the Tide Could Bring

In the process of packing up my room to move in with some friends in Vancouver, I came across my old one-subject notebook I used to journal in. I started it about two years ago and have jotted lyrics and letters down anytime I've felt like it since then.

I can tell what every single entry is about.

And I remember how I felt writing every single one.

The pattern I find the most in my cries to God is the underlying assumption that all the pieces of the puzzle were in front of me...that everything I've ever known or will know is right in front of me.

It made my entries rather hopeless, frustrated, and defeated. All my logic said that this, whatever "this" was going on at the time, was the end. It will be this way for the rest of my life. I will always hurt this way, always long for these things, always feel like something is missing.

I read these now and hurt for my younger heart. So many pieces of the puzzle have surfaced since then, things I never could have anticipated or imagined. Yet something told me in those moments to hold on, to keep moving, to hope in the hopelessness.

We never "arrive". Things never get "easier". But there are some hurts that don't last forever, and some hungers that eventually die away. There is a resolve in the future that can hardly be comprehended in the present. I can see that now as I skim through the words of my past.

I don't know where you're at. But if all your logic tells you that nothing in your life will ever resolve, let my words and this tear-jerker scene from Cast Away encourage you. Keep breathing. Search the shorelines of your life for the sail that could change everything if you used it. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?

Watery Walks

Tonight I needed a walk. Immediately.

It was raining pretty steadily. Didn't matter. Ayda came with me. I knew the exercise would keep her warm.

We started on the regular route we always do. I kept my head down at first to keep my face from getting soaked, but then I realized I wasn't wearing any makeup, had nowhere else to be tonight, and the rain was coming straight down so it wouldn't get in my eyes. So I stared straight ahead and let the rain run down my forehead, nose and cheeks. Soon enough, my pants were soaked, my shoes were soaked, and my outer rain jacket was soaked. I probably looked like the unabomber with my hood covering my hair, my hands in my pockets and my lanky stomps through the rain, but I soon stopped caring.

And I started praying.

You are my prize.

I have already won.

There's nothing to achieve.

There's no one to become.

I fear no fate, for You are my fate.

Ayda didn't like the rain. She was getting paranoid about every little sound and even more terrified of car headlights than she already is. She kept whipping her head around and frantically looking at me.

"You're okay, love. You're okay as long as you stay with me."

And like most shepherding things I say to my dog, I could hear His voice say the same words to me.

I felt fearless.

I fear no darkness.

I started thinking about the hardest things I've been through and some of the hardest things I could possibly think of happening in the future.

I fear no darkness.

But what if--?

I fear no darkness.

We circled back to my house and I knew Ayda was done. I wasn't quite though. I let her into the house, gave her a nice towel-dry, and set off again for another lap.

The rain was softer, but I was already drenched to the core.

The sidewalk in front of me turned somewhere in the distance past the fog, but it felt like an endless straight line in front of me.

I have so many hopes and dreams.

I have so many moments I want in my future.

I have so many images of what my happiness would look like.

I walked past my favorite house in my neighborhood, the closest thing to a dream house I've come to find in Oregonian suburbs.

I have such a vision for my future.

Somehow, through the raindrops in my eyelashes and the ones streaming down my face and neck, I sensed I was looking Him in the eye. And all those little glimpses of all those little treasures I was thinking of began to fade away.

You are my moment.

You are my vision.

You are the beauty I ache for.

You are my goal. And You're already mine.

I was home by then.

And it was time.

Stories From a Friend's Air Mattress

Let me start by thanking all of you from the depths of my heart for your kind responses and the sheer magnitude of readers I had for my last post. I needed to get it OUT, and out it went, and in circled my tribes of friends. I have felt peace like never before since finishing that post. Thank you for all your encouragement and empathy. If you shed tears, I am honestly glad - that means I relayed the sadness of that day in full. It means I successfully shed light on the shadows within me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Well, on a slightly lighter note, today sucked.

"Honda Civics last forever" is only true if you eventually replace everything in them. So then why even think they're that great?

Today I went to an auto part store to have my (new) battery charged and my alternator tested because my start-ups had been sluggish and I didn't want to get stranded somewhere without having it all checked out. I got to the store, we went out to my car, and LOE AND BEHOLD, it wouldn't start. Battery tested out fine. Alternator tested out fine. The nice employee said it was probably my starter going bad. We finally got the car running, and he priced out the starter they had for my make/model.

I couldn't afford it.

And that's not including the labor charges of installing the thing.

My throat started to hurt and I knew I'd start crying if I didn't keep it together. The employee offered, "You could get the part here and maybe have a mechanical friend? Boyfriend? Husband? Dad? Someone install it for ya?"

I felt about a centimeter tall and roughly eight-years-old.

I quietly said, "Yeah, well the problem is I just recently moved up here alone, so those aren't really options."

Throat throbbing. Don't. Cry.

The guy was such a champ, he did his best to figure out options for me. We went outside, and after the third or fourth insane attempt to start the stupid car, it caught!

This meant, in theory, I could get it somewhere to get the starter installed.

Oh wait! I can't afford it!

So the guy wrote down the price and the numbers of some auto shops nearby who'd install it at a fair price.

I tried calling both of my parents' cell phones, but neither answered. So I called my sister.

Almost immediately I broke down and could barely talk through the crying. I felt infuriated with the magnitude of my car problems since moving up here. I felt so disheartened at the thought of no support system built here yet who could help me today.

I felt so alone.

I felt so dumb for choosing to move somewhere alone.

Silly girl. You're just a kid.

Long story short, I got in touch with my parents and we figured out a way to pay for it all. I ended up taking it to the Honda dealership in town because my dad wanted their expertise, only to be topped by his own (seriously, the man knows his cars).

So I got it to the dealership and got comfortable in a chair, expecting to wait for hours on end for it all to be over.

Out of boredom, I texted a classmate/fellow Starbucks partner friend about my car frustrations. She said she was right down the road and asked if I needed a ride anywhere, and I said I wasn't planning on going anywhere.

Ten minutes later, I'm looking up from a Times magazine at her face. She'd come to sit with me.

She starts telling me about her day, and that helps ease the brooding of my troubles. We laugh. I'm told by the Honda guys that my car won't be done until close to the time my night class started tonight. I thought I'd have to miss class.

My friend offered to go get dinner with me, her treat.
At dinner, she offered to drive me to class.
Then stay with her tonight.
Then drive me to work tomorrow since we both miraculously have similar shift times in the morning.
Then drive me to pick up my car after work.

I was shocked. I accepted.

Then I go to class tonight. And there's something in the classroom air that mixed beautifully with my emotional state and helped me smell the roses in this entire day and beginning chapter of life:

My car didn't fail me until I was at a place with friendly, capable people on my side.
My family is willing and able to help me during my time of need, even at 1500 miles away.

I have friends here. Real friends. They make room in their day, their home, their life for me.

And I am here to learn how to help the bleeding hearted. The relationally bruised. The emotionally worn. The empathically crippled.

Today, in its disruption and its discouragement and its brief despair, I was shown that I am not alone. I am not a silly girl for choosing this program so far away from my safe places and safe people.

Today reminded me of how happy I am to be here, to be alive, and to be doing what I'm doing with the time I have been given.

On that note, I leave you. I have to work in about six hours.

Sweet dreams.

The Day She Left Us

This is a post I have many mixed feelings about fulfilling.

It's my story, but at the same time it isn't.

It's my grief, it's my pain, it's my trauma.

It's the worst day of my life thus far, and I know it is shared with dozens of others.

A year has gone by with all of its seasons and changes and growth, yet almost every day of it has had an underlying aroma of November 9th, 2012.

Here is my story. It has never changed, it matches my police report seamlessly, and I refuse to fill in the gaps of my memory with assumptions or inferences.

I have changed the names of those involved so as to respect their privacy to my potential readers who do not know them. I will remove this post if they become aware of its existence and are uncomfortable with it.

I am writing this to externalize what happened, because for a year it has felt like something that happened within my very being and has never left. I wish to be free of the fear and the darkness that coat those memories for me. I want to grieve properly.

November 9th, 2012 was a Friday. I remember looking at my weather app a few days before and seeing that, after consistent forecasts of 90ish degree days, Friday was supposed to drop down to 72 degrees. The next day was supposed to be as low as 64! For Phoenix, this is a huge deal worth celebrating. The day came and it was as brisk as I eagerly expected. I also had a friend's wedding to go to after work that I planned on asking to leave early for.

Around noon, Luke brought Sybil to the house like he always did. Of course, we were all in the office busy with work (I worked for a family business run out of the older married owners Jack and Barb's home; Luke is their son in his 40s and was a close friend of mine). Sybil immediately began running around and squealing like she usually did --  like most three-year-olds do. He was dropping her off in order to go home, get dressed up, and officiate the very wedding I wanted to go to that afternoon. I hoped this would work in my favor in asking for the hour shaved off my work day.

In retrospect, it seems like every conversation we had while inputting this, printing off that, filing this away...they were all about Sybil. Barb, my co-worker Lisa and I talked about how Luke and his wife Lori waited so long (fifteen years) to have Sybil as their first child (their only child). The company salesman John commented lovingly on how cute Sybil looked that day ("I mean she's always cute but today she is just SO CUTE!"). She was playing with her toys in the kitchen next to the doorway into our office, and usually I just tried to ignore the distraction to focus on all the math I had to do as an accountant, but that day I stopped and watched her for a moment. I remember consciously thinking she reminded me of my precious niece Maddy, who was also three at the time. They shared the same mannerisms, speech patterns, and snuggly demands from people they approved of. Such a joy, such a gift, such a warm and comforting little tea light of a human.

I never had an intimate interaction with Sybil. We had played and tickled and made faces at each other over the years, but I know she didn't know who I was or had a name for me. But she reminded me of one of my most cherished humans, Maddy, and that was enough to award her a quaint little corner in my heart. I loved having her around, and I loved watching my dear friends Luke and Lori be her parents.

Around 2pm or so, Sybil's 'Papa' Jack took her outside to play with her. They did this all the time. She had a swing and toys out there, and Jack had even remodeled his backyard to feel like a garden around their pool for Sybil to enjoy. All I was actively thinking about at the time was when I should tactfully ask Barb, sitting in the desk across the room from me, if I could leave an hour early that day.

Around 3:30pm, my stress was elevated ever so slightly because the time was approaching to ask Barb if I could leave early for the wedding. I kept wondering how I should phrase it, when I should ask, if I should ask at all and just show up late, etc. Jack came in from outside and I heard him in the kitchen while I thought through all my strategies. From her desk, Barb casually said, "Jack you need to bring Sybil in for a nap or else she'll get cranky."

Sybil's still outside? And Jack is inside? She's outside alone?

"Yeah I know, I'll bring her in now." He went back outside.

I felt the smallest little pluck of fear but let it rest. Barb and Jack had babysat Sybil her entire life, at least once a week probably. They know her, Luke and Lori trust them, Barb doesn't seem anxious about the situation, everything's fine.

Everything's fine.

I wonder when I should ask about the wedd-

"BARB!!!!! BARB CALL 9-1-1!!!!!!!"

Jack was screaming from outside. He flung the back door open and it slammed against the wall.

A second "BARB CALL 9-1-1!!!!!!" echoed throughout the tiled house.

We all jolted our heads up with adrenaline. I sat closest to the office door that opened to the kitchen with windows on every wall facing the backyard. I believe I saw it first after his initial scream.

I saw a drenched Jack running from the back door to yell for Barb to call 9-1-1, and saw a limp, soaking wet, unconscious Sybil in his arms.

Oh my God. She fell in the pool.

Barb leapt up from her desk and ran to the office door, letting out an "Oh GOD!!" the moment she saw what I saw.

Lisa got out of her chair before me. When she saw the situation she grabbed the back of my chair and frantically said, "I knew this was going to happen today. I KNEW it!!" with a look of horror on her face, shaking my chair a few times before running to the back door.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't think.

...what?

I sat there for a moment longer and then slowly got up and walked outside.

Sybil was lying on a pool float on the deck.

Jack was kneeling down doing compressions on Sybil's tiny chest.

John was kneeling down next to Jack, counting the compressions for him.

Barb was pacing, crying, talking to herself, yelling at Sybil to wake up.

Lisa was pacing, crying, taking deep breaths, had a hand pressed to her forehead.

I was emotionlessly looking around, assessing the situation, trying to find a way I could help.

what?

Jack panically asked Barb if she'd called 9-1-1 yet.

In her despair, she hadn't.

I found my way to help.

I made the first 9-1-1 call in my whole life.

The operator patched me through to a paramedic. He told me to stay on the line with him until the paramedics came to the house. He asked me to describe the situation.

Me:   Right now she is laying down on the pool deck and her grandpa is doing compressions.

Paramedic:   Is any water coming out of her nose or mouth?

Me:   No, just some runny white stuff is coming out of her nose.

Parademic:   Okay, make sure that's getting pushed away from her nose as it's coming out.

I tell John to start pushing away the white stuff.

Paramedic:   How many compressions is her grandpa doing before trying to breathe for her?

Me:   I'm not sure.

Paramedic:   Okay, make sure it's thirty compressions, then two full breaths into her mouth with her nose pinched.

I tell John to tell Jack to make sure it's thirty compressions then two breaths.

Me:   Okay I told them. Thank you so much.

Paramedic:   You're welcome, but don't hang up yet.

Me:   Oh I know, I'm not. Just, thank you.

Paramedic:   You're welcome.

I heard sirens. The paramedics came blazing down the road. They ran into the front door that was already open and into the back yard and quickly began working. I told the phone paramedic they arrived, thanked him again, and hung up.

Once they took over for Jack and John, Jack had no choice but to stand aside helplessly in all of his horror and sorrow. He crumpled to his knees and wept.

I rested my head on one of the walls of the house and quietly prayed. Please...please...please...it's all I could muster.

I eventually looked around and saw Lisa comforting Barb on the porch. I went over to them. Lisa was more composed, but Barb had only gotten worse. Lisa was also trying to call Luke, who hadn't answered her first few calls. It then became my job to get in touch with someone in the wedding party to let them know Luke couldn't officiate, and if he'd already arrived then he needed to answer his phone and leave.

Lisa got a hold of Luke before I got anyone.

"Luke, Sybil fell into the pool and the paramedics are here. You need to get over here now."

...

"No, it's not a joke. You need to get over here now."

...

"I know, I'm so sorry. You need to get over here now."

I won't repeat what Lisa told me he was saying, or how she heard Lori responding in the background. It isn't my memory to share. But it was clear that they felt the terror of the situation.

I then set out to get ahold of anyone at the wedding whose number I had.

I tried the groom. No answer, of course.

I tried one groomsman. Another groomsman. A bridesmaid.

The second bridesmaid I tried answered. Anna.

"Hey Anna, it's Katelyn. I'm calling because I need you and the rest of the wedding party to know that today, at Jack and Barb's house, Sybil fell in the pool and hasn't woken up yet...

Finally, the tears shot up from within me like a flash flood.

...so we need you guys to pray your hearts out, and that also means Luke can't be there today."

She responded calmly, let me know they would pray hard, and they'd figure out the wedding details. We hung up.

I found a corner of the backyard not occupied or visible to anyone else and sat on the ground, my back to the wall, and let the tears come.

I know this happens sometimes, Jesus. I know this happens to people. But please, please not today, not Sybil, not this family. Please...

After a few minutes, I heard a helicopter get louder and louder until it sounded like it was ten feet away from me. I got up and saw that a medical helicopter had landed on their street. I walked around to where everyone was and saw that they'd put Sybil onto a stretcher and were breathing for her with a bag. She was being wheeled through the backyard fence door to the chopper, and Jack and Barb were preparing to be driven to the hospital. They had contacted Luke and Lori to meet them there and not at the house. I never saw Luke or Lori that day.

Barb and Jack soon left, and all that were left in the house were myself, Lisa, John, and the policemen who had arrived at some point. Suddenly, coming from upstairs was Ben, Jack and Barb's grandson, Sybil's cousin. He had been out cold in a nap and had no idea what was going on. We told him as much about the situation as we knew. He quietly began to cry.

We each gave our statement and we talked amongst ourselves as detectives went to the backyard and neighbors/news crews slowly turned up in front of the house.

We were told we could leave whenever we liked, but we didn't have to.

Ben left for the hospital as soon as he could. He said he would call us with any update he could give.

John left before Lisa and I.

Barb called Lisa a few times for this and that, asked her if she could call Lori's sister and their church pastor to let them know about the situation. We decided to stay for awhile in case Barb needed any more information from her house.

5pm passed. Lisa and I turned on the news to see if any reports had come up yet. She explained why she'd said earlier "I knew this would happen today," and it was because she had envisioned seeing Jack  crying with Sybil unconscious in his arms. She couldn't explain it, and it had bothered her earlier that day.

I was on Facebook on my phone and saw that Luke had posted a status of "Please pray for Sybil. She is in critical condition. Pleeaaaassseeee praaaaayyyyy."

This actually gave me hope.

Critical condition = Alive!

Praise Jesus, she just needs to recover. Even if it's never the same again, she's alive she's alive she's alive.

I texted a few close friends about the situation. I texted my sister and my mom. My mom was at the wedding I wanted to be at, and I knew she'd relay any information I gave her.

We waited for an update from Ben.

6pm came. It was starting to get dark outside. Lisa got a call from Ben, and this is what I remember:

"Hi Ben, what's going on?

...

...

...

*Lisa looks at me*

...

...oh no, she died?"

Fuck.

I got up off the sofa...walked around...took deep breaths...then sat on the fireplace bench and put my head between my legs, breathing deeply.

"I'm so sorry Ben..."

No. It doesn't make sense.

"Let us know if you need anything."

No...

She hung up. We sat there awhile. We talked some.

But we both knew it was over. And it was time to go home.

I called my mom from Jack and Barb's living room, and I felt the surge of emotion choking me again when I told her Sybil had passed away. She was heartbroken too and asked if I wanted her to meet me at my house. I knew I'd be the only one home, and that's the last thing I wanted. I wanted to be around people I loved, and most of them were at the wedding I'd wanted so desperately to be at. She told me to come on over, that they were preparing for the reception now.

With Lisa by my side, we left the house and didn't make eye contact with any of the gawking neighbors or news crews. We both got in our cars and drove away.

I went to the wedding, but left early.

And the following day was just as cold as I'd been anticipating, though it brought no joy. It felt more like an absence from warmth than any other cold I've experienced.

The rest is history. The rest needs to be sorted out with a counselor I plan to find soon.

Sorting through that day has been one of the hardest attempts in my life. It left me cold, quiet, and alone.

It left me with the dead body of a beautiful three-year-old girl laying at the shores of all my experiences last year.

She lies within the caves of my deepest being.

I have tried not to glance over at her when I'm trying my best to feel joy in my veins and really laugh without hesitation.

But she's there. She's laying right there, wearing those purple patterned tights with that purple long-sleeved shirt to match.

And sometimes, without my permission or warning, I can feel her drop into the cold water and take a big breath out of fear, allowing the water into her lungs and causing her to suffocate until she must've lost consciousness.

That moment plays like a broken record in my mind -- an innocent little love choking to death.

Needless to say, God and I have had some honest, profane, emotional, and outright blasphemous talks since then. I've thought things, done things, said things I'm not proud of since then. And I know now that it's because I felt His absence so profoundly in that moment, the worst trauma of my life, that I couldn't bear His presence afterward.

We're working on that now; I feel like I finally have strength for it. I'm making time for His Word, for other good books, investing in healthy friendships and seeking out counseling.

This post is part of that therapeutic experience.

I want to lay to rest the Sybil that lies dead within me, just like the real Sybil was laid to rest.

I want to externalize my personal experience and not have it be an albatross around my neck.

This happened. But it's over now.

I don't wish to forget her, but I wish for her memory in me to be more about who she was than how she died.

This is my funeral service, my eulogy, my prayer for her.

Photo by Katy Horgan

Hi there little love,

You were such a goof, and you helped me be goofy too. You seemed so incredibly aware of the love we all felt for you, and you used up your whole heart in your love back to us. Even in your sassiest times, you only wanted more time with your people - no more naps or bedtimes! Even when you got upset over things not going your way, it was only you trying to figure out how things worked and why they weren't working the way you wanted them to. You brought your family so much joy, and those who loved your family were in turn blessed by you. You should have seen all the people who came to our service for you...we could all barely fit in the room! I'm so sorry you were scared when you fell in the pool, and I'm so sorry none of us knew that happened -- your Papa especially. Make sure to give him a big big hug when he meets you in Heaven, and let him know that you've helped prepare a place for him for eternity - maybe a garden for the two of you to play in. I am so glad that the whole experience was quick, and that you had such a vibrant, loving, and adventurous life while you were here. We miss you. We love you. We'll see you soon. Goodbye for now, little one.

Katelyn