Fried Chicken, 3 Meals A Day

There's no way around it.

I can't sugar coat it.

No matter how many pictures I try to hide, the truth is still the same.

I was fat when I was a child.

And rather overweight when I was a teen.

And there were times that I would sit in my room and cry and yell and scream because the newest jeans at Limited Too didn't fit me.

Or when I couldn't find soffe shorts in my size to middle school gym class. ( Y'all remember how cool those were right?)

And trying to find a prom dress turned into a very loud, very overdramatic fight that ended with me crying in the dressing room while my mother stood outside the door.

And I wanted to be skinny.

I would dream of being skinny.

I would try to bargain with God to make me skinny.

Sometimes, I would stay up and pray that if God just magically melted all of my excess pounds away, I would go and be a missionary in Africa.

If God would make me look like the girls in the magazines, I would never yell at my brothers again.

If God, If God, If God would just.

And I would pray these prayers, and wish these wishes, and then get up in the morning and eat a fried chicken biscuit for breakfast.

And fried chicken tenders for lunch.

And fried buffalo chicken tenders for dinner, just for variety's purpose.

I wanted all of the results, but was willing to put in none of the effort. It wasn't my job- it was God's.

And now, as I have begun to study Luke, and looked at the relationships Jesus had with the ones He healed, I see now my take on God's work was completely wrong.

⁴⁰ Now when Jesus returned, a crowd welcomed him, for they were all expecting him. ⁴¹ Then a man named Jairus, a synagogue leader, came and fell at Jesus’ feet, pleading with him to come to his house ⁴² because his only daughter, a girl of about twelve, was dying.

As Jesus was on his way, the crowds almost crushed him. ⁴³ And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years,^[c] but no one could heal her. ⁴⁴ She came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped.

⁴⁵ “Who touched me?” Jesus asked.

When they all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you.”

⁴⁶ But Jesus said, “Someone touched me; I know that power has gone out from me.”

⁴⁷ Then the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed. ⁴⁸ Then he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”

Read that last verse again, in case you missed it.

⁴⁸ Then he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”

Jesus didn't say "I healed you".

Jesus didn't say "Your heavenly father has healed you".

Jesus said "Your faith has healed you".

Sure, Jesus did the work. And in the end, yes, Jesus was the one that healed the woman.

But it was her great faith that caused her to reach out.

Sometimes, I think we expect God to work amazing miracles in our lives. We have hope, we have an idealistic sense of purpose, but we never take those thoughts and put them into action.

We never rely on our faith.

What amazing works could God have already done in our lives if we didn't constantly wait on the Lord to act, but through a faith in the Heavenly Father, acted on his commands, not matter what the outcome?

What if we always had faith to simply reach out, and grab what has been right in front of us? The love of an amazing, miracle producing Messiah that gives us the free will to reach out.

A God that allows us to use our faith to reach out, and discover those miracles he has in store for our life.

Not So Easy Bake

It all started with the easy bake oven.

It seemed so simple.

You changed the light bulb.

Opened the packet.

Put in some water.

And voila.

You had a cake.

Or something that resembled a cake.

And after I received my first easy bake oven, I was inspired.

I wanted to bake.

I wanted to bake cookies and brownies and muffins and anything that the Pillsbury dough boy would approve of.

And I wanted to do it in a real oven.

But I knew, as any 9 year old knows, if you want to bake something on your own- you have to wait until your mother has gone to her PTA meeting.

Because a kitchen covered in dirty pots and pans is just the kind of surprise she wants.

And one night, my wish finally came true.

With a grab of they keys and a shut of they door, the kitchen was mine. My grandmother was watching Dr Quinn medicine woman, and I was free to make my creation.

So I opened the joy of cooking and decided upon the recipe of the night- a classic. The two layer chocolate cake.

Eggs. Check.

Sugar. Check.

Vanilla. Check

Butter. Check.

Flour. No check.

We were out of flour.

But like any good chef in the making would do, I improvised.

It smelt fine.

It looked fine- at first.

But as my nose was pressed to the oven window, I began to notice my cake looked a little different.

My double layer chocolate cake was about 1/2 inch tall- and that was both layers.

And no matter how much chocolate icing I spread on the pancake thin cake could not hide the obvious.

Corn mill cannot replace flour.

Flour is a crucial ingredient to cake.

I thought that my cake was not going to reflect everything I put into my pan. I had done most everything right. I had followed almost all the steps to making a perfect cake.

It worked with the easy bake oven. But somehow, this was different.

When you looked at my cake, you could tell I had done something wrong.

When you tasted my cake, you could tell I had done something wrong.

The same is true of our lives, according to Jesus. Our lives tell of what we consider crucial and necessary ingredients. Our lives, and our actions, reflect our hearts.

^{43 “No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. 44 Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thornbushes, or grapes from briers.} A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of."

We say that our lives have been changed by Jesus- but does our actions reflect that when we're upset?

Or we didn't get that job?

Or that person cut us off in traffic?

We say we love others as He first loved us- but are we willing to love the homeless person on the street?

Or the classmate that says hateful things to us?

Or the co-worker that seems to annoy us a little more then we like to admit?

Do our words and actions truly reflect one another?

Or do we think by adding just most of the key ingredients, the end result will come out the same?

Because, in the end, our cake won't rise. It'll be salty and crumbly and thin, and won't resemble a cake at all.

And by looking at it, people will be able to tell what kind of baker we are.

And when looking at our lives, others will be able to tell what kind of person we are.

And people will be able to tell if who we say we are, and what we do match up.

And no amount of chocolate frosting will be able to cover that up.

Middle School Love Language

Before grad school,

Before college,

Before high school,

There was middle school.


And before there were wedding bands,

Before there were engagement rings,

Before there were letterman jackets,

Before there were facebook status',

Before there were instagram accounts,

There was only one way that a person could show who their heart belonged to, only one way in which a person could express their deepest passions and loyalties to another person.

Gel pens.

 And if you were really fancy, they were glitter gel pens.

And with those gel (possibly glitter) pens, you didn't do homework, or take tests or write book reports.

You wrote on your hand.

You wrote on your hand and shared secrets with the world that you only told your diary or "closest friends".

Some were brave and just went with the classic "I Heart _________" approach.

Some played hard to get, branding themselves with only " I Heart" and finishing the declaration of love on the inside of their palm.

And some went with the secretive, but still playful " I Heart SOS"- Someone Special.

And sometimes, in my case, you just wrote something on your hand so that you fit in, even if the only thing you had a crush on at the moment was the donut you had hidden in your lunchbox.

Either way, no matter what you chose to write, people could very easily look at your hand and see who was most important to you.

Who you belonged to.

Who you desired.

Tonight, I was reading Isaiah 44, and the Lord was speaking about the different ways His chosen people were going to claim their loyalty to Him.

Some will say, ‘I belong to the Lord’;
    others will call themselves by the name of Jacob;
still others will write on their hand, ‘The Lord’s,’
    and will take the name Israel.

We are called to brand ourselves with the name of the Lord.

We are called to claim  that we don't belong to this world but to the One who made it.

We are not called to whisper it.

Or write it where no one can see it.

We are called to write the Lord's name on our hand.

People should know who we belong to, even when they look at something as small as our hand.

Or when they look at how we treat the woman working at the gas station.

Or how we react when things don't go our way.

We are meant to stand out.

We are meant to proclaim loudly and boldly that we are the Lord's.

Our heart, our body, our actions, our attitudes, our desires, our dreams, all belong to the Lord.

And even when all of the gel (possibly glitter) pens in the world run out, we are called to still be making that same proclamation, writing His name on our hand.

Labels and Love

As a woman, people are always trying to give you a label. And most of those labels tend to revolve around your love life.

Are you single?

Are you married?

Are you dating?

Are you looking for a boyfriend?

And somehow, we allow ourselves to get wrapped up in those labels. To see ourselves as only how we can answer those questions.

I'm single.

I'm married.

I'm dating.

I'm looking for a boyfriend.

I'm not looking for a boyfriend.

Basically allowing others, and ourselves to say-

I am what my relationship status says I am.

That's something I've been struggling with recently.

How do I see past the haze of being single, and get down to the core of who I am as a woman?

How do I get people to see that I'm more then how I date?

How do I get myself to believe that the label doesn't define me, and that the season of life  I am in right now is fine.

And even if I can get past all of these things, the bigger questions remain.

What I am really?

 How am I defined?

What are my labels?

Tonight, I was reading Isaiah 43. And I was amazed at all of the labels that God has given us.

I stand amazed at the beautiful depiction of how He sees me-whether I have a man or not.

Because in the Lord's eyes I am

Created.

Formed.

Chosen.

Honored.

Precious.

Redeemed.

Spoken for.

Safe.

Loved.

All of these labels are ones I choose to wear. These are the labels I classify myself as.  These are what are so much more important then if anyone is buying me chocolates and taking me on dates.

The Lord of the Universe doesn't see me as single.

He looks at me and sees so much more.

Ursula's In The Closet

Everyone has their fears.

Some people are afraid of spiders.

Some get the creeps by just looking at a snake.

Heights make some grown men scream like a little girl,

and if you watch enough Maury, you'll find out that some people are even afraid of cotton balls.

We all have our fears.

And when I was growing up, I had a lot.

I thought Ursula  lived in my closet,

I wouldn't see  Lilo and Stitch, even if it was about a good alien,

And I never will get over the " Are You Afraid of The Dark?" intro.

But my biggest fear, hands down, the fear that paralyzed me and made mall trips extremely difficult-

Escalators. Specifically, those going down.

I don't knowwhat it was about them. I was fine going up. I could ride those like a champ.

But there was something about going down.

Maybe it was the continuous movement of those never ending stairs.

Or maybe it was that old wives tale about a kid whose shoelace got stuck in an escalator and he ended up losing his leg.

Maybe I just understood at a young age that I was extremely clumsy and that the likelihood of my falling going down was much greater then when I was going up.

Either way, there was only one way I got on those escalators-

My mother had to reach out, take my hand, and ride on the step in front of me, never letting go.

And we got along OK like that. At least, for a little while.

Until one day, she took me and my little brother to the mall.

And she decided to take his hand on the downward staircase of doom.

And when she looked up, halfway down the escalator, she saw I wasn't behind her.

I was standing at the top of the escalator crying, no, screaming, for anyone to help me through my biggest fear.

And my poor, sweet mother had to turn around, pick up my little brother, and run up the down escalator, to come and rescue me.

Only this time, she didn't take my hand.

I'm sure she was irritated.

I'm sure she was embarrassed.

I'm sure she was sweaty from running up a down escalator with a 3 year old in tow.

So this time, she laid down the law. This time she said

"I'm going to go first. I'll be on the step right in front of. Just step, stand still, and hold on."

I think we all need that.

It seems so much easier to just stand at the top of the escalator when we're going through scary times.

It's in those scary times that we want someone to help us through.

Times that we're unsure of what's ahead.

Times that we can't seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Times that we would rather do anything then make any sort of move.

And the great thing is, we all have that.

God has promised us, since Moses walked the Earth, that he will go ahead of us when we're the most scared.

When we're the most unsure.

When we need the most help.

He promises this in Exodus 15:14.

"The Lord will fight for you; you need only be still". 

He will look in the closet to make sure Ursula's not there.

He will turn off "Are You Afraid of The Dark" when we're too scared to move from under our covers.

He will stand on the escalator in front of us, make sure that our shoes are tied, and show us that everything is going to be OK.

And the greatest thing about it?

The greatest part about a God that loves us so much that he will fight our scariest battles when we're just not brave enough to?

We don't have to do anything.

We only have to take that step, hold on, be still and know he's one step ahead of us.

Diet Coke With A Splash Of Cherry

"And who is ever going to know how I like my fountain drinks?!? No one is ever going to bring me a Diet Coke with a splash of cherry ever again!"

I cried.

I sobbed.

I wept.

I was holding on to a baseball fence in the middle of the Boston Common while it was pouring down rain.

I was a senior in college.

I was about to graduate.

I was about to leave all of my friends.

I was about to move away from the town I had made my home for the last four years.

I was about to live in a new city.

I was about to start a new job.

I was about to start a new life.

And I was worried about the quality of my fountain drinks.

This may sound ridiculous. This may sound overdramatic. But to those that know me well, they know the way to my heart is not through flowers,

It's not through chocolates.

It's not through words of affirmation.

It's through Diet Coke. Preferably in a form of a Big Gulp.

And although this weeping statement may sound trivial to some, it really was filled with my deepest fears about leaving Emerson College, leaving my friends, leaving the home I had created.

Who will get to me so well that they know how I like my favorite thing, without even having to ask?

It's in our nature that we as humans like to be known.

We want someone to know our likes, our dislikes, our fears, our dreams, our favorite food, our favorite beverage.

We want to know that someone in this world is thinking about us.

We want to know that we are special.

And loved.

And cared for.

And thought about.

And known.

And when we're faced with the reality that we're going to be in a place where nobody knows us in that way, the panic ridden, fence clinging sobbing ensues.

And not the pretty face sobbing- the ugly face sobbing.

I wish that night that someone would have grabbed me, pulled me off the fence, looked me dead in the eye and told me the truth.

Katie, wherever you go, you will be known.

Katie, you have a God that knows you intimately and personally.

Katie you have a God that promises "Indeed, the very hairs on your head is numbered" (Luke 12: 7)

Katie you have a God that "knew you before you were formed in your mother's womb" (Jeremiah 1:5)

Katie you have a God that knows not only how you like your fountain drink, but knows the exact Diet Coke to splash of Cherry Coke ratio that will make it the best fountain drink you've ever tasted.

Katie you are special.

Katie you are loved.

Katie you are cared for.

Katie you are thought about.

Katie, you are known.

And you, my dear friends, are known by that same amazing God.

The First Cup is the Sweetest

Superman has kryptonite.

The Green Lantern has any object colored yellow.

Every team in the SEC has Alabama.

We all have our weaknesses.

Mine, comes in the form of anything fried. Or in a wrapper. Or on a cone.

I love food. And as a child, I loved food a little too much, and the results, were, well embarrassing to say the least. See the photo below. Yes that is me. And no, I don't have a pillow stuffed under my shirt as my mother recently guessed when I showed her this picture. That is pure belly, developed from gorging myself on chicken fingers, french fries, and anything nougat covered.

And now that we're getting closer to All Hallow's Eve, a favorite holiday of my former fat self ( when else is it OK to eat an entire pillow case of candy?...and maybe some of your little brothers that you stole when you went through yours? Sorry Drew) there is a memory that continues to pop into my head and haunt my dreams.

I was 10 years old, around the age of the dreaded picture above. In all of my bowl cut glory, I was anxiously awaiting October 31st, my second favorite day of the year. (My birthday always wins out. Presents AND cake and ice cream? What could be better). My Mom and Dad were going on a trip, and to be ahead of the game, had bought the Halloween candy early, and was safely tucked away in our top cabinet.

Safely, of course, until she told me about it.

"Katie, I have the Halloween candy up in the cabinet. You cannot eat it. Those Reeses Cups are not for you. They're for the trick or treaters. Do. Not. Eat. Them. All."

But the rest of her word were all dull mumbles to me. She had said the magic words, the words that turned my knees to jello, and put my mind in an instant haze, incapacitating me from thinking of anything else.

Reeses Cups.

I love Reeses Cups. The perfect blend of chocolate and peanut butter, straight manna from heaven and the nectar of the Gods.

And I tried to resist. I really did. I did everything I could to take my mind off the treasures that await me.

I played Barbies ( yes, I still played Barbies at the age of 10). I read the newest Harry Potter book. I watched tv. I waited the 10 minutes for the internet to dial up and tried to play the newest Sims game I had got.

But, I was tempted. They were whispering my name.

So, I tiptoed downstairs. And I opened the cabinet. I took out the bag. And I ripped it open. And I took one, just one, of the delectable morsels.

Then one more.

And another.

And another.

Until finally, I was sick to my stomach, my face was covered in chocolate, and there was one single Reeses Cup left in the jumbo sized Halloween bag.

I had technically followed my moms rules. I didn't eat them all. 

There was still one left.

But I knew, deep down, that wasn't going to be good enough.

In the book of Exodus, the Pharaoh of Egypt goes through this same power struggle with God.

God tells Moses to go to the Pharaoh and relay His one simple command.

“Let my people go, so that they may worship me.”

Not just men. Not just women. Not just children. Not just the animals.

God was talking about all of his people.

And Pharaoh kept trying to get around his command.

He would let all the men go.

No, and then came a plague from God.

He would let the women and the children go.

Nope- take another plague.

All the people could go, but the animals had to stay.

No way Jose- take yet another plague.

How many times do we try to take God's commands and do everything but one small little piece?

How many times do we do follow one little piece of His guidance, and then ignore the rest?

How many times do we eat all of the Reeses, and leave just one, so that we can claim

"Hey, look at me, I obeyed!"

I wonder how our lives would be different if we didn't just follow some of God's commands, but every single one of them?

How many relationships would we get out of? How many friendships would we change? How much better would our witnesses be?

And, if we started viewing these command not as rules to keep us from having fun, but instead, advice from our heavenly father that loves us so dearly's attempt to keep us safe and fulfilled, how would our lives be different?

How many stomaches and tearful confessions to our mom would be avoid?

How many messy breakups and heartbreaks would we escape?

This is my prayer for me, and for you my dear friends-

That we take all of His commands with an open heart, and an open mind.

That we are not those "one Reeses in the bottom of the bag" kind of Christian.

We are bag completely full, joy overflowing, followers of the Almighty King.

Weddings- Just An Adult Prom?

Let's face it- for a woman, anywhere between the ages of 18-20 something-ish, weddings have become an obsession.

Whether you're looking at pinterest links,

Crying over engagement videos,

Or tuning in to watch women pay extremely too much money for a dress they're only going to wear once, weddings have become something that every girl dreams about.

But what is it that really makes weddings so special? What about weddings get our hearts pumping and force our estrogen level to shoot through the roof?

Because really, when you think about it, weddings are just a big party.

It's kind of like your own personal, adult prom.

Before you get upset, I challenge you to think about the steps of prom.

1. Wait for the right man to come along.

2. Wait a little bit longer.

3. Dance around the subject, until finally the man decides to ask the question.

4. Search for the perfect dress.

5. Search for the perfect restaurant to eat  in said perfect dress.

6. Find the perfect dress.

7. Find the perfect restaurant.

8. Spend far too much money and time getting hair, makeup, and nails done.

9. Take far too many pictures with a "select" group of friends.

10. Take far too many pictures with the man whose cumberbund matches your dress.

11. Go to a large party.

12. Leave large party, never wearing said perfect dress again.

13. Put up an album on facebook with far too many pictures of 6 hours of your life.


Sounds pretty accurate to me- if I was completely cynical and unromantic. Which I'm not.


You see, the reason I love weddings so much is for a completely different reason altogether.


Sure, I love all things monogrammed, and sure, I love a good piece of overpriced cake.


But the real reason I love weddings is because of the promises that are exchanged.


The promises of love. The promises of commitment. The promises made to another person that says-


I am yours. And you are mine.


And, luckily, we have a God that makes, and keeps these same kind of promises.


In Exodus, when Moses was beginning the journey of taking the Israelites out of Egypt, God knew that the Israelites needed some reassurance. They needed some words, some promises that made this commitment worthwhile- worth the time, worth the danger, worth the trust.

And God told Moses

⁶ “Therefore, say to the Israelites: ‘I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from under the yoke of the Egyptians. I will free you from being slaves to them, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with mighty acts of judgment. ⁷ I will take you as my own people, and I will be your God. Then you will know that I am the Lord your God"

The Lord, the God of the Universe, made himself so very real to these people in their greatest time of need. Not only was He offering a way out of their suffering, but more importantly He was making a promise.

A promise that they would be His.

And even more mind blowing, a promise that He would be theirs.

I think we as people strive for that reassurance, that no matter what, someone will be on our side. Someone will be there. Someone will love us.

And so we go looking for it in the form of a boyfriend, or a husband, a prom date, or anyone that will show us that attention.

When really, all we need to do is stop. 

We need to stop and realize we already have that promise from the Creator of the Universe. 

Someone that is incapable of breaking promises.

And that, my dear friends, is something to take share on pinterest.  

Middle School Moses

I was not very cool in Middle School. I admit it. I've accepted it.

 I did band, theater, show choir , Odyssey of the Mind and was all around a little bit lame.

And you're probably thinking- "No Katie, no one was cool in Middle School".

But I beg to disagree.

Gymnastics? Cool.

Cheerleading?  Cool.


Spandex neon cheetah print glitter pants? Cool.

An overweight girl trying to do gymnastics and cheerleading routines and trying to squeeze into said pants? Not cool.

But I had one redeeming grace.

My two best friends were cool. People wanted to hang out with them, boys wrote notes to them, and so, somehow, through the social filtration system, I was allowed into the "cool" parties. 

So, I followed at their skirt tails, and generally stood by the snack table, or talking to the parents that were there chaperoning the parties.

But that didn't matter. Because I was at the party. 

I couldn't have gotten in by myself. If I had walked up, all chubby cheeked and skort wearing, I probably would have been laughed at and turned away.

It wasn't about who I was. It was about who was with me.

The same thing happened to Moses- well, he never wore skorts.

Moses was out tending his sheep one day, when he came upon a bush that was burning. And burning. And burning. But the bush never actually burned away.

And then, to top it all off, the bush called his name. 

"Moses, Moses"

Now, if I was Moses, I would have left those sheep and ran as fast as I could. But in those days, talking burning plant life must have been normal because Moses simply stayed and answered

"Here I am".

God then told Moses that he had seen the misery of the Israelites who had been enslaved by the Egyptians and Moses was going to be the one to get His people out of Egypt. He was to go to the Pharaoh and tell him that he was about to lose his millions of slaves, and he was just going to have to be OK with that. 

Now, if that burning plant hadn't been enough to send Moses packing, the fact that he was about to have to go break this news to the ruler of his country ( who also happened to be his adopted grandfather) would have done it. But there's a reason he's in the Bible, because he simply accepted his challenge and said

“Who am I to appear before Pharaoh? Who am I to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt?”

and God responded

"I will be with you."

He didn't say "Moses you've got this" or "Moses, you will succeed due to you sheer strength and butt kicking abilities in those awesome Birkenstock looking sandals you're wearing"

He simply gave the only answer Moses needed.

You can do it, because I will be with you.

You are nobody, but with me, you can bring an entire country to their freedom.

You may not be able to get into that totally cool Halloween party by yourself, but I'm going to let you be my plus one.

And with that amazing reassurance, that promise that whatever we come upon, God will be there with us, to take us by the hand and walk us through this crazy life, who are we to fear?

We have the ultimate, eternal, powerful plus one.

Whether we look good in glittery animal print pants or not.

Ode to Bumper Boats

This blog post should go to show my dedication to y'all.

This blog post is going to consists of a childhood, embarrassing  story that makes me cringe. I hate this story. But, God kind of laid this story on my heart when I was doing my quiet time last night.

Or maybe I'm just a sucker for punishment.

Set the scene.

Time- 1997. I was 8 years old- some of my most glorious days, complete with glasses, braces, a bowl cut, and about 20 more pounds then I weigh at the moment- as an 8 year old.

The Place- Gatlinburg, Tennessee, home to Dolly Parton and more fudge stands then you could count on two hands.

The More Specific Place- The putt putt course

And sure, we played putt putt. But more specifically, we decided to do the bumper boats. My cool older friend Jenna Logan had come on the trip with us ( and Jenna, if you're reading this, I thought you were the coolest because your Mom let you wear spaghetti strap tank-tops, just thought you should know) and she had done bumper boats with her family, so I had to do them too. And I had to drive myself.

Even though I had never driven a bumper boat before.

Even though I could barely walk without falling.

Even though I was a complete and total klutz.

My mom wouldn't let me wear spaghetti strap tank tops ( in hindsight Mom, thanks for that. Chubby girl in spaghetti straps? Never pretty.) so this bumper boat was my sign of independence.

I got in the bumper boat.

I pretended to listen to the directions given by the unsmiling teenaged boy.

I grabbed the steering wheel, pulled back, and I was off into the wild blue yonder.

Or, atleast I thought I was.

I made it out to the very center of the pool. And I tried to turn. But instead, my boat began turning in a circle. And it kept turning,

And turning,

And turning.

My boat would do nothing else but make donuts in the dead center of the pool.

I pulled on the steering wheel. I tried using my body weight to maneuver the boat in a different direction. And soon, when I could do nothing else because of the immense motion sickness and dizziness I felt, I did what any independent, 8 year old young woman would do-

I cried.

And then, it only got worse. I heard the sound from off the in the distance. It's high and shrieking pitch piercing me to the core of my being.

The whistle to bring your boats back in.

And while everyone began to bring their boats in to dock, I  could do nothing but spin. And spin. And spin.

And cry.

Any cry.

Any cry.

Imagine a chubby, glasses wearing, little girl with a bowl cut, crying, no bawling in the middle of an extremely blue pool, spinning around and around on a bumper boat. The sight is tragic, humiliating and hilarious all at the same time.

I knew logically my parents ( who were off to the side, laughing- except for good old Daddy Jo, he felt sympathy for his clumsy daughter) wouldn't let me stay out there forever. I knew that eventually someone would have to come and get me. ( That would be the unsmiling teenage boy. When he took a "rescue" bumper boat to come out and get me, I managed to bump my bumper boat off his 3 times before he could finally put a rope around me and drag me in). I knew that I wasn't going to be stuck in this spinning hell forever. But all I could do was look at the spinning world around me, and see what was holding me back.

The same thing happened to the disciples. ( Well, not exactly. There were no bumper boats at the time).

Jesus had just finished feeding the five thousand (go Jesus!) and he told the disciples to get on a boat and meet him at the other side. So, the disciples, got on a boat, took it out to the water, and set sail.

Jesus, on the other hand, went on a mountain side to pray.

As the disciples were out to sea, a storm came about. Their boat was rocking with the waves, and I imagine they were feeling the same kind of queasiness I had felt. ( Although, I imagine John hadn't just hoarded a whole funnel cake for himself- first mistake of the day). And, because they were human, the disciples could feel but one emotion- fear.

And then they look out on the water and they see Jesus- not in a boat, not in a canoe, not doing some breast strokes, no, walking on water. And you would think, after all this time and seeing all these miracles, the disciples would merely just believe the son of God could do something as easy as walk on water. But, no, that wasn't the case either.

²⁶ When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.

²⁷ But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

²⁸ “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”

²⁹ “Come,” he said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus.³⁰ But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

³¹ Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”

Here's the thing about this whole scenario. The disciples asked to be saved from the storm and God provided for them. Peter asked for proof, and Jesus gave it to him. Jesus gave Peter the power to walk on water, and all he could do was look around, see the danger around him, instead of looking ahead, and seeing the salvation being offered. Jesus literally had his hand offered out to Peter, and he preferred to fear, then to have the faith required to do the act the Lord had given him the skills to do.

How many times have I done that in my life? God puts me in a scary situation, whether to push me to grow, or test my faith, and even though he has equipped me with all the skills possible, I still choose to be afraid. I still choose to doubt His promises.

I am in these scary situations, in my own rocking ( or in my case, spinning) boat, and I think that the Lord has no idea what I'm going through.

Here's the kicker of the story- the whole time that the disciples was caught in the storm, remember where Jesus was?

He went up to a mountainside. A mountainside that is taller, and overlooks the things surrounding it. And although it doesn't say this in the Bible, I choose to imagine that mountainside overlooked the lake that the disciples were bobbing and weaving on.


Even in the scariest situations in life, God is constantly there watching our every move. He is never going to put us in a situation that is bigger, or stronger then him, because face it, there is nothing bigger or stronger then our God.

And if we can learn to test our faith,to not look at  the distractions, or the temptations or the threats around us, and plant our eyes firmly on Jesus, on the hand of salvation before offered to us we will be given the ability to do all that the Lord has planned for us to do. Even walk on water.

And in my case, if I had just taken a little time, stopped focusing on the spinning world around me, and the jeers and laughter of my family, and paid a little more attention to the steering wheel in front of me, what I was trained and able to do, I probably could pass a bumper boat ride without turning my face in shame.

All My Single Ladies

This post goes out to all my single ladies.

This is a conversation that often comes up when a large group of women, , single ones in particular, get together

"So, what would you say your type of man is?"

And everyone seems to have a different answer.

"I like a really preppy, SEC kind of a guy."

"I want someone that's more hipster, in touch with his emotions"

"I love a man that  loves animals".

"Give me a brawny man that can sing, and I'm done for".

"I've been praying for my Boaz, or my David, or anyone that's read Redeeming Love".

And we pray. And we wait. And we pray. And we wait. And we think we know exactly what we want. And we will tell anyone that's listening that we are ready for "the one" And sometimes our prayers rely not so much on God's timing, but on our own impatience.

That's what happened to the Israelites in 1 Samuel 8. They were so tired of being without a King, that they demanded that Samuel find them one, even after warnings that this wasn't God had planned for them as a nation. But yet, they insisted, as we humans often do.

 “No!” they said. “We want a king over us. ²⁰ Then we will be like all the other nations, with a king to lead us and to go out before us and fight our battles.”

And we women, so often think, even if we want to admit it or not,

"Everyone else has a boyfriend, or is married or is having a baby, and my pinterest is overflowing with wedding planning stuff. I know this guy isn't someone I should date, but I want someone that will make me feel loved, that will make me feel special."

And in the case of the Israelites, God responded to that prayer.

He brought Saul.

And the only description of Saul that is mentioned in 1 Samuel 9 is-

" ² Kish had a son named Saul, as handsome a young man as could be found anywhere in Israel, and he was a head taller than anyone else."


Sounds a lot like some of our "types" doesn't it?

But Saul was not the kind of man that Israel needed. That's probably why they never mentioned any positive characteristics- he didn't have a ton. But they were so intent on finding someone, that someone that would make their life full, that someone that would make them like all of their other friends, that they didn't even try to look at his character.

And God, in all of his wisdom and glory, knew that until His nation was being led by someone less then what he had planned for him, and until they realized the errors of their ways, that they would keep begging and whining for God to bring them anyone, anyone, to make them feel loved. And so he did. And the results were far less then perfect.

I bet they wished they'd been a little more specific about their "type" of King that they desired.

I know, as I've talked to some of my friends, and looked back on some mistakes I've made, that I wish I was more specific about the "type" of man I allowed myself to be interested in.

I know I don't want the type just to occupy my time, or the type to the movies with when I'm bored.

My type is nothing less than God's plan for me, and whoever that person may be that walks alongside of me during this plan.

So maybe, I should stop whining. And maybe I should stop begging.

And maybe I should start thinking more about just the Brawny man exterior, and look for a heart of a man that mirrors those same desires.

Not All Who Wander Are Lost- Though Sometimes, You Are.

I like to think of myself as a nomad, a wanderer of sorts. If I stay somewhere too long, I get antsy, ready to move on to the next place, the next adventure, the next moment of excitement. I thrive on change. Change is almost a constant in my life (and when I can't get any kind of significant change, I cut my bangs. Hence the bang debacle of 2011.)

After High School, I wandered to Boston.

And that summer I wandered  to Camp Woodmont, and then back to Boston again.

And during my sophomore year I almost wandered to the Disney College Program- but found myself instead wandering across the ocean to spend a semester living in a castle.

And then I wandered to North Carolina to work at a fat camp.

Then it was back to Boston- where I wandered from two different apartments in the same city.

And before I knew it, I was wandering across stage at graduation in my cowboy boots,

And packing up a U-Haul  and driving back to Atlanta to start a whole new adventure teaching second grade.

And somehow, in all that wandering, I found myself wandering away from the relationship that I should have been running towards- my relationship with the Lord.

It didn't take a lot for me to wander away from Him. A few parties here and there, sleeping in on Sundays, a new world that I had never experienced before- and it all seemed so - wonderful. And so exciting. And so fun.

And it was- I had an amazing four years full of experiences I could not have had anywhere else, and opportunities to grow and push myself outside of my comfort level(Not to mention I got to be a youtube senstation for about .5 seconds).

But still, I had wandered. And as a person who is perpetually lost knows, it's a lot easier to lose your direction then to get back where you were headed before you took that wrong turn.

But thankfully, I've got a God who is better then any GPS or search and rescue dog, who can find  Waldo ad mist a see of red and white striped turtlenecks.

It tell us in Nehemiah 1-

" Even if your exiled people are at the farthest horizon, I will gather them up from there and bring them to the place I have chosen as a dwelling for my Name".

We have a God that literally will go to the ends of the Earth to bring us back to his presence.

We have a God that knows no limits on his love- as far as the East is from the West, he will gather us up so we can dwell and abide with him.

We have a God- I have a God, that even though I wandered, and even though I went on my own path, cared enough about me that He would put me in a situation that turned me around and sent me running, no, sprinting, back into His arms.

And I have a God that opened those same arms up as though I'd never been gone.

And even now, as I've wandered to yet another city, to have yet another adventure, He is the constant in my life, a consistency that even a nomad like me needs.

A constant and unchanging love- even when I spontaneously cut off all my bangs.

Back Off Jeff Foxworthy

I've been thinking a lot about God's plan for my life lately. What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go? Can one just be a perpetual student and serve the Lord that way? Do they need a ministry for rehabilitating Toddlers and Tiaras children?

And in between all these wonderings, a little, annoying, tidbit of a thought comes creeping up in my brain-

What if, I'm just not good enough for all of these awesome plans that I think God's got for me? What if I don't measure up? What can God possibly have for me?

I mean really- I haven't opened up any orphanages in Uganda. I'm not a particularly gifted public speaker, and on a good day, I still can't name all of the books in the bible. I can't even beat the American Bible Challenge, and that show is hosted by Jeff Foxworthy. I should be able to beat a show that is hosted by a member of the Blue Collar Comedy Tour. And in creep those thoughts again...

I'm not smart enough.

I'm not talented enough.

God can't possibly use a loser at American Bible Challenge.

But tonight, when I was reading Isaiah 56:

"Let no eunuch complain "I am only a dry tree".
Here is what the Lord says:
To the eunuch who keep my Sabbaths,
who choose what pleases me
and holds fast to my covenant
to them I will give within my temple and its walls
a memorial and a name
better than sons and daughters
I will give them an everlasting name
that will endure forever"

I was assured of what I really have going for me.

Now, for those of who who don't know eunuch is, and don't want to read the wiki link that was just posted, let me put it this way. They were the bottom of the Bible social totem pole. They were of little to no importance in social standings. They would have been featured on "Dirty Jobs"- Old Testament Edition.

If we're talking in Harry Potter terms, eunuch = squib. Bottom line- you didn't want to be a eunuch.

But here in Isaiah, when the Lord was confirming his promises, the first group of people, not the last group of people, or the people who he invited to the party fifteen minutes before the party started, but the first people he chooses to reference were the social outcasts of society. The people that no one wanted to be. The group who probably had people telling them-

You're not smart enough.

You're talented enough.

You are a loser.

And the Lord, in His wisdom and glory replies, speaking over all those outside voices and says- "Follow me, keep my commands and I'll show you-

How I can use the wisdom I gave you,

And how I can use the talent I gave you.

And I don't care how many rounds you can outsmart Jeff Foxworthy- I am calling you mine. I am giving you a far greater gift then any grand prize on a game show could give you. You get to be my child. A promise that never changes and goes on forever."

And for me, tonight, that is enough. It's more then enough.

A Finely Decorated Temple

I'm a woman who likes clothes. I admit it. I'm a lover of fashion. As Sarah Jessica Parker would put it- " I like my money where I can see it- hanging in my closet".  I like to look nice. Our bodies are temples, and I like mine to be  decorated. Some may call me bougie, then after learning about my affinity to thrift store blazers may label me boughetoo, but I simply claim to take pride in my appearance.

Many of my mornings are spent in front of my closet. And whenever I get dressed, I like to base my outfit upon a theme.

Some mornings I may crave a hipster look, taking me back to my Emerson days,

Or something a little more sophisticated.

I might want a little Troop 3888 throwback,

or I may want to express my more outlandish side.

I may just want to emulate my favorite southern butter loving hero,

or since I am in grad school, I may strive to be a bit more professional.

Either way, every morning I get up, and make a conscious effort on how I look and what I put on. And tonight, when I was reading Colossians 3, I discovered a theme I may miss some mornings when I'm getting ready for my day.

Love.

That's right. Love. It says in Colossians 3 " above all these virtues, put on love".

To love is a conscious effort, as planned out as the clothes we put on in the morning.

I forget this sometimes. I think since I'm a Christian, and since the God that loves me dearly lives inside of me that to love others would be easy. And really, it's just not. Anyone that tells you otherwise is lying.

Sometimes people make you mad. And sometimes people annoy you. And sometimes people do things that are just rude and hateful and plain ol' rotten.

And let's not pretend that it's always other people's faults. Sometimes we're having a bad hair day and that alone puts us over the ledge. Sometimes we are so wrapped up in our own problems that we treat other in a way that no one deserves.  Just because we love Jesus doesn't mean that hearts and rainbows and unicorns ooze from our pores. And it doesn't mean that we always love in the way we should.

But, I wonder how much different my day would be, if I got up, opened my closet and along with my sophisticated southern themed outfit of the day, I put on love. And as I applied the mascara that guaranteed my lashes to be 4 times the volume that they were when I woke up, I took a moment, and made a decision to put on love. So that way, when the person in front of me in class makes you me stupid, or I get cut off in traffic, or I'm just having a bad day where everything is going wrong, I will be reminded that I, along with the clothes and the makeup and the finely coiffed bangs, put on love. And maybe it might make loving just a little easier.

Love is not an accident. It's a conscious decision everyday.