New Years Scrooge

There's something about New Years Eve that I just don't like.

Maybe it's because I'm not a huge night owl.

Maybe it's because as a child I had a fear of fireworks, that the ashes would rain down and light my hair on fire.

Maybe it's because at this point, I feel a little overwhelmed with celebration.

But when I start to really think about it, I think it's because New Years Eve is celebrating a year of unknown, a year which I have no idea what it will look like.

I know what 2013 held.

But when I try to imagine 2014, my mind starts to shut down from the number of sheer possibilities.

It's scary,

It's terrifying really.

And that's why I think New Years Eve might be God's favorite holiday.

It's they one time each year even the biggest control freak has to take a deep breath and realize,

That I have no control over the next 365 days of my life.

And I could fight against that,

Rebel,

Try to plan what might lay ahead,

Or I could simply sit back,

And look back on the blessings that the past year held,

And offer up the next 365 days,

No matter how scary,

No matter how terrifying,

To the God that has already planned out every minute of each of those days.

To the God that loves to surprise us,

And comfort us,

And walk beside us in each and every minute,

Every hour,

Of every day.

So tonight,

Whether I celebrate with sparklers and confetti, 

Or accidentally fall asleep on the couch,

I can celebrate in knowing that 2014 is already planned out for me, 

Each and every footstep.

We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps. (Proverbs 16:9 NLT)

Surprise at Daybreak

I love surprises.

In fact, there are few things I can say I love more then surprises.

Want to make my day?

Leave a note on my desk.

Want to make my week?

Add a Diet Coke to that note.

Want to make my year?

Add a twelve pack of Diet Coke to that note.

I don't know why I love surprises so much.

Maybe it's because a surprise means that someone was thinking about you, when they didn't have to.

Maybe it's because a surprise can make what seems like an average day when you first open your eyes in the morning, far exceed your expectations when you lay down your head to close your eyes again that night.

Maybe it's simply because everyone likes to have some sort of physical representation that they are loved.

Recently, I've been praying for God to surprise me.

I desire know that God is thinking about me, thinking about my smallest steps, when I know He doesn't have to.

I desire for everyday to far exceed my expectations, to never know what God has planned, to be excited when I open my eyes in the morning, and beyond grateful for when I close my eyes at night.

And, as trivial as it might sound, somedays, I just really need some kind of physical representation that the Lord that can surprise us with the sunlight every morning,

" Surprise us with love at daybreak; then we'll skip and dance all the day long." ( Psalms 90:14)

Can, 

And adores,

showing us that He loves us.

In the small,

and the large.

I'm praying for small surprises daily.

And the large surprises, that I still continue to prayerfully expect.

Joyful in the Rest

Ive never been very good at rest.

I imagine it's the whole idea of sitting still-why would I be resting when there is so much to do?

So much to see?

So much to taste?

So much to experience?

Why would I rest when I can act?

Why would I rest when my future could practically be outside my door?

I know God knows this about me.

God created me to be this way.

But, he also knows that sometimes my ability to always be moving puts me at a handicap.

When you're moving 100 miles an hour, how can you notice the small details?

When you're moving 100 miles an hour, how can you stop and notice that those blurs on the side of the road are actually flowers?

When you're moving 100 miles an hour, how can you stop and notice that the sweetness of this season of your life may actually be in the resting and the waiting?

That sometimes God doesn't move in huge earth shattering ways.

That sometimes, God moves in the quiet,

And the stillness,

And He may be moving the most in the times you think He may not be moving at all.

Right now, I feel like God is trying to work in the stillness,

And the rest,

And the waiting.

And although I may hate the waiting,

It's my job to pump the breaks,

Take a moment,

Rest my heart,

And joyfully wait and see how The Lord is trying to move.

It's my job to see that those blurs are actually flowers,

And to rejoice in the fact that if my life had been moving at the speed that I wished it was,

I would never have gotten to see those blessings myself.

I would never have developed sweet friendships, that turn a new town into a home,

Or Saturday mornings, filled with Pom poms, crooked smiles, and hugs that will melt your heart,

Or precious moments over a new found love for vanilla lattes that allow me to reflect over all of these blessings.

So today, I choose to rest.

And I choose to rest with a rejoicing heart.

I choose to see the blessings in the small moments.

I choose to be still.

 

And listen.

And be prayerfully,

And joyfully,

Expectant.

"Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body will also rest in hope". Acts 2:26

A State of Anticipation

Christmas Eve used to be the night I looked forward to the most.

It would always start, and end, the same way.

With anticipation.

I would get dressed, put a bow in my bowl cut hair with anticipation of the night to come.

I would sit next to my family in the pews of the church that I grew up in with anticipation of singing Silent Night by candlelight, hoping I was finally old enough to hold a candle by myself.

I would pick at my food at dinner, anticipating what cookies we were going to leave for Santa and how many carrots Rudolph would eat that year.

I would put on my pajamas, snuggle up in my bed, and strain my ears for as long as I could keep my eyelids open, anticipating I would hear just one jingle bell or the thumps of boots atop my roof.

I anticipated because I knew, when I woke up the next morning, opened my stocking, and took the long walk down our steps, that the anticipation would pay off.

Gifts would be waiting, selected by Santa specifically for me.

I knew and believed without a shadow of a doubt that when my socked feet ran down the hallway, all the anticipation would be worth it.

Right now, I feel like I'm living in that same sense of anticipation.

There's been a stirring in my heart, movement in my life, but every time I sit down, ready to hear what The Lord has to say to me, I hear nothing.

I'm ready to listen, but I'm not sure The Lord is ready to speak.

And sometimes, that silence can be frustrating.

Sometimes that silence can make me want to throw my hands up in the air, close my bible, and spend my time at Starbucks surfing their free, very slow internet and looking for recipes that I will never actually make on Pinterest.

But still, I sit.

And I wait. 

And I listen.

 

Because even in this silence, I have faith that God is working.

Even in this silence, I believe He is the one stirring my heart.

And in this time of waiting, I'm trying to learn a sense of holy anticipation.

Even though I can't see the fruit of the work in front of my own eyes, I know there is work being done.

Even though there is silence, there are still words to be said.

And even though I always want to be the one to do the talking, I choose to sit and wait.

And listen.

And live in this state of anticipation.

A state of holy anticipation, for the great works and great gifts being selected specifically for me. 

"I wait for The Lord, my whole being waits, and on his word I put my hope". -Psalm 130:5

Work In Progress

When I studied abroad in my sophomore year of college, I got to see many sights that took my breath away.

A sunset in Florence Italy from the Piazza Michelangelo overlooking the Duomo,

The Eiffel Tower lighting up the Parisian sky, tiny sparkles reflecting on the windows of the city,

The crystal clear water of the Mediterranean Ocean.

But there is one sight that I never had the chance to visit, that as I sit in my room in Athens Georgia, I desire so greatly to see.

Gaudi's Sagrada Familia, in Barcelona Spain.

And it's not because I have this deep desire to see Spain.

And it's not because I'm a fan of his work.

And it's not because the architectural structure was, and still continues to be ahead of it's time.

No, I simply desire to see what many call Gaudi's masterpiece, because today, 130 years after construction began, it still remains unfinished.

And I think that's they way God looks at us.

Lately, I've been having a hard time with this idea of a lifestyle change.

That this new healthy lifestyle that I've begun isn't something I'm ever going to be something I can just give up on completely.

It's a process.

A way of life.

Something I'm going to have to continue and learn along the way.

And the same principle goes for my body as I continue along this path.

My body isn't going to change overnight.

And even when my body does change, my thoughts about my body aren't going to change overnight.

Everyday, when I look in the mirror, I have to make a conscious effort-

How am I going to think about my body today?

Am I going to see how far I've come?

Or am I going to see how far I have to go?

Am I going to choose to look at all my beautiful features?

Or am I going to choose to look at those thighs that might be just a smidge too big, or the arms that might be just a bit too jiggly?

And that process, every morning, can be exhausting,

And frustrating,

And downright discouraging.

Why can't I ever look just the way I want to look?

And why can't I get my brain to understand that the way I look is perfect in the sight of God?

But this morning, as I was reading Philippians, I found a verse that really struck a cord in my heart, and began to bring the way God sees me into focus.

⁶ being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

I am a work in progress.

A work in progress that God sees and deems as good.

And just like the Sagrada Familia, my beauty won't just magically appear when this work is done,

My beauty becomes evident from the work that is being done in the process.

My beauty becomes evident in the struggle, because God is with me in the struggle.

My beauty become evident in the doubts, because I serve a Lord that continues to whisper truths.

My beauty becomes evident in the moments of dissatisfaction, because I have a heavenly father that looks at me and is nothing but satisfied.

My beauty becomes evident because I am a child of a King who will never stop working on, and in me.

And even on those days when I look in the mirror and think " I have so far to come"

I have to know that the Lord looks in the mirror and thinks " Sure, we have some work to do. But look how beautiful you already are? Why are you doubting my handiwork?"

So, today, when I look in the mirror, I'm going to try to stand in that truth. 

The truth that I am the handiwork of the same God that created the sunset over the city of Florence, the Parisian night sky, and continues to watch over the work of the Sagrada Familia.

And my worth comes from the fact that I'm still a work in progress.

Tongue Tied In Target Science

For being a fat kid, I always had a lot of confidence.

Need someone to make up a song about selling Girl Scout Cookies and sing it in front of the local Target?

I was your girl.

Skit night at Wednesday night bible study?

You better believe I was the first hand raised.

Elvis impersonation contest in the elementary school program on the cruise you went on with your family?

I took home that trophy and slept with it next to my bed every night.

But when it came to true confidence,

True freedom to talk to the one person I wanted to talk to the most,

I froze.

He sat next to me in middle school Target Social Studies.

He wore soccer shorts to school.

He could eat 10 corn dogs in a single sitting.

And I thought that the sun rose and set on this boys buzz cut head.

We had tons of things in common.

He liked soccer.

I had seen a soccer ball.

He was athletic.

I admired his athleticism.

He liked to listen to Eminem.

I had once listened to one song of Eminem before my Mom caught me and grounded me for a week.

We were clearly made for each other.

And to make matters even better, we had been paired to sit next to each other for the entire semester.

All I had to do was flip my bowl cut hair ( if that was even possible), bat my clear mascared, blue eyeshadow eyes and say something witty like-

" Cool trapper keeper. Want to borrow one of my Lisa Frank stickers?"

Or

"Did you see American Idol last night? Are you rooting for Justin or Kelly?"

Or even something simple as-

"Hey- I know we've been sitting next to each other all semester, and I've never spoken a word to you, but my name's Katie."

But no.

I said nothing.

Everyday I sat in silence, when I knew all I had to do was open my mouth, and say that one word-

Hello.

I think a lot of times, we act this way about talking to God.

This God is so big,

So mystical,

So unseeable,

That we get tongue tied.

We don't know what to say,

Or how to say it,

So we just say nothing at all.

And if this God is really as great,

And powerful,

And loving,

As everyone says He is, why should someone as small and worthless as me get to talk to Him?

And why would He even care about my small problems?

But Paul paints an amazing picture of the freedom that we have when we go to talk to The Lord.

"In him, and through faith in him, we may approach God with freedom and confidence" - Ephesians 3:12

Because of Jesus, we don't have to tiptoe to talk to God.

We don't have to worry about saying the wrong thing,

Or make sure that we look alright on the outside,

Or wonder if our problems are too small.

Because of Jesus, and his death on the cross, and the salvation we're offered through that, we can come to God with freedom,

And confidence.

Just as we are.

With all our flaws,

And small problems,

And blue eyeshadow,

And sit in the presence of the King.

And even if we've sat silent,

Waiting for the right time to talk to him,

When we finally decide to muster up the confidence,

And say that one small word-

Hello,

Even if we're not sure He'll even hear,

We can go to Him with the utmost confidence and freedom,

To say whatever is on our hearts.

Even if we think its something He may not want to hear,

That freedom is still allowed.

And to me, that is so precious,

And worth making that step.

Even if its been five years,

Or five weeks,

Or five minutes since I've taken that gift,

I have to wonder

Why sit in silence,

When the God of the Universe has given me the freedom to talk to Him?

And not only that, but I can do so with confidence that I am deeply and dearly loved?

Slide of Faith

I remember it so well.

The moment I loved, and dreaded, that combination of feelings that would leave knots in your stomach and butterflies in your chest.

My mom wanted to go to the mall.

And when Mom when to the mall, I went to Playland.

I'm sure you've all seen Playlands just like this one.

A place in the mall where Mom's and Dad's can check in their kids in hopes of having a few hours of uninterrupted time, full of sales, shopping bags, and the smell of cinnamon pretzels.

And honestly, I loved Playland.

I loved to hang out with other kids.

I loved to play in the ball pit.

And I loved to sneak other kids' snacks while they were in said ballpit.

Life was good at Playland.

Except for one thing.

The one element of Playland that haunted my dreams, and caused me to stare my six year old failure and inadequacy in the face.

The slide.

This was no ordinary slide.

This slide was a massive, pastel painted, waterfall motif slope of death-

That I wanted to go on desperately.

And every time I would step foot into Playland.

I would pull up my stirrup pants,

Push my bowlcut out of my eyes,

And take my Keds off to begin the long and treacherous walk up the stairs to get to the top of the slide.

As each foot was placed in front of the other, I would try to amp up my courage.

"You can do this Katie".

"All the little kids are doing it".

"If you do this, I bet Mom will buy you a Zebra Cake".

And every time I would get to the top of the slide, I would stop.

And look down at the plunge that was before me.

And freeze.

I couldn't go.

I wanted to try.

It was the thing I wanted most in the world.

I tried to force my legs to sit down,

And force my arms to give myself a push.

But I just couldn't move.

And no amount of coaxing, or promise of Zebra Cakes ,could get me to move from that spot.

Sometimes, I feel like that with my faith.

I look around, and I see these amazing people with this unwavering faith.

People that can follow wherever the Lord leads without looking back,

Without any kind of coaxing.

I see this faith,

The kind of faith that gives you knots in your stomach and butterflies in your chest because of the sheer beauty of what the Lord is doing in your life,

And it's what I want most in the world.

And sometimes, I don't feel like my faith is that strong.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm standing at the top of that slide,

Wanting to take the leap,

But not be able to.

And then I feel embarrassed.

And ashamed.

And no amount of Zebra Cakes can solve this question that lingers in the back of my mind-

Why can't I make my faith stronger?

Why am I so scared to take that plunge?

But this morning, I felt this sense of peace and encouragement when I read this verse from Ephesians.

⁸ For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God

The glorious and amazing thing I discovered is that my faith doesn't come from myself.

My faith is a gift of God.

A gift that can be asked for.

And a gift that can be received.

No amount of willing,

Or coaxing, 

Or stressing,

Can cause my strength to grow stronger.

Only God, the provider of all blessings, and all things good,

Can help me to do that.

Only God can give me the courage to pull up my stirrup pants,

Push my bowl cut out of my eyes,

Walk my Keds up that long flight of stairs,

Sit down,

And give me the push I need to have that unwavering, slide into the great unknown kind of faith.

And somehow, I find such freedom in that.

That this is not a journey I'm going on alone.

The same person who I desire to have greater faith in,

Has been standing beside me, ready to offer the gift that whole time.

And all I have to do is sit down and take it.

Justified

I hate to admit it.

But lately, I've been struggling to be joyful.

And I'm not talking about happy.

I've been happy.

I've laughed.

I've had fun.

No, I'm talking about real joy, that comes from the very depths of your soul.

Joy that doesn't go away depending on the circumstances.

Joy that can only be breathed from The Lord.

I've known this joy before.

And so I've been confused at why in such an exciting season of my life,

Where each day has been filled with new adventures,

Graduations,

Starting new jobs,

Making new friends,

Why every night, when I lay my head on my pillow,I've still felt this sadness.

This pressure,

This unmistakable and annoying feeling at the pit of your stomach that something isn't right.

This tiny voice saying,

You are just not right.

I've shared before that weight loss is a huge part of my story.

I've shared that healthy eating and exercise will always have to be a part of my life.

But, what I don't think I've ever shared, is how much pressure I put on myself to stay the same size,

To not eat the dessert,

To get to the gym six days a week.

Yes, I know that no matter the size, I am perfect and wonderfully made in God's eyes.

But, Gods opinion isn't the one I've been struggling with.

It's been my own.

If those pants start to feel a little tight, I panic.

If I eat that dessert, I worry.

If I only get to the gym four days, I feel guilty.

And even though in an act of sheer necessity I threw away my scale,

I still find myself judging the size of my thighs,

Or the jiggle on my arms,

Trying to find justification in how much I weigh, the way I look.

And there has been a battle in my heart over this for a while.

And tonight, God has continued to open my eyes to where my true justification has to come from.

16 knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law but by faith in Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Christ Jesus, that we might be justified by faith in Christ and not by the works of the law; for by the works of the law no flesh shall be justified. ( Galations 2:16)

I can't be justified by my weight,

Or my age,

Or my job,

Because I, and every other follower if Christ is justified by their faith.

I became justified on the day I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, not the day I was able to fit into a size 6.

And from that justification, comes true joy.

I can have true joy because I have freedom from sin, not because I was able to resist a cookie.

I can have true joy because I am a child of the Living God, not because I ran four miles.

I can have joy because I have a Father who cares about all the smallest cracks in my heart, enough to send His spirit to do a great work in me, to heal and help those hurts.

Real joy comes from living a full and abundant life in The Lord.

And the hard part is, food will always be a part of that life.

So this walk,

This struggle,

This balance,

Will be ever constant.

But if I want that kind of true, feel it from the depths of your soul, perfect peace kind of joy,

I'm going to have to press in,

Depend on The Lord,

And remember where my true justification comes from.

Wedding Season is the Fifth Season

I love weddings.

They're probably my favorite social event of the season,

Which is great, because right now they seem to be the only social events that are going on.

I love the flowers,

And the music,

And the dancing, ( oh, how I love that dancing!)

And the cake,

But, if you catch me on a real sappy day, I'll tell you that cliche, girly statement-

My favorite moment of a wedding is watching the groom, as the bride comes down the aisle.

I know, you've heard it before.

Anyone that's seen " The Wedding Planner" starring JLo knew that was coming.

But, it wasn't until tonight that I understood why I felt that way.

When you watch a groom as their bride comes down the aisle, his face takes on a dozen emotions at once.

Happiness.

Delight.

Overwhelmed.

Overjoyed.

Excited.

And stunned by the sheer beauty that is walking directly towards him.

Every woman desires for someone to look at them that way.

As if they, in that moment, are the most radiant thing that anyone had ever laid eyes on.

This is why that moment is so universally loved by all people of the female gender.

This moment, is what our hearts ache for.

But tonight, I realized that this moment is not something I have to look forward to.

It's something I already have.

In Isaiah 62:5 we are told,

"As a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you."

Wow.

At this very moment, in my oversized flannel and pajama shorts, my God is rejoicing over my radiance.

On the days when I eat too much and have to wear my fat jeans, my God is rejoicing over my loveliness.

When my hair is dirty, I haven't showered, and my eyebrows are beginning to resemble caterpillars, my God is rejoicing. And all He is feeling is

Happiness.

Delight.

Overwhelmed.

Overjoyed.

Excited.

And stunned by my sheer beauty.

I am rejoiced over by my God.

And that is something worth dancing about.

And, if you need a visual reminder of how much your God loves you, look at these pictures and remember,

The way God rejoices over you,

Everyday,

Even when you're at your worst,

Blows these pictures out of the water.

For Such A Time As This

I'm going to warn you ahead of time.

This blog will be painfully honest.

Almost so much so that I want to close my iPad right now,

Curl up in my bed,

Turn on some Criminal Minds,

And forget that God ever laid this on my heart.

This will probably be as close to opening up my prayer journal and reading it aloud as I'll ever get.

But, I'm working on this whole intimacy thing.

And what's more intimate then sharing your deep thoughts with the World Wide Web?

All I can do, at this point, is pray that my honesty will allow The Lord to work in someone's life, in some way.

Because heaven knows I would not be writing this if it hasn't been laid on my heart so heavily.

I think every single woman has those thoughts.

You know the ones.

The ones that manages to take every shred of your singleness and lay the blame squarely upon your own shoulders.

If I looked different, I'd probably be dating someone.

If I was as pretty as her, this whole dating thing would be easier.

If I just, well, wasn't me, I'd probably be married by now.

But of course, we don't tell people that.

We don't dare share those thoughts aloud.

Because clearly, we are the only one who have these thoughts.

Instead, we mask our insecurities in cleverly veiled disguises like,

I'm ready to date, I just haven't met the right person.

All the good guys are taken.

I like being single. I don't have to think about anyone else.

And sure, that may be true for some people,

But there is some God given desire placed down at the bottom of a women's heart to be cherished,

And loved,

And wooed,

And pursued

By a man.

And when no man is cherishing,

And loving

And wooing

And pursuing,

Our fragile hearts tend to fold,

And we have to think

It must be something I'm doing.

Sure, this takes the whole feminist generation back a few steps,

But I believe it's true,

And I know it's something I've been struggling with.

Looking in the mirror and not feeling like enough.

Looking at a man, and not thinking you're worthy of their attention.

Hiding yourself in food,

Or working out,

Or work,

To over compensate, to prove that there is nothing in your life missing.

When really, all you can think is-

When will that person come into my life?

When will I be pursued like I desire to be?

Why isn't anyone showing me any sort of romantic attention?

When will I finally be enough?

Honestly, as self confident as I am,

These seeds of doubt have taken root into my heart,

And it's taken everything inside of me to try and figure out a way to get rid of those fears,

And those anxieties,

And those insecurities.

And I'm still working on it.

But the only way I can think to change the way I view myself,

Is to turn the mirror around,

And try and see myself the way my Heavenly Father,

The Creator,

The Sustainer,

My Abba,

sees me.

I am chosen. ( 1 Peter 2:9)

Fearfully and wonderfully made. ( Psalm 139: 13-16)

Prosperous. ( Jeremiah 29:11)

Seen. ( 1 Samuel 16:7)

Dearly loved. ( Colossians 3:12)

Created in the image of God. ( Genesis 1:27)

Beautiful. (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

And while somedays,

Like today,

I might not look in the mirror and see all those things.

And while that desire to be loved, wooed and pursued may not diminish,

I'm trying to rest in the fact that the creator of Niagara Falls,

And the Grand Canyon,

And the Northern Lights,

And the Great Barrier Reef,

And every amazing creation man has ever laid eyes on,

Considers me more beautiful, and valuable, and lovely, then all of those wonders put together.

I'm trying to hang my hat on that fact.

Somedays it's not easy.

But I'm pretty sure the God that formed the whole world in 7 days isn't one to put people in their situations on accident.

So for now, I'm going to try and rest in the fact, knowing that I am here,

Single,

Not Dating,

Two things I'd rather not be,

Because God wants me this way,

"For such a time as this" ( Esther 4:14)

Jesus Could Have Been A Preschool Teacher

I think my favorite thing about Jesus, is that no matter where you look, he was followed by children.

I kind of imagine him as the Willy Wonka of Jerusalem.

Except not as creepy.

And none of the children that ever followed him around turned blue.

At every chance he got, Jesus seemed to take the time to make children feel loved,

and special,

and needed,

and important.

Think about how cool the boy with the bread loaves and the fish felt telling his buddies back at school that he was an integral part to feeding the 5,000.

And when I look back at think about Jesus, I have to think-

What kind of person do children always want to be around?

My guess is, that he laughed a lot,

smiled a lot,

told jokes,

tickled them,

gave them piggy back rides,

put them up on His shoulders,

played their games,

wiped away their tears,

held their hand when they were scared,

and protected them whenever he could.

I love to think of Jesus this way- so different from the staunch, serious face we often see in paintings.

If kids loved Jesus, Jesus loved fun.

And above all else, Jesus loved children.

I usually try not to use this blog for personal reasons. 

But this little boy I'm about to tell you about has just tugged at my heartstrings.

I think Ephraim and Jesus would get along just swell.

My brother and sister in law are part of a very small church in Roswell, Georgia, and through their time there, they have had the blessing of meeting a wonderful family, the Hardings. The Harding's are an amazing family, with a beautiful little boy name Ephraim, who was born with Chronic Renal Insufficiency  which basically means that Ephraim's kidney's have been in the process of shutting down since the day he was born.

 The Harding's are beginning the process to get Ephraim a transplant, but because of their current financial situation, are unable to cover much of the costs.

Because of his medical condition, the fact that Ephraim made it to be the age of four makes him one in 7 million.


But, the fact that Ephraim is Ephraim is enough to make him one in 70 million.

He loves to joke.

And play country music.

When an Atlanta Braves player told him he was cute, he simply responded with " I know".

He calls his hair his "white boy fro".

And even though his life his harder then many of ours will ever be,

at the end of the day, he's still a four year old at heart.

And I wanted to do something to help this wonderful family.

Anyone that knows me well, knows I love my jewelry.

And since I'm a little frugal, I recently learned to make my own bracelets.

And it's kind of become an obsession. 

Thus 4123 Bracelets was born! All funds from these bracelets are going directly to help fund his transplant, and I'm personally paying out of pocket for the beads ( or some have been donated by local stores).

I'm not asking for y'all to buy these bracelets.

Heck, I might not even know some of you.

But if you wouldn't mind sharing the word with your friends,

liking the facebook page,

and sharing it to all of your followers,

I would be immensely grateful.

Because, really.

Look at this face.

Can't you just tell how much Jesus loves this little boy?

Miss Independent

I like to think I'm a pretty independent person.

( Cue " I'm Every Woman" by Whitney Houston. You know you love that song)

I love spending time by myself.

Moving seems like an adventure, not something to fear.

If you tell me I can't do something, it usually makes me want to do it more. ( Anyone remember butterfly clips? Everyone told me they wouldn't look good in a bowl cut. I continued to rock them until high school.)

And with this fierce independence, comes an equal amount of stubbornness.

Usually if I think something is wrong, I'm not going to do it, no matter the amount of peer pressure.

Generally, I know when to say no.

I like to think I have a pretty strong moral compass.

But, I haven't always been like that.

Once, upon a time, when hormones were high and self esteems were low, I wanted nothing more the to be liked by the "cool kids".

And I would do whatever it took to be a part of that group.

And there was one particular incident that still makes me sick to my stomach.

I don't think I'll ever forget it.


We were on a field trip in seventh grade.

And somehow, because all of the planets aligned, I got put in a group with the coolest girls in school.

And for some reason, they thought it was socially acceptable to talk to me.

We got to sit in the back of the bus.

We talked about the cutest boys in the grade.

One of the girls even tried to French braid my bowl cut ( this attempt was in vain).

Everything about that day was sheer Limited Too, Aeropostale, Teen Bop perfection.

Until, one of the girls pointed at someone to the front of the bus and said,

" Ew, guys did you see that girls shirt? How ugly does she look?"

Giggles and jokes filled the back of the bus.

"And what is with that haircut?"

" She looks like a donkey with those teeth".

The giggles grew louder. Soon everyone was turning around on the bus including the butt of all of the jokes.

And the butt of these jokes happened to be my friend.

My friend who talked to me when these girls ignored me.

My friend who shared her Lunchable with me, switching her bologna for my ham because she knew I liked it better.

The girl who had brought me tissues when these girls had brought me to tears with their jokes about my chubby frame.

I wish I could say I stood up to them.

I wish I could say I got up, left the back of the bus, and took my rightful place at the from with my true friends.

I wish I could say that.

But I didn't.

Instead, I laughed.

And as we got off the bus, I made donkey noises at the girl who had been nothing but kind to me.

And looking back on this day, as a grown adult, I think two things.

How could I have been so horrible?

And

If I has never sat in that seat,

On that bus,

With those girls,

Would I have said those terrible things?

Sometimes, no matter how good of a person we are, things get in the way.

Things lead us astray,

People try and get us to do things we would never have done otherwise.

Jesus knew this better the anyone.

6 “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea. 7 Woe to the world because of the things that cause people to stumble! Such things must come, but woe to the person through whom they come! 8 If your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life maimed or crippled than to have two hands or two feet and be thrown into eternal fire. 9 And if your eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into the fire of hell.

I know that sounds drastic.

Foot not working?

Cut it off.

Eye looking at something it shouldn't be?

Gouge that sucker out.

But, I don't think that's what Jesus was really telling us.

I think what Jesus was really telling us, is something that we all know, but choose to ignore.

There are people, or things, that cause us to sin.

There are people, or things, that may be too much for us to resist when they're right in front of us.

There are people, or things, for the sake of our walk with The Lord that we have to be behind.

And sometimes that will be hard.

And sometimes you will not want to do it.

And sometimes it'll be painful ( thus, the gouged out eye image).

But, it doesn't change the fact that it is completely and utterly necessary.

So, what is your limp foot?

And what is your wandering eye?

Is it that friend who brings out the worst in you?

That bar with those drinks you just can't resist?

That tv show you know you shouldn't be watching?

That boyfriend that tempts you just a little too much?

What is holding you back?

And are you willing to do something about it, no matter how hard,

Or how much you don't want to,

And no matter how painful?

And my dear sweet friend in the front row of the bus, if you happen to read this, I hope you know how truly sorry I am.

And I wish I had gouged out wandering eye and come and sat with you.

Only a true friend trades from their Lunchable.

One Size Fits All

I joke about it a lot.

And I talk about it a lot.

And this blog post is in no way meant to sound like a plea for pity.

On the contrary, this blogpost is an expression of rejoicing.

I am rejoicing, because I have always had a problem with my weight.

Honestly, I don't remember a time that I wasn't overweight.

I remember having to shop in the women's section while I was still in elementary school.

I remember not being able to wear any of the clothes that the cool girls wore in middle school.

I remember crying because I couldn't find a prom dress in my size.

I remember telling people I was the "funny fat girl" and I actually enjoyed being known as that.

And I was fine with the way I looked until, well, I just wasn't anymore.

I don't know what changed- suddenly I just looked in the mirror and found that I wasn't OK being the largest person in my family.

I wasn't OK with not being able to shop in regular stores.

I wasn't OK with feeling uncomfortable in my own skin.

So I had to make a change.

And still everyday, some five years after I began this weight loss journey, I have to make a conscious decision.

I have to diet, when most of my friends don't have to.

I have to run, in order to keep fitting into those new jeans.

I have to realize that I will gain 6 pounds just by looking at a cookie.

And you know what- some days it sucks.

Somedays, I don't want to have to think about everything I put in my mouth.

Somedays, I don't want to have to work out to still be able to stay the same size.

Somedays, I wish that being healthy wasn't such a struggle.

Somedays, I wish that I could just be normal.

But then I realize- God designed me this way.

He gave me these challenges for a reason.

He created my metabolism, as slow and haggard as it is.

And through my changing body, and battle with food there are two things that I have realized.

God is unchanging, although my waist size may not be. ( "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever" Hebrews 13:8).

And how God views me has always been the same, when I've been a size 22

Or a 14

Or a 6. ( " I am fearfully and wonderfully made" Psalm 139:14).

Do I wish that I never had to think about my weight?

Of course.

Would I give anything to not have to work out five times a week?

Duh.

How much would I give to be able to walk into a Krispy Kreme without joining a new weight class?

A lot of money.

But at the end of the day, I was created by a Lord that loves me, faithfully, and undeservingly.

And if the only way I could learn that, and fully grasp that, is by seeing that His love is the same, no matter my size,

Well, that trade off seems pretty fair to me.

Heartbreak University

So let's face it.

Sometimes in our lives, we have heartbreak.

Movies are dedicated to it.

Self help books love it.

Most country songs have it in their title.

Sometimes, we just don't get what we want.

I'd love to say that I've never had heartbreak in my life.

I'd love to say that I've never been disappointed.

I'd love to say that I didn't completely over dramatize these situations.

But alas, none of these things are true.

So be aware that this story I'm about to share is over dramatic.

I'm aware.

I know this is not real heartbreak.

But to a 17 year old, it sure feels close.

I went to a performing arts high school.

Ever seen Fame?

Pretty much like that.

Only instead of New York City, we were in the metropolis of Mableton Georgia.

Pretty much the same thing.

And I was convinced, as my senior year was quickly approaching, that I knew what I was going to be in my life.

I knew what the Lord had laid out before me.

I was going to be a musical theater major at one of the best schools in the country.

I was going to quickly jet set my way to New York City.

And after a few months in the city, I was going to land my first staring role on Broadway.

Because that's the way the world works right?

There was only one problem with this plan.

I was, rather large.

And I couldn't dance.

And a fat girl that can't dance isn't exactly on everyone's "to hire" list.

But I was convinced.

And I knew where the Lord wanted me to go to school.

Elon College.

They were a small school.

They sold Vera Bradley in the school store.

They had a quidditch team.

My tour guide looked like Jude Law.

Basically, I had found my perfect fit.

And so when my best friend Allison and I loaded up our jazz shoes and tights and leotards in our matching Vera Bradley totes and headed to auditions, I knew with full confidence that this was the place I was going to call home for the next four years.

And then, the audition happened.

And I may or may not have fallen several times during the dance audition.

And I may or may not have sung a song written for a middle aged black woman.

But yet, I was still completely confident.

Now, let me give you a little background on my best friend Allison.

Allison is one of the most talented women I've ever had the blessing of knowing. When I watch her perform, I know without a shadow of a doubt that the Lord designed her to do so. It's effortless, like breathing for her.

When I performed, it looked like I was an asthmatic child after the mile run in PE.

So I shouldn't have been surprised when Allison received her acceptance letter to Elon, and my envolope was slightly smaller, with a slightly harsher message.

I didn't get in.

Actually, I didn't get in to any of the schools I'd auditioned for.

And Allison, because she is so wildly talented, got in to almost all of the ones she auditioned for.

Even my beloved Elon.

My heart was broken.

I cried.

I stress ate.

I burned my Elon sweatshirt in our fireplace. ( Drastic but true).

And through all of my overdramatic weeping and carrying on, I couldn't get past my own hurt to turn my head, and offer love to my best friend, who had achieved so many of her dreams.

Because my heart was so hurt, I couldn't love on one of the people I hold closest to my heart.

My heart was so selfish, that I coudn't see past my own heartbreak and look at the needs of others.

Today, when I was reading Matthew 14, I was struck by how lucky I am to serve a God whose love is so much more selfless then my own.

Let me break this down for you.

John the Baptist, the prophet the announced the name of Christ before His coming, the man that baptized Jesus, basically one of Jesus' best friends, had just been killed and beheaded.

And Jesus had just found out.

And as he was getting into a boat, to have some solitary alone time, to mourn the loss of His best friend, thousands of people that were sick and hurting came to Him for healing.

And Jesus, being the amazing savior that He is, pushed His own heartbreak aside, healed all of those people.

And when it came dinner time, He performed one of His greatest miracles, a story that those of us who grew up in church have heard hundreds of times.

15 As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.”

16 Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.”17 “We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish,” they answered.

18 “Bring them here to me,” he said. 19 And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people. 20 They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over.

In His heartbreak, Jesus put these strangers ahead of Himself.

In His heartbreak, Jesus healed those who were hurting.

In His heartbreak, Jesus turned five loaves of bread and two fish into a meal that fed over 5,000.

In His heartbreak, Jesus fed over 5,000 from five loaves of bread and two fish with 12 basketsto spare, with bread overflowing.

In His heartbreak, Jesus had an overflowing love.

I find it so reassuring to know that a God who can love so greatly, even when His heart is hurting, holds my life in His hands.

I find it so reassuring that even in my selfishness, He is selflessly loving.

I find it so reassuring to know that the man that healed these thousands of people is constantly working on my heart, and when it's broken mends it.

And even when I fall in dance auditions,

And even when I'm heartbroken,

And even when it looks like my life isn't going at all like I had planned,

That the overflowing love of Jesus stays consistently the same.

A Love Letter To Boston

This week, I've had a heartache.

I've had a heartache for the city of Boston, the city that I called home for four years, the city where I learned the most about myself, the city that I truly grew up.

I've had a heartache for my friends, my sisters and my college, who have been put smack dab in the middle of this crazy week.

And honestly, selfishly I've had a little heartache for myself. How do I go on living my life like everything is normal, when the city I love the most is suffering so much?

So, as I sat down to read my bible on Monday night, I wasn't sure what I wanted to hear.

I wasn't sure what I needed to hear.

I wasn't sure I really wanted to hear anything.

But, as He always does, The Lord proves that He can plan my life way better I.

That even when I'm speechless, He will continue to speak.

And as I opened up to Joshua 1, these words resonated to the very core of my heartache.

"As I was with Moses, so will I be with you; I will not leave you or forsake you"

And here's the kicker, the part that really got to me,

" Only be strong and courageous".

Be strong and courageous.

That phrase was repeated four times throughout this chapter.

And I don't think that was an accident, because I know my God doesn't make any.

Even over 2,000 years ago, God knew that the world was scary,

And sad,

And sometimes seems like more then we can bear.

And He knew that we would have to be reminded that the hard work, had already been done.

We would have to be reminded that he's standing beside us, fighting our battles.

We only have one job.

To be strong and courageous.

So, my dear, sweet friends in Boston,

As you take the green line out to Fenway to bask in the glory of the Green Monster remember-

Be strong and courageous.

When you're eating dinner in the North End and stop to get a cannoli at Mike's Pastries ( or Bova's if you're smart), remember-

Be strong and courageous.

As you stroll through the Boston Common, and watch the Swan Boats take some of their first trips of the season, remember-

Be strong and courageous.

And as you walk down the streets of Copley again, instead of remembering the terror that occurred there simply remember-

Be strong and courageous.

And know, that all the way down in Georgia, a fellow Bostonian is constantly praying for you.

#bostoniloveyou

Field Trip Frustrations

I always was a big fan of field trips.

I mean really, who isn't?

You get out of school for a day.

You get to sit next to your best friend on a school bus.

You get to wear a cool t-shirt.

And, my personal favorite part, you get to eat a sack lunch.

Capri-suns were my jam.

And I got to go on a lot of cool field trips when I was in elementary school.

I went to the zoo.

I got to see plays.

I even got to sing Christmas Carols at a Publix.

Which was made even cooler when the bakery gave us free cookies.

So, when they told us in the fourth grade that we were going on a field trip, I was pumped.

I waited anxiously, hands gripping the edge of my desk.

Where were we going to go?

What were we going to do?

What was going to be inside of that sack lunch?

And you can imagine my surprise, and my disappointment, when I was told we were going to go on a hike.

A hike, in nature.

A hike , that involved physical activity.

As a very large, very overweight bookworm of a ten year old, this was not exactly on the top of my priority list.

But, at least we would still get a sack lunch.

So the day came.

Field Trip Day.

We all put on our matching t-shirts, boarded the buses, and headed down the road to Kennesaw Mountain, a Marietta  must see, complete with cannons "from" the Civil War.

And as we unloaded the buses, made sure our tennis shoes were tied, and had a last minute bathroom break, the teacher informed us-

"Today, we are going to have a very special job. Today, we are going to have one student that is going to lead us on our hike. This job is extremely important, and I have chosen to give this job to"

A long pause, for effect, our 10 year old breathes baited and waiting

"Katie Johnson!"

I was shocked.

I was thrilled.

I was confused.

Why was I, the least athletic person in my class, the girl who always got picked last for dodgeball, the girl that cried in front of the entire grade because she couldn't hoolahoop, getting picked to be the Lewis and Clark of Cheatham Hill Elementary?

Confused or not, I was ready to lead with honor.

I tightened my Keds, pulled up my elastic waisted shorts and started on the hike.

Two minutes later, I was huffing and puffing.

Over my wheezing, I heard another student ask the guide from the Visitor Center,

"Why did Katie get to lead?"

The guide whispered, loud enough so only this other student ( and my eavesdropping ears) could hear;

"Because we have to put the slowest person in the front. That way they set the pace for the whole group".

I wasn't picked because I was the smartest.

I wasn't picked because I was the fastest.

I was picked because I was the slowest.

I was picked because I was just that bad.

And while this moment was a humiliating one in my childhood, sometimes it helps to think about how the Lord can use even the worst person to prove what an amazing God He is.

Paul, one of Jesus' disciples, wasn't chosen because he was good, the star religious pupil in the time.

Paul, before he came face to face with Jesus, was actually the opposite of good.

Paul actually hated the Christians, and persecuted them every chance he could get.

But then, when he met Jesus, his life was flipped around.

And in 1st Timothy, a letter Paul is writing from jail because of his beliefs, he says,

¹⁵ Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. ¹⁶ But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. 

God chose Paul not because he was good,

Not because he was the smartest,

Not because he was the fastest.

God chose Paul, because he was the worst of the worst.

Because he needed Jesus the most,

And because when people looked at Paul they could say,

"Wow, look at what his life looked like before- and look at it now. What made such a difference?"

And everyone would know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it came from a face to face encounter with Jesus Christ.

Our God is a God that not only loves the weak,

and the bad,

and the slow,

and the messed up,

but chooses to change their lives and use them.

And that is something that I find great hope in.

Because I know that sometimes I am weak,

and bad,

and slow, 

and messed up.

But I'm also loved.

And chosen.

And now able to climb Kennesaw Mountain without having a small heart attack. 

Wocket In My Pocket

I admit it.

I don't always like to follow rules.

Rules seem so constraining.

And confining.

And they make winning a scavenger hunt really difficult.

But, I'm also a little too scared to break the rules completely.

So, I find a way to bend them.

Restaurant too expensive?

Buy a kids meal.

Don't want to spend money on new music?

Go to the library.

All those CD's are free.

Laundry taking way too long?

Throw all those colors in together.

That's what they make cold water for.

I don't break the rules completely- I just find a way to make them work for me.

And most of the time, after I've bent these rules a little too much, I start to feel guilty.

But nothing haunts my concise like the Wocket Incident of 1994.

Miss Montalvo, if you're reading this, I need to apologize in advance.

I was in Kindergarten.

And as every good Kindergarten teacher does, Miss Montalvo had set up a system to track our behavior.

But she was not the boring type.

Red light, yellow light and green light just wouldn't do.

Miss Montalvo used Wocket's in our Pockets.

Now, for those of you who haven't read this Dr Seuss classic, all you really need to know is at the beginning of every week, each student started out with a certain number of "wockets" (aka slips of paper) in their "pockets"( aka cubbies) and had to remove a wocket every time a classroom rule was broken.

If a student had any wockets left at the end of the week, they got to go to the beloved treasure box, full of candy, games, and every McDonald's Happy Meal toy the room Mom could get her hands on.

And if, at the end of the week, you were the unlucky kid that had no wockets left, you not only didn't get to go to the treasure box, but you had a note sent home to your parents.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was walking down the hall.

You were supposed to be quiet in line.

I knew that.

But I just had to tell Tia about the newest CareBear I got.

I thought I could be sneaky.

I thought I could whisper.

"Katie Johnson".

My little bowlcut head whipped around.

"You know you're not supposed to be talking in line. When we're back in class, go take a wocket out of your pocket".

I made the Kindergarten walk of shame towards my cubby.

And then I saw the horror.

I only had one wocket left.

I couldn't get a letter sent home.

And I really wanted to go to that treasure box.

So I did what any rule bender would do.

I took the wocket out as I was told.

And then, when Miss Montalvo's back was turned, I put it right back in.

Technically, I followed directions.

Just not completely.

I think I look at the way I live as a Christian in the same way.

And when I read this verse in Ephesians tonight, I was struck by how badly I do at holding up my end of the bargain sometimes.

Because as Christians we are called to

² Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.

It doesn't say be a just little bit humble.

It doesn't say be just a little bit gentle.

It doesn't say be just  a little bit patient.

It says be completely humble.

Be completely gentle.

Be completely patient.

I think that sometimes I let myself off the hook too easily.

Sometimes I tend to think - 

"Well, he person really makes me mad, so all I can do is not slap him in the mouth. That's being gentle enough".

Or

"She should know how to do this. I wouldn't have to be patient if she knew what she was doing".

But, it just doesn't work that way.

We are called to a higher standard.

We are called to be different then the world around us.

And if we are made complete in Christ, then that completeness should radiate and permeate every way in which we interact with people.

And while that may seem hard,

And it may seem scary,

we serve a big enough God that with Him, nothing is impossible.

And when it comes to the way we treat those people that He loves so dearly,

Breaking the rules doesn't cut it this time.

And Miss Montalvo, if you read this, that Ronald McDonald toy was just not worth it.