Twenty Something

Being a twenty something is hard.

So many people have refered to these years as the "best years of your life"

But really, I think people should probably be a little more honest.

These years are full of fun,

And  full of the least amount of responsibility you'll ever have while having all of the perks of being an adult,

But still these years feel full.

Full of decisions,

Full of choices,

Full of big moments,

All while you're trying just to figure it all out.

I think God designed the twenty something years specifically so we would learn to trust.

Because really,

How else are you supposed to make a career choice fresh out of four years of clubs and paper writing and entire days spent in the dining hall if you don't trust that even if you make a wrong choice, you will still be OK?

How are you supposed to learn that friendships change and morph and look different if you don't trust that even though it may look different, these friendships are not any less important?

How are you supposed to choose the person you spend your life with if you don't trust that in 30 years, when you're not as attractive, and tired from the wear and tear of life, that you will still get those butterflies when you catch each other's eyes across the room?

How are you supposed to learn to be a grownup if you don't trust that this life,

That looks a little more scary,

A little more full,

A little more tiring,

Then you thought it would when you were in your teen-something years,

Is going to also be

A little more joyful,

A little more grace filled,

A little more adventurous,

Then your twenty something self could have ever dreamed?

That in the midst of the "best years of your life"

You are going to be asked to dream big,

And watch your story change before your eyes,

And see prayers answered,

And start new jobs,

And move,

And laugh, 

And watch your friends change their last names,

And begin thinking about changing your own. 

That in the middle of the " best years of your life",

You are going to see some dreams fail,

And watch your story change in ways you never hoped it would,

And have prayers go unanswered,

And end jobs,

And leave your home,

And cry,

And sit with your friends who dream of changing their last names, 

Or friends who long to be mommys and daddy's,

Or simply sit in moments of brokenness.

How could you get through a season like your twenty somethings,

The season full of decisions,

And life change, 

Without trust?

And when I sit right in the middle of this season,

This season that is 

 a little more scary,

A little more full,

A little more tiring,

A little more joyful,

A little more grace filled,

A little more adventurous

Then I imagined they would be,

I think that these "best years of my life"

May be the best years of my life because it's the years that I learned to choose to trust,

And rely,

And believe,

That each season,

Will be full,

And no matter what they're full of,

I have a God who I can fully trust with each season.

One Day At A Time

One day at a time.

It's what everyone says.

Take it one day at a time.

But sometimes, taking things one day at a time seems nearly impossible.

Because this day is full of worries,

And full of doubts,

About the next day,

Or the day after that,

Or the week after that,

Or the year after that.

One day at a time feels impossible,

When all the worries,

And concerns,

And fears, 

Of the next day's take over this day.

How do you take on this day,

When the days to come feel too big?

When the days to come feel too unknown?

When the days to come feel too much?

On this day,

When days to come feel unknown or scary,

Choose to remember,

That God,

In His moments of creation,

Took things one day at a time.

God could have clapped his hands,

Or wiggled his nose,

Or coughed,

And all of creation could have appeared.

But instead,

He took it day by day.

He created light and darkness,

He created water and sky,

He created land and ocean,

He created plants,

He created the sun and the moon and the stars,

He created animals,

And finally he created His prized possessions,

His favorite masterpiece,

He created humans.

And each creation had it's own day,

It's own unique elements,

And at the end of every day God choose to take a step back and say,

This, 

This day,

This creation,

This is good.

And even though He knew the mess we were going to make of his creation,

He took the time to step back,

And only focus on the trials of that day.

So today, choose to step back.

In the midst of change,

And uncertainty,

In the midst of fear,

Choose to step back and focus on today,

On the fact that even if every fear comes true,

Every unknown becomes known,

If tomorrow really is too big,

That today, we can step back and simply say,

Today, 

Today it was good.

And maybe, by learning to take that step back,

We'll learn that maybe those fears aren't so scary,

And the unknown isn't so bad,

And that days might not seem too big,

When we recognize that if we can call today good,

We can do the same for those tomorrows. 

The Place

I sit here today marveling at the difference a year can make.

A year ago, I sat tired, confused, scared about what my next step in life would be.

I could feel God pulling me away from a place that I loved,

People I loved,

A place where beautiful friendships were formed,

And for the first time, I felt like being Katie,

Just truly being me,

Was a great person to be.

This place brought me life,

It brought me growth,

It brought me joy,

It brought me a greater faith.

But yet, still,

I felt a tugging,

Actually, more like a ripping,

Because I'm stubborn, and such brute force was probably necessary.

A ripping,

A call,

A yell,

That my heart was supposed to find rest somewhere else.

And I resented that call,

I resented being called away from a place that I felt so much at home,

But yet,

Through the tears,

And through the fighting,

And through the confusion,

My heart was still tugged,

And I found myself ripped out of my comfort zone.

My heart was no longer at home,

My heart was no longer at peace,

My heart was tender,

And fragile,

And scared.

And today, I sit grateful for that ripping.

Because without the ripping,

My heart would never have been tender enough to experience all of the gifts that came from this next leap.

Without the overwhelming tenderness,

My heart would never have been able to experience the overwhelming relief that comes from mourning a loss,

And watching your heart grow from it.

Without the loneliness of sitting in an apartment alone,

There would not have been the gratefulness that comes when a new friend opens up the door of their home.

Without the fear of living the rest of your life single in the suburbs,

There would never have been the joy in seeing God craft your own personal love story.

Without the ripping,

There would never have been the laughing,

And the missing,

And the stretching,

And the loving,

And the gratefulness,

And the tears,

And the discovery,

That sometimes, all of these things can stem out of a place of pain.

That sometimes,

It's a place of pain,

A place of wandering,

A place of leaping,

A place of not knowing,

That can be the place of the greatest growth,

The greatest joy,

And in return,

The greatest faith.

Soul Ugly

I saw my ugly this morning.

Not my physical ugliness,

The deep,

Messy,

Soul ugliness that we all try to hide,

But it always manages to rear it's ugly head when we least expect it. 

And my own personal brand of ugly decided to make an appearance at the place where my brain goes to take a rest.

It showed up in the middle of the gym.

And I think that's the way our ugly likes to make it's appearance. 

In a place where we feel comfortable enough to let out our brains take a rest.

The place where we don't notice the ugly quite as easily.

My soul ugly first showed up in spits of anger,

Hateful and thrown at someone who had no idea they were entering into my ugly's path,

And then in morphed into sadness,

Shame,

A girl standing in the middle of the gym floor crying,

Silent tears that could have easily been mistaken for drops of sweat. 

My ugliness,

My soul ugly,

Made it's grand appearance because of one thing-

Failure.

And my disdain for even the smallest shred of evidence to point to the fact that I am capable of failure.

There's this fear wrapped up in failure.

This fear and this comparison.

She can do that, why can't I?

What will people think of me if I can't get this right?

What will that say about me?

And this fear is like fuel to my ugly's fire.

It's favorite kind of food.

My ugly's barbeque chicken pizza.

And when given even a taste,

Causes my ugly to go into a tailspin,

Resulting in silent tears on the floor of the gym. 

And as I sit and think about my ugly,

And why I continue to feed it what it wants, and what it needs,

I have to wonder,

Why am I so afraid of something that everyone does?

Why am I so afraid of something that binds us all together,

The fact that at some point,

We will all stumble,

We will all make mistakes,

We will all fail.

Failure is inevitable,

But failure doesn't have to be scary. 

Failure is not weakness,

It's the inability to see the humanness of failure that makes us weak,

And our ability to admit that we have  stumbled,

And made mistakes,

And fail,

And will continue to fail,

That makes us strong. 

The fear of failure,

Not the actual failure,

Holds us captive,

And makes us ugly,

Prisoners to our own inner critics,

Our own brand of soul ugly.

But somehow,

In the admitting that you are weak,

It makes you a little bit stronger.

Failure is inevitable.

But the fear of failure is a choice.

And the choice to choose fear,

Is a choice to remain a prisoner,

And a choice to continue to feed the ugly. 

So today, I make a choice.

Today I choose to show myself grace,

Today I choose to accept that failure is inevitable,

But that doesn't make me weak,

Or less then.

It makes me human.

Today I choose not to feed the soul ugly. 

And today I choose not to be a prisoner to my fear of failure.

Today, I'm choosing freedom.

"The Lord sets prisoners free" Psalms 147:7

Roller Derby Grace

Recently, I've gotten on this new kick. 

While I was standing in line at Starbucks, I saw a poster,

A flier to be a part of a women's roller derby team.

And I was immediately intrigued.

Women's roller derby is a high intensity, high impact sport that involves a group of women, skating around a track, trying to score points, and basically slamming each other into walls.

It's not pretty.

It's not sweet.

It's aggressive,

And rough,

And in your face,

And I want to do it.

Does it matter that I actually have no idea how to roller skate?

Not at all.

Because my imagination started working.

And as I shared my new found dream with friends and family,

I received mixed reviews.

Some looks of confusion,

Looks of excitement,

Looks of fear for my safety,

And the statement,

"That just seems so masculine. It's so aggressive".

And as I was reading the book of Romans this morning,

I felt OK sitting in the truth that that was exactly the kind of woman I wanted to be.

An aggressive woman.

As followers of Christ, we are called to be full of love, full of forgiveness, full of grace.

And I don't know about you, but when I picture a woman that looks like that, I always saw a woman that calmly and patiently loves, never raising her voice, never shaking things up.

And I found that picture a hard one to relate to,

Because I'm none of those things.

But I felt such freedom when I read this today. 

"By sin didn't, and doesn't, have a chance in competition with the aggressive forgiveness we call grace. When it's sin versus grace, grace wins hands down". ( Romans 5:21, The Message)

Grace is not soft.

Grace is not passive.

Grace is not easy.

Grace is aggressive.

Grace is aggressive because we have a God that aggressively loves.

A God that is not passive,

A God that chases after me even on my worst days.

A God that aggressively loves and chooses to compete with all the other things we put ahead of him,

And says " When you're ready, I'll be here".

But still,

Never stops loving.

So when I think about the kind of woman I want to be,

The kind of friend I want to be,

The kind of wife I want to be,

The kind of mother I want to be,

I want to aggressive.

I want to be a woman that aggressively loves.

That chooses to love,

Even when it's hard,

That choose to forgive,

Even when things are messy,

That chooses to be aggressive with grace,

And chases after it,

For myself,

And for others. 

Grace is like women's roller derby,

It's aggressive,

And rough,

And in your face,

And a great, great adventure. 

Tell Me Who I Am

I tend to look around me to see who I am.

It's a dangerous habit. 

A habit that can only end in confusion.

My parents tell me I'm one way,

But my friends tell me I'm different.

My grades tell me I'm smart,

But my choice to put handsoap in the dishwasher tells me different. 

My gym schedule tells me I'm fit,

But some days, the size of my thighs seem to say something completely different.

My job tells me I'm successful,

But that gnawing pit at the bottom of my stomach telling me I'm just not good enough tells me I'm not.

When I look around,

I tend to end up in a state of confusion.

But if I can't look to these things to tell me who I am,

Or what I am,

Then where do I look?

Where do I look for concrete and absolute truth,

A truth that no matter what the scale says,

Or no matter what my employment status is,

That will help me to remember who I am,

And what I am.

And today, I am reminded.

Today I am reminded to look at the cross.

Today I am reminded to look at the cross to tell me who I am.

The cross tells me I'm a sinner,

But the cross also tells me I'm forgiven.

The cross tells me I'm imperfect,

But the cross tells me I don't have to be.

The cross tells me I'm loved.

The cross tells me I'm treasured.

The cross tells me even at my loneliest, I'm thought of.

The cross tells me I am worthy.

The cross tells me that even my darkest secret is enough to make me unloveable.

The cross tells me who I am.

And because the cross tells me who k am,

It tells me who the God I serve is.

Because the cross tells me I'm loved, it tells me I have a God that is loving.

Because the cross tells I'm treasured, it tells me that I have a God that can see past the mess and treasure a woman who has screwed up time and time again.

Because the cross tells me I am thought of, it tells me I have a God that while he was busy designing the world, he placed fireflies on the earth because one day, there would be girl who loved nothing more then to see the sparkling reminders of summer nights.

Because the cross tells me I'm worthy, it tells me I have a God who loves me just the way I am.

Because the cross tells me that even at my darkest hour I am loveable, it tells me I have a God whose love is not based on jobs,

Or looks,

Or good deeds,

Or relationship status,

Or degrees,

Or my past,

Because of the cross, I see a God whose love is pure,

And holy,

And full of truth. 

And in that moment of truth,

I can look around and see,

When the world tries to tell me who I am,

Or what I am.

I can be reminded that I already know who I am.

Because the cross reminds me who my God is.

You Are Not Enough

Today is one of those days where I just wanted to throw up my hands and quit.

Today is one of those days where I saw constant reminders of my flaws,

Where I lack,

Where I'm not enough.

 I'm not organized enough.

 I'm not clean enough.

 I'm not nice enough.

I'm not responsible enough.

I'm just not enough.

And everywhere I turned,

My already sensitive heart seemed to pick out the reminders of that.

I carry this flaw,

The flaw that no matter how fast I run,

No matter how much I chase,

No matter how much I try,

I will never be able to do it all.

And that moment,

That realization,

Is humbling,

And scary,

And downright heartbreaking.

That even when all of my cylinders are going at full speed,

I will never get it all done.

That even when I feel like I'm accomplishing the most,

Something will be left behind.

That even at my very best,

I will never be enough for everyone.

And that thought can be paralyzing,

And result in tearful phone calls in a Target parking lot.

Or that realization,

That humbling,

Scary,

Downright heartbreaking realization,

Can be our first step into freedom.

You are not enough.

But, you don't have to be.

You will never get it all done.

But that's alright.

You will never be everything for everyone.

And that's how it should be.

You will trip,

You will fall,

You will side swipe cars at Target,

Because you are not supposed to be able to do it all.

You are not enough, because if you were,

Having a God that is,

A God that is big enough,

Strong enough,

Loving enough,

Merciful enough,

Kind enough,

Omniscient enough,

To help us walk through any rough day,

Any heartbreak,

Any success,

Any grand adventures,

Or great failures,

Wouldn't be as amazing.

You are not enough.

And you will have days that show you that.

Because sometimes we need to be reminded that our God is enough,

And even in our failings,

And even in our shortcomings,

And even in our irrational breakdowns in Target parking lots,

When we come face to face with the fact that we are not enough,

Is when we come face to face with a God that is.

In the eyes of the world, we may not be enough.

But when we have a God that is,

Somehow we become enough too.

"But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. " 2 Corinthians 2:9