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. 

Fear Is Not An Option

I have a problem with failure.

Actually, I have more then a problem with failure.

 I hate failure.

And I think it all stems back to my failed attempts and several different sports through my childhood.

Gymnastics?

Front rolled into a wall. Never came back into the class.

Dance?

Total lack of coordination put a damper on my tap dancing routines.

Horseback riding?

Have you ever seen a fat child in riding pants? Not a pretty picture. And those helmets never fit my head properly.

Softball?

Which attempt? When I played as a child,picking flowers in the outfield wasn't all it cracked up to be.

When I played as an adult, I was benched in a rec league.

No one gets benched in a rec league.

But I somehow managed to.

And after every failure, after every strike out, after every ugly turn, I felt one thing.

Sadness.

Disappointment.

And I hated feeling like that.

I hated feeling like I had no control over what I was doing in my life.

So I started to make plans.

And do things I knew I would succeed at.

And attempt things that were safe and feasible.

Even now, when I feel like my faith has grown so immensely, God puts me in situations that makes me face some really hard facts.

And the hard fact is that I'm scared.

I am scared of failure.

I'm scared of the unknown.

And, to be completely transparent, I'm scared of  what the Lord might have planned for me.

I'm scared that it won't fit into my plans.

I'm scared that I won't succeed.

I'm scared they'll take me somewhere I do not want to go.

I am scared.

That's the long and short of it.

And I have been battling that the past few days.

And today, my daily devotion spoke right to that fear.

Actually, God kind of slapped me in the face with it.

It is a verse that I've heard a million times.

But, it's one that I needed to hear a million and one times today.

²⁵ “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? ²⁶ Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

At the end of the day, I serve a God that watches over everything on this Earth.

And He values me.

And loves me.

And my fear is the equivalent of looking that same great God in the face and saying,

You don't know what you're doing.

You don't have my best interest at heart.

You may not do what you promised.

Basically, I'm calling God a liar.

Yeah, I said it.

And that's hard for me to admit.

It's hard for me to own up to the fact that I think those facts about the God I say I follow wholeheartedly,

But I still, struggle with putting my plans aside and accepting the ultimate truth.

That my God is not a liar.

He is a provider.

And a father.

And a caregiver.

And His plans are the ones I can put my hope in.

Even if they don't match up with my own personal desires.

And that will be hard to handle.

And I'll probably shed a few tears.

But, at the end of the day, if I know that God considers me valuable,

Won't His plans be the best that He can provide for me?

And even if I do fail,

And even if I do cry,

And even if I have to move to a city I despise,

God doesn't look at me as a failure.

He looks at me of something of value.

Someone He loves.

And someone He will continue to provide for.

Falling...Fall On?

I'll admit it- sometimes, I have some trust issues.

Trust is a scary thing.

People tell you they're going to do something.

They either do it, or they don't.

And suddenly, the control, and the answer is taken out of your own hand, and put into the hands of someone else.

Someone you may not know.

Someone you may not like.

Someone you may not understand.

I can link these trust issues back to one specific event in my life.

Camp Misty Mountain.

1999.

The trust fall.

Now, for those of you individuals lucky enough to have never experienced this glorious outdoor activity, let me break it down for you.

You get up on a platform, usually 4 to 5 feet of of the ground.

You put your heels on the edge of that platform.

You cross your arms across your chest.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and call out those fateful words

"Falling!"

And you wait, until you hear,

"Fall on!"

And then, with all of the trust and courage you can muster up, you fall backwards, off of the platform, into the arms of your team waiting with strategically placed arms, standing below you.

Now, imagine this scenario, with nine year old me, weighing 180 pounds, standing up on that platform.

Waiting to fall into the 90 pound arms of my peers below.

You can understand why the trust wasn't exactly there, can't you?

You can understand why I started to cry, can't you?

You can understand why I had to climb down from the platform with my head hanging in shame, can't you?

Of course you can. Every sane and rational person would.

I understood that I was overweight.

I understood that most of my fellow campers could barely lift  a log, let alone a girl double their size.

I understood that the likelihood of me, falling through their arms was extremely probable.

So, I did what I understood.

I got off of the platform.

I still do that now sometimes, when it comes to my relationship with God.

I try to make some sort of semblance of understanding with the situations in my own life.

I try to rely on the knowledge that I have gathered.

I try to make sense of this crazy world myself.

But then, I am truly reminded about what a trustworthy God we serve.

In Proverbs 3, it tells us

Trust in the Lord with all your heart
    and lean not on your own understanding;
⁶ in all your ways submit to him,
    and he will make your paths straight.

And of course, that makes sense. 

If we rely on God, he'll help us through. 

If we trust in Him, our path will be straight.

But then, Solomon ( the writer of Proverbs) really blows God's credentials out of the water.

By wisdom the Lord laid the earth’s foundations,
    by understanding he set the heavens in place;

I need to trust in the Lord's wisdom in my job search, because it is the same wisdom that created the world.

That shaped the mountains.

That poured the oceans.

I need to lean on God's understanding for His plan in my life, because it is the same understanding that set the heavens in place.

That placed the North Star.

That designed Orion's belt.

This God of great wisdom and understanding is the same God that is offering to take hold of my life, take a weight off my shoulders, and direct my path in the best way possible.

And if that isn't worth taking a trust fall for, I'm not sure what is.

I Want Candy

I was a sneaky child.

Or at least I tried to be.

I had my own ways of getting around doing things I never wanted to do.

Don't want to take a shower when the babysitter is watching you?

Turn on the shower, leave it on for an appropriate amount of time, sit in the bathroom reading your newest edition of Babysitter's Club, and then stick your head underneath the sink as you hear the babysitter coming up the stairs.

The wet hair always did the trick.

Don't want to finish running the dreaded mile run in PE?

Pretend that your total lack of ability to breathe isn't because you haven't left the couch in a few weeks, but it actually is the symptoms of an asthma attack.

That got them every time.

But my greatest feat by far didn't come from trying to get out of something

In came from trying to get in something

More specifically, trying to get into the cabinet that held all of the cookies, left over halloween candy and various sugary goodness that resided in our kitchen.

I never asked for a snack.

Then my Mom might have said no.

And I didn't want to hear that answer.

My mother always had close watch over this stash.

But I had my ways around that.

I would wait for the phone to ring.

Or for my brother to call.

And sometimes, I would even ask for her help looking for a "missing book" ( that I had stashed underneath my bed prior to said request) to keep her occupied.

Then, when her back was turned, I would make my run for it.

Down the stairs,

Into the kitchen,

Grab the chair,

Jump on top of said chair,

Open the cabinet,

Grab whatever morsel of junk food that I could get my hand on,

Stuff said morsel underneath my shirt,

Jump off the chair,

Run back up the stairs,

And into my room, door closed and locked.

But that wasn't the end of the mission.

The real question then arose- what do I do with the evidence?

What do I do with the wrapper?

I couldn't throw it away- she'd see it when she took out the trash.

I couldn't flush it down the toilet- then I'd have stopped up toilet. And that is never good.

And then an idea struck me- I could throw the trash behind my huge dresser in my room.

Then no one would ever find it.

This scheming lasted for a few good years.

And I thought I would be successful.

Until my Mom decided she wanted to redo my room.

And wanted to rearrange the furniture.

And when she moved the dresser, hundreds upon thousands of wrappers came flowing out, revealing my scheming, revealing my plans, revealing my shame.

Sometimes, I think I try to treat my relationship with God the way I treated those candy bars.

I try to hide parts of my life from Him,

Keep them to myself,

Sure, they're a part of my life.

But that doesn't mean that I need to share it with you.

I try to keep them to myself.

I try to keep them secret.

I think " If God doesn't see the evidence, it'll be OK"

I like the way my friendships are going- I don't have to offer that up.

I like the way I'm doing school- I don't have to offer that up.

If I offer up my dating life, he might tell me I'm going to be forever single.

And I'm not sure I'm ready to hear that.

And I think, if I don't pray about this part of my life,

If I don't talk about it with my small group,

Then those parts of my life will be in my control.

God doesn't need to see that evidence.

But that's not the way God wants it- He wants all of us.

Even our schemes.

Even our shame.

He wants every single part of our life in use for his service.

It tells us in Romans 6:12

"...Offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness"

We are called to offer every part of ourselves.

Not just the parts we feel like we need his help in

Not just the parts that are going wrong

Every part of our lives

No hiding

No scheming

No wet, stuck underneath the sink heads.

Every

Single

Part

Even those candy wrappers you hide underneath your dressers

Panic Attack on The Lazy River

I used to hate going to White Water.

White Water, for all of those non-southerners that might stumble across this blog, is a middle schooler's dream- or, in my case, a middle schooler's nightmare.

White Water is a water park, where you can go (usually unsupervised) full of hundreds of other unsupervised middle schoolers in bathing suits.

They had a lazy river.

And water slides.

And a wave pool.

And they had funnel cakes- which in my mind was the only plus.

White Water was a prepubiscent's heaven.

Unless you were a fat, awkward middle schooler with glasses.

Like me.

Then, all of a sudden, you're stuck at a place for hours at a time where you're forced to walk around in your bathing suit, and you can't wear your glasses, so you hide them in a planter next to your beach chair and you have to walk around blind the entire day.

Like I said, White Water was not my favorite place.

But there was one part of White Water that I hated the most.

Worse then being the only girl in a one piece.

Worse then being the only girl in a one piece  that you got in the grandma section because it had a skirt attached ( and who doesn't want to be the 13 year old wearing the grandma skirted swim suit?)

Worse then getting into a raft with another girl that you thought was your friend because you are so blind that you start to identify people by their general blurred shape and hair color.

This was so much worse.

The  Cliffhanger.

A high rise free fall slide that sends you rushing nine stories down, into a dark,shallow watery grave.

Or at least that's how I saw it.

All of my friends would race up the stairs, practically pushing each other over to allow themselves to be thrown down this very large, very scary slide and I would stand at the bottom, urging my legs to move.

Trying to convince myself that it wasn't scary.

Trying to convince myself that it wasn't that high.

Trying to convince myself that it was safe.

But still, I remained, frozen at the bottom.

Sometimes, I think our life looks like that to us.

Especially when you're in your mid-twenties.

Everything looks big.

Everything looks scary.

Everything looks like more then we can handle.

Nothing seems safe.

And all of these changes come rushing towards us, sending us to a very dark and scary place- the unknown.

Sometimes, all I can look at is how big and scary the future seems.

And when my legs are frozen, and I can't seem to move, I have to remind myself that even though the future is big and scary, my God is that much bigger.

In the book of Job, we get the amazing opportunity to hear God tell us just how big He really is, and we begin to realize just how small we, and in turn, our problems, really are.

This whole chapter is amazing, so I'm going to just have to pick out a few of my favorite verses- but please, if you have a chance, go back and read Job 38.

Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?
    Tell me, if you understand.
 Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
    Who stretched a measuring line across it?                                                         On what were its footings set,

    or who laid its cornerstone

Who shut up the sea behind doors

    when it burst forth from the womb when I made the clouds its garment
    and wrapped it in thick darkness,
 when I fixed limits for it
    and set its doors and bars in place,
 when I said, ‘This far you may come and no farther;
    here is where your proud waves halt’?

 Have you ever given orders to the morning,
    or shown the dawn its place

Can you bind the chains^[b] of the Pleiades?
    Can you loosen Orion’s belt?
Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons   

 or lead out the Bear^[d] with its cubs? 

Do you know the laws of the heavens?

If I serve a God that is so big that he measured the Earth and set it's foundations,

If I serve a God that is so big that he can shut up the oceans behind doors,

If I serve a God that can loosen Orion's belt in the sky,

then how can I be scared about finding a job?

Or finding a husband?

Or moving to a different state?

How big is my God?

And how small am I?

And if He can arrange the constellations, then surely my life isn't nearly as difficult to set up.