Hi.
I'm not the best driver. I do believe this has been acknowledged in previous emails :) However, I don't like to admit that I'm a bad driver - it's a total pride thing. Besides, I don't particularly have a lot of tickets or accidents that would serve as any sort of implications of bad driving.
But just between me and you...I'm a bad driver. I get lost a lot. Something I'll deny until my death. I like to claim that I'm really good at getting places; which, with perfect, to-the-mile marker directions, I'm great. My question is, what did everyone do before Mapquest and Yahoo Maps! I suppose buggies didn't fly by turns quite as fast as my little Bessie, the '93 Sentra, does. My dad can vouch for my incredibly innate lacking sense of direction... An all too familiar phone call from his lovely and dearest daughter sounds something like, "uh, hi, dad? Are you near a computer? I'm here…and I need to get...there!"
Moving on...not only do a get lost a lot, but I also sort of hmm, what's the word, zone out? Yeah, that's it, I zone out a lot. But ever since arriving back in Grand Haven I seem to zone out even more. Particularly at four-way stops. I've noticed that I don't take any notice at all to whom has arrived first, and then, instead of waiting, I just take off (assuming it's my turn). Too often other cars start - probably, because it actually is their turn - I speed up, all of a sudden confused once I snap back into it. And then leave the scene of the "zone out" completely and totally embarrassed and a wee bit sheepish feeling - and to be honest, incredibly thankful that I didn't get hit!
The other day I was driving in to town. Upon nearing a four-way stop, and much to my amazement, I actually looked to see if any other cars were coming up on the four-way. Holy Hannah! I thought, I actually paid attention. (I know, I got a lecture about using "holy" in front of words when I was a kid, but that's what I thought). I quickly gave myself a metaphorical "pat on the back," which was only followed by the realization that I didn't actually stop at the stop sign; moreover, I sort of rolled through it. I'm not good at that either - the actual stopping part of stop signs.
In fact, when I was in high school. I accidentally ran through a red light, sped my way through a residential area, came upon a four-way stop sign and blew through it, all the while commenting to my friend, "watch this!" Unfortunately there was a cop sitting at the four-way stop sign, who had the shear surprise of watching my reckless driving and the pure pleasure of pulling me over. Luckily, after a small side conversation about having two licenses (which is illegal, by the way) and not knowing which one to pass along to him, as I commented on the fact my hair was down in one, and that my hair looked better down; He came back and let me go mentioning something about the state not liking it when young drivers get tickets and the fact that yes, indeed, my hair did look better down!
All that to say, five or six years later and I'm still horrible at stop signs, plowing through them or rolling right on by. But as I said, the other week I may have rolled through the sign, but somehow I managed to take note of whether or not other cars were nearing. And a few blocks later I managed to not only look to see if other cars were at the stop sign, but I also stopped. In fact, I stopped so good I was actually able to let another car go who had arrived at the stop sign after me.
Okay, besides taking note to never ever ride with me in the car, please also note that my driving reflects life. Life is a process. Life is a journey. There are so many things in life that I just can't seem to do better at...I might have a few good days, but often not, more bad days. Days where I'm patient and days where I lose it all the time. Days where I'm thoughtful and days where I'm very self-centered. You get the picture, right? I share my driving with you as a precautionary notice and warning for those who do dare take the passenger seat with me, and to also remind you to keep on going...Today, you may make great strides, or you may flounder a bit. Tomorrow you may be head high with frustration or your may be surfing the waves of life. Either way, today is today, tomorrow is tomorrow. Keep on trying, keep on working at it.
As I said, I don't have a lot of things that would imply I'm a bad driver, but I know I could do better. And even though we may not always be called out on our struggles or issued a ticket when we "mess up" we all know we could be doing better, right?
It was really nice when I actually was truly aware of my surroundings...and it was even better when I gave myself the chance to waive the other lady on...
It's nice, when in life we're aware of what's going on, and it's even better when we're able to put others before us!
Cheering you on through driver's training :)
May you keep going through the tickets, traffic jams, stop signs, and even the fender benders of life!
Kaylee
Jun 10, 2008
Lagging behind.
Buenos Dias!
What do you do when you're 23, living with your parents, and wondering if you'll ever find a job? You walk --- a lot.
That's what you do, and that's what I was doing today. I was on a walk. As I chugged along a path, which winds through the woods and down to the beach (absolutely beautiful), I heard a few voices behind me. They were the voices of three men, dressed in jeans, collared shirts, and pagers on their hips. They didn't look like runners or joggers. They weren't even dressed for a walk of this distance and intensity. To be honest, I really didn't think they'd end up catching up to me, but it didn't take too long for the pitter patter of their feet to pitter patter right on past me. Alongside me, one of them looked at me and said, "beautiful day isn't it?" They were just chatting up a storm, something about walleye fishing and big waves. As they continued up the path with a hop in their step and a spring in their stride I thought to myself, with that much joy and excitement, they look like the disciples running to the tomb (as the irony of fishing and big waves finally hits me).
I wondered why a few grown men would randomly remind me of the disciples running to the tomb....
To be honest, as they passed me, I couldn't help but feel like I was lagging...lagging behind. And as odd as it may sound, even when they were behind me I felt like I was lagging. Somehow they carried something with them. Something I didn't seem to have this morning; a sort of joy-filled spirit. They walked as if on the best adventure ever. They had a mission, a destination, even if the mission was just to keep on walking.
Is it possible that though they didn't even looked like they belonged on the path that they somehow understood and enjoyed the path that much more than me?
Is it possible that we dress ourselves up as Catholics, Methodists, Episcopalians...as you know, Christians; and yet somehow others understand and enjoy the beauty of the earth, the significance of relationships, and the joy of love more than we do?
I'm not really trying to give a comparison act here...In fact, I shouldn't try and categorize this at all...let me explain.
I'm reading this book right now. It discusses the modern era, the postmodern era, and how we, as Christians, throughout this transition between the modern era and the postmodern era might merge out as perhaps a new kind of Christian. (In fact, that's the title of the book, A New Kind of Christian).
There's a point where, when talking about what this new kind of Christian might look like, that reads...
I believe Jesus meant it when he said the Spirit of God would be with us, guiding us, to the very end. So I believe that he will guide us through these winds and currents of change, no matter what storms come. In fact, I believe that he is the wind in our sails, leading us into change, because that's his way. He always moves ahead. He's not about taking us back into the past, some beautiful illusion of good old days. He has a purpose he is working toward, and I want to keep up with him. I suppose that's my greatest fear, not that I'll go too fast or too far, but that I'll lag behind.
So I wonder. Am I keeping up with God? Is it possible that in the modern era, an era devoted to systems, numbers, control that we're lagging?
That we're too stuck on numbers... (How many were saved tonight? Did you have prayer time for 30 minutes this morning?)
That we're too stuck on systems... (If you do this and don't do that then it's all good. A relationship with God looks like this: read your Bible, go to church, and sing a lot of worship songs. Oh, and don't forget about Bible studies).
That we're still stuck on the idea of conquering and controlling...(Are you a Christian? Do you belong to my elite group?).
I'm not saying these are wrong things or bad things. I'm just saying, I think there's more, and I think that even though I might be on the path, that I'm still not quite getting it. On my walk this morning I knew the system. I knew left foot, right foot. And yes, I was on the path, but I still was lagging. I know the system. I'm on the path. But is God calling me to something more?
So how, in the era in which we find ourselves immersed, do we keep up with God? He's putting the world back together and making all things new isn't He? For me, I know I'm lagging when it comes to recycling. I'm also much quicker to criticize and judge than to edify and encourage so as to conquer and control situations (or at least attempt to control them). And I tend to put a system, a box, around my Jesus, which limits how incredibly wonderful and beautiful He is.
There was a point where the men I saw on my walk this morning veered left and I veered right. I continued to think about all the implications these men and their stride had on my life. I saw them later en route. One of them was now on his cell phone. Again, couldn't help but think of them as the disciples, on a mission, to share what they had seen and heard...
I want that. I want to carry God with me. I want to share what He's working to do --- restore the world; creating a world that is of love, and joy, equality, community, a stable environment, patience, peace throughout, no endangered species...I want to join in on that. And I want to work towards that. And I want others to join in on that as well.
I'm better for having those men cross my path today. I hope that my life is the same for those whom I encounter!
Cheering you on as we catch up to a God who is always moving.
May we have not fear for change, but may we embrace the art of making all things new.
Kaylee
What do you do when you're 23, living with your parents, and wondering if you'll ever find a job? You walk --- a lot.
That's what you do, and that's what I was doing today. I was on a walk. As I chugged along a path, which winds through the woods and down to the beach (absolutely beautiful), I heard a few voices behind me. They were the voices of three men, dressed in jeans, collared shirts, and pagers on their hips. They didn't look like runners or joggers. They weren't even dressed for a walk of this distance and intensity. To be honest, I really didn't think they'd end up catching up to me, but it didn't take too long for the pitter patter of their feet to pitter patter right on past me. Alongside me, one of them looked at me and said, "beautiful day isn't it?" They were just chatting up a storm, something about walleye fishing and big waves. As they continued up the path with a hop in their step and a spring in their stride I thought to myself, with that much joy and excitement, they look like the disciples running to the tomb (as the irony of fishing and big waves finally hits me).
I wondered why a few grown men would randomly remind me of the disciples running to the tomb....
To be honest, as they passed me, I couldn't help but feel like I was lagging...lagging behind. And as odd as it may sound, even when they were behind me I felt like I was lagging. Somehow they carried something with them. Something I didn't seem to have this morning; a sort of joy-filled spirit. They walked as if on the best adventure ever. They had a mission, a destination, even if the mission was just to keep on walking.
Is it possible that though they didn't even looked like they belonged on the path that they somehow understood and enjoyed the path that much more than me?
Is it possible that we dress ourselves up as Catholics, Methodists, Episcopalians...as you know, Christians; and yet somehow others understand and enjoy the beauty of the earth, the significance of relationships, and the joy of love more than we do?
I'm not really trying to give a comparison act here...In fact, I shouldn't try and categorize this at all...let me explain.
I'm reading this book right now. It discusses the modern era, the postmodern era, and how we, as Christians, throughout this transition between the modern era and the postmodern era might merge out as perhaps a new kind of Christian. (In fact, that's the title of the book, A New Kind of Christian).
There's a point where, when talking about what this new kind of Christian might look like, that reads...
I believe Jesus meant it when he said the Spirit of God would be with us, guiding us, to the very end. So I believe that he will guide us through these winds and currents of change, no matter what storms come. In fact, I believe that he is the wind in our sails, leading us into change, because that's his way. He always moves ahead. He's not about taking us back into the past, some beautiful illusion of good old days. He has a purpose he is working toward, and I want to keep up with him. I suppose that's my greatest fear, not that I'll go too fast or too far, but that I'll lag behind.
So I wonder. Am I keeping up with God? Is it possible that in the modern era, an era devoted to systems, numbers, control that we're lagging?
That we're too stuck on numbers... (How many were saved tonight? Did you have prayer time for 30 minutes this morning?)
That we're too stuck on systems... (If you do this and don't do that then it's all good. A relationship with God looks like this: read your Bible, go to church, and sing a lot of worship songs. Oh, and don't forget about Bible studies).
That we're still stuck on the idea of conquering and controlling...(Are you a Christian? Do you belong to my elite group?).
I'm not saying these are wrong things or bad things. I'm just saying, I think there's more, and I think that even though I might be on the path, that I'm still not quite getting it. On my walk this morning I knew the system. I knew left foot, right foot. And yes, I was on the path, but I still was lagging. I know the system. I'm on the path. But is God calling me to something more?
So how, in the era in which we find ourselves immersed, do we keep up with God? He's putting the world back together and making all things new isn't He? For me, I know I'm lagging when it comes to recycling. I'm also much quicker to criticize and judge than to edify and encourage so as to conquer and control situations (or at least attempt to control them). And I tend to put a system, a box, around my Jesus, which limits how incredibly wonderful and beautiful He is.
There was a point where the men I saw on my walk this morning veered left and I veered right. I continued to think about all the implications these men and their stride had on my life. I saw them later en route. One of them was now on his cell phone. Again, couldn't help but think of them as the disciples, on a mission, to share what they had seen and heard...
I want that. I want to carry God with me. I want to share what He's working to do --- restore the world; creating a world that is of love, and joy, equality, community, a stable environment, patience, peace throughout, no endangered species...I want to join in on that. And I want to work towards that. And I want others to join in on that as well.
I'm better for having those men cross my path today. I hope that my life is the same for those whom I encounter!
Cheering you on as we catch up to a God who is always moving.
May we have not fear for change, but may we embrace the art of making all things new.
Kaylee
But I'll Fly, Buttafly.
Hi.
A few weeks ago I wrote and talked about how I felt like I was in a closet..not a valley, not a desert, but a closet...
No, haven't found the light switch yet (and have yet to confirm if there is even one included in my closet's floor plan). And no, I haven't figured out what exactly it is that I seem to be holding, fondling...hating.
Yep. still in my closet.
But a few conversations later and a couple of emails back and forth, and I seem to have learned a few things.
I've found out I'm not alone. Other people are in closets too...which of course, this helps to know.
I've also been reminded that "wherever you go, there you are." I'm here. I think for a while I fought the idea of going into my closet, of wrestling with thoughts, of letting go of the preconceived plans I had for my life. So I was in my closet, but not fully present in my closet. I was gasping for air as if I had been holding my breathe for 5 minutes...which, maybe I was. I've been afraid to breathe. Afraid to wrestle, afraid that if I did wrestle, this faith that I've built would be nothing. Afraid that if didn't have all the answers, or know that the answers were on their way, or know that the answers would be answered in this lifetime, then I'd lose it all. I'd die. I was afraid. And so I stopped breathing - in a metaphorical and spiritual sense of course, not literal :) The air around me kept getting tighter and thicker and my breaths kept getting shorter and shorter; which to me is a very humorous thought, like someone who thinks they're drowning only to realize that they can just stand up and the water is only knee-cap deep. I picture myself like that, gasping for air, arms around my neck, only to realize that all the oxygen I need is right at my dispense :)
But like I said, I've learned a few things. It's okay to be in my closet. Wherever you go, there you are, right? Here, my closet, is where I am...and that's where, in order to be fully present, I have to be.
So I'm finally sitting in my closet, and for a few days, that's all I could say for myself...sitting and breathing...breathing and sitting...you know, that sort of thing. But I finally felt relief. I felt (and still do) safe and secure. As if I'm in a new sanctuary, one I've never known before, but interesting...a bit peculiar, a little cramped for space, but nevertheless, my own little place where I can meet with God.
But I'm not done...remember, I said I've learned a few things...what's a few anyways? 3 or more, isn't it? Okay, so that leaves me with plenty of points to make, ha ha.
Honestly though, I got to thinking...I remember last year I had this girl ask if she could pray with me, or over me, or whatever you call it when someone fully heartily wants to offer all your pain and confusion to the Father and you stand there half-heartily involved, as you ponder if prayer is even really effective. She said something along the lines of and Father, we know, that it is only out of darkness that a butterfly emerges...Oh buddy, butterfly? Really? Really God?
You see, God and I have this thing, this thing with butterflies, (flowers too, but we'll save that for another day) Anyway, butterflies tend to be God's way of telling me He loves me; which in extremely difficult times, times of confusion and pain, only makes me extremely angry at the sight of a butterfly. (In fact, to be honest, my parent's have a butterfly as their screen savor. The other day I got so frustrated and anxious with life that I just had to change the screen savor...funny, because after that, I only saw more and more butterflies, ha ha).
But I'm starting to learn that butterflies are not just His way of saying I love you...I'm starting to learn that they represent the fact that life is a process. I'm realizing that He tends to show me butterflies when I'm experiencing a lot of growth, enlightenment, adventure...It's kind of like His way of saying, are you ready for this? bit scared? don't worry, I'm here, don't be anxious, Kaylee, breathe.
so butterflies, eh? Really?....Yeah, butterflies. Butterflies it is...Everywhere recently. It's almost as if I have to be careful not to step on them....
And I'm reminded of the girl's prayer. This closet? It may just be my chrysalis; a time of great growth and change; even if I can't necessarily feel or see it happening.
In the past week or so I've also thought of the Chronicles of Narnia...I think CS Lewis knew this closet, this chrysalis. The children had to leave the world as they knew it, venture through a dark time, a place of cluttered coats and darkness, so as to breach through to another world, another kingdom, that of Narnia. We too, at times, will leave the world as we know it, venture through darkness, perhaps moments of clutter and confusion, so as to reach another kingdom, that of our Father.
So maybe, just maybe, this closet, this chrysalis isn't so bad after all.
Cheering you on as you journey through life.
May you rest in the ever-present season of life that you find yourself in. And may you fear not where you are, for wherever you are, there you are, and He with you.
Kaylee
Breathe in Me
(by Kaylee)
Breathe in me, even when I can't speak any words today.
Breathe in me, even when I can't see past yesterday.
Feels like I'm all alone...
Dark, Lonely, I feel like I've been pushed aside in here.
Searching, I suppose but not really searching at all, I fear.
Feels like I'm in my own little chrysalis...
Butterfly, Butterfly is what I'm going to be
Butterfly, Butterfly so beautiful and free
With the wind against my face
As I flutter through His grace
This world may bring pain,
But I'll fly.
Little Butterfly.
A few weeks ago I wrote and talked about how I felt like I was in a closet..not a valley, not a desert, but a closet...
No, haven't found the light switch yet (and have yet to confirm if there is even one included in my closet's floor plan). And no, I haven't figured out what exactly it is that I seem to be holding, fondling...hating.
Yep. still in my closet.
But a few conversations later and a couple of emails back and forth, and I seem to have learned a few things.
I've found out I'm not alone. Other people are in closets too...which of course, this helps to know.
I've also been reminded that "wherever you go, there you are." I'm here. I think for a while I fought the idea of going into my closet, of wrestling with thoughts, of letting go of the preconceived plans I had for my life. So I was in my closet, but not fully present in my closet. I was gasping for air as if I had been holding my breathe for 5 minutes...which, maybe I was. I've been afraid to breathe. Afraid to wrestle, afraid that if I did wrestle, this faith that I've built would be nothing. Afraid that if didn't have all the answers, or know that the answers were on their way, or know that the answers would be answered in this lifetime, then I'd lose it all. I'd die. I was afraid. And so I stopped breathing - in a metaphorical and spiritual sense of course, not literal :) The air around me kept getting tighter and thicker and my breaths kept getting shorter and shorter; which to me is a very humorous thought, like someone who thinks they're drowning only to realize that they can just stand up and the water is only knee-cap deep. I picture myself like that, gasping for air, arms around my neck, only to realize that all the oxygen I need is right at my dispense :)
But like I said, I've learned a few things. It's okay to be in my closet. Wherever you go, there you are, right? Here, my closet, is where I am...and that's where, in order to be fully present, I have to be.
So I'm finally sitting in my closet, and for a few days, that's all I could say for myself...sitting and breathing...breathing and sitting...you know, that sort of thing. But I finally felt relief. I felt (and still do) safe and secure. As if I'm in a new sanctuary, one I've never known before, but interesting...a bit peculiar, a little cramped for space, but nevertheless, my own little place where I can meet with God.
But I'm not done...remember, I said I've learned a few things...what's a few anyways? 3 or more, isn't it? Okay, so that leaves me with plenty of points to make, ha ha.
Honestly though, I got to thinking...I remember last year I had this girl ask if she could pray with me, or over me, or whatever you call it when someone fully heartily wants to offer all your pain and confusion to the Father and you stand there half-heartily involved, as you ponder if prayer is even really effective. She said something along the lines of and Father, we know, that it is only out of darkness that a butterfly emerges...Oh buddy, butterfly? Really? Really God?
You see, God and I have this thing, this thing with butterflies, (flowers too, but we'll save that for another day) Anyway, butterflies tend to be God's way of telling me He loves me; which in extremely difficult times, times of confusion and pain, only makes me extremely angry at the sight of a butterfly. (In fact, to be honest, my parent's have a butterfly as their screen savor. The other day I got so frustrated and anxious with life that I just had to change the screen savor...funny, because after that, I only saw more and more butterflies, ha ha).
But I'm starting to learn that butterflies are not just His way of saying I love you...I'm starting to learn that they represent the fact that life is a process. I'm realizing that He tends to show me butterflies when I'm experiencing a lot of growth, enlightenment, adventure...It's kind of like His way of saying, are you ready for this? bit scared? don't worry, I'm here, don't be anxious, Kaylee, breathe.
so butterflies, eh? Really?....Yeah, butterflies. Butterflies it is...Everywhere recently. It's almost as if I have to be careful not to step on them....
And I'm reminded of the girl's prayer. This closet? It may just be my chrysalis; a time of great growth and change; even if I can't necessarily feel or see it happening.
In the past week or so I've also thought of the Chronicles of Narnia...I think CS Lewis knew this closet, this chrysalis. The children had to leave the world as they knew it, venture through a dark time, a place of cluttered coats and darkness, so as to breach through to another world, another kingdom, that of Narnia. We too, at times, will leave the world as we know it, venture through darkness, perhaps moments of clutter and confusion, so as to reach another kingdom, that of our Father.
So maybe, just maybe, this closet, this chrysalis isn't so bad after all.
Cheering you on as you journey through life.
May you rest in the ever-present season of life that you find yourself in. And may you fear not where you are, for wherever you are, there you are, and He with you.
Kaylee
Breathe in Me
(by Kaylee)
Breathe in me, even when I can't speak any words today.
Breathe in me, even when I can't see past yesterday.
Feels like I'm all alone...
Dark, Lonely, I feel like I've been pushed aside in here.
Searching, I suppose but not really searching at all, I fear.
Feels like I'm in my own little chrysalis...
Butterfly, Butterfly is what I'm going to be
Butterfly, Butterfly so beautiful and free
With the wind against my face
As I flutter through His grace
This world may bring pain,
But I'll fly.
Little Butterfly.
Breath in a closet.
Hi all.
dark? yes. scary? not quite like Halloween. confusing? most certainly. frustrating? more than a jigsaw puzzle that's for sure (and if you know me well enough, you'll know I'm horrible at jigsaw puzzles; any puzzle or brain teaser for that matter.). Some call it a valley. Some call it the desert. But in the past month, I've grown to claim it as my "closet."
Personally, I think I'd rather be in a valley or a desert. Either of them seems more appealing to me at this point. But I have to honest; it doesn't feel like a valley...In a valley you look up and wonder how to get up and out of it. And it doesn't feel like a desert...In a desert you long, you long for your thirst to be quenched. You long for luscious forestry and brooks overflowing with cool refreshing water.
I don't seem to be looking up (wish I was) and I don't seem to be longing for more (I'm sure I need to be, but such doesn't seem to be the case right now)...
It feels much more like a closet. Yes, a closet. This past year I feel like I've been tossed into a closet. It's a dark closet. Nothing to sit on. It's hot in here. It's humid. The air is pretty thick actually. A closet. Musty smelling. You know the kind. I seem to have some sort of object in my hand. Not sure at all what it is.
Dark. Lonely. Empty. Thick. Hard to breathe. Unable to sit and rest. And an object.
The problem is...I don't want to be in the closet. I don't want to wait in the dark anymore. I don't want to wrestle with the object anymore. And I most certainly don't want to try and rest in this uncomfortable place. I think there's a party going on outside my closet and I want to be a part of it. I want to be out of my closet.
I've looked for a light switch, and I can't find it. I've tried to figure out if this object in my hand is actually something worthwhile, something more than an occupier of space in my already limited space-of-a-closet.
I bet you're all thinking that I'll tell you how I got out of the closet. I bet you think I'll tell you where the light switch is. I bet you think I'm going to tell you that I've figured it all out. Or at least I'll tell you that I figured out that the object is a blow-up beach ball, ha ha.
But I can't. I don't know why I'm in the closet. Why would anyone hang out in a dark and lonely closet? Great question, you ask. Maybe I need to learn how to rest. Maybe I need to learn that the party is not about me and that it will go on, with or without me. Maybe I need time to fondle whatever it is in my hand - my faith? something I've placed before God? Maybe God had to place me in a closet to get my attention. Or maybe, maybe I just need to get away from the world, as I knew it, for a while.
A coworker of mine down in North Carolina invited me to go to the Body Worlds Exposition. Funny thing is, she kept asking me how I felt about going to it. She, being a bit iffy on the whole thing, was amazed at my overwhelming excitement for the event. It wasn't until we were standing right in front of the exposition that I read: the anatomical exposition of real human bodies.
Real? These bodies are real? Yuck! Ugh, I think I'm gonna be sick - oops, guess I hadn't caught that part! :)
As we uh, what's the proper word to use here, as we browsed through the bodies? (please note my cringed face) We got to a case where a brain just sat there. I had this absolute pure moment of awe. It was just a pile of mush. Could have been pile of play dough for all that it appeared to be just lying there on the case. And it hit me. The Spirit of Life is undeniable. Without it a brain is a pile of mush. With it, this pile of mush, thinks, feels, reasons, spawns so much, so so much. It makes life.
So I'm in a closet. And I don't know much at the moment other than that. I know a lot of stuff in my head. But right now, all my heart knows is that I'm in a closet. It's dark. It's confusing. It's most definitely frustrating. At some point...maybe the light switch will turn on (there has to be one somewhere in here, I'm sure of it.)...and maybe I'll start to make out this object in my hand a bit more. But until then, I'll just keep on breathing. For as long as I shall live (which is forever) I know that the Spirit of the Lord is within me. And it's beautiful. It sustains me; even in a musty, dark, ole closet.
Cheering you on as you breathe in and breathe out.
May the Spirit of the Lord, the giver of Life, fill your all in all, wherever you find yourself today.
Kaylee
dark? yes. scary? not quite like Halloween. confusing? most certainly. frustrating? more than a jigsaw puzzle that's for sure (and if you know me well enough, you'll know I'm horrible at jigsaw puzzles; any puzzle or brain teaser for that matter.). Some call it a valley. Some call it the desert. But in the past month, I've grown to claim it as my "closet."
Personally, I think I'd rather be in a valley or a desert. Either of them seems more appealing to me at this point. But I have to honest; it doesn't feel like a valley...In a valley you look up and wonder how to get up and out of it. And it doesn't feel like a desert...In a desert you long, you long for your thirst to be quenched. You long for luscious forestry and brooks overflowing with cool refreshing water.
I don't seem to be looking up (wish I was) and I don't seem to be longing for more (I'm sure I need to be, but such doesn't seem to be the case right now)...
It feels much more like a closet. Yes, a closet. This past year I feel like I've been tossed into a closet. It's a dark closet. Nothing to sit on. It's hot in here. It's humid. The air is pretty thick actually. A closet. Musty smelling. You know the kind. I seem to have some sort of object in my hand. Not sure at all what it is.
Dark. Lonely. Empty. Thick. Hard to breathe. Unable to sit and rest. And an object.
The problem is...I don't want to be in the closet. I don't want to wait in the dark anymore. I don't want to wrestle with the object anymore. And I most certainly don't want to try and rest in this uncomfortable place. I think there's a party going on outside my closet and I want to be a part of it. I want to be out of my closet.
I've looked for a light switch, and I can't find it. I've tried to figure out if this object in my hand is actually something worthwhile, something more than an occupier of space in my already limited space-of-a-closet.
I bet you're all thinking that I'll tell you how I got out of the closet. I bet you think I'll tell you where the light switch is. I bet you think I'm going to tell you that I've figured it all out. Or at least I'll tell you that I figured out that the object is a blow-up beach ball, ha ha.
But I can't. I don't know why I'm in the closet. Why would anyone hang out in a dark and lonely closet? Great question, you ask. Maybe I need to learn how to rest. Maybe I need to learn that the party is not about me and that it will go on, with or without me. Maybe I need time to fondle whatever it is in my hand - my faith? something I've placed before God? Maybe God had to place me in a closet to get my attention. Or maybe, maybe I just need to get away from the world, as I knew it, for a while.
A coworker of mine down in North Carolina invited me to go to the Body Worlds Exposition. Funny thing is, she kept asking me how I felt about going to it. She, being a bit iffy on the whole thing, was amazed at my overwhelming excitement for the event. It wasn't until we were standing right in front of the exposition that I read: the anatomical exposition of real human bodies.
Real? These bodies are real? Yuck! Ugh, I think I'm gonna be sick - oops, guess I hadn't caught that part! :)
As we uh, what's the proper word to use here, as we browsed through the bodies? (please note my cringed face) We got to a case where a brain just sat there. I had this absolute pure moment of awe. It was just a pile of mush. Could have been pile of play dough for all that it appeared to be just lying there on the case. And it hit me. The Spirit of Life is undeniable. Without it a brain is a pile of mush. With it, this pile of mush, thinks, feels, reasons, spawns so much, so so much. It makes life.
So I'm in a closet. And I don't know much at the moment other than that. I know a lot of stuff in my head. But right now, all my heart knows is that I'm in a closet. It's dark. It's confusing. It's most definitely frustrating. At some point...maybe the light switch will turn on (there has to be one somewhere in here, I'm sure of it.)...and maybe I'll start to make out this object in my hand a bit more. But until then, I'll just keep on breathing. For as long as I shall live (which is forever) I know that the Spirit of the Lord is within me. And it's beautiful. It sustains me; even in a musty, dark, ole closet.
Cheering you on as you breathe in and breathe out.
May the Spirit of the Lord, the giver of Life, fill your all in all, wherever you find yourself today.
Kaylee
Follow the Yellow, or Maybe the Purple Brick Road
Hi there.
It's been a while, I know. All I got in regards to that is: sorry.
So here we go. I offered to run an errand this afternoon for a coworker of mine. The place I had to go was a bit-of-a-ways away. I hopped onto the highway, took an exit onto a main road and then happened to sort of hmm, I don't know, miss the road I was supposed to take (for those who know me, this isn't an all to uncommon thing in my life). However, I was only a bit off track and found myself at my designated location in no time at all. But while driving there I thought, I wonder if I could just take Monroe all the way back? Won't it get me back to the Chapter too?
As I began my route back I wavered back and forth as to whether or not I wanted to see if Monroe Street led where I thought it would lead. I even put my blinker on so as to turn off and start going back from where I came from. But the oh-so-adventurous part of Kaylee wanted to see if I could do it...To see if I was right.
I'm not going to lie, upon making the decision to try the "unexplored route" I got incredibly nervous and anxiety filled my stomach. I think I went in and out of hot flashes as my stomach remained a bit turned up-side down as I continued to drive on Monroe Street. I had just a few anxious thoughts screaming in my ear, What if you get lost? What if you're going in the opposite direction? What if you don't make it back to the Chapter for a really long time?
Perhaps it was the stubbornness in me, but I kept on going - the feelings of anxiety going right alongside with me. But as I rounded a corner I got a huge view of the city which informed me that I was right on track.
As my stomach flipped right-side up I couldn't help but think of the pattern in my life right now and really, my life for the past few years. Worry. Adventure. Amazing. Worry. Adventure. Amazing. I tend to worry over and over again that I'm going to make the wrong decision and that upon that one decision I'll mess it all up and end up outside of where God wants me. But at the same time, I have this huge fear of just going down that "same ole road."
Now, it is to note that "the same old road" isn't essentially "wrong." In fact, I had a friend who recently told me that life isn't necessarily right or wrong, rather the choice lies with what will bring the most life. So it's just that life offers a lot of options and we don't have to let fear keep us on that "same old road" when our hearts are calling us to so much more.
Some of you today, are sitting on that "same old road" wondering if maybe there's an adventure to be had. Another road to take. If so, I encourage you to go for it. Live. Live recklessly abandoned to God and the great things He has in store for you. Be wise. But be. Be the adventure your heart is calling you to embrace.
For those of you who, perhaps, have found yourself winding down the path of adventure, but are filled with anxiety and worry, keep on going. Let the worry go. As I drove down the road today, the city continued to go in and out of sight. You will not always see how you're working for His Kingdom and you may not always have the desired affirmation that what you're doing is "His will." But trust that life has infinite options, infinite roads to take. Take one, then maybe take another. Glimpses of His Kingdom will come in and out of sight. Look forward to those glorious moments when you do see it, and in the moments of anxiety, remember to rest.
My friend told me recently that God doesn't always tell us where to go until after we're there...Then he told me to, "just have fun!" (I think he was trying to tell me something, ha ha).
Cheering you on as you turn off the "same old road" and find all that was meant to be lived.
May you have the courage, strength, and faith to explore.
Kaylee
It's been a while, I know. All I got in regards to that is: sorry.
So here we go. I offered to run an errand this afternoon for a coworker of mine. The place I had to go was a bit-of-a-ways away. I hopped onto the highway, took an exit onto a main road and then happened to sort of hmm, I don't know, miss the road I was supposed to take (for those who know me, this isn't an all to uncommon thing in my life). However, I was only a bit off track and found myself at my designated location in no time at all. But while driving there I thought, I wonder if I could just take Monroe all the way back? Won't it get me back to the Chapter too?
As I began my route back I wavered back and forth as to whether or not I wanted to see if Monroe Street led where I thought it would lead. I even put my blinker on so as to turn off and start going back from where I came from. But the oh-so-adventurous part of Kaylee wanted to see if I could do it...To see if I was right.
I'm not going to lie, upon making the decision to try the "unexplored route" I got incredibly nervous and anxiety filled my stomach. I think I went in and out of hot flashes as my stomach remained a bit turned up-side down as I continued to drive on Monroe Street. I had just a few anxious thoughts screaming in my ear, What if you get lost? What if you're going in the opposite direction? What if you don't make it back to the Chapter for a really long time?
Perhaps it was the stubbornness in me, but I kept on going - the feelings of anxiety going right alongside with me. But as I rounded a corner I got a huge view of the city which informed me that I was right on track.
As my stomach flipped right-side up I couldn't help but think of the pattern in my life right now and really, my life for the past few years. Worry. Adventure. Amazing. Worry. Adventure. Amazing. I tend to worry over and over again that I'm going to make the wrong decision and that upon that one decision I'll mess it all up and end up outside of where God wants me. But at the same time, I have this huge fear of just going down that "same ole road."
Now, it is to note that "the same old road" isn't essentially "wrong." In fact, I had a friend who recently told me that life isn't necessarily right or wrong, rather the choice lies with what will bring the most life. So it's just that life offers a lot of options and we don't have to let fear keep us on that "same old road" when our hearts are calling us to so much more.
Some of you today, are sitting on that "same old road" wondering if maybe there's an adventure to be had. Another road to take. If so, I encourage you to go for it. Live. Live recklessly abandoned to God and the great things He has in store for you. Be wise. But be. Be the adventure your heart is calling you to embrace.
For those of you who, perhaps, have found yourself winding down the path of adventure, but are filled with anxiety and worry, keep on going. Let the worry go. As I drove down the road today, the city continued to go in and out of sight. You will not always see how you're working for His Kingdom and you may not always have the desired affirmation that what you're doing is "His will." But trust that life has infinite options, infinite roads to take. Take one, then maybe take another. Glimpses of His Kingdom will come in and out of sight. Look forward to those glorious moments when you do see it, and in the moments of anxiety, remember to rest.
My friend told me recently that God doesn't always tell us where to go until after we're there...Then he told me to, "just have fun!" (I think he was trying to tell me something, ha ha).
Cheering you on as you turn off the "same old road" and find all that was meant to be lived.
May you have the courage, strength, and faith to explore.
Kaylee
99 Found, Looking for the Lost One.
Hi all.
If you've been watching the news at all the past week you're probably well aware of the little boy scout who was lost in the Carolina mountains...
Lost. I've been there.
Lost. I've been lost in a lot of different ways. There isn't just one kind of lost - well, at least not how I see it. I've been geographically lost (Just ask my dad about this one. He's become a pro at interstate-mapquesting, ha). I've been mentally lost (I find myself in this kind of lost a little all too often, ha ha). Sometimes I'm lost in day-dreams (love this kind of lost). Sometimes I'm lost in myself (oops!). I can get lost in others (no comment on this), and I can get lost in the beauty of things (deep relaxation in this kind of lost).
At times, I'm lost for only a moment but at other times, I'm lost for a season...there have been times where I have wandered away from God. These are the prideful times where I think on my own I can make my life better. I'm lost in pride. Lost in foolishness. Lost in ignorance, and lost in guilt. It takes the loving hand of my gracious Savior, His oh-so-loving voice beckoning me back, to draw me away from my distorted path and gently place me on a path that is straight.
Then there are times when I wake up from a hard fall...and I'm lost. The fall can be relationally, spiritually, physically...however it is I may fall... the point is I'm fallen. It tends to take me a while to realize I've fallen. I tend to get angry that I wasn't kept from falling, confused as to why the tumble and trip was allowed. Eventually, I'll come to realize that I feel a bit lost. I wish I could say I'm like a Daniel Boone or a Lewis and Clark who would most likely consider it a great adventure to be lost somewhere and have to find your way out...I wish that was me...but it's not. My typical reaction is a weary spirit that's usually near close to giving up on being found. Rather pathetic attitude, I must admit.
If you stayed up to date on the story of the lost little boy. He was found.
When my mom told me this I just about burst into tears of joy. I remained just as excited about it all as I continued to watch news reports on it. I can't help put think of our Heavenly Father. I know...I've heard it over and over again how He seeks the lost and loves us and...and...But to realize how excited I was over this lost boy being found, only brought into light how much more our Father rejoices when we are found.
I think it's fair to say that each of our hearts went out to this lost boy. You may not have ever been lost just as he, but you've been lost. You know how it feels to some extent. And it was almost too much to bear to think about all that he was going through...So too, God must mourn with us and for us while we're lost.
Are you lost? Maybe not "off the path" lost but I mean lost. Are you lost? Whatever lost may mean in your life today. Are you lost? Lost as to where to go next in life? Are you at a loss as to how to fix your relationship? Lost on what you truly think of this God of ours? Lost in your emotions? or simply lost...are you lost?
Good news. You will be found. A season of being lost, and at a loss, certainly does not label you as a failure, a fallen Christian. We come from the nation Israel, which means, one who struggles with God. Yes, we struggle with being lost. We don't particularly like (which is understandable) all the different emotions that being lost invokes; feelings of fear, loneliness, anger, assault...But we will always be found. He will always make straight our paths. He will lead us home.
They interviewed a boy scout on one of the news reports. He said the three things you learn as a boy scout are one, stick with someone. Two, stay on the path...and three...three? I don't remember (it was probably something like don't eat girl scout cookies, ha ha...just kidding. I don't remember three) But I find point one and two to be very interesting...
If you're lost today...cling on to community, and to the life and direction it brings, stay on the path as best as you can, and remember, you will be found. And oh how incredibly great our Father rejoices when we are found. Tears to His eyes, warmth to His heart, and some sweet-sweet honey to His soul.
Cheering you on in whatever season of lost you may be in today.
May you trust that you will be found.
Kaylee
If you've been watching the news at all the past week you're probably well aware of the little boy scout who was lost in the Carolina mountains...
Lost. I've been there.
Lost. I've been lost in a lot of different ways. There isn't just one kind of lost - well, at least not how I see it. I've been geographically lost (Just ask my dad about this one. He's become a pro at interstate-mapquesting, ha). I've been mentally lost (I find myself in this kind of lost a little all too often, ha ha). Sometimes I'm lost in day-dreams (love this kind of lost). Sometimes I'm lost in myself (oops!). I can get lost in others (no comment on this), and I can get lost in the beauty of things (deep relaxation in this kind of lost).
At times, I'm lost for only a moment but at other times, I'm lost for a season...there have been times where I have wandered away from God. These are the prideful times where I think on my own I can make my life better. I'm lost in pride. Lost in foolishness. Lost in ignorance, and lost in guilt. It takes the loving hand of my gracious Savior, His oh-so-loving voice beckoning me back, to draw me away from my distorted path and gently place me on a path that is straight.
Then there are times when I wake up from a hard fall...and I'm lost. The fall can be relationally, spiritually, physically...however it is I may fall... the point is I'm fallen. It tends to take me a while to realize I've fallen. I tend to get angry that I wasn't kept from falling, confused as to why the tumble and trip was allowed. Eventually, I'll come to realize that I feel a bit lost. I wish I could say I'm like a Daniel Boone or a Lewis and Clark who would most likely consider it a great adventure to be lost somewhere and have to find your way out...I wish that was me...but it's not. My typical reaction is a weary spirit that's usually near close to giving up on being found. Rather pathetic attitude, I must admit.
If you stayed up to date on the story of the lost little boy. He was found.
When my mom told me this I just about burst into tears of joy. I remained just as excited about it all as I continued to watch news reports on it. I can't help put think of our Heavenly Father. I know...I've heard it over and over again how He seeks the lost and loves us and...and...But to realize how excited I was over this lost boy being found, only brought into light how much more our Father rejoices when we are found.
I think it's fair to say that each of our hearts went out to this lost boy. You may not have ever been lost just as he, but you've been lost. You know how it feels to some extent. And it was almost too much to bear to think about all that he was going through...So too, God must mourn with us and for us while we're lost.
Are you lost? Maybe not "off the path" lost but I mean lost. Are you lost? Whatever lost may mean in your life today. Are you lost? Lost as to where to go next in life? Are you at a loss as to how to fix your relationship? Lost on what you truly think of this God of ours? Lost in your emotions? or simply lost...are you lost?
Good news. You will be found. A season of being lost, and at a loss, certainly does not label you as a failure, a fallen Christian. We come from the nation Israel, which means, one who struggles with God. Yes, we struggle with being lost. We don't particularly like (which is understandable) all the different emotions that being lost invokes; feelings of fear, loneliness, anger, assault...But we will always be found. He will always make straight our paths. He will lead us home.
They interviewed a boy scout on one of the news reports. He said the three things you learn as a boy scout are one, stick with someone. Two, stay on the path...and three...three? I don't remember (it was probably something like don't eat girl scout cookies, ha ha...just kidding. I don't remember three) But I find point one and two to be very interesting...
If you're lost today...cling on to community, and to the life and direction it brings, stay on the path as best as you can, and remember, you will be found. And oh how incredibly great our Father rejoices when we are found. Tears to His eyes, warmth to His heart, and some sweet-sweet honey to His soul.
Cheering you on in whatever season of lost you may be in today.
May you trust that you will be found.
Kaylee
Alphabet Soup.
Good Afternoon Y'all!
I sat down to write an email this morning. I began typing about a half a sentence worth of words and looked up only to see an utter disaster on the screen. Somehow, as I had begun to type, my hands had shifted a bit and instead of typing up a work of comprehensible material, I instead produced a mess, an incomprehensible cluster of letters, truly, a bowl of alphabet soup displayed itself on my screen. My fingers could have been flowing in sure literary genius, but without my fingers placed correctly on the keyboard, a disaster is all that I could produce. I'll admit I had to have a little chuckle at my expense...
Most of you can relate to this situation. However, some of you are still using the two-finger typing method and have yet to graduate to the two-handed, all finger encompassing efficiency and skill of typing, ha. Either way, most of you can relate to the struggling attempt of typing in perfection (I think it's fair to say that most of us are all too familiar with the "backspace" button on our keyboard, ha ha).
I can't help but think that the placement of my hands on the keyboard is like the placement of Christ in my life. Just a little off kilt and my desire to create a sure flowing grammatical and comprehensible masterpiece erupted into a disastrous mess of an email. So too, with Christ, placing Him just a little out of the center, changes everything.
You see, I can run this race as hard as I can. I can give as much as I can. I can volunteer here, give my money there. I can attend this worship service, and listen to that sermon. I can offer all that I am. I can speak His Word with every breath I take, but if when I raise my arms in worship, and when my eyes find rest, if they are not raised to my Savior and falling on His glorious beauty then I have nothing. My heart and devotion, desire and passion, need to fall on, focus in on Him, on bringing glory to Him. All too often, it's altogether too easy to attempt to bring glory to myself rather than to Him, and what I produce is a self-centered, chaotic, and horrific mess...
So where do our hearts fall today? Where do our motives lie? On Him? or on ourselves? Do we seek to line our hearts up with His or try desperately to fit Him into our preconceived expectations of life? Are we running with all that we have, trying to save ourselves by all-too-frequent "pats on the backs"? or are we living a life of a cheerful giver, living life out of gratitude and love for our amazing Father?
Where do our hearts fall today?...
Cheering you on as you seek to continuously align and re-align your hearts up with the path that is straight, full of life and truth.
May you find rest knowing that it is He who can make our paths straight and better yet "turn our mess into His message."
Kaylee
I sat down to write an email this morning. I began typing about a half a sentence worth of words and looked up only to see an utter disaster on the screen. Somehow, as I had begun to type, my hands had shifted a bit and instead of typing up a work of comprehensible material, I instead produced a mess, an incomprehensible cluster of letters, truly, a bowl of alphabet soup displayed itself on my screen. My fingers could have been flowing in sure literary genius, but without my fingers placed correctly on the keyboard, a disaster is all that I could produce. I'll admit I had to have a little chuckle at my expense...
Most of you can relate to this situation. However, some of you are still using the two-finger typing method and have yet to graduate to the two-handed, all finger encompassing efficiency and skill of typing, ha. Either way, most of you can relate to the struggling attempt of typing in perfection (I think it's fair to say that most of us are all too familiar with the "backspace" button on our keyboard, ha ha).
I can't help but think that the placement of my hands on the keyboard is like the placement of Christ in my life. Just a little off kilt and my desire to create a sure flowing grammatical and comprehensible masterpiece erupted into a disastrous mess of an email. So too, with Christ, placing Him just a little out of the center, changes everything.
You see, I can run this race as hard as I can. I can give as much as I can. I can volunteer here, give my money there. I can attend this worship service, and listen to that sermon. I can offer all that I am. I can speak His Word with every breath I take, but if when I raise my arms in worship, and when my eyes find rest, if they are not raised to my Savior and falling on His glorious beauty then I have nothing. My heart and devotion, desire and passion, need to fall on, focus in on Him, on bringing glory to Him. All too often, it's altogether too easy to attempt to bring glory to myself rather than to Him, and what I produce is a self-centered, chaotic, and horrific mess...
So where do our hearts fall today? Where do our motives lie? On Him? or on ourselves? Do we seek to line our hearts up with His or try desperately to fit Him into our preconceived expectations of life? Are we running with all that we have, trying to save ourselves by all-too-frequent "pats on the backs"? or are we living a life of a cheerful giver, living life out of gratitude and love for our amazing Father?
Where do our hearts fall today?...
Cheering you on as you seek to continuously align and re-align your hearts up with the path that is straight, full of life and truth.
May you find rest knowing that it is He who can make our paths straight and better yet "turn our mess into His message."
Kaylee
Polka Dots on the Heart.
Good Morning,
A couple of weeks ago I found myself in a conversation where a friend expressed that he was in a very dry season of the heart. It was actually a bit of music to my ears to hear that I wasn't the only one in such a spot.
The following day I grabbed a card for him...Well, actually we were meeting for breakfast prior to church. I began my venture towards the bagel shop - having to stop at a gas station on my way to fill up yet another flat tire (3rd time since my move down here to Charlotte) oh, and it was raining...and I didn't have seventy-five cents with me so I had to withdrawal $20 from a nearby ATM so as to get my seventy-five cents to fill up my flat tire in the rain...
Anyway, sorry, I'm getting a bit off track. It was actually after this that I remembered I had forgotten to grab a card from my card stash for the friend. I ran home quickly, grabbed the card, and sat in my car as the rain poured down my car's windshield (which has a huge crack in it, but yes, that is Bessie for you. And yes my car has a name. But just so you know you can only name a car once you've developed a relationship with it. Or if it's a brand new dream car where you can name it Babe or something like that). I began to write inside this card to my friend. It was blank - which I don't particularly always like blank cards because that means there's more space for me to fill up with my own words - I'm lazy. As I sat there in my car I had no idea what to write...I just started writing. What seemed to come to mind was the idea of being dry...a dry land. I found myself getting excited for my friend as I realized that a dry land is that much more in need of a rain. Kind of like a sponge. A moist or wet sponge can soak in more water, sure, no big deal. But a dry sponge. A dry sponge gets to soak in so much more all at once. When you hold a dry sponge under a faucet you can just feel it soaking and soaking up the water.
My brother and sister-in-law got me a journal for Christmas (as did many other friends and family members - thanks to you all - I love journals) I decided to start writing in the one they gave me...The journal has dividers in it. These dividers have quotes on one side and verses on the back side. I was flipping through it and ran across one whose quote read:
God often takes a course
for accomplishing His purposes
directly contrary to what our
narrow views would prescribe.
He brings a death upon our feelings,
wishes, and prospects when
He is about to give us
the desire of our hearts.
- John Newton
Last night while I was journaling I told God that my faith was a bit exhausted - as I was journaling these words it became more and more apparent how beautiful the dry seasons of our faith really are...It hit me that wherever there are dark spots in my heart, God can shine His light. In fact, these darkened areas of my life are the absolute perfect place for God to shine on in and in fact, embed and dwell in these dark spots so as to dissipate the darkness and shine forth His light.
You see, I would consider myself an optimistic manic depressant. I typically see the glass half full and I surely would never want to bring another person down and yet, one bad seed of confusion or sorrow in my heart can grow into a forest of despair for my soul. And I feel like my heart has all sorts of polka-dot dark spots. But recently, I'm really excited about these dark spots because they are truly dark spots. Confusion. Loneliness. Jealousy. Insecurity. They aren't tainted spots. I can't pretend they aren't there. I can't try to cover them up. Try to shine my own light, persay. They are there and they are dark. They are truly in need of a Savior. They need light, true light to shine on them...My own creative way of covering up and hiding these dark spots won't make due anymore.
So today, this morning, there is much hope in my heart and joy in my soul. Hope that as my heart remains dry and confused, it is only more and more ready to soak in His blessings that all flow in His perfect timing...and great joy that in my hopelessness, He brings hope. In my loneliness He offers friendship. In my despair, He whispers, see I am doing something new. And in my humanness, He still chooses to use me.
Cheering you on through all seasons of life.
May you have hope through the dark spots in your heart and wait in great excitement and anticipation for the ways in which God will transform darkness into light.
Kaylee
A couple of weeks ago I found myself in a conversation where a friend expressed that he was in a very dry season of the heart. It was actually a bit of music to my ears to hear that I wasn't the only one in such a spot.
The following day I grabbed a card for him...Well, actually we were meeting for breakfast prior to church. I began my venture towards the bagel shop - having to stop at a gas station on my way to fill up yet another flat tire (3rd time since my move down here to Charlotte) oh, and it was raining...and I didn't have seventy-five cents with me so I had to withdrawal $20 from a nearby ATM so as to get my seventy-five cents to fill up my flat tire in the rain...
Anyway, sorry, I'm getting a bit off track. It was actually after this that I remembered I had forgotten to grab a card from my card stash for the friend. I ran home quickly, grabbed the card, and sat in my car as the rain poured down my car's windshield (which has a huge crack in it, but yes, that is Bessie for you. And yes my car has a name. But just so you know you can only name a car once you've developed a relationship with it. Or if it's a brand new dream car where you can name it Babe or something like that). I began to write inside this card to my friend. It was blank - which I don't particularly always like blank cards because that means there's more space for me to fill up with my own words - I'm lazy. As I sat there in my car I had no idea what to write...I just started writing. What seemed to come to mind was the idea of being dry...a dry land. I found myself getting excited for my friend as I realized that a dry land is that much more in need of a rain. Kind of like a sponge. A moist or wet sponge can soak in more water, sure, no big deal. But a dry sponge. A dry sponge gets to soak in so much more all at once. When you hold a dry sponge under a faucet you can just feel it soaking and soaking up the water.
My brother and sister-in-law got me a journal for Christmas (as did many other friends and family members - thanks to you all - I love journals) I decided to start writing in the one they gave me...The journal has dividers in it. These dividers have quotes on one side and verses on the back side. I was flipping through it and ran across one whose quote read:
God often takes a course
for accomplishing His purposes
directly contrary to what our
narrow views would prescribe.
He brings a death upon our feelings,
wishes, and prospects when
He is about to give us
the desire of our hearts.
- John Newton
Last night while I was journaling I told God that my faith was a bit exhausted - as I was journaling these words it became more and more apparent how beautiful the dry seasons of our faith really are...It hit me that wherever there are dark spots in my heart, God can shine His light. In fact, these darkened areas of my life are the absolute perfect place for God to shine on in and in fact, embed and dwell in these dark spots so as to dissipate the darkness and shine forth His light.
You see, I would consider myself an optimistic manic depressant. I typically see the glass half full and I surely would never want to bring another person down and yet, one bad seed of confusion or sorrow in my heart can grow into a forest of despair for my soul. And I feel like my heart has all sorts of polka-dot dark spots. But recently, I'm really excited about these dark spots because they are truly dark spots. Confusion. Loneliness. Jealousy. Insecurity. They aren't tainted spots. I can't pretend they aren't there. I can't try to cover them up. Try to shine my own light, persay. They are there and they are dark. They are truly in need of a Savior. They need light, true light to shine on them...My own creative way of covering up and hiding these dark spots won't make due anymore.
So today, this morning, there is much hope in my heart and joy in my soul. Hope that as my heart remains dry and confused, it is only more and more ready to soak in His blessings that all flow in His perfect timing...and great joy that in my hopelessness, He brings hope. In my loneliness He offers friendship. In my despair, He whispers, see I am doing something new. And in my humanness, He still chooses to use me.
Cheering you on through all seasons of life.
May you have hope through the dark spots in your heart and wait in great excitement and anticipation for the ways in which God will transform darkness into light.
Kaylee
Options.
Hola!
Last night, while lying in bed, I began to create options in my head. And by "options" I am referring to potential mates. A bit pathetic to admit, I know.
You may get a chuckle out of this, I sure do, but our chapter of American Red Cross is having its 90th anniversary in March. I am helping to coordinate a Birthday Party to celebrate this landmark. It will consist of all sorts of birthday festivities including the presence of players from the Charlotte Eagles semi-pro soccer team. As I was lying in bed I jumped from "option" to "option." As I did so, I instantaneously noticed how quickly my emotions, feelings, and thoughts could grab hold onto an "option" and run with it...all reflected in the fact, that I've already got the wedding date set, the dress bought, and the happily-ever-after story written and ready to go with at least one or all of the players in attendance - and for all I know, they're all married, ha ha.
Four months. I have four more months until my AmeriCorps service comes to a completion. Once again, options is the name of the game. I continuously bounce from one option to the next. One day I'm set on moving to Florida in order to teach speech to high schoolers. The next day, I'm set on moving back to the Midwest where I can be close to family and friends (yes, family and friends, why else would anybody in their right mind move back to the frigidity artic weather you folks endure up there :)
The day after that, I'll forget about location and start thinking about vocation. I should just start a card collection called Cheering You on, and it'll be just like Hallmark but instead of holidays and birthdays, oh we'll do that too, but we'll also write cards to hit certain seasons of life. Yeah, that's it. Or maybe I should write music. I love singing. I love music. I bet God could use me to reach people by writing music. Over and over again, my mind creates options. And the emotions that these thoughts invoke grab hold of me, repeatedly taking me on an emotional roller coaster.
Options. Life offers so many options. That's the exciting part.
Options. Life offers so many options. That's the absolutely horrifying part.
And for me personally, all too often it seems more horrifying than exciting.
Some of you may understand exactly where I'm coming from. It seems that "options" are flying at you left and right.
So what do we do with "options?"
Honestly, I don't know the answer to this question. I struggle every day with choosing from the infinite-options toolbar of life.
Maybe we just lay it all down. Maybe we tell Satan to step behind us, for confusion to flee us. Maybe we stop creating options.
And maybe we just sit instead. We sit and listen for the still small voice to lead us. Because that voice was, is, and is to come. His voice will remain...
Options will come and go, minute by minute, and season by season. Some options offer freedom and adventure. Some options are there solely for us to decline. They're there for us to wrestle with...and as you wrestle through what God is calling for your life, as you roll over options in your head, you will have moments of great clarity and you will have moments of confusion...Trust Him. He may not speak today, or tomorrow, but He will speak and He will lead. He always does. His faithfulness reaching to the heavens!
so sit...and listen..
Cheering you on as you wrestle with options!
May you fondle these options, yes, but may you not fret over them.
Kaylee
Last night, while lying in bed, I began to create options in my head. And by "options" I am referring to potential mates. A bit pathetic to admit, I know.
You may get a chuckle out of this, I sure do, but our chapter of American Red Cross is having its 90th anniversary in March. I am helping to coordinate a Birthday Party to celebrate this landmark. It will consist of all sorts of birthday festivities including the presence of players from the Charlotte Eagles semi-pro soccer team. As I was lying in bed I jumped from "option" to "option." As I did so, I instantaneously noticed how quickly my emotions, feelings, and thoughts could grab hold onto an "option" and run with it...all reflected in the fact, that I've already got the wedding date set, the dress bought, and the happily-ever-after story written and ready to go with at least one or all of the players in attendance - and for all I know, they're all married, ha ha.
Four months. I have four more months until my AmeriCorps service comes to a completion. Once again, options is the name of the game. I continuously bounce from one option to the next. One day I'm set on moving to Florida in order to teach speech to high schoolers. The next day, I'm set on moving back to the Midwest where I can be close to family and friends (yes, family and friends, why else would anybody in their right mind move back to the frigidity artic weather you folks endure up there :)
The day after that, I'll forget about location and start thinking about vocation. I should just start a card collection called Cheering You on, and it'll be just like Hallmark but instead of holidays and birthdays, oh we'll do that too, but we'll also write cards to hit certain seasons of life. Yeah, that's it. Or maybe I should write music. I love singing. I love music. I bet God could use me to reach people by writing music. Over and over again, my mind creates options. And the emotions that these thoughts invoke grab hold of me, repeatedly taking me on an emotional roller coaster.
Options. Life offers so many options. That's the exciting part.
Options. Life offers so many options. That's the absolutely horrifying part.
And for me personally, all too often it seems more horrifying than exciting.
Some of you may understand exactly where I'm coming from. It seems that "options" are flying at you left and right.
So what do we do with "options?"
Honestly, I don't know the answer to this question. I struggle every day with choosing from the infinite-options toolbar of life.
Maybe we just lay it all down. Maybe we tell Satan to step behind us, for confusion to flee us. Maybe we stop creating options.
And maybe we just sit instead. We sit and listen for the still small voice to lead us. Because that voice was, is, and is to come. His voice will remain...
Options will come and go, minute by minute, and season by season. Some options offer freedom and adventure. Some options are there solely for us to decline. They're there for us to wrestle with...and as you wrestle through what God is calling for your life, as you roll over options in your head, you will have moments of great clarity and you will have moments of confusion...Trust Him. He may not speak today, or tomorrow, but He will speak and He will lead. He always does. His faithfulness reaching to the heavens!
so sit...and listen..
Cheering you on as you wrestle with options!
May you fondle these options, yes, but may you not fret over them.
Kaylee
Seek and you will find.
Hello Hello,
I had figured since Cheering You On: as you run your race with Christ is in the process of being published, I was perhaps done writing "Cheering You On" emails...ha ha, but somehow it appears that I'm not done...God continues to reveal Himself in quirky ways, ways I feel like sharing. :)
so here we go...another Cheering You On:
I was driving home from the mall today. (I still stand by the statement of my dislike towards malls. In fact, I believe this is perhaps only my 3rd or 4th time going to this particular mall since my arrival in Charlotte - one time being for an eye appointment. I don't know how they do it, but malls have this way of introducing me to the idea that perhaps my life is incomplete without this sweater, pair of pants, or new pair of shoes. I somehow manage to almost always leave malls disheartened...ha ha, eh, such is life).
I hopped in my car. Started her up and began my venture home - which was interrupted by the fact I had to stop at work to retrieve a jacket I had left there earlier in the week. I then decided to write this, so I haven't made it home yet, but I'm getting there - Anyway, what I'm trying to get to is the fact that while driving I had this annoying, nagging discomfort in my back. It felt as if something was there, perhaps part of my clothing had bunched up...I tried a couple of times to feel for what it could be, apparently got impatient with it, and gave up.
After a while of feeling this ”item" digging into my back I finally reached back again, discovered that the string adjuster on my jacket had folded up and was indeed, digging into my back. I quickly brushed it downward and instantaneously felt the relief of my actions. All I could think was why didn't I do that sooner? As the thought rolled over in my mind, I had an overlapping thought of Why don't you do things sooner in all areas of your life?
It seems that I am currently going through this awkward season where I know something isn't quite right with God. I have ideas, guesstimates, and perhaps, yes indeed, excuses (ha, ha) as to why my heart is the way it is right now. The thing is I've tried a couple of times to grab at it, take hold of it, and fix it. But it hasn't worked.
And now, after this little moment in my car, I can't help but think, What's there? What haven't you grabbed onto and fixed? What is it that you are allowing to sit and nag at your soul? Why not try one more time to reconfigure your heart?
Maybe you're like this. Maybe you're sitting at your computer right now, and you have pains, discomforts, and questions that haven't been healed, relieved, or answered. Maybe you feel like giving up. Maybe the idea of persevering seems absurd. But what if we're wrong? What if there's more in store for both of us, for you and for me?
Maybe, just maybe it's all worth the continuous pressing...that is, we press on to take hold of all that He has in store for us. I know God is the one who lives in us making us whole and complete, but I'm really starting to catch onto this beautiful game of hide n' go seek. Although I must admit, for me personally, it appears He has the best hiding spot ever! :)
I love it.
Cheering you on as you try time and time again for it is in the trying that we are refined into something a little more like Him.
Today, little by little, may there be comfort and peace in your heart.
Kaylee
I had figured since Cheering You On: as you run your race with Christ is in the process of being published, I was perhaps done writing "Cheering You On" emails...ha ha, but somehow it appears that I'm not done...God continues to reveal Himself in quirky ways, ways I feel like sharing. :)
so here we go...another Cheering You On:
I was driving home from the mall today. (I still stand by the statement of my dislike towards malls. In fact, I believe this is perhaps only my 3rd or 4th time going to this particular mall since my arrival in Charlotte - one time being for an eye appointment. I don't know how they do it, but malls have this way of introducing me to the idea that perhaps my life is incomplete without this sweater, pair of pants, or new pair of shoes. I somehow manage to almost always leave malls disheartened...ha ha, eh, such is life).
I hopped in my car. Started her up and began my venture home - which was interrupted by the fact I had to stop at work to retrieve a jacket I had left there earlier in the week. I then decided to write this, so I haven't made it home yet, but I'm getting there - Anyway, what I'm trying to get to is the fact that while driving I had this annoying, nagging discomfort in my back. It felt as if something was there, perhaps part of my clothing had bunched up...I tried a couple of times to feel for what it could be, apparently got impatient with it, and gave up.
After a while of feeling this ”item" digging into my back I finally reached back again, discovered that the string adjuster on my jacket had folded up and was indeed, digging into my back. I quickly brushed it downward and instantaneously felt the relief of my actions. All I could think was why didn't I do that sooner? As the thought rolled over in my mind, I had an overlapping thought of Why don't you do things sooner in all areas of your life?
It seems that I am currently going through this awkward season where I know something isn't quite right with God. I have ideas, guesstimates, and perhaps, yes indeed, excuses (ha, ha) as to why my heart is the way it is right now. The thing is I've tried a couple of times to grab at it, take hold of it, and fix it. But it hasn't worked.
And now, after this little moment in my car, I can't help but think, What's there? What haven't you grabbed onto and fixed? What is it that you are allowing to sit and nag at your soul? Why not try one more time to reconfigure your heart?
Maybe you're like this. Maybe you're sitting at your computer right now, and you have pains, discomforts, and questions that haven't been healed, relieved, or answered. Maybe you feel like giving up. Maybe the idea of persevering seems absurd. But what if we're wrong? What if there's more in store for both of us, for you and for me?
Maybe, just maybe it's all worth the continuous pressing...that is, we press on to take hold of all that He has in store for us. I know God is the one who lives in us making us whole and complete, but I'm really starting to catch onto this beautiful game of hide n' go seek. Although I must admit, for me personally, it appears He has the best hiding spot ever! :)
I love it.
Cheering you on as you try time and time again for it is in the trying that we are refined into something a little more like Him.
Today, little by little, may there be comfort and peace in your heart.
Kaylee
May 9, 2008
Conclusion.
Conclusion.
Conclusion? I don’t suppose there is a conclusion. This may be the last page in the book, but it is purely a moment in time. The story doesn’t conclude here; it continues on. I’m just part of the story, part of the journey. And as I explored this God of the universe, as I came to know Him more and more…I wrote.
Thank you for taking the time to go through this thought process with me. Thank you for being part of my story, and in so doing, being part of the greatest story ever told. Thank you.
Cheering you on as you run your race with Christ.
Kaylee
Conclusion? I don’t suppose there is a conclusion. This may be the last page in the book, but it is purely a moment in time. The story doesn’t conclude here; it continues on. I’m just part of the story, part of the journey. And as I explored this God of the universe, as I came to know Him more and more…I wrote.
Thank you for taking the time to go through this thought process with me. Thank you for being part of my story, and in so doing, being part of the greatest story ever told. Thank you.
Cheering you on as you run your race with Christ.
Kaylee
How great the Father's love for us.
Good Morning y'all.
I rock babies in the Progressive Care Unit at the Carolinas Medical Center on Monday evenings. It's a beautiful thing though I must admit, there are times where I'm so exhausted by the time I get there, that I nearly rock myself to sleep (oops).
Recently, I tend to rock the same little baby girl. She's bigger than most of the babies and has been there quite a while. Last night when I got there she was already fussing (I reckon she must have known I was on my way and was calling first-dibs on my services, ha).
She had monitors hooked up on other visits, but this time she had a feeding tube and a bag hooked to her stomach for her waste to drain into. Her outfit was open so I could see her stomach - amongst all the tubes attached to her belly. She also had a pretty fresh scar running vertically on her stomach.
The nurse was having trouble getting her to settle down enough to feed her so she laid her in my arms and we began to watch Barney together. I was rocking her and while looking at her, I noticed she also had an extra growth by her right ear. With each inhale and exhale she breathed, I was reminded of the difficulty she has breathing. The smell of her waste bag created a nauseous feeling throughout my body. In addition to all of this, she also has something wrong with the formation of her left eye.
I sat there rocking this baby girl. While doing so, I began to pray for blessing upon blessing to flow in and through her life.
As I sat there praying and rocking, it dawned on me that her spirit was whole. That yes, life has been extremely unfair for this child thus far in her journey but that it was I, myself, who had labeled her as broken. I realized that though she has numerous medical conditions and doesn't quite appear to look like every other baby in the unit, she's whole. She's complete.
She relaxed enough for the nurse to feed her while I held her.
After the feeding, she got a bit too heavy so I placed her in her crib and began playing with her. She kept on smiling this smile that melted my heart. All of a sudden she started turning red and tensing up. I waited to see if it continued and that it wasn't just a bathroom pause, but she continued. I called the nurse over who claimed she either had to burp or throw up as she opened up her feeding tube, allowing the excess discharge coming from her stomach to rise into the tube.
The rest of my time there I sat sprung over her crib, talking to her, interacting with her, smiling at her, and simply watching her. As I did this, I couldn't help but think of God and His love for us.
I'm not perfect. I'm definitely not perfect. I'm flawed in so many ways. And over and over again Satan plays off of my flaws. He lies to me. He tells me I'm not good enough. He tells me I don't make the cut. He tells me that I'm not complete. But I am complete. I am whole. My heart is resting in the loving hands of my Father and nothing can separate me from His love.
There will be hard times in life. There will be times when life's circumstances seem to suffocate my living and I'll choke. There will be times when I'm scared. There will be times when I have multiple things going on all at once and they may seem more than I can handle. I'll fuss and I’ll cry.
But God continues to watch over me, to talk with me, to interact with me, smile at me, and guide me. Even when I may not have my eyes fixed right back on Him, He remains. He remains by my side and He remains in the very presence of my life. His love remains. He remains.
And as for me. As I sat there hung over the railing of her crib, I couldn't help but notice a sheet of paper hanging on the side of her crib that the little girl's family had filled out. It had a bunch of lists such as "I like to...I don't like to...etc". One list read:
I communicate by screaming, by looking at you, by raising my eyebrows, by falling asleep, by smiling, by grasping fingers, and by reaching towards you.
Yes, I'm the same way. Sometimes I communicate with God by screaming. Sometimes by looking right at Him. Perhaps by falling asleep and resting in Him. Sometimes we smile at each other. Sometimes all I can do is grasp His finger and reach out with all I have towards Him... and then perhaps sometimes it's as simple as an eyebrow raise.
Cheering you on as you come to know the great love of our Father as He forever stands by your side.
May you come to know that the lies of today and days gone past surely fall far from the truth of our redemptive history - a God who will do anything to protect and restore the crown of glory He placed on our souls and a God, who by the power of His love, has made us whole.
Kaylee
I rock babies in the Progressive Care Unit at the Carolinas Medical Center on Monday evenings. It's a beautiful thing though I must admit, there are times where I'm so exhausted by the time I get there, that I nearly rock myself to sleep (oops).
Recently, I tend to rock the same little baby girl. She's bigger than most of the babies and has been there quite a while. Last night when I got there she was already fussing (I reckon she must have known I was on my way and was calling first-dibs on my services, ha).
She had monitors hooked up on other visits, but this time she had a feeding tube and a bag hooked to her stomach for her waste to drain into. Her outfit was open so I could see her stomach - amongst all the tubes attached to her belly. She also had a pretty fresh scar running vertically on her stomach.
The nurse was having trouble getting her to settle down enough to feed her so she laid her in my arms and we began to watch Barney together. I was rocking her and while looking at her, I noticed she also had an extra growth by her right ear. With each inhale and exhale she breathed, I was reminded of the difficulty she has breathing. The smell of her waste bag created a nauseous feeling throughout my body. In addition to all of this, she also has something wrong with the formation of her left eye.
I sat there rocking this baby girl. While doing so, I began to pray for blessing upon blessing to flow in and through her life.
As I sat there praying and rocking, it dawned on me that her spirit was whole. That yes, life has been extremely unfair for this child thus far in her journey but that it was I, myself, who had labeled her as broken. I realized that though she has numerous medical conditions and doesn't quite appear to look like every other baby in the unit, she's whole. She's complete.
She relaxed enough for the nurse to feed her while I held her.
After the feeding, she got a bit too heavy so I placed her in her crib and began playing with her. She kept on smiling this smile that melted my heart. All of a sudden she started turning red and tensing up. I waited to see if it continued and that it wasn't just a bathroom pause, but she continued. I called the nurse over who claimed she either had to burp or throw up as she opened up her feeding tube, allowing the excess discharge coming from her stomach to rise into the tube.
The rest of my time there I sat sprung over her crib, talking to her, interacting with her, smiling at her, and simply watching her. As I did this, I couldn't help but think of God and His love for us.
I'm not perfect. I'm definitely not perfect. I'm flawed in so many ways. And over and over again Satan plays off of my flaws. He lies to me. He tells me I'm not good enough. He tells me I don't make the cut. He tells me that I'm not complete. But I am complete. I am whole. My heart is resting in the loving hands of my Father and nothing can separate me from His love.
There will be hard times in life. There will be times when life's circumstances seem to suffocate my living and I'll choke. There will be times when I'm scared. There will be times when I have multiple things going on all at once and they may seem more than I can handle. I'll fuss and I’ll cry.
But God continues to watch over me, to talk with me, to interact with me, smile at me, and guide me. Even when I may not have my eyes fixed right back on Him, He remains. He remains by my side and He remains in the very presence of my life. His love remains. He remains.
And as for me. As I sat there hung over the railing of her crib, I couldn't help but notice a sheet of paper hanging on the side of her crib that the little girl's family had filled out. It had a bunch of lists such as "I like to...I don't like to...etc". One list read:
I communicate by screaming, by looking at you, by raising my eyebrows, by falling asleep, by smiling, by grasping fingers, and by reaching towards you.
Yes, I'm the same way. Sometimes I communicate with God by screaming. Sometimes by looking right at Him. Perhaps by falling asleep and resting in Him. Sometimes we smile at each other. Sometimes all I can do is grasp His finger and reach out with all I have towards Him... and then perhaps sometimes it's as simple as an eyebrow raise.
Cheering you on as you come to know the great love of our Father as He forever stands by your side.
May you come to know that the lies of today and days gone past surely fall far from the truth of our redemptive history - a God who will do anything to protect and restore the crown of glory He placed on our souls and a God, who by the power of His love, has made us whole.
Kaylee
Labeled.
Hello.
For the entirety of yesterday's work day my diet consisted of two enormous brownies - and I must say the best brownies I've ever had; nevertheless, by the end of the day, I had a headache - go figure! Instead of walking home I decided I'd walk to a nearby cafe, get a salad, and write some Christmas cards.
With my food ordered, eaten, and only a few Christmas cards written (oops!) I took my tray to the "tray disposal" area and began dispensing my fork and napkin, and placing the plate into the bin. I glanced over at a kid who had been chit chatting away throughout the entire duration of my visit in the cafe and was still going, just a jibber-jabbering away in his high chair - probably around 3 years of age, loud, and never-ending.
That kid oughta be a preacher someday, I thought, I wonder if his parents tell him that. I wonder if they think the same thing and if they'll raise him telling him that...I wonder what he'll actually be.
As I stood next to this adorable rambling boy it got me thinking about my own life, how growing up there were a million hunches, a million guesstimates, and a million labels of Kaylee and her future. Who I was. Where I was going. These "prophecies" became the definition by which I defined myself - and they came from every element of my childhood and every element of today. Everything and everyone we encounter has a direct affect on our past, on who we are now, and who we aspire to be.
A friend once said to me "You know, when we meet someone we tend to pick up on one or two of their traits and fill up our entire understanding of that person with those couple of traits, but what happens is we fail to see all the other dimensions of that person."
You see, sometimes it's hard for me to let go of the "defined" Kaylee. The Kaylee people assumed I was and figured I would become. Sometimes it held me back. Growing up, all I knew was soccer and music. But as the years have passed I've come to know that there's much more to me than soccer and music.
The irony I'm finding as I write this is that a couple of years ago I asked God to teach me who I was. I figured He'd just tell me that I really liked soccer and music, but as I sit here and write this, I realize that in the past couple of years God has strengthened my strengths and somehow even managed to use my weaknesses. He's brought up new-found interests, knowledge, and experience. You see, the process doesn't stop. We're not limited to what we were yesterday nor who we are sitting here today. Tomorrow brings another day yet to live and grow.
So what is it today that's defined you all these years? What "label" have you, yourself known is untrue and yet have been unable to let go of? What do you want to learn more about? What do you want to grow in? Because the story doesn't end with our childhood labels, the story continues on in a never-ending process to become more like Christ - and in that process we can become the person we maybe never thought possible.
Perhaps, the labels of days past are an affirmation of who you are today, if so, beautiful, but perhaps, they've become a sort of bondage telling you that you're all you're ever going to be - that there's no more to than what you are today. If so, press on. Press on to take hold of all you were created to be and to do. I betcha it's more than you could ever dare to dream. "Yesterday came and went. Like a vapor, it disappeared. But you left something behind yesterday. A piece of yourself, a piece of the legacy you're building. Today, you'll create another piece of it. And tomorrow. And all the tomorrows after that."
Cheering you on as you claim, or perhaps re-name your labels,
May you dream and aspire to be all that you were meant to be.
Kaylee
NDMS...it's a drill.
Good Afternoon y'all.
Last week my chapter participated in a National Disaster Medical System (NDMS) drill. A few days prior to the drill, while walking to work, I was thinking about the drill. I began to think about how all these teams of people - the Medic, the Fire Department, Red Cross, etc. - were getting together to simulate and prepare for a disaster. As soon as I began thinking the thought, I immediately became overwhelmed as a tear formed in my eye. What? I thought. Why did I just get so overwhelmed with thinking about the drill's execution?
But as I got to thinking about it more; it makes sense, a lot of sense, as to why I was so overwhelmed. The drill; moreover, the theme, the idea, the reason for the drill is beautiful, really. In fact, the drill is a reflection of what this walk here on earth should be like.
At church recently, the pastor addressed the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. Lazarus, a poor man, would just sit there, hoping to catch the rich man's crumbs. When they both passed away Lazarus was up with Abraham and the rich man was "down below." The rich man asked if Lazarus could just dip his finger in some water to cool his tongue. Upon the rejection of that request - since apparently, there is a "barrier" where those in heaven can't venture down to hades and vice versa - he inquired, "Well, at least can you send Lazarus back to warn my brothers so that they don't end up the same way as I?" That request too, was rejected.
The pastor went on to describe how the rich man, even "down below" didn't get it. He still looked at Lazarus like a servant. His riches and power had built a barrier of separation so great that no one could get to him. How on earth he had chosen to live alone, and how now, he had to live eternity in his choosings.
The pastor addressed this parable in numerous dimensions stating that most people would think that this parable is about how Lazarus needed the rich man (and yes, perhaps) but also that maybe, just maybe, the rich man needed Lazarus. In order to keep from building up his wall of separation - his hell - he needed to stay connected. He needed Lazarus so as to not find himself alone. I found this to be quite profound and quite enlightening to say the least; however, the dimension of the parable that I see reflecting as it pertains to the NDMS drill is the part of how on earth he had chosen to live alone, and how now, he had to live eternity in his choosings. He made his own hell on earth and after earth, what remained was what he made.
The parable is sad, yes, as it pertains to the rich man; yet this parable offers so much hope and beauty. We don't have to be the rich man. We get to help bring Heaven to earth. The Kingdom is at hand and we get to live in His ways, receive His mercy and grace, and reflect as best we can the Kingdom in its fullness that is to come. And this? This time on earth...it's a simulation, a drill, a reflection, a gift to prepare as best as we can for our King.
In talking about living a life of holiness, I once heard someone say, "You know, I know the bride always has a choice, but have you ever heard of a bride who didn't want to look beautiful for her groom on their wedding day?"
I remember someone also once said, "So many people don't want to bow to God while on earth. Do they figure once in Heaven the desire will just come naturally? (Okay so I paraphrased that, but that was the gist of it). I remember it struck me that bowing before this Jesus, loving this Jesus, it's a process; moreover, a transformation into His likeness. Yes, of course, according to Revelations every knee will bow down on Heaven and Earth, and below the Earth - and any in betweens that may exist. But a heart after God, a desire to love God, learning to walk in harmony with God, becoming like God - it takes practice, it takes living...it takes a drill.
The most beautiful part of all of this (and probably what it was that first brought that tear to my eye when thinking about it) is that the NDMS is not a compilation of one, it is of many. Many people from different places come together to respond.
This restoration of His Kingdom...it's done one by one, many by many, and all for all. We're not alone.
Cheering you on as you participate in the preparation and practice of the coming of our King. (in a manger, in our day to day messes, and someday, riding on a cloud, shining like the sun).
May today be a day where you choose Heaven, where you choose His ways, where you experience more and more the beauty that is to be had while walking in harmony with God.
Kaylee
Last week my chapter participated in a National Disaster Medical System (NDMS) drill. A few days prior to the drill, while walking to work, I was thinking about the drill. I began to think about how all these teams of people - the Medic, the Fire Department, Red Cross, etc. - were getting together to simulate and prepare for a disaster. As soon as I began thinking the thought, I immediately became overwhelmed as a tear formed in my eye. What? I thought. Why did I just get so overwhelmed with thinking about the drill's execution?
But as I got to thinking about it more; it makes sense, a lot of sense, as to why I was so overwhelmed. The drill; moreover, the theme, the idea, the reason for the drill is beautiful, really. In fact, the drill is a reflection of what this walk here on earth should be like.
At church recently, the pastor addressed the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. Lazarus, a poor man, would just sit there, hoping to catch the rich man's crumbs. When they both passed away Lazarus was up with Abraham and the rich man was "down below." The rich man asked if Lazarus could just dip his finger in some water to cool his tongue. Upon the rejection of that request - since apparently, there is a "barrier" where those in heaven can't venture down to hades and vice versa - he inquired, "Well, at least can you send Lazarus back to warn my brothers so that they don't end up the same way as I?" That request too, was rejected.
The pastor went on to describe how the rich man, even "down below" didn't get it. He still looked at Lazarus like a servant. His riches and power had built a barrier of separation so great that no one could get to him. How on earth he had chosen to live alone, and how now, he had to live eternity in his choosings.
The pastor addressed this parable in numerous dimensions stating that most people would think that this parable is about how Lazarus needed the rich man (and yes, perhaps) but also that maybe, just maybe, the rich man needed Lazarus. In order to keep from building up his wall of separation - his hell - he needed to stay connected. He needed Lazarus so as to not find himself alone. I found this to be quite profound and quite enlightening to say the least; however, the dimension of the parable that I see reflecting as it pertains to the NDMS drill is the part of how on earth he had chosen to live alone, and how now, he had to live eternity in his choosings. He made his own hell on earth and after earth, what remained was what he made.
The parable is sad, yes, as it pertains to the rich man; yet this parable offers so much hope and beauty. We don't have to be the rich man. We get to help bring Heaven to earth. The Kingdom is at hand and we get to live in His ways, receive His mercy and grace, and reflect as best we can the Kingdom in its fullness that is to come. And this? This time on earth...it's a simulation, a drill, a reflection, a gift to prepare as best as we can for our King.
In talking about living a life of holiness, I once heard someone say, "You know, I know the bride always has a choice, but have you ever heard of a bride who didn't want to look beautiful for her groom on their wedding day?"
I remember someone also once said, "So many people don't want to bow to God while on earth. Do they figure once in Heaven the desire will just come naturally? (Okay so I paraphrased that, but that was the gist of it). I remember it struck me that bowing before this Jesus, loving this Jesus, it's a process; moreover, a transformation into His likeness. Yes, of course, according to Revelations every knee will bow down on Heaven and Earth, and below the Earth - and any in betweens that may exist. But a heart after God, a desire to love God, learning to walk in harmony with God, becoming like God - it takes practice, it takes living...it takes a drill.
The most beautiful part of all of this (and probably what it was that first brought that tear to my eye when thinking about it) is that the NDMS is not a compilation of one, it is of many. Many people from different places come together to respond.
This restoration of His Kingdom...it's done one by one, many by many, and all for all. We're not alone.
Cheering you on as you participate in the preparation and practice of the coming of our King. (in a manger, in our day to day messes, and someday, riding on a cloud, shining like the sun).
May today be a day where you choose Heaven, where you choose His ways, where you experience more and more the beauty that is to be had while walking in harmony with God.
Kaylee
In the silence.
Hi all.
I was driving a Red Cross vehicle today and wanted to listen to some music; however, much to my dismay the radio didn't seem to be working. Realizing that it wasn't an issue of volume or power flow, I let it be for a bit. However, upon a deep and true desire for music, I went back to the control panel and began working on the radio again. No such luck. As I sat there in silence, immobilized at a red light, unable to bring music to my ears, it dawned on me that the situation seemed to be playing out the season of my heart.
Recently, I’ve felt quite far from God. Really far in fact. I can't seem to find Him. I can't hear Him. And I feel empty. It's not a feeling of sadness. It's a feeling of emptiness. This feeling has left me feeling a bit abandoned and most certainly lost. I want to reach out, grab Him, and rope Him into my arms. But I can't seem to. I can't seem to find Him. All I've found is silence. My life is guided by silence right now. I can't find Him within me, above me, behind me, nor before me. He seems out of reach. God is silent.
This season isn't a season of inquisition of His existence or presence in my life. He's here, there, everywhere...but where? I can't find Him.
So what is it? What is it that when in seeking you find silence? What if you want a harmonious melody to sound throughout your life leading you to the next verse or the next chorus, and yet the music won't play? And what if you fear that once the music finally starts, it won't be the song of your request?
What is it?
It's faith. It's being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see, or feel, or hear.
For a while my friend and I had a running list of "Ya know you're getting old when..." Ya know you're getting old when you check out the ring finger before checking out the guy, ha. You know you're getting old when people try to set you up. You know you're getting old when...etc. One of the lines was, you know you're getting old when you actually turn off the radio because you like the silence.
A smile smirks my face as I think about this in my spiritual walk. Silence. I have this desire for the music to play, the beat to sound, and the melody to carry on and yet; I would have to say that it is in the silence that the true definition of my faith is being defined. I believe. Even when I don't feel, see, hear, understand, or comprehend, I believe. I walk through the valley head held high knowing my Savior stands on the other side exuberantly waiting to greet me. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or the tomorrows after that, but one day, some day, I'll collapse into His arms. And all of this. All of this silence? Worth it. And as for today? Ha, you know you're maturing in faith when you face trials of many kinds.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know the testing of your faith develops perseverance.
Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete,
not lacking anything.
James 1:2-4
Maybe today you find yourself in a place quite similar to mine. Maybe you've been there far longer than I have been...Press on. Let this season carry on so as to mature and complete you - not lacking anything.
Beautiful, really.
Cheering you on as you press on through mountaintop highs and valley lows.
May His grace be made perfect in your weakness.
Kaylee
I was driving a Red Cross vehicle today and wanted to listen to some music; however, much to my dismay the radio didn't seem to be working. Realizing that it wasn't an issue of volume or power flow, I let it be for a bit. However, upon a deep and true desire for music, I went back to the control panel and began working on the radio again. No such luck. As I sat there in silence, immobilized at a red light, unable to bring music to my ears, it dawned on me that the situation seemed to be playing out the season of my heart.
Recently, I’ve felt quite far from God. Really far in fact. I can't seem to find Him. I can't hear Him. And I feel empty. It's not a feeling of sadness. It's a feeling of emptiness. This feeling has left me feeling a bit abandoned and most certainly lost. I want to reach out, grab Him, and rope Him into my arms. But I can't seem to. I can't seem to find Him. All I've found is silence. My life is guided by silence right now. I can't find Him within me, above me, behind me, nor before me. He seems out of reach. God is silent.
This season isn't a season of inquisition of His existence or presence in my life. He's here, there, everywhere...but where? I can't find Him.
So what is it? What is it that when in seeking you find silence? What if you want a harmonious melody to sound throughout your life leading you to the next verse or the next chorus, and yet the music won't play? And what if you fear that once the music finally starts, it won't be the song of your request?
What is it?
It's faith. It's being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see, or feel, or hear.
For a while my friend and I had a running list of "Ya know you're getting old when..." Ya know you're getting old when you check out the ring finger before checking out the guy, ha. You know you're getting old when people try to set you up. You know you're getting old when...etc. One of the lines was, you know you're getting old when you actually turn off the radio because you like the silence.
A smile smirks my face as I think about this in my spiritual walk. Silence. I have this desire for the music to play, the beat to sound, and the melody to carry on and yet; I would have to say that it is in the silence that the true definition of my faith is being defined. I believe. Even when I don't feel, see, hear, understand, or comprehend, I believe. I walk through the valley head held high knowing my Savior stands on the other side exuberantly waiting to greet me. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or the tomorrows after that, but one day, some day, I'll collapse into His arms. And all of this. All of this silence? Worth it. And as for today? Ha, you know you're maturing in faith when you face trials of many kinds.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know the testing of your faith develops perseverance.
Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete,
not lacking anything.
James 1:2-4
Maybe today you find yourself in a place quite similar to mine. Maybe you've been there far longer than I have been...Press on. Let this season carry on so as to mature and complete you - not lacking anything.
Beautiful, really.
Cheering you on as you press on through mountaintop highs and valley lows.
May His grace be made perfect in your weakness.
Kaylee
Mop girl.
Hi all.
Last week I had a meeting to attend uptown (also known as downtown for the rest of us not born and raised here in Charlotte). I climbed up into our enormous Red Cross Suburban and began my venture to the meeting. I think I hit just about every red light. I finally got to the right street only to realize that upon taking the right turn "suggested" by the directions in hand, I was probably heading in the wrong direction. I turned around, stopped and asked for some help. Being informed that it was "right up the street" I decided to park in the closest parking ramp. I drove around and around and around, even attempted to park in the compact car slots in the parking ramp (bad idea) - although so is going around and around in a parking garage in a huge Suburban but you know, I try.
Eventually, I landed myself a nice little spot to park and luckily found myself on an elevator to maneuver me downwards to the street - which only plopped me out on the wrong street. A wonderful man kindly guided me to the street I wanted to be on. I found 735 West Fifth Street and 755 West Fifth Street, but there was no 740 West Fifth Street to be found. I asked around, even called information. I kept thinking to myself, Is this some sort of Harry Potter movie where I just have to run into the brick walls of this building and I'll magically end up on 740 West 5th Street? I didn't try to see if my thinking was true, simply opted out of attending the meeting (rather retrieve the information via email) and began making my way back to the parking garage.
After being turned around and having difficulties even finding the parking garage, I took a sharp 180 turn heading back towards my car's destination, only to have a car quickly jolt on its breaks to keep from hitting me. The driver politely waved me on. I took three steps forward, my arm briskly rising up as it passed my body. As my hand swung up to eye level it came to my attention that my parking ticket was no longer in my hand. Apparently with the swoosh of my arm, so too, was the swoosh disappearance of my ticket (which had only seconds before been in my hand). I began twirling in circles like a dog chasing its tail looking for this "imaginary" ticket (or at least imaginary is what it must have appeared to the driver sitting there watching me). With no luck of finding the ticket, I waved the driver on his way and ventured onward to the parking garage elevator.
Luckily the lady on the elevator on my way down had told me to remember that I was on the butterfly floor. Yes, the butterfly floor. I got off on the butterfly floor, walked all around, and no Red Cross Suburban in sight. I walked up to the centipede floor and down to the ladybug floor and still no suck luck. As I was hopelessly, mopishly, walking around I glanced to the right only to spot the Red Cross Suburban through a window in the cement wall. With the way the garage was set up, if I went up I would go over the suburban and if I went down I would go under. In order to get to the suburban, the only option (that I could tell of) was to climb through the window. I opted into taking that option, hiked up my pink cotton skirt, and scaled the cement wall with my pink rubber rain goulashes, climbed over the window sill, and dropped myself down onto a nearby vehicle, with fingers-crossed that I wouldn't set off the car alarm.
Down I went, floor by floor. Squeezing my way downwards past all the other cars going upward (seems to be that most of the morning traffic was arriving to work not leaving...go-figure). I thankfully, and successfully, made it to the bottom floor to read: Lost Parking Ticket Go to Cashier Floor. I turn around. Head back up. I get to the cashier, state my issue. He says, "lost ticket, $10" as he scrolls his eyes downward to a sign that reads, "Lost ticket $10." I ask if they accepted credit cards. He said, "No." As I began scrolling through my purse (really to serve as a hiatus in talking with him, as I stalled in hopes that he would reconsider the amount owed) He then let up the gate. I began to say something to the effect of, "Well, are you suuu." - He closed the window on my face...and away I drove.
Yesterday, I had a situation where a landlord attacked both my character and my work abilities. Though I had the support of my supervisor and my supervisor's supervisor, by the end of the day I had still managed to leave a small pool of tears at my desk.
Dry-eyed, I left work for a brief stop at home to put on my "Keg Patrol" tee shirt and jeans and make my way over to the Red Hot Turkey Trot Fundraiser for Red Cross. Upon my arrival, I find out that the Turkey Trot is not a run (though that's what it is for me back home. Thanksgiving we do a turkey trot, Easter is our bunny hop, ha). Anyway, this Turkey Trot was not a run. It was an extremely formal event and I found myself in jeans and hiking boots. (It was raining. I figured I was pretty smart gearing all up for the bad weather as I thought the event would be held in outdoor tents). No, it was held in the lobby of one of the finest buildings in uptown. No big deal, a little out of place, but just a minor detail as there were a few other "Keg Patrol" volunteers dressed in similar out-of-place outfits. Problem though, I don't end up doing Keg Patrol. Rather, they ask if they can shift my assigned volunteered position and send me to the will call table. So I sit, with all these beautiful (beautifully dressed up) people walking in, taking will call tickets.
After a while, the incoming flow of guests had dissipated and I decided to go scope out the place. I travel down the elevators, make my way around, and am asked to find a mop. No biggie! I find a mop. As it drips a bit I decide to take the yellow rolling bucket with me as well. I push my way through the sardine, nicely-dressed, gathering of people and mop up a few drops of water. As I began rolling my way back with the mop and bucket I run into the CEO of our Red Cross Chapter. I quietly commented something about "gotta love the mop ha ha." As the CEO passed by, just enough to be behind me about a foot, I gallantly dumped the yellow bucket of water onto the floor hitting many of the guests with a wave of water. With gallons of water gushing about, hitting every person within a 20 foot radius and girls screaming and jumping up out of the way in their nice little outfits, I'm pretty sure Lake Michigan and all of its entirety was strewn about the floor at that moment. And I'm pretty sure this must have caused a ripple effect of motion throughout the massively populated area. My mop, being completely soaked served only as a way of spreading the water about, splashing the people even more. A few minutes later as I sat there head down, mopping up my mess, a rescue crew arrived to finish cleaning up the disaster. Ha, I'm pretty sure the Red Cross operates on disaster prevention and preparedness. Not sure how much I helped out the Red Cross mission.
So why am I sharing this? Besides the fact that I'm hoping that you can perhaps get a slight chuckle out of my embarrassing and quite horrific situation? Because at the end of the night I was able to call my mom and have a really good hard laugh about it all - I'm living for something more than prestige and power. I'm living to live life abundantly.
Life is crazy. It's frustrating. It's confusing. It's difficult. Sometimes it's black. Sometimes it's white. Sometimes it offers situations that are a million shades of grey. Relationships aren't perfect, as demonstrated by my situation with the landlord. Moments don't go as planned. Things change. But at the end of the day, God is, was, and is to come. His faithfulness endures forever. Morning will come. This too shall pass. God is good.
And, speaking of good. The good news is, morning did come, and we had a farewell breakfast for one of our employees. Everyone, including the CEO had a good hard laugh at "mop girl."
So whatever it is today that has you feeling like you don't make the cut, embarrassed, frustrated, feelings of failure, anger...let go and live in it all. Live every moment, even the unexpected, unpleasant ones. Live the emotions life entails. Live it all anyway.
Cheering you on with an empty bucket of water in yesterday's past, laughs for today, and hope for tomorrow.
May you live each moment of your life.
Kaylee
Last week I had a meeting to attend uptown (also known as downtown for the rest of us not born and raised here in Charlotte). I climbed up into our enormous Red Cross Suburban and began my venture to the meeting. I think I hit just about every red light. I finally got to the right street only to realize that upon taking the right turn "suggested" by the directions in hand, I was probably heading in the wrong direction. I turned around, stopped and asked for some help. Being informed that it was "right up the street" I decided to park in the closest parking ramp. I drove around and around and around, even attempted to park in the compact car slots in the parking ramp (bad idea) - although so is going around and around in a parking garage in a huge Suburban but you know, I try.
Eventually, I landed myself a nice little spot to park and luckily found myself on an elevator to maneuver me downwards to the street - which only plopped me out on the wrong street. A wonderful man kindly guided me to the street I wanted to be on. I found 735 West Fifth Street and 755 West Fifth Street, but there was no 740 West Fifth Street to be found. I asked around, even called information. I kept thinking to myself, Is this some sort of Harry Potter movie where I just have to run into the brick walls of this building and I'll magically end up on 740 West 5th Street? I didn't try to see if my thinking was true, simply opted out of attending the meeting (rather retrieve the information via email) and began making my way back to the parking garage.
After being turned around and having difficulties even finding the parking garage, I took a sharp 180 turn heading back towards my car's destination, only to have a car quickly jolt on its breaks to keep from hitting me. The driver politely waved me on. I took three steps forward, my arm briskly rising up as it passed my body. As my hand swung up to eye level it came to my attention that my parking ticket was no longer in my hand. Apparently with the swoosh of my arm, so too, was the swoosh disappearance of my ticket (which had only seconds before been in my hand). I began twirling in circles like a dog chasing its tail looking for this "imaginary" ticket (or at least imaginary is what it must have appeared to the driver sitting there watching me). With no luck of finding the ticket, I waved the driver on his way and ventured onward to the parking garage elevator.
Luckily the lady on the elevator on my way down had told me to remember that I was on the butterfly floor. Yes, the butterfly floor. I got off on the butterfly floor, walked all around, and no Red Cross Suburban in sight. I walked up to the centipede floor and down to the ladybug floor and still no suck luck. As I was hopelessly, mopishly, walking around I glanced to the right only to spot the Red Cross Suburban through a window in the cement wall. With the way the garage was set up, if I went up I would go over the suburban and if I went down I would go under. In order to get to the suburban, the only option (that I could tell of) was to climb through the window. I opted into taking that option, hiked up my pink cotton skirt, and scaled the cement wall with my pink rubber rain goulashes, climbed over the window sill, and dropped myself down onto a nearby vehicle, with fingers-crossed that I wouldn't set off the car alarm.
Down I went, floor by floor. Squeezing my way downwards past all the other cars going upward (seems to be that most of the morning traffic was arriving to work not leaving...go-figure). I thankfully, and successfully, made it to the bottom floor to read: Lost Parking Ticket Go to Cashier Floor. I turn around. Head back up. I get to the cashier, state my issue. He says, "lost ticket, $10" as he scrolls his eyes downward to a sign that reads, "Lost ticket $10." I ask if they accepted credit cards. He said, "No." As I began scrolling through my purse (really to serve as a hiatus in talking with him, as I stalled in hopes that he would reconsider the amount owed) He then let up the gate. I began to say something to the effect of, "Well, are you suuu." - He closed the window on my face...and away I drove.
Yesterday, I had a situation where a landlord attacked both my character and my work abilities. Though I had the support of my supervisor and my supervisor's supervisor, by the end of the day I had still managed to leave a small pool of tears at my desk.
Dry-eyed, I left work for a brief stop at home to put on my "Keg Patrol" tee shirt and jeans and make my way over to the Red Hot Turkey Trot Fundraiser for Red Cross. Upon my arrival, I find out that the Turkey Trot is not a run (though that's what it is for me back home. Thanksgiving we do a turkey trot, Easter is our bunny hop, ha). Anyway, this Turkey Trot was not a run. It was an extremely formal event and I found myself in jeans and hiking boots. (It was raining. I figured I was pretty smart gearing all up for the bad weather as I thought the event would be held in outdoor tents). No, it was held in the lobby of one of the finest buildings in uptown. No big deal, a little out of place, but just a minor detail as there were a few other "Keg Patrol" volunteers dressed in similar out-of-place outfits. Problem though, I don't end up doing Keg Patrol. Rather, they ask if they can shift my assigned volunteered position and send me to the will call table. So I sit, with all these beautiful (beautifully dressed up) people walking in, taking will call tickets.
After a while, the incoming flow of guests had dissipated and I decided to go scope out the place. I travel down the elevators, make my way around, and am asked to find a mop. No biggie! I find a mop. As it drips a bit I decide to take the yellow rolling bucket with me as well. I push my way through the sardine, nicely-dressed, gathering of people and mop up a few drops of water. As I began rolling my way back with the mop and bucket I run into the CEO of our Red Cross Chapter. I quietly commented something about "gotta love the mop ha ha." As the CEO passed by, just enough to be behind me about a foot, I gallantly dumped the yellow bucket of water onto the floor hitting many of the guests with a wave of water. With gallons of water gushing about, hitting every person within a 20 foot radius and girls screaming and jumping up out of the way in their nice little outfits, I'm pretty sure Lake Michigan and all of its entirety was strewn about the floor at that moment. And I'm pretty sure this must have caused a ripple effect of motion throughout the massively populated area. My mop, being completely soaked served only as a way of spreading the water about, splashing the people even more. A few minutes later as I sat there head down, mopping up my mess, a rescue crew arrived to finish cleaning up the disaster. Ha, I'm pretty sure the Red Cross operates on disaster prevention and preparedness. Not sure how much I helped out the Red Cross mission.
So why am I sharing this? Besides the fact that I'm hoping that you can perhaps get a slight chuckle out of my embarrassing and quite horrific situation? Because at the end of the night I was able to call my mom and have a really good hard laugh about it all - I'm living for something more than prestige and power. I'm living to live life abundantly.
Life is crazy. It's frustrating. It's confusing. It's difficult. Sometimes it's black. Sometimes it's white. Sometimes it offers situations that are a million shades of grey. Relationships aren't perfect, as demonstrated by my situation with the landlord. Moments don't go as planned. Things change. But at the end of the day, God is, was, and is to come. His faithfulness endures forever. Morning will come. This too shall pass. God is good.
And, speaking of good. The good news is, morning did come, and we had a farewell breakfast for one of our employees. Everyone, including the CEO had a good hard laugh at "mop girl."
So whatever it is today that has you feeling like you don't make the cut, embarrassed, frustrated, feelings of failure, anger...let go and live in it all. Live every moment, even the unexpected, unpleasant ones. Live the emotions life entails. Live it all anyway.
Cheering you on with an empty bucket of water in yesterday's past, laughs for today, and hope for tomorrow.
May you live each moment of your life.
Kaylee
Kickin' it back in a hammock.
Hi all.
It's been a while. I've been a bit busy. The past few weeks I've been in Texas, Michigan, the mountains of North Carolina, and of course, home away from home right here in Charlotte, North Carolina.
Moving on...
The other day I was on the phone with one of my friends who also recently moved away from the beautiful landscapes of West Michigan.
"I can't find Him," I exclaimed. "I can't find God."
She then proclaimed, "Yea, but I'd rather be where you're at. These days I just forget about Him. I feel like I just left God in West Michigan. Sure, I remember Him on Sundays, or when I talk with you or a few of my other friends. But I don't remember Him. I don't think of Him throughout the week or within my day."
Ha, we argued back and forth for a bit as to who really had it worse off. Me, crying out, lost, just hoping to hear Him, feel Him; nonetheless, completely and totally frustrated with it all. Or her, simply negligent to His existence, but really overall, fine in life. Day in and day out, she's good.
By the end of the conversation, I just had to start laughing. I told my friend. "You know, I feel like we're on this Island. Both lost. I'm running around in circles. Running. Running. Running. Hands up in the air, frantically inquiring, whudda we gonna do? Whudda we gonna do? Whudda we gonna do God? Meanwhile, my friend is kicked back in a hammock, soda in hand. Again, me, running around in circles. Perhaps, we could even picture me running circles around my friend, and my friend, feet up, no apparent worries.
So I suppose we really could argue who has it worse off...me? Upset. Her? Upset that's she's not upset. But really, we're both lost in our own way.
Perhaps life is like an island. Yes, eventually a ship will sail towards home, but that's not right now. Right now there's a whole island of adventure to be explored. My friend and I are both missing out. My friend kicked back in a hammock is missing out on all the other parts of the island and all the other adventures God has to take her on. And me? I'm so frantically running about that I'm missing the world as it passes me by. If my friend would get off the hammock, she would see all that is around her, all that God wants to show her. And perhaps, if I actually took a moment and attempted to look at the hammock, even contemplate sitting on it, I could just rest a while. Maybe I just might feel the sunshine on my face. I might just feel God; I might just hear Him whisper sweet words of love in my ear.
But how do we do this? How do find a balance of actively pursuing God and yet rest in His faithfulness and goodness at the same time? I'm not really all too sure. I know He has a whole world of adventures, sights, and journeys to take us on, and yet, He doesn't want us to wind up face first in the dirt while we do it.
Trust perhaps. Perhaps we just trust that despite our own understanding, despite whatever season we're in, that it's all part of the adventure and it's all part of the process. Life is a process. We continue on. Sometimes we press forward, forgetting what is behind and sometimes we press upward, we press up and above our own understanding of the circumstance and we rejoice. We rejoice in what is...even if not what expected. We rejoice in what is to come both in this moment, the rest of today, tomorrow, and all the tomorrows after that.
Some day the ship will sail, but the breeze is blowing now, the sun was shining yesterday, is shining today, and will shine tomorrow. Treasures are buried waiting to be found. Butterflies are dancing around you. The adventure is at hand. Enjoy.
Cheering you on as you come to seek harder than you've ever sought before, and yet rest more than you've ever rested your whole life through.
May trust, perseverance, and joy fill your day.
Kaylee
It's been a while. I've been a bit busy. The past few weeks I've been in Texas, Michigan, the mountains of North Carolina, and of course, home away from home right here in Charlotte, North Carolina.
Moving on...
The other day I was on the phone with one of my friends who also recently moved away from the beautiful landscapes of West Michigan.
"I can't find Him," I exclaimed. "I can't find God."
She then proclaimed, "Yea, but I'd rather be where you're at. These days I just forget about Him. I feel like I just left God in West Michigan. Sure, I remember Him on Sundays, or when I talk with you or a few of my other friends. But I don't remember Him. I don't think of Him throughout the week or within my day."
Ha, we argued back and forth for a bit as to who really had it worse off. Me, crying out, lost, just hoping to hear Him, feel Him; nonetheless, completely and totally frustrated with it all. Or her, simply negligent to His existence, but really overall, fine in life. Day in and day out, she's good.
By the end of the conversation, I just had to start laughing. I told my friend. "You know, I feel like we're on this Island. Both lost. I'm running around in circles. Running. Running. Running. Hands up in the air, frantically inquiring, whudda we gonna do? Whudda we gonna do? Whudda we gonna do God? Meanwhile, my friend is kicked back in a hammock, soda in hand. Again, me, running around in circles. Perhaps, we could even picture me running circles around my friend, and my friend, feet up, no apparent worries.
So I suppose we really could argue who has it worse off...me? Upset. Her? Upset that's she's not upset. But really, we're both lost in our own way.
Perhaps life is like an island. Yes, eventually a ship will sail towards home, but that's not right now. Right now there's a whole island of adventure to be explored. My friend and I are both missing out. My friend kicked back in a hammock is missing out on all the other parts of the island and all the other adventures God has to take her on. And me? I'm so frantically running about that I'm missing the world as it passes me by. If my friend would get off the hammock, she would see all that is around her, all that God wants to show her. And perhaps, if I actually took a moment and attempted to look at the hammock, even contemplate sitting on it, I could just rest a while. Maybe I just might feel the sunshine on my face. I might just feel God; I might just hear Him whisper sweet words of love in my ear.
But how do we do this? How do find a balance of actively pursuing God and yet rest in His faithfulness and goodness at the same time? I'm not really all too sure. I know He has a whole world of adventures, sights, and journeys to take us on, and yet, He doesn't want us to wind up face first in the dirt while we do it.
Trust perhaps. Perhaps we just trust that despite our own understanding, despite whatever season we're in, that it's all part of the adventure and it's all part of the process. Life is a process. We continue on. Sometimes we press forward, forgetting what is behind and sometimes we press upward, we press up and above our own understanding of the circumstance and we rejoice. We rejoice in what is...even if not what expected. We rejoice in what is to come both in this moment, the rest of today, tomorrow, and all the tomorrows after that.
Some day the ship will sail, but the breeze is blowing now, the sun was shining yesterday, is shining today, and will shine tomorrow. Treasures are buried waiting to be found. Butterflies are dancing around you. The adventure is at hand. Enjoy.
Cheering you on as you come to seek harder than you've ever sought before, and yet rest more than you've ever rested your whole life through.
May trust, perseverance, and joy fill your day.
Kaylee
Carry each other.
Hi from the South.
My brother is an amazing triathlete and my sister, quite the runner. I figured it was about time I too, got involved in athletic endeavors so this summer I signed up for my first 5k. Figured it would be fun seeing as a group of fellow friends from my church were also running.
We arrived downtown Grand Rapids. When it came time to line up for the "Get Mark, Get Set, Go," I discovered that these races are extremely organized. They had signs that were held so that one could start with runners who ran a similar pace. I don't typically keep any sort of track of how fast I run - think I'd depress myself with the time, ha ha. But I remembered my sister timing us earlier that summer and she said, "eh, good, we're around an 8:00 minute mile pace.” So what did I decide? I decided that hey, I'll just start with the 7:30/minute mile pacers so that I'm challenged. What a great idea that was! I took off running the race, surrounded by hundreds of people, who were much faster than I, or at the very least, were in much better shape than I.
I'll admit, some people passed me.
But there were times that I, when really lucky, managed to pass a few people. (Oh, and I have to mention that there was a group of girls all dressed up the same, yelling cheers as we ran past. It was great!)
About half-way through I realized I had been pushing myself a bit too hard. (I know, I know, it was only a 5k but I wasn't in all that good of shape to start with). Somehow I just kept running.
I crossed the finish line with an amazing time - for me that is. I somehow managed to run faster, stronger, and harder than ever before. And what's so amazing to me is that I felt like I was being carried. My speed and velocity were guided by, fed by, and led by my fellow runners. It was an energy I've never felt before. I didn't feel like I was running, I felt like I was floating. And when the moment came that I felt I couldn't run anymore...the energy and determination of all the other runners; the spirit of the race is what kept me pressing on.
I share all this because it's such a beautiful representation of our race with Christ.
We were made to live in community. We were made to run this race together, and in doing so we channel great amounts of energy and perseverance to each other. I'm not pointing out the literal racing part of the 5k. Who won is irrelevant to the ways of Christ. What is relevant is that we finish. That we all finish. In our lives we will be surrounded by a multitude of differences as well as commonalities...and somehow, in the beautiful workings of God, living in community allows us to carry each other in complete complement to each of our abilities.
I heard a message taught on this at church once. Loved it! I thought it was beautiful to see a representation of it all played out on a Saturday morning race.
Cheering you on as you run your race with Christ.
May you carry when you can carry and may you be carried when you need to be carried.
Kaylee
My brother is an amazing triathlete and my sister, quite the runner. I figured it was about time I too, got involved in athletic endeavors so this summer I signed up for my first 5k. Figured it would be fun seeing as a group of fellow friends from my church were also running.
We arrived downtown Grand Rapids. When it came time to line up for the "Get Mark, Get Set, Go," I discovered that these races are extremely organized. They had signs that were held so that one could start with runners who ran a similar pace. I don't typically keep any sort of track of how fast I run - think I'd depress myself with the time, ha ha. But I remembered my sister timing us earlier that summer and she said, "eh, good, we're around an 8:00 minute mile pace.” So what did I decide? I decided that hey, I'll just start with the 7:30/minute mile pacers so that I'm challenged. What a great idea that was! I took off running the race, surrounded by hundreds of people, who were much faster than I, or at the very least, were in much better shape than I.
I'll admit, some people passed me.
But there were times that I, when really lucky, managed to pass a few people. (Oh, and I have to mention that there was a group of girls all dressed up the same, yelling cheers as we ran past. It was great!)
About half-way through I realized I had been pushing myself a bit too hard. (I know, I know, it was only a 5k but I wasn't in all that good of shape to start with). Somehow I just kept running.
I crossed the finish line with an amazing time - for me that is. I somehow managed to run faster, stronger, and harder than ever before. And what's so amazing to me is that I felt like I was being carried. My speed and velocity were guided by, fed by, and led by my fellow runners. It was an energy I've never felt before. I didn't feel like I was running, I felt like I was floating. And when the moment came that I felt I couldn't run anymore...the energy and determination of all the other runners; the spirit of the race is what kept me pressing on.
I share all this because it's such a beautiful representation of our race with Christ.
We were made to live in community. We were made to run this race together, and in doing so we channel great amounts of energy and perseverance to each other. I'm not pointing out the literal racing part of the 5k. Who won is irrelevant to the ways of Christ. What is relevant is that we finish. That we all finish. In our lives we will be surrounded by a multitude of differences as well as commonalities...and somehow, in the beautiful workings of God, living in community allows us to carry each other in complete complement to each of our abilities.
I heard a message taught on this at church once. Loved it! I thought it was beautiful to see a representation of it all played out on a Saturday morning race.
Cheering you on as you run your race with Christ.
May you carry when you can carry and may you be carried when you need to be carried.
Kaylee
Flying.
Hello.
This past weekend I was in Chicago for a wedding. In the airport on the way down I was talking with one of my friends. He asked me if I liked flying to which I responded, "I don't always particularly like the taking off and landing part, but I like being up in the clouds."
This trip was no exception. I, once again, did not particularly enjoy the take offs; however, my flight home was incredible.
I took my seat on the plane. Buckled myself in. The plane started to move and elevate off the ground. I could see everything below me. Then, clouds surrounded the plane and I couldn't see anything, but then....we rose above the clouds and I saw the most beautiful, absolutely beautiful view. I can't explain it. I really can't. Words wouldn't give it all justice to the beauty and clarity that I saw. I felt as if my world had been expanded ten times over and my breath was taken away. Deep, deep awe rested on that moment - and the moments that followed. I sat and stared out the window...completely captivated by what I saw and felt.
This past summer I wrote a song. Part of the lyrics read:
Waiting, I'm waiting
But I've never waited like this before
Cause I'm learning how to breathe
Resting in His peace
Finding my wings
Preparing to fly
...while I wait.
This whole experience down in Charlotte, North Carolina has been incredible, but it was a rough start. I couldn't help but think that this flight back to Charlotte was a beautiful representation of a life in Christ. There are times we wait, we wait on Him, to hear Him, to be restored by Him, to seek Him, to find rest in Him. We simply wait. But then He calls. He calls us to action, to take flight. I'm not sure what I expected everything to be like when I wrote this song, what the "flight" would actually look and feel like. Something beautiful I suppose.
But it didn't all seem beautiful as I took off. It wasn't at all like I had planned, nor what I expected. I struggled a lot and my vision was cloudy. But the clouds are breaking free and so am I.
Day by day, year by year, season to season, chapter to chapter, God takes our souls and our beings out flying - through adventures, through opportunities, through work environments, through our interactions, through our children, through our family, through our friends. He takes us flying. He takes us on adventures.
If God is calling you to wait, to wait on Him, then wait. Perhaps it would help to keep in mind that waiting isn't putting your life on hold, it's simply waiting. For me personally, I've come to love my time of waiting because I seem to rest best in Him during my times of waiting - I may be anxious to know what the next step is but I still find waiting a time where my heart finds much rest.
And If you're taking off, remember the "flight" might have a bumpy start, confusion and cloudiness may set in. Goodness knows, turbulence may even last the entire flight through, but fly....fly because when you get through the cloudiness of confusion, when you break through, your breath will be taken away by the beauty of our author's plan.
Wherever you find yourself in the flight, simply rejoice. Rejoice that His plans are far greater than we could dare to dream. They are to prosper and not to harm us. They are breath-taking.
If someone were to ask me if I liked what it meant to be a servant of Christ, I suppose my response would be quite similar to that I gave my friend, "I don't always particularly like the taking off and the landing part, but I love it when I'm soaring and I love it when I'm resting."
Cheering you on as your adventures continue.
May you find beauty and may you find rest.
Kaylee
This past weekend I was in Chicago for a wedding. In the airport on the way down I was talking with one of my friends. He asked me if I liked flying to which I responded, "I don't always particularly like the taking off and landing part, but I like being up in the clouds."
This trip was no exception. I, once again, did not particularly enjoy the take offs; however, my flight home was incredible.
I took my seat on the plane. Buckled myself in. The plane started to move and elevate off the ground. I could see everything below me. Then, clouds surrounded the plane and I couldn't see anything, but then....we rose above the clouds and I saw the most beautiful, absolutely beautiful view. I can't explain it. I really can't. Words wouldn't give it all justice to the beauty and clarity that I saw. I felt as if my world had been expanded ten times over and my breath was taken away. Deep, deep awe rested on that moment - and the moments that followed. I sat and stared out the window...completely captivated by what I saw and felt.
This past summer I wrote a song. Part of the lyrics read:
Waiting, I'm waiting
But I've never waited like this before
Cause I'm learning how to breathe
Resting in His peace
Finding my wings
Preparing to fly
...while I wait.
This whole experience down in Charlotte, North Carolina has been incredible, but it was a rough start. I couldn't help but think that this flight back to Charlotte was a beautiful representation of a life in Christ. There are times we wait, we wait on Him, to hear Him, to be restored by Him, to seek Him, to find rest in Him. We simply wait. But then He calls. He calls us to action, to take flight. I'm not sure what I expected everything to be like when I wrote this song, what the "flight" would actually look and feel like. Something beautiful I suppose.
But it didn't all seem beautiful as I took off. It wasn't at all like I had planned, nor what I expected. I struggled a lot and my vision was cloudy. But the clouds are breaking free and so am I.
Day by day, year by year, season to season, chapter to chapter, God takes our souls and our beings out flying - through adventures, through opportunities, through work environments, through our interactions, through our children, through our family, through our friends. He takes us flying. He takes us on adventures.
If God is calling you to wait, to wait on Him, then wait. Perhaps it would help to keep in mind that waiting isn't putting your life on hold, it's simply waiting. For me personally, I've come to love my time of waiting because I seem to rest best in Him during my times of waiting - I may be anxious to know what the next step is but I still find waiting a time where my heart finds much rest.
And If you're taking off, remember the "flight" might have a bumpy start, confusion and cloudiness may set in. Goodness knows, turbulence may even last the entire flight through, but fly....fly because when you get through the cloudiness of confusion, when you break through, your breath will be taken away by the beauty of our author's plan.
Wherever you find yourself in the flight, simply rejoice. Rejoice that His plans are far greater than we could dare to dream. They are to prosper and not to harm us. They are breath-taking.
If someone were to ask me if I liked what it meant to be a servant of Christ, I suppose my response would be quite similar to that I gave my friend, "I don't always particularly like the taking off and the landing part, but I love it when I'm soaring and I love it when I'm resting."
Cheering you on as your adventures continue.
May you find beauty and may you find rest.
Kaylee
Taking the fight out of the enemy.
Hi There.
I must first draw attention to a spelling blooper I made yesterday. I accidentally wrote drewel instead of drool which okay, funny, I misspelled the word. (And you know, I remember I kept looking at the word and thinking it looked funny but just couldn't put my finger on what was wrong with it - perhaps spell check would have been a wise choice, ha). But I realized this morning it's spelled drool, not drewel. I laughed so hard. It may not seem as if it's a big deal, but for those of you who don't know, I had a professor in college who was really life-changing. She challenged me and presented me with ideas and materials that really have shaped my life. Her name? Professor Christine Drewel and best yet --- I send her these emails. So, basically, I inserted the name of the teacher who I hold in the highest respect and regards in the place of the word drool...how embarrassing!
So Professor Drewel, my sincerest apologies for my spelling blooper yesterday. I know you're probably having a good hard laugh at all of this yourself. Good thing you weren't my spelling teacher because then it would have been a double whammy...ha.
Anyway, let's move on...for my sake...
One of my friends, Slade Searight, wrote me the other day. He wrapped his email up with this story. It's so beautiful and inspirational I just had to share it:
I'll leave you with this...while in training to be a Special Agent in Virginia, we were beaten down again and again and again and again. They ran us until they knew we would pass out or throw up. They made us fight one another during defensive tactics training to the point of being knocked out. We were bruised, cut, broken and bleeding. Do you know what the point of all this was?
To see who would get up.
"Where are my quitters?" The lead instructors would yell this constantly during the first couple weeks. "Just raise your hand, and it will all be over. We'll even give you a nice meal and all the water you can drink while the rest of these people suffer. Who has had enough?" After the first couple miles, everyone's a tough guy. But, after mile 8, and 200 push ups, and enough sit ups to make you feel like vomiting, and being forced to swim across a lake and then roll in sand...a nice meal and all the water one can drink starts to sound real nice. It's inevitable...there are always a few who raise their hand. It's designed that way. The promise is kept; they are given a nice meal, all the water they want, and they are given about 2 hours to pack their bags until the bus arrives to take them to the airport. They chose to give in...and it was the easiest thing in the world to do.
In my case, it was expected. All the instructors knew that I was in seminary, of all places, before coming to the academy. They didn't think I'd make it 2 seconds, this religious Christian wimp from Michigan. What they didn't know was that I had military experience. That, more importantly, I was a soldier in Jesus' revolution. That I wasn't going to quit, no matter how tough it got, because I felt so strongly that God was proud of me to be taking on this job, certainly a road less traveled. Eventually, I earned the respect of the instructors and my classmates, and the Christian seminary student was voted to be the class speaker at graduation. Evil got in some licks, but I got up...again and again. I will NEVER stay down. I will always get back up. I invite you to do the same, pretty girl. No matter what, get up. If you need help, ask and I will help you get up. Lord knows I have needed help getting up time and time again. Never, ever stay down and let evil smirk at you. No matter how much it hurts, keep getting up...it will take the fight out of the enemy, even if you don't have anything left to throw at him.
- Me
Beautiful...
Cheering you on as you find yourself pressing on.
May you find yourself getting up again and again and again....and then...again.
Kaylee
I must first draw attention to a spelling blooper I made yesterday. I accidentally wrote drewel instead of drool which okay, funny, I misspelled the word. (And you know, I remember I kept looking at the word and thinking it looked funny but just couldn't put my finger on what was wrong with it - perhaps spell check would have been a wise choice, ha). But I realized this morning it's spelled drool, not drewel. I laughed so hard. It may not seem as if it's a big deal, but for those of you who don't know, I had a professor in college who was really life-changing. She challenged me and presented me with ideas and materials that really have shaped my life. Her name? Professor Christine Drewel and best yet --- I send her these emails. So, basically, I inserted the name of the teacher who I hold in the highest respect and regards in the place of the word drool...how embarrassing!
So Professor Drewel, my sincerest apologies for my spelling blooper yesterday. I know you're probably having a good hard laugh at all of this yourself. Good thing you weren't my spelling teacher because then it would have been a double whammy...ha.
Anyway, let's move on...for my sake...
One of my friends, Slade Searight, wrote me the other day. He wrapped his email up with this story. It's so beautiful and inspirational I just had to share it:
I'll leave you with this...while in training to be a Special Agent in Virginia, we were beaten down again and again and again and again. They ran us until they knew we would pass out or throw up. They made us fight one another during defensive tactics training to the point of being knocked out. We were bruised, cut, broken and bleeding. Do you know what the point of all this was?
To see who would get up.
"Where are my quitters?" The lead instructors would yell this constantly during the first couple weeks. "Just raise your hand, and it will all be over. We'll even give you a nice meal and all the water you can drink while the rest of these people suffer. Who has had enough?" After the first couple miles, everyone's a tough guy. But, after mile 8, and 200 push ups, and enough sit ups to make you feel like vomiting, and being forced to swim across a lake and then roll in sand...a nice meal and all the water one can drink starts to sound real nice. It's inevitable...there are always a few who raise their hand. It's designed that way. The promise is kept; they are given a nice meal, all the water they want, and they are given about 2 hours to pack their bags until the bus arrives to take them to the airport. They chose to give in...and it was the easiest thing in the world to do.
In my case, it was expected. All the instructors knew that I was in seminary, of all places, before coming to the academy. They didn't think I'd make it 2 seconds, this religious Christian wimp from Michigan. What they didn't know was that I had military experience. That, more importantly, I was a soldier in Jesus' revolution. That I wasn't going to quit, no matter how tough it got, because I felt so strongly that God was proud of me to be taking on this job, certainly a road less traveled. Eventually, I earned the respect of the instructors and my classmates, and the Christian seminary student was voted to be the class speaker at graduation. Evil got in some licks, but I got up...again and again. I will NEVER stay down. I will always get back up. I invite you to do the same, pretty girl. No matter what, get up. If you need help, ask and I will help you get up. Lord knows I have needed help getting up time and time again. Never, ever stay down and let evil smirk at you. No matter how much it hurts, keep getting up...it will take the fight out of the enemy, even if you don't have anything left to throw at him.
- Me
Beautiful...
Cheering you on as you find yourself pressing on.
May you find yourself getting up again and again and again....and then...again.
Kaylee
Rest your body on an air mattress, Rest your soul on God.
Hello.
I know, you know, we all know...I sleep on an air mattress. And yes, for whatever reason I seem to find utter satisfaction in the fact that every night I, Kaylee Marie Hendrickson, find myself sleeping on an air mattress. I do, I seem to find some sort of pride and satisfaction out of it. I suppose I must admit that for whatever reason it's sacred to me. Ha, okay so maybe sacred is a bit much in describing the location of where my drewel falls at night but really, I think that sleeping on an air mattress has much more signifance in my life than simply a lousy night of sleep. It reminds me to live life simply. It reminds me that I don't need more. It reminds me that I am truly blessed. So yes, I suppose sacred. To me, sleeping on an air mattress is sacred. I feel the need to add in here that it's a deluxe air mattress...yes, deluxe. It has this whole thing that lifts it up off the floor. Truly beautiful and truly quite the luxury should I find myself engulfed upon a camping expedition in the up and coming future.
Okay okay, air mattress, sacred experience. Moving on.
Though it may be a sacred experience it is also a very crappy experience. Every morning I wake up ridiculously freezing, particularly my toes. (I honestly think that it's because my air mattress rests itself on a slant due to the make up of my room. This allots for the blood to flow to my head and not to my toes, ha ha. Hence, I wake up freezing, painfully freezing. Though I have found it as a handy technique for not hitting snooze too many times as I find myself sprinting to the hopeful knowledge of a hot shower.
I'd like to note here that my air mattress is a double-wide. It's big...huge...lots of room to move around...and yet, I only sleep on half of it. I tend to curl up in the top left-hand corner. I'm never truly comfortable and I don't end up sleeping in the typical comfortable positions I've slept in for the past 22 years of my life.
So, the other night I was lying on this oh-so-wonderful air mattress and I couldn't get comfortable. I was freezing and restless. I got to the point where I began to think that I was never going to be able to warm up, get comfortable, and fall sleep.
For whatever reason, I began sinking in towards the middle of the mattress. ahhh, so much more comfortable. A little bit later I was finally so cold I pulled the sheet out from under me and grabbed the blanket I had below (which I know, why hadn't I used it before on all those cold nights?...because, cost/opportunity, or something like that. I thought the cost of being cold outweighed the opportunity to be comfortable?...I finally concealed and ripped off the sheet, grabbed the blankets underneath, threw my pillows in the middle, and climbed into bed.
The past two nights have been the warmest and most comfortable nights since my arrival in Charlotte - besides those couple of nights I house sat for a dear friend and landed myself what seemed a cloud of blessings to sleep on, ha ha.
The thing is that in this whole little bit I realized how much my air mattress represented my heart. The past couple of months have been incredibly hard...lonely...confusing...difficult, and I've found myself curled up in my own little corner. Not wanting to move. Frozen. Even perhaps numb. Really, to be completely honest...I really just felt dead. As I sunk into my air mattress and as my body began to release itself, I realized how much my heart was starting to do the same. It's starting to ease up. It's starting to breathe. And just how the blankets warmed me up, so too, has God been my strength when all I have is weakness to offer. I don't know what made me finally sink into the air mattress. I could have all along but I didn't. I was too hidden in my corner of the mattress. I don't know why it has taken until now to see with eyes wide open the beautiful saving hand of my Father. But I am. I'm sinking into Him. He's comforting my heart and warming my soul. And me? I'm finding rest.
So what is it? What is it that has you cornered up, cold, and unable to find rest?
May you hope. Hope in Him who, in our incredibly great weaknesses, reaches deep down into our lives and brings restoration, in His timing and working it for good.
Cheering you on as you seek to find the areas of your life that have you cornered up, bitter, angry, frustrated, numb, confused, empty.
May you hope in your inability to save yourself and rest in His ability to save your all in accordance to His perfect will.
Kaylee
I know, you know, we all know...I sleep on an air mattress. And yes, for whatever reason I seem to find utter satisfaction in the fact that every night I, Kaylee Marie Hendrickson, find myself sleeping on an air mattress. I do, I seem to find some sort of pride and satisfaction out of it. I suppose I must admit that for whatever reason it's sacred to me. Ha, okay so maybe sacred is a bit much in describing the location of where my drewel falls at night but really, I think that sleeping on an air mattress has much more signifance in my life than simply a lousy night of sleep. It reminds me to live life simply. It reminds me that I don't need more. It reminds me that I am truly blessed. So yes, I suppose sacred. To me, sleeping on an air mattress is sacred. I feel the need to add in here that it's a deluxe air mattress...yes, deluxe. It has this whole thing that lifts it up off the floor. Truly beautiful and truly quite the luxury should I find myself engulfed upon a camping expedition in the up and coming future.
Okay okay, air mattress, sacred experience. Moving on.
Though it may be a sacred experience it is also a very crappy experience. Every morning I wake up ridiculously freezing, particularly my toes. (I honestly think that it's because my air mattress rests itself on a slant due to the make up of my room. This allots for the blood to flow to my head and not to my toes, ha ha. Hence, I wake up freezing, painfully freezing. Though I have found it as a handy technique for not hitting snooze too many times as I find myself sprinting to the hopeful knowledge of a hot shower.
I'd like to note here that my air mattress is a double-wide. It's big...huge...lots of room to move around...and yet, I only sleep on half of it. I tend to curl up in the top left-hand corner. I'm never truly comfortable and I don't end up sleeping in the typical comfortable positions I've slept in for the past 22 years of my life.
So, the other night I was lying on this oh-so-wonderful air mattress and I couldn't get comfortable. I was freezing and restless. I got to the point where I began to think that I was never going to be able to warm up, get comfortable, and fall sleep.
For whatever reason, I began sinking in towards the middle of the mattress. ahhh, so much more comfortable. A little bit later I was finally so cold I pulled the sheet out from under me and grabbed the blanket I had below (which I know, why hadn't I used it before on all those cold nights?...because, cost/opportunity, or something like that. I thought the cost of being cold outweighed the opportunity to be comfortable?...I finally concealed and ripped off the sheet, grabbed the blankets underneath, threw my pillows in the middle, and climbed into bed.
The past two nights have been the warmest and most comfortable nights since my arrival in Charlotte - besides those couple of nights I house sat for a dear friend and landed myself what seemed a cloud of blessings to sleep on, ha ha.
The thing is that in this whole little bit I realized how much my air mattress represented my heart. The past couple of months have been incredibly hard...lonely...confusing...difficult, and I've found myself curled up in my own little corner. Not wanting to move. Frozen. Even perhaps numb. Really, to be completely honest...I really just felt dead. As I sunk into my air mattress and as my body began to release itself, I realized how much my heart was starting to do the same. It's starting to ease up. It's starting to breathe. And just how the blankets warmed me up, so too, has God been my strength when all I have is weakness to offer. I don't know what made me finally sink into the air mattress. I could have all along but I didn't. I was too hidden in my corner of the mattress. I don't know why it has taken until now to see with eyes wide open the beautiful saving hand of my Father. But I am. I'm sinking into Him. He's comforting my heart and warming my soul. And me? I'm finding rest.
So what is it? What is it that has you cornered up, cold, and unable to find rest?
May you hope. Hope in Him who, in our incredibly great weaknesses, reaches deep down into our lives and brings restoration, in His timing and working it for good.
Cheering you on as you seek to find the areas of your life that have you cornered up, bitter, angry, frustrated, numb, confused, empty.
May you hope in your inability to save yourself and rest in His ability to save your all in accordance to His perfect will.
Kaylee
A life of gratitude.
Hi Y'all.
Casework Management Coordinator....Mouthful to say, but that's my job title.
As caseworker, I work with clients after a disaster. I issue additional financial assistance for food and clothing. I make hotel extensions. I give referrals for clothing and furniture. I handle the necessary paperwork needed to provide rent assistance and security deposit assistance. Yes, that's right. Free money. Free food. Free assistance. It's beautiful.
But one thing I've noticed in dealing with the clients is that each client has their own response to Red Cross assistance. Some are prideful and struggle to accept help. Some demand our help. Some become enraged that we are unable to help in the ways they expect. And some, well some, jump into my arms giving me hugs and praise and then continue on their way out the door as they begin to dance in the parking lot - it's true! And some, remain in awe, completely humbled.
But it's difficult. Casework is difficult. I have to consistently use discernment when dealing with clients. What do they need? What are they responsible enough to handle right now? In giving them financial assistance, am I helping or am I simply enabling a greater problem at hand; perhaps a lack in personal motivation and responsibility, reliability? Do they want to get back on their feet or are they simply "abusing the system." It's difficult. Extremely difficult. It takes a lot of time and energy to help our clients and to help them in the best way possible. But I do. I am committed to supporting, encouraging, and enabling our clients to live life to the fullest.
And it's frustrating. It's frustrating when someone demands something from you. It's frustrating when they don't understand that you cannot and perhaps should not, assist them in the ways that they want. But oh, how absolutely incredibly amazing it is when a client offers gratitude.
So I have to wonder...Do I treat God like that? How do I respond to God? Am I too proud to accept His help? His grace? His blessings? Do I try to do it on my own? Why do I get so angry when God doesn't answer me in the ways that I expect or the ways that I want? Why do I fail to trust that He's giving and taking away in accordance to His perfect will? And why do I demand things from Him? Do I not trust that in His perfect timing, in His perfect ways, He's working for good?
Gratitude. Why is gratitude not the first thing pouring from my lips as I wake and in the last breath I exhale at night? Why do I not look at every good and perfect thing in my life as a blessing, not as what I deserve, but as a blessing, a true blessing, a gift? Why do I not remain in a constant state of awe at the grace in abundance poured on my life?
Grace. Forgiveness. Strength. Love. Faithfulness. Joy. Peace. Kindness. Mercy. Patience. Goodness. Self-Control. Wisdom. Provisions.
Thanks be to God for all the blessings and gifts that He pours down on me daily. May my life be that of living gratitude; shown in the words that I speak, the things that I do, in the people I love, and in the way that I live,
Cheering you on as you celebrate today, the great gracious blessings that flow from our Father onto and into our hearts.
May showers of blessings fill your day as well as your heart.
Kaylee
Casework Management Coordinator....Mouthful to say, but that's my job title.
As caseworker, I work with clients after a disaster. I issue additional financial assistance for food and clothing. I make hotel extensions. I give referrals for clothing and furniture. I handle the necessary paperwork needed to provide rent assistance and security deposit assistance. Yes, that's right. Free money. Free food. Free assistance. It's beautiful.
But one thing I've noticed in dealing with the clients is that each client has their own response to Red Cross assistance. Some are prideful and struggle to accept help. Some demand our help. Some become enraged that we are unable to help in the ways they expect. And some, well some, jump into my arms giving me hugs and praise and then continue on their way out the door as they begin to dance in the parking lot - it's true! And some, remain in awe, completely humbled.
But it's difficult. Casework is difficult. I have to consistently use discernment when dealing with clients. What do they need? What are they responsible enough to handle right now? In giving them financial assistance, am I helping or am I simply enabling a greater problem at hand; perhaps a lack in personal motivation and responsibility, reliability? Do they want to get back on their feet or are they simply "abusing the system." It's difficult. Extremely difficult. It takes a lot of time and energy to help our clients and to help them in the best way possible. But I do. I am committed to supporting, encouraging, and enabling our clients to live life to the fullest.
And it's frustrating. It's frustrating when someone demands something from you. It's frustrating when they don't understand that you cannot and perhaps should not, assist them in the ways that they want. But oh, how absolutely incredibly amazing it is when a client offers gratitude.
So I have to wonder...Do I treat God like that? How do I respond to God? Am I too proud to accept His help? His grace? His blessings? Do I try to do it on my own? Why do I get so angry when God doesn't answer me in the ways that I expect or the ways that I want? Why do I fail to trust that He's giving and taking away in accordance to His perfect will? And why do I demand things from Him? Do I not trust that in His perfect timing, in His perfect ways, He's working for good?
Gratitude. Why is gratitude not the first thing pouring from my lips as I wake and in the last breath I exhale at night? Why do I not look at every good and perfect thing in my life as a blessing, not as what I deserve, but as a blessing, a true blessing, a gift? Why do I not remain in a constant state of awe at the grace in abundance poured on my life?
Grace. Forgiveness. Strength. Love. Faithfulness. Joy. Peace. Kindness. Mercy. Patience. Goodness. Self-Control. Wisdom. Provisions.
Thanks be to God for all the blessings and gifts that He pours down on me daily. May my life be that of living gratitude; shown in the words that I speak, the things that I do, in the people I love, and in the way that I live,
Cheering you on as you celebrate today, the great gracious blessings that flow from our Father onto and into our hearts.
May showers of blessings fill your day as well as your heart.
Kaylee
Play upon me.
Greetings from the South.
I love music. I love it so much. I used to have a choir teacher who said she wished that life was like the opening of the Drew Carey show, that is, if there was a theme song to a moment that we'd sing it, dance it, run through life performing it.
So maybe that's a bit extreme (though I'm not going to lie, I'd love it if life was one big gigantic musical, oh how beautiful that would be) but really, she was on to something here. As I've mentioned before, I walk to work. Every day I walk to work. I like it. In fact, I like it a lot! But I have to be honest and say that I enjoy the walk even more ever since my mom sent my ipod that she recently got fixed for me (thanks, Mom).
So I walk to work...every day....ipod on...(sometimes if you're lucky, you may even catch me walking with a hip-hop in my step)
So I have this music in the background, right? And somehow everything is just that much more beautiful. I'll be just walking right along, land myself beneath a tree and find myself simply in awe, in awe of God's creation, in awe of all His great designs. I passed a squirrel the other day climbing right along and I felt like Sleeping Beauty when she finds herself out in the woods by herself for the first time! Ha, no really, somehow music makes me feel that much more connected....I smell things sweeter, I feel things deeper. Even the breeze becomes so overwhelmingly beautiful that I literally want to fall flat on my knees in worship right there on the sidewalk.
In general, I like soaking things in; however, somehow everything is that much more enhanced by the presence of music.
In walking to work the other day, I was reminded of how intricately reflective music is of Christ and in living the way of Christ.
For those of you who don't know too much about music; in music, there is something called the melody (this would be what you find yourself full-heartedly singing to along with the radio as you drive down the road or stand in the shower). Then there is something called the harmony. These are the notes that "complement" the melody. They make the piece that much more beautiful.
So the more I get to thinking, I'm thinking that God is like the grand melody and we are the harmonies. Alone, harmonies may or may not seem all that interesting, but put together with all the other harmonies and alongside the melody...ah, true music to thy ears is what you get!
You see, this story is not about us. It's about Him. He is the divine melody. We (and how great is this) get to be the harmonies. He uses us to embellish, enhance, gradiositize (okay so that's not a word) but you get my drift. We get to help make the song better.
And I'll admit that it took me a while to learn this but, as most of you know, I simply love music and used to just dream of singing on stage. It got to a point where I realized that if I sang for one person who heard what needed to be heard in the journey, then I would have used my gifts and talents wisely. When I realized this and realized that God may use me for other things besides music (though who knows what's in store) I began asking God if my life could be a harmony to His melody.
Moreover, I used to think about all of our stories playing together at once...how they may, at times, seem like ruckus rather than inspirational tunes (ha). And, yet, I used to imagine that all of our stories, throughout history, current at hand, and stories yet to come, together, must play out the most beautiful, beautifully orchestrated piece up in Heaven.
And what I love the absolute most is that sometimes in music, there can be an overtone. Have you ever heard of an overtone? It's something along the lines of when all the notes are sung/played in perfect pitch, there is a note that becomes audible. No one is singing this note. It just is a result of these other notes. Let me repeat, no one sings it, and yet in compilation of all these notes sung together in the way they were supposed to be sung (because yes, it is difficult to perfectly sing a note) another note exists.
Ahh, beautiful! When our hands and feet become in tune to the ways of Christ, when we walk in (ah-ha) harmony, when we walk in harmony with God, there is this "overtone," perhaps, God present, is what I'm looking to say. When we become the harmony to the divine melody, it is our destiny, and it is the music in which the Holy Spirit dances. It is us, being His hands and feet. We become His reflection! His harmonious reflection!
So I wonder, what does my harmony look like? Am I living so as to create an “overtone?” And do I find rest knowing that my story (no matter how much it may seem like ruckus) is part of a beautiful orchestrated piece?
Cheering you on in this dress-rehearsal.
May each moment fill your heart with excitement for the "Big Show!" - Sorry wow, this is getting a bit too cheesy even for me!
Kaylee
I love music. I love it so much. I used to have a choir teacher who said she wished that life was like the opening of the Drew Carey show, that is, if there was a theme song to a moment that we'd sing it, dance it, run through life performing it.
So maybe that's a bit extreme (though I'm not going to lie, I'd love it if life was one big gigantic musical, oh how beautiful that would be) but really, she was on to something here. As I've mentioned before, I walk to work. Every day I walk to work. I like it. In fact, I like it a lot! But I have to be honest and say that I enjoy the walk even more ever since my mom sent my ipod that she recently got fixed for me (thanks, Mom).
So I walk to work...every day....ipod on...(sometimes if you're lucky, you may even catch me walking with a hip-hop in my step)
So I have this music in the background, right? And somehow everything is just that much more beautiful. I'll be just walking right along, land myself beneath a tree and find myself simply in awe, in awe of God's creation, in awe of all His great designs. I passed a squirrel the other day climbing right along and I felt like Sleeping Beauty when she finds herself out in the woods by herself for the first time! Ha, no really, somehow music makes me feel that much more connected....I smell things sweeter, I feel things deeper. Even the breeze becomes so overwhelmingly beautiful that I literally want to fall flat on my knees in worship right there on the sidewalk.
In general, I like soaking things in; however, somehow everything is that much more enhanced by the presence of music.
In walking to work the other day, I was reminded of how intricately reflective music is of Christ and in living the way of Christ.
For those of you who don't know too much about music; in music, there is something called the melody (this would be what you find yourself full-heartedly singing to along with the radio as you drive down the road or stand in the shower). Then there is something called the harmony. These are the notes that "complement" the melody. They make the piece that much more beautiful.
So the more I get to thinking, I'm thinking that God is like the grand melody and we are the harmonies. Alone, harmonies may or may not seem all that interesting, but put together with all the other harmonies and alongside the melody...ah, true music to thy ears is what you get!
You see, this story is not about us. It's about Him. He is the divine melody. We (and how great is this) get to be the harmonies. He uses us to embellish, enhance, gradiositize (okay so that's not a word) but you get my drift. We get to help make the song better.
And I'll admit that it took me a while to learn this but, as most of you know, I simply love music and used to just dream of singing on stage. It got to a point where I realized that if I sang for one person who heard what needed to be heard in the journey, then I would have used my gifts and talents wisely. When I realized this and realized that God may use me for other things besides music (though who knows what's in store) I began asking God if my life could be a harmony to His melody.
Moreover, I used to think about all of our stories playing together at once...how they may, at times, seem like ruckus rather than inspirational tunes (ha). And, yet, I used to imagine that all of our stories, throughout history, current at hand, and stories yet to come, together, must play out the most beautiful, beautifully orchestrated piece up in Heaven.
And what I love the absolute most is that sometimes in music, there can be an overtone. Have you ever heard of an overtone? It's something along the lines of when all the notes are sung/played in perfect pitch, there is a note that becomes audible. No one is singing this note. It just is a result of these other notes. Let me repeat, no one sings it, and yet in compilation of all these notes sung together in the way they were supposed to be sung (because yes, it is difficult to perfectly sing a note) another note exists.
Ahh, beautiful! When our hands and feet become in tune to the ways of Christ, when we walk in (ah-ha) harmony, when we walk in harmony with God, there is this "overtone," perhaps, God present, is what I'm looking to say. When we become the harmony to the divine melody, it is our destiny, and it is the music in which the Holy Spirit dances. It is us, being His hands and feet. We become His reflection! His harmonious reflection!
So I wonder, what does my harmony look like? Am I living so as to create an “overtone?” And do I find rest knowing that my story (no matter how much it may seem like ruckus) is part of a beautiful orchestrated piece?
Cheering you on in this dress-rehearsal.
May each moment fill your heart with excitement for the "Big Show!" - Sorry wow, this is getting a bit too cheesy even for me!
Kaylee
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