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
May 9, 2008
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
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