tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67157889642320945652024-03-05T09:37:21.848-05:00A Girl's Guide to FaithA GIRL'S GUIDE TO FAITH | Written by Katy Stokes | Thoughts on living a life of faith in a world of doubt.Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-51157913198019612512016-04-17T03:21:00.000-04:002016-04-17T13:21:51.855-04:00When Anger is Enough<div style="line-height: 16px;">
<i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here is where I would write why I’ve been away from writing for so long, how it’s good to be back, and some goal that I would have for writing again. Let’s hold those thoughts for another day, why don’t we... In the meantime, I’ll be here with this.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’ve been thinking lately about a session with my therapist that involved a pillow and a rubber hose. It was supposed to be an exercise in expressing anger, but mostly it was an exercise in uncomfortable silence interspersed with awkward giggles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Despite very simple instructions, I could not – Could Not – hit that pillow with a rubber hose. Looking back, I can better name that day’s emotions: embarrassed, frustrated, ridiculous, stupid, alone, vulnerable. I did not walk into our session feeling that way, at least not that I recall. Instead, those feelings swirled themselves up out of nowhere when I was told to hit a faded throw pillow with an arm’s length of rubber tubing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thing is, I’m not that great at getting angry. I mean what did that old pillow ever do to me? I just chalked the whole exercise up as one for the “didn’t work for me” column on my therapy card.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">2015. Unresolved Anger. (Photograph). April 17, 2016. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">from: http://eccentriceclectic.wordpress.com</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I don’t like feeling angry. I don’t like what it does to me on the inside. I feel out of control when I’m angry, completely exposed. I didn’t grow up around a lot of anger – a reality I’m only just beginning to appreciate as much as I should. I am unbelievably lucky to have the privilege of basically being a stranger to anger. No one in my childhood used anger as a way of controlling me. Not that I didn’t make my parents mad sometimes. But there’s a huge difference between someone being mad about something, and a person who manipulates and controls through anger and fear. One is completely normal and even useful. The other is abuse.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Still, anger was never my first stop when something didn’t go my way or when someone treated me unfairly. I was more likely to shut down, to turn into myself, or to hide from whatever was happening. My “fight or flight” response was a little more “laugh or leave.” Either I’d turn the situation into a joke (sidenote: it took a while to stop making jokes at my own expense) or I’d find a way to back out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Over ten years ago, I had a relationship that went incredibly sour in ways that overwhelmed me. In one incident, I stood on the receiving end of an anger that I had never had to face before. My shutdown response was so strong that I laid down in a public lobby and slept for two hours. Even in that relationship, when I had every reason and right to get angry, I chose two years of silence, excuses, pacification, and submission. I chose to hold on to pain, hurt, humiliation, and so much more, rather than express any anger.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And to tell the truth – I thought that made me a better person. But it didn’t. It mostly made me a doormat and a liar.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because even though I really WAS angry, I just couldn’t BE angry. I couldn’t handle those emotions, the same ones that came up in a whirlwind when my therapist told me to hit a defenseless couch cushion. I could not be angry, because if I was angry then I was vulnerable. If I was angry, it meant letting someone see me at my most ridiculous, even if that person was myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Learning to be vulnerable, angry, and ridiculous is changing my life. I have learned through many mistakes, uncomfortable therapy sessions, and bumpy relationships that I will not always come out on top. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wish that anger led to answers. Because I have a lot of questions right now. I’d like to know why love isn’t enough to change the way we speak to each other. I’d like to know the exact moment when a child will have the light of hope snuffed out. I’d like to know how to stop that moment from happening without tearing families apart. I’d like to know if we will ever create adequate words for when impossibly bad things happen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’d like some sort of promise that if I just get angry enough an answer will come. I would slay a thousand defenseless pillows for a just a glimpse. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wish that vulnerability had a guarantee. Sometimes it just hurts so damn much. Then other times, it’s the only thing that saves me from completely losing a grip on my soul. Isn’t that what being vulnerable is? Letting your soul out to play and hoping against all odds that it will find a soft place. That somehow it will both fly and find roots?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But there is no guarantee to be had; there are no promised answers. There is just what is left at the end of the day. There is just this ridiculous band of misfits that continues to tie their boats together. We are creating our own safe spaces, where cracks of daylight are caught and shared among the needy. We stand on the water, as the ridiculous children we are, and fling our arms out because we somehow know we are made stronger through trusting the water despite the waves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’m going to be unpacking this idea of anger for my whole life I think, learning how to bring it out into the light of day. But at least I don’t have to do it alone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Khan, F. (Photographer). 2011. Tied Up. (Photograph). April 17, 2016. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">from: http://blogs.wsj.com</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-4576034649965294732015-03-19T01:09:00.001-04:002015-03-19T01:11:20.595-04:00Speaking as if I know<p dir="ltr">I have this fleeting suspicion that the secret to being grown up is to stop thinking about being a grown up. That is, stop trying to be the future version of yourself, that one living deep in your psyche with her perfect hair and well balanced life. She is entirely fictitious. Instead, and please hear this: instead, you are the wonderfully imperfect you. And you are gloriously messy and fantastically peculiar. And many, many more words that sound fun mushed together.</p>
<p dir="ltr">You are one of a kind, completely incomprehensible; there is no book or TED talk or viral video that can reveal you in easy steps. Because you are not, nor should you be, easy and digestible. You cannot be consumed in a sitting.</p>
<p dir="ltr">No. You are complex and creative....and incredibly confusing. And who cares! That's just exactly who you should be. <b><i>Because</i></b><b><i> </i></b><b><i>you</i></b><b><i> </i></b><b><i>are</i></b><b><i> </i></b><b><i>no</i></b><b><i> </i></b><b><i>one</i></b><b><i> </i></b><b><i>who</i></b><b><i> </i></b><b><i>has</i></b><b><i> </i></b><b><i>ever</i></b><b><i> </i></b><b><i>been</i></b><b><i> </i></b><b><i>before</i></b><b><i>.</i></b></p>
<p dir="ltr">You are your future self before time. And really, what's she have that you don't? You are already your own better half. So just watch it! Don't step on your own self on your way up the life ladder. You're walking here! And there is not a single thing wrong with that.</p>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-30260750006585696932014-04-29T01:13:00.001-04:002014-04-29T11:44:52.468-04:00Playing for Keeps<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When it comes to this whole "living life" thing, <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I think I actually forget more than I learn each day. </span>And the thing I forget more often than anything else is this: when it comes to how I spend each day and choose each little choice - I matter. My actual ideas, my likes and dislikes, "all that jazz" that lives in my own two jazz hands; it should all have an awful lot more to do with my every day than it actually does. I should matter more to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm reading another Brené Brown book - <a href="http://brenebrown.com/books/" target="_blank">The Gifts of Imperfection</a> - and today it reminded me to notice the things that I like to do to "play." Play time is that time when the world all at once gets wide and narrow. Wide because the possibilities are endless, but narrow in how the rest of the world just disappears.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My play time last night was coloring in a book I bought from the local art store. Tonight it was to start reading a new book, something fluffy, full of magic, fairies, and ominous evil forces. It has no purpose but to help me get away for a bit - the only point is enjoyment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But tonight something happened when I set my book aside. I cleaned my desk. This is a Big Deal. Like winning a medium-sized lottery big deal. And it's the part I always forget. When I spend time in restful play, I always -- <i>always, every single time</i> -- come out of it with a desire to do something good for myself. I have sudden motivation where there wasn't any before. Even this writing is coming from that place of new energy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've really thought about this pattern, because it still surprises me even though it happens every single time. I think what happens in my sub or semiconscious self is this: <i>when I celebrate something just for the sake of my own enjoyment, I accept for a moment the reality that I'm worthy of joy. </i>And I feel motivated out of that joy. I want my future self to have that joy too, so I clean or organize or do whatever it was that I was putting off.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But why don't I do this all the time?!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This pattern is so easily repeatable (I say again: it happens <i>every - single - time</i>) yet I continue to forget and go back to the exhausting habit of procrastination and blame and negative self-talk. A big part of the problem is simply an unrested brain. And an unrested brain is a foggy brain. The longer I go between playful times, the more taxed my brain is; there's never time to recharge. (Also, I tend to eat a lot of fast foods and caffeine, which I also thinks adds to a foggy brain.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I'm brain-tired, the tempting thing is to follow the path of least resistance. If a TV show will play a story for me, why read and bother my brain with the task of imagination. Why sit at the table and create a drawing on paper when I could just watch a YouTube clip of someone else doing it. (Or even more tempting/demoralizing is the self talk that says those creative things are a waste of time.) Why bother writing if someone else has already said it, and probably better than I would.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But as it turns out, that is all a bunch of balderdash! (That's right - <i>balderdash!</i>) When I'm brain-tired, it's because the world's been taking pieces out (or I've given them) and I haven't been putting anything back in.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Doing creative, playful things that I enjoy is not about healing what is broken in me. It's not about having done something wrong and now needing a break from reality. Instead, this kind of play and creativity is the only thing that I can count on to get me to do my best work, to treat myself well, to live my most "wholehearted" life, as Brené Brown would say.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Play and creativity, in whatever form it takes, isn't my response to stress or frustration or depression; it's my shield, the glue I can count on to keep me whole despite hard times and dark days. Let's keep ourselves from forgetting. Let's help each other create and celebrate, and stay stuck together with the goodness of play! </span><br />
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<i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How do you make time for creativity and playfulness? Post a reply below!</span></i></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-87104224315853988102014-01-04T20:10:00.000-05:002014-01-04T20:10:19.820-05:00Truth Is (or Lessons from a Funeral)<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It’s just
that I’ve been a little afraid. Afraid to break into the darkness of the silent
space; afraid to be transparent. But I’m also afraid to stay quiet, afraid to
keep everything locked. This is my first crack of light in a long time;
patience is appreciated.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There was a
funeral today. And I did my job; I was responsible, professional. But on the
inside, I wasn’t feeling patient or kind or forgiving. I was feeling weary. I
was feeling empty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There was a
funeral today. And I sang the song they asked for.</span></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“Truth
is I’m tired.<br />Options
are few.<br />I'm
trying to pray,<br />But
where are you?<br />I'm
all churched out,<br />Hurt
and abused.<br />I
can't fake…<br />What's
left to do?”</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There was a
funeral today. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wish I had
a good answer when people ask me how I’m doing. I wish I didn’t have these
seasons of grief and uncertainty. I wish I made all the right decisions, all
the time. I wish, sometimes, that I didn’t feel pain in the ways I feel it. Or didn’t
carry other people’s pain quite so closely to my own heart. It feels jagged, it
cuts, it hurts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But then
there was this funeral, and they asked me to sing that song.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“Truth
is it's time<br />To
stop playing these games.<br />We
need a word<br />For
the people's pain.<br /><o:p> </o:p>So
Lord speak right now.<br />Let
it fall like rain.<br />We're
desperate.<br />We're
chasing after you.”</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When did I
stop chasing? When did I stop listening and learning and loving with an honest
heart? An open heart? When did I start accepting silence – expecting silence?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This was a
hard season. Harder than I expected; harder than I think I even knew. Slowly,
bit by bit, I numbed it. I denied my grief or hurt or disappointment. I
deflected, evaded, isolated. But my bones felt it. Can you see? My bones felt it; that aching in joints
that yearn for peace, for rest – for real
rest.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then today
brought fresh tears, new heartbreak. And I can’t keep silent… but I have no
words. Maybe just that tune, a song to ride the winds of change and grief and time.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And so there
will be another funeral. For a friend who believed in me, in all of us. One who
saw it all, pain and peace and grief, but didn’t keep silent. And I will miss
him. The fire will be cooler without him, but the call was stronger because of
him. And the song will forever speak deeply of this season.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“Take
me to the King.<br />I
don’t have much to bring.<br />My
heart is torn to pieces,<br />It’s
my offering.<br /><o:p> </o:p>Lay
me at the throne.<br />Leave
me there alone<br />To
gaze upon Your glory,<br />And
sing to You this song.”</i></span></blockquote>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My love
& gratitude rest with you friend.</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-15419074305590948372013-05-27T13:30:00.001-04:002013-05-27T13:30:33.658-04:00Saved by my savings<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><i>This year, I've decided to challenge myself to complete <a href="http://girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com/2013/01/31-things-to-do-final-list.html" target="_blank">a list of 31 things</a> that will challenge, inspire, and renew me. I hope you'll let me know that you're following my adventures by clicking on the link to the left that says "Join this site" or by entering your email. I appreciate having you here and always read every comment!</i></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b id="docs-internal-guid-5c4b7418-e6f9-7dc7-c93e-0431d0a838dc"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s a new day folks. A wall has fallen, a line has been crossed <...drumroll...> my savings account is now larger than my ATM balance. Yippee!!</span></b><br />
<b style="line-height: 1.15;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></b>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-5c4b7418-e6f9-7dc7-c93e-0431d0a838dc" style="line-height: 1.15;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In fact, of all the goals on my 31 Things list, </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">#26. Grow my savings account,</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> has quietly, steadily snuck up as my top success story.</span></span></b><br />
<b style="line-height: 1.15;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-5c4b7418-e6f9-7dc7-c93e-0431d0a838dc" style="line-height: 1.15;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This what I did to start saving: 1) I put $100 into my savings account each month; 2) I started following the <a href="http://www.livingrichwithcoupons.com/2013/01/budget-52-week-money-challenge.html" target="_blank">52-weeks Money Challenge</a>; and of course, 3) I don’t take out any money (that should be a given, but a former version of myself wasn’t too keen on that rule).</span></b><br />
<b style="line-height: 1.15;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></b>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-5c4b7418-e6f9-7dc7-c93e-0431d0a838dc" style="line-height: 1.15;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s the practical side of things, the hands on money side of things; and while it’s a success story, it’s not *</span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the*</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> success story.</span></span></b><br />
<b style="line-height: 1.15;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-5c4b7418-e6f9-7dc7-c93e-0431d0a838dc" style="line-height: 1.15;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">See, I’ve always told people that I’m no good with money. I just can’t save a dime. A credit card for me? No way -- I cannot be trusted. And yet I’ve always been good at math. I’m generally good at stepping back, seeing the big picture, and planning for future goals. At work, I have always understood and even enjoyed the details of budgeting and accounting.</span></b></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-5c4b7418-e6f9-7dc7-c93e-0431d0a838dc">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b id="docs-internal-guid-5c4b7418-e6f9-7dc7-c93e-0431d0a838dc"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So here it is folks, for its first unveiling -- </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I AM good with money.</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Yeah. I said it. I can add it, subtract it, budget it, plan for it, make it, spend it, and -- get this -- I can even SAVE it. Why then have I been spending all.these.years. telling everyone who would listen that I am so bad? That, my friends, would be because of my favorite love-to-hate-it word: S-H-A-M-E. </span></span></b></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-5c4b7418-e6f9-7dc7-c93e-0431d0a838dc">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shame wrote its name all over my bank account. And my savings and credit cards and checkbook. I spent almost 8 years thinking that </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*I*</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was bad, just because I had made some bad mistakes. I took the misuse of a credit card (okay, a </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">few</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> credit cards) and claimed them as badges of dishonor: Stupid. Untrustworthy. Immature. I wore them for a really long time. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first step to crawling out of my money pit was to get help. Please hear me when I say this -- Get Help. A shocking but true reality is this: there are people out there who have gone to school just to qualify themselves for getting me out of the trouble that I spent all of school getting myself into. (Yeah; read </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> ten times fast.) And there are equally qualified people out there who can help you climb out of whatever your pit is. Sometimes the Get Help step seems overwhelming, but just start talking to someone you trust. Together you will conquer step one.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The second step to crawling out of my money pit was to be sorry and to say sorry, but then to move on. Thanks to a friendly and patient credit consolidation counselor, I was able to “apologize” for my overdue bills and create a plan to eventually pay back what I owed. But even before saying sorry to the MasterVisaExpress, I had to actually </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">be</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> sorry. I had to stop saying -- mostly to myself -- that it was someone else’s fault. I had to stop being a victim and start handling my business.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Also, the part of step two that I missed the first few times was the last part -- Move On. Sometimes creditors still called. Sometimes they were wrong, sometimes they were just mean. But until I could decide that I didn’t care what they thought of me, that it was more important what I thought of me, I couldn’t really move on. It was a good three years after I stopped owing money that I finally started answering my phone for numbers I didn’t recognize. Moving on is hard. But it’s so worth it.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The third step to crawling out of my money pit was, and is, what the final step always is: Show Love. For me, that was about showing love to my parents, who kept bailing me out each time I was on the edge. It meant showing gratitude to friends who loaned me large amounts of money when I just couldn’t go back to my parents again; especially to those friends who forgave the debt I owed them, long before it made any sense for them to do something like that. And, of course, I had to show love to myself.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is incredibly easy to make the leap from “I made a mistake” to “I </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">am</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> a mistake.” Or “I did something wrong” to “I </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">am</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> something wrong.” It’s the story of the human experience, or at least, it’s the story of mine. And overcoming that takes daily work, daily reminders, and regular interaction with the Spirit that connects us all.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So that’s my story. A lot of details are missing, but the important stuff is there. Get Help. Be Sorry. Move On. Show Love.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And why has this been on my mind? Well, I think maybe that same Spirit has been helping me see that there is one more step. -- Give More. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Give more help. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Give more forgiveness. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Give more love.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My savings? It saved me. And not because I’ve patched together a financial safety net, but because I patched together a net of hope and redemption and newness. I can breathe again. I can trust myself again. When the phone rings, I can answer it -- even if I don’t know where it might lead.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And that side of things is a freedom worth saving for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<br />
<h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>What are you saving for? Is there a place in your life, a label you've been wearing, that you can start to redefine?</i></span></span></h3>
</div>
</b><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-72864014425613366092013-05-20T23:59:00.001-04:002013-05-21T16:24:01.033-04:00May ... a 31 Things update<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>This year, I've decided to challenge myself to complete a list of 31 things that will challenge, inspire, and renew me. I</i><i> hope you'll let me know that you're following my adventures by clicking on the link to the left that says "Join this site" or by entering your email. I appreciate having you here and always read every comment!</i></span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><i><br></i></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><i><br></i></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Almost half way through the year and I almost can't believe it. Sometimes the months pass slowly but this year they have been flying by. A few weeks ago I celebrated my 31st birthday, a special marker this year in light of my 31 Things list. My fabulous friend Amy helped me by going through each item; here's my update as well as a few plans for the coming months.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><i><b>#2. Lose 31 pounds</b></i></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">This is, as it always has been, a difficult challenge for me. But the days are a little longer and the weather is a lot warmer, which means getting back to a regular routine of walking and biking. The plan is to walk at least once a week with a friend (and a few more times by myself) as well as bike to work 2-3 times each week. Not much progress so far, but if you want to walk with me, I would LOVE to meet up!</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i><b>#3. Make one new recipe a month</b></i></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Success! Since I'm playing catch-up, I have three new recipe stories! In February I made an easy baked ziti recipe that I absolutely LOVED and have actually made a couple different times now. In March, I made a strawberry-vanilla cake (and two variations of the same recipe: blueberry-lemon & chocolate-cherry). Last, but far from least, I made foil-wrapped salmon over lemon slices in April which was one of the best dishes ever! </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Here is what I'm finding - cooking is not so hard! I have long been afraid of food, due to the ways that I tend to abuse it when I feel emotional or afraid. I guess I had come to believe that food was the enemy, and the thought of purposefully putting food together in new ways on my plate was pretty daunting. But using these recipes this year, and searching for new recipes using my criteria of 1) easy to make, 2) minimal ingredients, and 3) small enough for one (or at least freezer friendly), has made me feel more powerful over food. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b><i>#7. Read 12 "real" books</i></b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">In my last post I wrote about "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin, which I'm still making my way through. But in addition, I recently finished "Impossible to Please" by </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Neil J. Lavender and Alan A. Cavaiola. I chose it primarily for research on the topic of dealing with critical people. I recommend it if you are in a relationship or working closely with an extremely critical person. My one critique, however, was that the book seemed to make the assumption that there isn't one glaringly obvious response to living with an unfairly critical person -- get out. It's not an option for every situation I know, but if someone is treating you as if you don't matter... Well, you do. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b><i>#11. See a show on Broadway.</i></b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">It was somewhat off Broadway, but my friend Bill was pretty fantastic as Amos in a community performance of "Chicago" last weekend. I'm not sure this one "counts" in true 31 Things fashion, but I'm putting it anyway. :-) </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b><i>#15. Increase my blogging audience to 25 followers</i></b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">We're almost there folks! I'm up to 23 "official" followers -- thank you so much! This goal is really more about motivating myself to write and post more regularly. One of my "review" goals from my birthday is to get back to writing every Monday. So if you haven't become an official follower or subscriber yet, would you consider becoming one? (Even if just to give me the satisfaction of crossing something off my list.)</span></div><div><br></div><div><b><i>#26. Grow my savings account</i></b></div><div>I already updated you on this one, but I just have to say again how surprised I am that I've been sticking to this one. Saving money has long been a challenge for me, but I am grateful for a steady job I love that allows me to set money aside. And this process has reminded me that I really do have "enough". It has also convicted me of my desire to tithe and give regularly in a more purposeful way. I'm still working toward that, but will update as I go.</div><div><br></div></div><div><br></div><div>That's pretty much it for now, although I've got some fun plans in the works for <i>#9. Spend a day in downtown Detroit</i>, and <i>#18. Do a 5K run/walk</i>. I can't wait to see what else the year brings! Thanks for sharing, supporting, encouraging, and joining me in all my random adventures!</div><div><br></div><div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>What adventures or challenges are you looking forward to in the coming months? </i><i>Leave a comment below!</i></b></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-23217980774797919602013-04-16T01:38:00.001-04:002013-05-21T16:24:01.028-04:00Just Do You<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i><span style="color: #666666;">This year, I've decided to challenge myself to complete a list of 31 things that will challenge, inspire, and renew me. </span></i></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><i>I hope you'll let me know that you're following my adventures by clicking on the link to the left that says "Join this site" or by entering your email. I appreciate having you here and always read every comment!</i></span><br />
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I'm in the midst of reading my second book as part of my <a href="http://girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com/2013/01/31-things-to-do-final-list.html" target="_blank">31 Things... List</a>. This one is called <a href="http://www.happiness-project.com/books/the-happiness-project/about-the-book/" target="_blank">"The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin</a>.<br />
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To be honest, it was a little hard for me to get into another book for a few reasons. In January, when I first began my small adventure of compiling a list of things to accomplish, I was already in the midst of reading <a href="http://www.brenebrown.com/books/2012/5/15/daring-greatly.html" target="_blank">Brene Brown's "Daring Greatly"</a>. To say this book had a profound impact on me is putting it mildly. Reading through that book was like searching for a splinter; you poke and prod around a localized pain, until finally - "Got it!" It was painful, but ultimately freeing.<br />
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Reading "Daring Greatly", with its honest assessment of the effects of guilt and shame on our decision-making and self image, was like receiving a life evaluation and having to face up to all that stuff I'd been hoping to keep hidden. Basically, it was an intense experience for me and contributed, in part, to my making the 31 Things... List in the first place. <br />
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So really, to be honest - poor Gretchen Rubin. It isn't her fault that I had just had this huge life awakening! It took me a couple months of building up my nerve to even crack another book for two reasons - 1) how could it possibly measure up to the first book and 2) how would I survive if it did! <br />
Lucky for us all, this book has a different tone and approach, and it doesn't feel quite as intense (which, in this case, is a good thing). The idea behind the book is basically that we can all be happier. And through a number of her own systems and hours of research, Ms. Rubin is able to walk us through her own year of The Happiness Project.<br />
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I am in a kind of pendulum phase of happiness at the moment. I'm a naturally extroverted person, with a certain degree of trust issues, in the midst of a somewhat isolating time. I've been working to combat that by staying in regular communication with my "inner circle" of friends and family, and by listening to my own sense of boundary-setting in new relationships. I also tend to want an unhealthy amount of recognition, like the "gold stars" Ms. Rubin admits to needing. The day-to-day reality of that massive stew of dysfunction is that I float in and out of happiness depending on how well I'm listening to myself that day.<br />
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Maybe the number one thing I've been taking out of the book so far is Ms. Rubin's first rule of happiness - Be Gretchen. Or in my case, Be Katy.<br />
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Last summer I came to Detroit for a week to volunteer at <a href="http://casscommunity3.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Cass Community Social Services</a>, not knowing it would soon become my home, and while I was there spent time with a volunteer supervisor named Willie. Whenever Willie would give one of us a task, we'd always want more direction, to which Willie always replied - Just do you! <br />
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How should we stack these cans, Willie? <br />
Just do you!<br />
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Do you care if we clean out this back cabinet?<br />
Just do you!<br />
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Cheese first or bologna? <br />
Yep - do you!<br />
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I loved this about Willie, because it reminded me that we can get really lost in the details. Am I doing it right? Is someone noticing what a good thing I'm doing? Will I get my gold star? What if I don't do it perfectly? <br />
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But Willie was more interested in the big picture. He let go of control to serve the bigger need, and allowed us to have a deeper impact by being ourselves. Even now, after I've shared that story with other colleagues, I often say or hear someone say: Just do you. And I'm reminded to let down those walls of perfectionism or fear that I'm not enough, and to instead lead from my own strengths.<br />
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So I'm trying to take that advice to heart at the moment. Trying not to fill my days with fear of failure - I even picked up one of The Happiness Project's sayings: "failure is fun!" I'm working at taking chances that could have big rewards, without worrying overmuch about their chances of flopping. I'm trusting myself to discern and make decisions in the moment, knowing that worrying is really only affecting my stress level and not creating solutions.<br />
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And at the beginning and middle and end of each day, I try to check in - are you being Katy? And if not, well, let's say it together - Just do you.<div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-20667023246595158002013-03-23T18:59:00.001-04:002013-04-16T19:42:06.605-04:00Becoming Familiar<p>Wow, six months. Somehow it's been six months since I left the most familiar place in the world, the most familiar people in my life, and the two most familiar "grown ups" I know (that would be Mom & Dad).</p><p>Since then, life has been filled with a lot of really unfamiliar stuff. And while I've had moments of feeling like I'm really on to something here, I've got to admit that there is a good chunk of time on a good chunk of days when I'm still kind of wondering how this happened; how I ended up in this brand-new, unfamiliar place surrounded by lots of friendly, but still unfamiliar, faces.</p><p>Of course, I do know how it happened, it wasn't like I woke up one day in a new apartment. I weighed the options, did the calculations, prayed for wisdom; I asked my parents and close friends for their input. By complete happenstance, I even had a quiet week in the woods to ponder it. But moving can be a little bit like death - even when you know it's coming, it's still a shock.</p><p>When I first got to Redford, that shock felt a lot like those first few hours of freshman dorm life. I cried a little as my parents and friends drove away, but tried to remember that I'd survived freshman year, and I would survive this. I would survive the missed electrical appointments, and the stop and start internet hook up. I would survive the first phone call to my dad, and would even be able to hide the fact that I started to cry when I heard his voice. And I would survive the newness of a place that would hopefully start to feel like home.</p><p>In some areas I didn't just survive, but thrived. I jumped into work with both feet, and managed to keep a healthy balance with personal time - even if I didn't have a clue what to do with that time. But I feel good at my job, and I love the possibilities and flexibility of the work I do. In those first few months, I did some of the most balanced work I've ever done.</p><p>Especially compared with these last few weeks leading up to Easter, which were the most stressful since I've been here. Tight time frames and expectations around church traditions - ones I'm learning by the seat of my pants - it had me a little on edge. But as I've been reflecting on my constant exhaustion, and the number of times my friend-slash-boss asked if I was okay, I'm thinking that something else was at work in me. </p><p>And now that I've crossed that six month marker, I think I can admit it - I've been missing the "familiar" something fierce.</p><p>I miss turning left at the one way heading into downtown. I miss opening that back door and smelling three different kinds of coffee. I miss silent writing sessions with a partner, musicians who can read me by the way I take a breath, and Wednesday nights with my best friends. </p><p>But what falls into the "familiar" and "unfamiliar" camps has also sort of shifted over the past months. My friend Amy, who I didn't know existed six months ago, is now a cornerstone of my little support system. Falafel sandwiches whenever I want them have become a nice habit. And I couldn't imagine going back to my bat-infested rental in Midland. I'd even miss these bright yellow walls of my apartment that I thought I'd hate by now! </p><p>In a couple days, I'm going home to get a little dose of the familiar, and I could not be happier. But I also know that a few days after, when I head back again, I'll feel just as strongly that home is here too. I guess that's just how it is for now - home is where the heart is, even when the heart is in more than one place. </p><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-80603751232142265332013-03-03T15:09:00.000-05:002013-05-21T16:24:01.035-04:00February ... a 31 Things update <br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #666666;">This year, I've decided to challenge myself to complete a list of 31 things that will challenge, inspire, and renew me. You can find the complete list </span><a href="http://girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com/2013/01/31-things-to-do-final-list.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #674ea7;">here</span></a><span style="color: #666666;">. </span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I hope you'll let me know that you're following my adventures by clicking on the link to the left that says "Join this site" or by entering your email. I appreciate having you here and always read every comment!</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />February... the month of love, Mardi Gras, and paczki. Not, however, a month of great "list-crossing-offing-ness". But nevertheless, here is an update of my not so stellar February:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><b>#4. Perform at a poetry open mic</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I did this! Yay! :-) And it was an amazing night. I've written more about my experience and also shared my final poem in "<a href="http://girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com/2013/02/thirsting.html" target="_blank">Thirsting</a>".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As the year goes on, I may try to come at this one again. If there were a rule-keeper of my list (which there is NOT), it could be said that helping to organize the poetry night where I spoke might not make this as much of a challenge as say, going to a regular open mic event in front of other poets and strangers. But still, I'm counting this one as done.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><b>#25. Watch a film at the <a href="http://www.dia.org/detroitfilmtheatre/14/DFT.aspx" target="_blank">Detroit Film Theatre</a></b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A couple weeks ago, I went with a friend to see the Oscar-nominated short films (animated & live action) and it was SO worth it! I meant to write a longer entry about this, and might still come back to it, but this was one of the highlights so far of living in metro Detroit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">One reason for my list of 31 things was to find some interesting, challenging things that I could write about here. And of course, it's just nice to fill my life with interesting, challenging things. But I also wanted to use the list as a way of exploring and enjoying my new city. After watching this collection of incredible short-films, I drove back to my apartment feeling lucky to live in a place that celebrates art and beauty and diversity in the midst of difficulty.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><b>#26. Grow my savings account</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is ongoing, but I'm still (attempting) to follow the <a href="http://www.livingrichwithcoupons.com/2013/01/budget-52-week-money-challenge.html" target="_blank">52-weeks Money Challenge</a> AS WELL as a $100/month plan. I've had to dig into it once already, but my savings is still more than it has been before, so I'm counting it a win! (...for now...)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And that's pretty much my update... as I said, February didn't quite pack the punch I'd hoped it would in terms of my list, but there's still a lot of year left!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have plans to make TWO new recipes (#3) this month (to catch up...) and to get started on some reading (#7). The books are on my iPad, I just have to sit my butt down and do it! I'm also toying with an online Photoshop class or possibly a one-day art class </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(#12)</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. (Unfortunately, it's been difficult to find a class that doesn't conflict with other work responsibilities.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thanks to everyone who has been encouraging me in my adventures, either by sharing them with me or throwing new ideas my way. I love (and need!) the encouragement, because as you know, it is so easy to let the mundane parts of life swallow us up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Check in next month to see how March goes... and in the meantime: </span><br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>What new adventures or challenges are you facing this year? </i><i>Leave a comment below!</i></span></b><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-25829799268393026492013-02-16T13:32:00.005-05:002013-02-16T13:32:52.080-05:00Thirsting<b><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Thanks for checking out my blog! I love to read your comments and try to reply to each one. You can join this site and let me know you're reading by clicking on the links to the left.</i></span></span></b><br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7788949073292315"><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In my "real life" I get some amazing opportunities to be creative with words, which is one of my favorite things to do. This is a poem written for my new church community's first spoken word poetry event, held in the basement on a Friday night. (I'm not sure the last time that church has been rocking at 10:00 pm; we're shaking things up!)</span></span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The room was filled with people of all ages, races, places, and experiences. During the open mic, poetry came from pastors, students, strangers -- one woman came up in a walker to present her poem. It was a truly beautiful thing.</span></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">But what drew people to that place was the dream-child of my pastor and friend, Jeff - a poet's interpretation of the Seven Last Words of Christ. Each poet took one of those last sayings, and soaked in it, until a new thing rose out of it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I felt lucky and phony all at the same time when I was asked to contribute a poem. (Which, incidentally, is one of my <a href="http://girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com/2013/01/31-things-to-do-final-list.html" target="_blank">31 Things...</a>) I'm not really a poet, I like to say. I'm a writer who happens to sometimes choose poetry. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">But the real reason I can't quite claim "poet" is because it is a terrifying thing to be, to do. Poetry (specifically spoken word poetry) thrives in vulnerability; it rises to life when it's given hot air and moving lips. The best poetry comes from honest and humble and heartbreaking places. Even humor is actually rooted in this vulnerable truth.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">When I write for my blog or for my work, I'm able to pad the hard truths or little bits of shame with softer words or humor. I'm allowed, even expected, to make the difficult things easier to swallow, for myself and others.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Poetry is pads off, increasing the risk of pain and injury and bruising. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">So yeah, I try to stay away from poetry, and I often succeed. Then something like this poem happens, and I realize that it's been forming itself in me even without my intent. To be honest, this is my darkest poem to date. Maybe one of the darkest things I've written because the visual pieces came first and the words followed. And the process of writing it was excruciating, sometimes leaving me shaking and without sleep.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I hope you find some of your own truth in its words, and as always, I hope you'll share those thoughts with me. Because this poem is its own creation, I just gave it some words to ride...</span></span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></b>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7788949073292315"><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Later, knowing that everything had now been finished...Jesus said, “I am thirsty." A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. (John 19:28-29)</span></span></b></blockquote>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.7788949073292315"><span style="color: #351c75;"><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have been hung dry</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wrung out by sweat-soaked parade palms</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am cracked canvas of creation</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Raped of resource, of consequence, of circumstance</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am but a memory of ancient waterways</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I float, flakes of white ash in the wind</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Burned up, burnt out</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Blazing remains of apathy</span><br /><div dir="ltr" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ignorance</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">arrogance</span></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fleeting fancies of fire bugs</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am the long black train crossing heroin tracks</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am the twisted spine riding sweatshop backs</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am thirsty</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am the empty shell of man-hurled mortar rounds</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am the piercing smell of mass grave undergrounds</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am thirsty</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am the spaces within skin-lined sidewalks</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Flash bulb imprint on a black and white portrait</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Low hanging fruit of a Polish prisoner camp</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A face forgotten</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am the sun-soaked pavement under whittled down stiletto heels</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Stuck to a concrete corner </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lap dancing for dogs</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am the dehydrated souls of children sold across borders</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Stolen childhoods, hung to wither in back pages of magazines</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am dry</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am deeply dry</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Desperate for a day of harvest, for a reaping of the vineyard</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I thirst for the wine of foot-crushed grapes</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For the stain on a new community</span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Forged not in blood but in Living Water</span><br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am the Living Water </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And I am so thirsty</span></span></b><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-75878773229812549322013-02-09T19:00:00.002-05:002013-02-09T19:10:43.398-05:00Into Silence<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666;">DUSK IN THE FOREST by Roberto Nieto</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When I was a girl I went to an overnight camp in northern Michigan. Year after year I went, until I was too old to go back. I considered applying to be a counselor, but never did, and now the camp has shifted locations and doesn't look at all like it used to when I was younger.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But back then, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It taught me reinvention and self-discovery. Camp brought me experiences that were beyond any I would have imagined for myself -- love, heartbreak, travel, adventure, laughter, leadership, silliness, restfulness -- camp helped me become more than I was.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I remember one night standing a ways outside of my cabin. I was one of the older campers by this time, and we had a smaller cabin with more freedom and privileges than others. It was late at night, past the final bell, and the cabins had gone dark. They were spread out across a large wooded area, so far I couldn't even see them all. But on those nights when the air was clear, you could hear everything. And those were the nights I would sing.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"Amazing grace… how sweet the sound…."</i> </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I stood on a small bridge, maybe three large steps across, and sang into the night. It wasn't always the same song.</span><br />
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<i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Scarlet ribbons… scarlet ribbons… for her hair…" </span></i></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But I always sang. And looking back I don't know why I was never nervous or anxious. We were a fairly large camp, maybe a hundred heads laid down those nights. But when I sang it was just me, on a bridge over a stream, singing to the night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I miss that girl. That girl I was on those early evening nights. Those camp years blur together; I don't even remember how old she was, much less how she managed those moments. How she always found a song, always sang into the silence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">One of my <a href="http://girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com/2013/01/31-things-to-do-final-list.html" target="_blank">31 things</a> this year is to spend a whole day in silence. To be honest, I haven't given that one much thought since I first put it on my list. Even now, I'm surprised to be writing about it. But I think that the girl might have added that one to the list. One day for us to be together on a bridge over a stream, listening to the wind while the lights go out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Life will always have an audience. Music and ministry have taught me that. But the moments that change us, that carry us from one shore to the next, are the times when we speak into the silence first. Standing on a stage, in an airport, at a chalkboard, under a spotlight, in the beat of silence--that is where the discovery happens, where we reinvent ourselves.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>What memories from your childhood do you carry with you? What experiences helped you become who you are today? </i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Leave a comment below - I read every one! You can </i></span><i style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">let me know that you're reading by clicking on the link to the left that says "Join this site" or by entering your email.</i></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-31388692566386594762013-01-29T09:47:00.006-05:002013-05-21T16:24:01.030-04:00January ...a 31 Things update.<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #666666;">This year, I've decided to challenge myself to complete a list of 31 things that will challenge, inspire, and renew me. You can find the complete list </span><a href="http://girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com/2013/01/31-things-to-do-final-list.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #674ea7;">here</span></a><span style="color: #666666;">. </span></i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I hope you'll let me know that you're following my adventures by clicking on the link to the left that says "Join this site" or by entering your email. I appreciate having you here and always read every comment!</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">One of the goals around the <a href="http://girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com/2013/01/31-things-to-do-final-list.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #674ea7;">"31 Things..." list</span></a> is to help me re-engage with my blog; to give me a few things to talk about and get me back into the writing routine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You have no way of knowing this (so you'll have to take my word for it) but I've been writing a lot lately without posting it. Nothing is quite finished... nothing is quite good enough... I can't make the point I want to, or I follow some tangential thought until it doesn't make any sense any more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But in an effort to live out both the spirit and the details of my "31 Things..." I thought I could at least give you an update on how the list is going!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Here are a few areas where I've made some strides:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>#3. Make one new recipe each month</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">January's recipe was Broccoli/Mushroom Casserole from the <a href="http://books.google.com/books/about/The_New_Moosewood_Cookbook.html?id=yoVuMQEACAAJ" target="_blank"><span style="color: #674ea7;">"Moosewood Cookbook" by Mollie Katzen</span></a>. My lovely friend Meredith (who has a few more culinary "gifts" than I) gave me this for my birthday TWO years ago and I finally put it to excellent use. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">One of the best dishes I've ever made, and one of the best casseroles I've ever tasted. Lots of fresh veggies, "healthy" sauce using sour cream & cottage cheese (all things are relative folks), and lots of yummy leftovers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Not sure what next month's dish will be... but I know I'll be coming back to the Moosewood Cookbook again before the year is up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>#7. Read 12 "real" books</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I just finished <a href="http://books.google.com/books/about/Daring_Greatly.html?id=3rF7vvXa_yIC" target="_blank"><span style="color: #674ea7;">"Daring Greatly" by Brene Brown</span></a>, and if we've had a conversation even once in the last few weeks, you probably already knew that. I loved this book. I've been talking about it with everyone I know. One way I've described it is that it is filled with a truth that you realize you have always known; and yet no one else is saying it! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This book has helped me to think more clearly about my own sense of vulnerability and has given me some tools to live more fully in the moment -- even when the moment feels really scary, and I'd rather be defensive or hide away.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm sure I will be writing more about this book in future writings. More books up for consideration are "Tattoos on the Heart" by Gregory Boyle and "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>#26. Grow my savings account</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Late last year, right before I moved to Redford, I re-opened a savings account and starting contributing small amounts. Up until a couple years ago, I was spending a lot of energy at getting out of debt, which I did (yay!) But I wasn't giving any attention to a savings account.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My friends Jeff & Bridget introduced me to a savings plan they've recently adapted called the <a href="http://www.livingrichwithcoupons.com/2013/01/budget-52-week-money-challenge.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #674ea7;">52 Week Money Challenge</span></a>. Each week you put away that week's amount in $$$. (Ex: Week One = $1, Week 18 = $18, Week 43 = $43) Each week's amount is added to the amount already collected, and at the end of 52 weeks, you will have accumulated $1,378.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's a pretty pain-free start... but check in with me around November and we'll see how I'm feeling then. ;-)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Those are the three areas I have actually "done" something, but I already have plans to fulfill <i>#4. Perform a poetry open mic</i>; and <i>#25. Watch a film at the Detroit Film Theatre</i>; as well as offers for a few more! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>How are your goals for the new year going as we wrap up the first month? Are you keeping your resolutions, or thinking about re-starting again?</i></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-67137333729721089092013-01-03T23:36:00.001-05:002013-01-03T23:36:19.277-05:0031 Things To Do... the Final List.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The List is complete!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I put a couple screen shots below so you can see it in all it's glory. (I even picked out a new font just for the occasion.) But in case you can't read it or open the pictures -- I also included the list below:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><u>31 Things To Do In 2013:</u></span></div>
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<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Parasail over one of the Great Lakes</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Lose 31 pounds</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Make one new recipe each month</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Perform at a poetry slam</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Unpack - boxes, bags, bins, and all!</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Visit Steve in Virginia Beach</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Read 12 "real" books</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Get my bachelor's degree</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Spend a day in downtown Detroit</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Get a physical</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">See a show on Broadway</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Take an art or photography class</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Create some "Found Letter Art" with Allison Kyro</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Dye my hair a neon color (pink, purple or aqua)</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Increase my blogging audience to 25 "followers"</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Make some art for my apartment</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Go on a date</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Do a 5K run/walk</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Right a wrong</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sleep outdoors</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Volunteer 31 hours</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Watch Titanic, Braveheart, and Singin' in the Rain</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Simplify my 'stuff' (give it, sell it, toss it)</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Have something published</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Watch a film at the Detroit Film Theatre</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Grow my savings account</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Spend a whole day in silence</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Go canoeing</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Drive to Canada</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Go to the Detroit Zoo with a kid (parents welcome)</span></li>
<li style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Visit my grandparents' grave sites</span></li>
</ol>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-42121409182228309572013-01-02T03:09:00.000-05:002013-01-02T03:10:37.653-05:0031 things... the idea
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<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><u>Happy New
Year!</u></b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you’ve
been missing my blog posts, let me first say: <i>Thank you! </i>And I’ve been missing
you too!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This year is
possibly the ‘newest’ New Year that I’ve had in quite some time. Three months
ago I packed up, gave away, or threw out most of my worldly possessions (minus
some odds and ends hidden away at Mom & Dad’s house). I moved downstate to
a small town in the big area of metro Detroit and started a new job. And so far
it has been quite a ride.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now, I
usually <b>*hate*</b> the tradition of
making a New Year’s Resolution, but this seems to be a season of all things
‘new’ and I just can’t resist.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But here’s
where I need your help… <b><span style="color: purple;">For the year 2013, I’ll be making a list of 31 things
to do before the year is up.</span></b> <i>(One of those things will be – turning 31!)</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So far I
have <strike>18</strike> <b><span style="color: purple;">19</span></b> things that include (in no particular order):</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">make one
new recipe a month</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">perform at
a poetry slam</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">get a
physical</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">take an art
or photography class</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> And lots of other things...</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I could
really use some help because as it turns out, the first thing on my list is
already stumping me: <i>#1 -- Come up with a list of 31 things to do in 2013.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve already
received some great suggestions from friends, and I’ve been able to add quite a few to my
list. So if you have suggestions, I’m looking for challenges! The idea is to step out of my comfort zone in a variety of ways from the mundane to the terrifying, and to give myself permission to be vulnerable and emotionally aware in these new experiences. And of course -- to get some great pictures and crazy stories.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ll be posting
my completed list by the end of this week and then blogging about some of my
experiences as the year goes on. Here’s to a year of taking chances, opening
up, and telling everyone all about it!</span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-75435743361246722442012-10-18T20:14:00.000-04:002012-10-18T20:14:59.556-04:00Aching<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This past Saturday, my brother and I moved a truckload of
furniture from Traverse City down to Detroit in the most miserable conditions
of the season. It was raining and cold, and by the end, every part of me was
soaked to the skin. It was a grueling, altogether horrible experience, which I
plan on never repeating.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Since then, my body has been in a constant state of Ache. My
feet hurt, my knees hurt, my back hurts – even my eyebrows hurt. I’ve slept and
taken drugs and had plenty of water. There’s just no stopping the ache.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A few Saturdays before last Saturday, I made a similar move
with a different truckload of stuff (or rather: a truck, an SUV and a minivan
of stuff) from Midland to Detroit in altogether different conditions. The
weather was nice, the company was good, and the move was relatively easy. And
yet still – the ache. A different kind of ache, but just as real, just as
present, just as untreatable. </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">An ache for friendships changed, people lost, the moments
left behind. An angry aching for leadership and truth. I ache for what was, and
I ache for what will never be. I am in a constant state of Ache.</span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">To be honest, I’ve been really afraid of saying that I’m
aching; afraid that I might not be able to climb back up the walls of that dark
place. That by admitting the ache, I would shake the foundation of this new
place I’ve found. But I was wrong. Because whether I stand my ground, jump in,
or fall down, the walls still close in; squeezing slowly until all that’s left
is the Ache.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It is so incredibly counterintuitive, but the only way to
deal with these walls is to face them. Not to climb or smash through them,
although I have tried both. Not to hunker down or to bury yourself under them,
although I have tried those too.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">No, I have finally internalized that there is only one right
way for me. So here I am – at 11:59 PM – in that time between today and
tomorrow, facing the wall and feeling the ache. And finally, once again,
writing it down.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This might not make a lot of sense to you, this entry. But
it is the beginning… again; one in a long line of beginnings that I’ve needed
in the past ten years or so. And if ever I were to actually write a useful
guide to faith, I know it would always end here. With an ache and a beginning.
Again.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-25740635451514252182012-04-05T21:21:00.000-04:002012-04-05T21:23:07.904-04:00A Love Story<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Sometimes when I’m driving a topic will come to me that I know I want to write about. Often times it’s certain words or even complete sentences, and in that moment I know it will probably never make it onto a printed page. Because when I write, I release, and even if I’m writing only in my head, by the time I make it to my iPad or a computer, I’ve already let it go.<br /><br />I’m hoping this is not one of those times.<br /><br />Today is Maundy Thursday and I’m writing in what little time I have between leaving work and heading back for worship. Today kicks off a series of services that revisit and reflect on the days in Christ’s life leading up to his trial, execution and Easter resurrection. It is generally a time I revere with a mixture of morbid respect and genuine worship. It is also somewhat exhausting.<br /><br />As I was driving to catch a quick bite from Burger King (who gets my thanks for having veggie burgers on the menu) I was thinking about why it’s so exhausting. Today, for example, I didn’t do much at all in terms of preparing for the services. That was done weeks, even months, ago. I spent today planning for worship services happening weeks from now, answering emails, hanging posters; in all, I spent today like I would normally spend today. But as I left the office, I felt totally spent and zeroed in on the reason. Guilt. <br /><br />Guilt is this nasty cloud that hangs over the season of Lent and especially this weekend. At some point in every service I’ll go to, I will hear the words that Christ died for me. And for you and the salvation of the world. How can I not feel guilty? Christ died for me and I overeat. Christ died for me and I forgot to wear my good shoes to church. Christ died for me and I ran out of toilet paper. Christ died for me and I do all sorts of stupid things that don’t honor his sacrifice at all.<br /><br />Last year I </span><span style="font-size: small;">(and half the planet)</span><span style="font-size: small;"> discovered the songstress Adele, and I fell completely and totally in love with her. On her first album she recorded Bob Dylan’s <i>Make You Feel My Love</i>. God, with generous help from Miss Adele, has imprinted those words on my heart. This is what I hear… <br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Katy,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">When the rain is blowing in your face and the whole world is on your case, I could offer you a warm embrace to make you feel my love. When the evening shadows and the stars appear, and there is no one there to dry your tears, I could hold you for a million years to make you feel my love. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />I know you haven’t made your mind up yet, but I would never do you wrong. I’ve known it from the moment that we met; no doubt in my mind where you belong. I’d go hungry; I’d go black and blue; I’d go crawling down the avenue. No there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do to make you feel my love. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />The storms are raging on the rolling sea and on the highway of regret; the winds of change are blowing wild and free. But you ain’t seen nothing like me yet. I could make you happy; make your dreams come true – nothing that I wouldn’t do – go to the ends of the earth for you to make you feel my love. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />To make you feel my love,<i> God</i></span></blockquote>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />So those are the words I sang in my car while I was driving to Burger King with a supersized case of guilt and exhaustion. Jesus loved me. I mean, the human Jesus maybe didn’t, since he didn’t know me yet, but that part gets a little confusing and trinitarian. But I definitely believe he loved his friends that he shared Passover with, the last supper we remember tonight on Maundy Thursday. If there was ever a time to start laying on the guilt trip, it was that night. But Jesus didn’t do that.<br /><br />For Jesus, the many days we have come to honor as Lent were not about a shadow of guilt or doom. They were about a singular purpose: Love. There’s this line in the song: <b style="color: purple;"><i>“I’d go hungry; I’d go black and blue; I’d go crawling down the avenue. No there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do to make you feel my love.”</i></b> It doesn’t say: “there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do to make you feel like you owe me” or “there's nothing that I wouldn't do to remind you that you don’t deserve this.”<br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I’m not saying we don’t owe Jesus and I’m not saying we do deserve forgiveness and the promise of peace after we die. I suppose I must be saying that we do owe Jesus and we don’t deserve it. But my point is: that’s not what <b>He </b>is saying. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>He </b>is saying something more like <b><i style="color: purple;">“I could make you happy; make your dreams come true – nothing that I wouldn’t do – go to the ends of the earth for you to make you feel my love.”</i></b><b style="color: #20124d;"> </b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">God, I confess I have not loved you with my whole heart. I have not remembered in my weaker moments that you are there with me, within me. And yet I draw from your strength in my weakness and from your weakness in my strength. You are my source of humility and honor. You are love. Amen.</span></i><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-26790177798978618692012-02-28T18:45:00.002-05:002012-02-28T18:46:15.933-05:00Wild Stillness<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<i style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What is prayer? How often do you pray and when do you do
it? Do you pray for specific things if people ask you to? Do you say the
same thing or nothing at all?</span></i><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It’s no secret that I rarely desire liturgical prayer as a way of sensing God’s presence. I never seem to find that elusive “still voice” during Traditional Prayer. But, as in previous posts </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com/2008/05/prayer.html" target="_blank">here</a></span><span style="font-size: small;"> and </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com/2011/10/prayer-and-laments.html" target="_blank">here</a></span><span style="font-size: small;">, I’m coming to realize that what I’ve sort of always assumed was how everyone prayed is not, in fact, how everyone prays. So it was probably a good thing that my small group sat down last week and had a conversation about prayer.<br /><br />Recently I’ve discovered that I find great comfort in writing my prayers. I don’t do it often, but when I do I always feel more in touch with God and that Spirit-core that I believe is in each of us. I started writing my prayers as an exercise in praying for others. What really sparked the idea was that I could look back at the prayers later, maybe check in to see what God had been doing. (I guess maybe I wanted to keep tabs.)<br /><br />So I began writing out prayers for two of my close friends. (For transparency’s sake, I must admit to having become remiss in this practice as of late.) But in the process of praying for them, I found that my own sense of well-being was changed. My soul felt strengthened, my energy was renewed, my peace was returned. I was also reminded of the need for honesty in any conversation with God.<br /><br />I should mention that when I talk about “writing” my prayers, I mean by hand. Like with pen and paper. When I type I am a compulsive editor. I rewrite almost every third sentence without even blinking and barely notice how often I backspace to use a slightly different vocabulary word. Putting pen to paper is a different animal altogether, requiring thought and good penmanship.<br /><br />But even with pen in hand the desire to “correct” my prayers was much stronger than I had anticipated. As I wrote, I’d find myself wanting to change pronouns or write with a more Theologically Sound vocabulary. As I prayed for a friend’s marriage, I found myself wondering if the words I was using were the “right” words. Would these words be good enough? Would they be strong enough to bring the kind of healing that was needed?<br /><br />One night as I was writing and the urge to edit was especially strong, I suddenly realized how very self-important I was being. I had censored myself before God. Not out of a desire to know God more but out of a desire to prove that I knew God best. In that moment I knew that God was indeed speaking to me. And he was saying quite clearly: <i style="color: #444444;">Stop that.</i><br /><br />Recently one of my pastors <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Kings%2019:1-15a&version=NLT" target="_blank">read</a> of the prophet Elijah and his retreat to the wilderness. And so it’s Elijah I’ve been thinking of these days. He was afraid, running from a rumored threat against his life. He is beat up, tired, and wants to have it out with God. <i style="color: #444444;">Why are you here?</i> God asks. Alone in the wilderness, God speaks to Elijah, but the prophet is so full of his own importance that he can’t understand. The wind, the fire, the earthquake, these huge displays of power and God says: <i style="color: #444444;">Nope, that isn’t me. I am the silence, the peace, the stillness.</i> But Elijah doesn’t want to hear that. He’s still tired, still afraid. And God’s response remains mysterious: <i style="color: #444444;">Why are you here?</i> God asks. <i><span style="color: #444444;">Why are you here?</span></i><br /><br />In the end, Elijah receives instruction to go in another direction, to continue his ministry. But I’ve been wondering if there isn’t something missing in the story. Did Elijah miss the bigger opportunity? Sure, God gave him direction, took pity on him (as God is prone to do) but Elijah had a chance to really talk with God. To sit for a moment on the mountainside and say: <i style="color: #444444;">God... I’m lost here. I’m lost here without you. And all the prophetic words I speak, the great speeches I’ve made, the words and plans and futures I’ve spoken of, have left me somehow empty. Needing you. So I’m tired and I’m afraid and at the end of the day, I just want to be with you. Not the earthquake, not the fire, not the wind or the rain or the great winds – just you, in the quiet of the early evening.</i> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">A year has gone by since I looked out over the rolling hills of that same wilderness where Elijah spoke with God. It was a sunny day. The shadows from the spotty clouds made the empty land look like a watercolor. It was surreal and somehow eternal, frightening and comforting. If I had walked even a mile in any other direction I would have been entirely alone. <br /><br />There are wide sections of wilderness throughout the holy land of Palestine, Israel and their neighboring countries. They have held the prayers not only of Elijah, but of Moses, John the Baptist, perhaps Mary and Joseph as they traveled to Christ’s birthplace. And for 40 days, they sheltered and shaped Jesus himself. <br /><br />Not only is God not absent in the wilderness of our lives, he seeks it. But as with Elijah, his answer to our cries is unsettling. We look to the sky for the lightning bolt, the crashing thunder; we anxiously stand, waiting for the earth to move beneath our feet. But God does not come this way. God is something else entirely. God is wild stillness. And in this stillness, God asks: <i><span style="color: #444444;">Why are you here? </span></i><br /><br />Perhaps Elijah did open his heart to God that day. Perhaps he left unrecorded the words he desperately needed to share with God and God alone. Or perhaps he did miss an opportunity. One thing is certain; God was there, as God always is when we run to him. So write, sing and cry out; kneel, bow down, or stand up. Lift your arms; press your palms together. However, wherever and whenever you seek him, know that God will meet you in your wildest places. And if you hear him question, answer honestly and find rest in the wild stillness.</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-37819585209519993952012-02-17T15:32:00.000-05:002012-02-17T15:32:32.485-05:00Four minutes<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">If I had four minutes to tell you something meaningful and blog-appropriate it is this: </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Welcome everyone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Listen without inserting your own inner monologue. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Do not multi-task. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When someone gets mad at you for a bunch of little things, ask them what is actually wrong; and don't take it personally. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When something is wrong, don't get mad at someone for a bunch of little things; tell them what is wrong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Take one moment each day and imagine something.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Write your prayers and don't edit them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Love yourself as you would have others love you. </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-78339001211759148182012-02-10T15:52:00.003-05:002012-02-10T15:55:15.637-05:00The Middle<div style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i>Do you ever feel equally self-aware and clueless? Welcome...</i></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I desire reflective writing. I love the idea of sitting and filling pages with stream-of-consciousness writing. But when I sit to give form to fleeting thoughts, I inevitably come to a place where I just stop. The place where my judgmental self catches on to what is happening and shuts it down. It’s as if I sneak onto a movie set to make my own original and fabulous film, and then I’m suddenly caught; the cameras stop rolling, security is called and all is wrapped for the night.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But not today. Today I’m going to be extra sneaky. I’m going to battle through, which means a good portion of this will not ever make sense. In fact, I’ll probably delete those parts, so don’t you worry about it. Just make believe. The magic of Hollywood.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Last week I ventured to the TEDxMidland event and was mediocred. Is that a word? Let’s just say I was not wowed. But I was inspired to come home and immediately begin watching TED talks that did wow me. Talks and presentations and conversations that just blew my brain to pieces and made me remember why I love new ideas and new people. Innovation is not about business or finances or technology. Innovation is about people and humanity; it’s mystery and imagination.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">One talk was given by the author of “Eat, Pray, Love”. She was funny and witty and beautiful, and I now want to be like her in every way. Have you ever met someone like that? Or watched them in some interview or presentation and in that moment, they are everything you wish you were? Not only that, but they actually inspire you to recognize that you could indeed be that put together and brilliant, if you just tapped into the amazing brilliance inside?</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So anyway, back the witty and beautiful author. First of all, she should have played herself in that movie. More to the point, she expressed some amazing thoughts on the creative process. Recounting the ancient ideas that muses or geniuses or daemons were outside forces that came upon people, inspiring their creative endeavors, she promoted a return to the ancient practice of separating oneself and one’s self-worth from the creative process.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Here is what spoke to me: We have some responsibility. We do not however, have all the responsibility. We do not owe our soul to our art. We may find some sense of meaning from that which we create, but those days when inspiration is out of reach, should not lead us to conclude that we have somehow lost our meaning. All of us are called to create – I truly believe that – but that doesn’t mean that every day we’ll create something we want to keep.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Back at the hometown TEDx event, one presenter (not quite as lovely as Ms. EatPrayLove) spoke on the importance of failure. We must fail often, he professed. We should crave and seek opportunities that may or may not lead to failure. We need to take risks and relish the process, even if the process leads us to a total flop.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Not so easy, says I. The challenge the presenter talked about is in finding ways of measuring or recognizing small moments of progress along the way. How do we celebrate the small steps that might lead to larger failures? Do we only rate ourselves on the end product? I think so. And I think, as did the speaker, that this is the major flaw in most of our processes.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Just the other day a friend introduced me to a new blog writer – new to me anyway. She (the blogger) is a recovering addict, a mother, a writer, a liberal Christian and, in short, a perfect fit for me. I was reading one of her earlier entries about her first days of recovery from alcohol addiction. I was astonished to hear her describing my life. She writes about sitting in her room one day with her sister and looking at what her life had become, or at least the outward signs of her life. Sitting on her bed, they surveyed the mess of clothes and wine bottles and old magazines that littered her bedroom. In that moment she realized she no longer knew how to value anything. Boom. I thought of what I see from that same place in my own house; empty shoe boxes, piles of clothes, trash, old books, just a mess of things that pile up and take up space in my house. Then I thought about all the other vantage points in my house where things are even worse. I realized that I too have lost the ability to value things. Or at least, my spectrum is skewed.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">For some time now, I have been seeking some help with this predicament. About six months ago, I finally began to go to therapy to deal with… well, whatever came up I suppose. To be honest, I first went to therapy because someone finally said this to me: You are an amazing and insightful person; I think you should try going to therapy.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It doesn’t exactly sound like those two sentences go together. Maybe I’d always thought I couldn’t be amazing or insightful to anyone as long as I was broken and in need of therapy. So I chose to ignore one or the other, depending on the day. Until I finally got the memo that I could in fact be both. So I started therapy. I’m not sure if I like it or not, and I’m not sure if it’s helping me. I know that I’m thinking about certain things differently than I have before. It might be worth it for that reason alone. But that is another story for another day…or days.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I suppose that’s the point though. That at The End of any self-reflection is actually a Middle. There is always another story for another day. Heck, I literally wrote most of this story on another day. But none of it means anything when it’s still just an End. It only starts to mean something when it becomes a Middle; when we’ve disentangled the muse and can look back at our lives, or the products of our lives, with some degree of distance.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So if you’re looking for a good, solid wrap-up ending, this is not that entry. But check back, I’m sure it will make much more sense in the future.</span><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Middle.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-81413930922461274552012-01-20T12:08:00.003-05:002012-01-20T12:14:08.958-05:00Unbuilding the Wall<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Typically, when I come out of a counseling session, I am entirely content leaving everything behind me on the proverbial couch. But back in November I had the bright idea that I would start to journal after my sessions. It’s not going so great. Counseling itself is going fine, but the whole post-therapy reflecting – not good. Every so often though, a session just demands it.<br /><br />I knew going in that this week’s was going to be one of those sessions. The kind in which I start crying at deep and prying questions like: <i>How was your day?</i> or <i>Did you have a good weekend? </i><br /><br />The type where I feel completely transparent, completely exposed, hoping when I leave that no one asks: <i>Katy, are you okay?</i> Because basically the answer to that is always no. If I don’t look okay, I probably don’t feel okay. And if I don’t feel okay, I probably don’t want to talk to you about it. I want to put the wall back up and put you decisively on the other side of it.<br /><br />In fact, as I start getting closer to all those raw emotions, I’m discovering how little I want to talk to anybody. Supposedly that’s why I started to blog and pound out some of those feelings in my writing.<br /><br />So here goes. <br /><br />I am sad and frustrated and I feel really alone a lot of the time. Like, maybe even the majority of the time. But I work really hard at not feeling that way and harder still at making sure no one else sees when I’m feeling that way.<br /><br />I’ve made sure the wall between us has fun, bright graffiti on it, covered in equal amounts poetry and punch lines. It’s a very presentable wall and I’ve spent somewhere north of 20 years building it. I am a master wall architect.<br /><br />For the most part, my frustration boils down to a common problem; I want something that I simply don’t have. When I have a bad day, I want to go home and talk to someone about it. When I have a good day, I want to go home and talk to someone about it. I want someone else to empty the litter box or tell me they like my sweater or see me when my hair is really messed up in the morning and laugh with me. I want someone who matches me; someone who fits. (And I really do want someone else to empty the litter box.)<br /><br />Unfortunately, these days that means I don’t want to hear about the little fights my friends are having with their husbands or their wives. I don’t want to know when their kids say silly things or dress up like a cowboy. It doesn’t make me giggly to hear about the “incident” with your lipstick or your husband’s briefcase. Actually, it makes me sad and sometimes, if I’m honest, a little bit mad. Not at you really, or your husband or your kids, just at life or myself or maybe my therapist for making me think about it in the first place.<br /><br />All the little hurts, the single-moment memories that I’ve stored up like old wine bottles, have not aged well. And when I spend a 50-minute hour taking down those bottles for a taste, I can’t help but leave a little tipsy, not sure which way is up.<br /><br />I do want to know about your kids and your partner and your silly stories. But you might need a little extra patience these days. That distant look isn’t because your kids aren’t cute, it’s because hearing about them makes me just the tiniest bit sad.<br /><br />If therapy is teaching me anything, it’s teaching me that I’m not quite as wise and not quite as ready for the future as I thought I was. And that any significant change between me and the world outside my wall is going to take a little more transparency and a lot more time. Transparency with those who love me and can handle the bursts of crazy that come out, and a lot of time being honest with myself about where I am, what I want and why I’m not there yet.<br /><i style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Do you carry an unrealized dream around with you? How do you deal with those feelings?</span></i></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-67303470242956401342011-12-06T10:53:00.001-05:002011-12-06T11:02:49.665-05:00Seeking Advent<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>My wonderfully insightful friend <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#%21/detroitnelsons" target="_blank">Jeff Nelson</a> has been
recording a daily Advent video reflection. He’s encouraging others to join in
his conversation – this is my response.</i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Each year, I struggle to journey through the dual realities
of Advent: what it is and what it should be. I suppose I’m seeking to find
where those two sides of Advent overlap. And how that overlap might change my
understanding of what the event of Christmas was and who the person of Christ
is.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">As each day draws me nearer to Christmas, I find that my
heart is just a little more open, just a little more vulnerable, just a little
more willing to see the joy and beauty and simplicity of a world that welcomes
babies every day. And also a little more easily hurt, a little more easily
broken. Sometimes in the midst of the hurt, I can’t see beyond that. But God
isn’t breaking my heart, God is opening my heart.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">If broken is what Advent is then open is what Advent should
be.</span></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I’m in the midst of reading and teaching from Adam
Hamilton’s book, “<a href="http://www.journeythischristmas.com/" target="_blank">The Journey</a>”. He includes a DVD segment each week filmed on
location in Bethlehem, Nazareth, and the surrounding countryside. Nine
months ago I stood in the same places that I see in his video footage. I walked
alongside the same buildings and looked into the same scenes.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">What I learned from being on the ground of that place is
that it is not so different from any other place. It is not covered in the
shadow of angels’ wings or the soft sparkle of star light. There are wise men,
but also dumb men and mean men and just average men. There are new mothers and
old mothers, scared mothers and those who would be mothers. It is an every day
kind of place where families have lived for generations. For these people, in
this place, the Holy Land is not a place to deepen
a theology but a place to find a husband, to build a home, to build a life. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">If miraculous is what Advent was then normal and everyday is
what Advent should be.</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">As I wrote about <a href="http://girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com/2011/11/so-it-begins.html" target="_blank">last week</a>, I find the joy of Christmas is
often overshadowed by long hours and impossible expectations. Some of us in
ministry – myself included – are the worst offenders. We pick and prod at each
other, complaining about lighting and greeters and poinsettia arrangements. The
season should thrill us with excitement and energy. But we seem to spend most
of our time exhausted.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">In the last three years, I’ve watched three close friends each
experience the joy, surprise, and pain of pregnancy. In each circumstance, the
waiting and expectation began long before a pregnancy was confirmed. Each one
spent months, even years, praying for a child, hoping for a future full of new
life. These women have taught me that our time of waiting and our desire for
new life often begins before we even know what we’re waiting for. And often
continues long after we’ve prayed and wished and begged for it to become
reality.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">If desperate is how Advent leaves us feeling then hope is
what Advent should inspire us to seek.</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">From one seeker to another – don’t allow the bright lights
of Christmas to drown out that more important inner light that Advent provides.
The wisemen, the shepherds, the seekers and the dreamers who sought a baby they
hoped would be king didn’t do so because all the stars in the heavens pointed
the way. They sought one star, one direction, one truth. They sought a
difficult and winding path because of the light in their own hearts.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Be merry. Be joyful and full of laughter. Rejoice in the
bright reality of Christmas. But also keep your heart open, live simply and
have hope that the true shining light at the summit of the season is a light
that remains in you always.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Faith. Hope. Love. But the greatest of these is love.</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-1665308218943231722011-11-28T12:12:00.001-05:002011-12-06T10:59:17.261-05:00So It Begins<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">In my book, fall isn’t officially over until Thanksgiving. This
means that the winter season can not officially begin until the leftovers are
finished. Because I might love fall, but I pretty much hate winter.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The only thing I don’t hate about winter is Christmas. It is
totally cliché, but I love Christmas. I love lights and garland and Christmas
trees. And I especially love early evenings spent reading by a fireplace or
watching one more holiday movie. (As always, I suggest: Elf.)</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Christmas is one of the few protected holidays in my family.
We don’t go anywhere. We make no plans. We simply get up, stay home, and practice
being a family. I know that as my brother and I get older, we will eventually
have families of our own and may want to start new traditions. But that only
serves to make these remaining Christmas Days all the more special.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">This year, Christmas falls on a Sunday. Now for you, that
might not make you shake in your boots. In fact, you might think that sounds
awfully nice, kind of fuzzy and warm, to celebrate Christmas Day on the
traditional day of weekly worship. I would wager that you probably didn’t have
a small panic attack when you looked at the calendar and in fact, it’s not
unlikely you didn’t even know Christmas was on a Sunday until I just wrote it
here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Well not me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I knew since last Christmas that this year’s Christmas was
on a Sunday because I work at a church and Sundays are kind of our thing. I
love the church at Christmas time. It feels warm and friendly; Christmas is the
time when I’m reminded that the church still has hope, still has a chance to
reach people, to help people, to be a good and tolerant place. But it’s also
where I have an office during a crazy busy season.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Earlier in November when work was a relatively normal state
of busy, I started to wonder if maybe I exaggerate the work load of the weeks
leading up to Christmas. I mean, shouldn’t it really be one of the easiest
seasons at a church? We basically do the same things as last year and the year
before that. Jesus was born, away in a manger, while shepherds harked to herald
angels on the very first noel. Joy to the world!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">And I have another tradition each Christmas season – believing
that <i>this</i> year won’t be so crazy. Each
year I enter the season thinking that this is when I’ll get everything right. I
won’t work long hours, won’t commit myself in too many places, won’t wait to do
Christmas shopping until the week of Christmas. This year will be my year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Basically that means my tradition is to lie to myself. But
please don’t burst my Christmas bubble. I need some denial to get through the
season.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">So if we see each other, maybe we should just talk about
blinking lights and frosted cookies. Maybe you shouldn’t mention that I have
two concerts in as many weeks and don’t know the music to either. Or that my
brother is moving away and this might be the last regular family Christmas we
have. Or that our office is barely managing a schedule change for the New Year
and I’m feeling pulled in so many directions I might actually fall apart. Or
that I don’t know how I’ll afford any Christmas presents this year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">And when Christmas Sunday finally does arrive, maybe you
could let me lean on you just a little bit. Maybe you could remind me that
Jesus didn’t enter the world so that we could run faster through the check out
lines or become trapped in traditions or exhaust ourselves for the bigger and the
better. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Maybe on Christmas Sunday you could remind me that Jesus was
about peace and love and rest. And if you feel like reminding me of any of
those things a little early, that’d be okay too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">And who knows – maybe this really will be the year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #999999; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Do you find yourself overwhelmed during the Christmas season? Or is it a season of rest and renewal? How do you make time for family and traditions during Christmas?</i> </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-21349375906740158232011-11-15T20:47:00.001-05:002011-11-15T21:39:33.702-05:00Music.<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>All the songs quoted here are from Page CXVI, "Hymns - IV". I strongly encourage you to visit their site <a href="http://blog.pagecxvi.com/post/12241127367/stream-hymns-iv">here</a> to stream these songs live. If you do it now, you can even listen as you read!</em></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<em>\\ The air feels thin \ Hard to breathe \ Fill our lungs Lord, fill our lungs \ On darker days \ We lift our eyes \ We find a trace, we find a trace \\ Bursting through the sky with glory \ A savior comes to save the saints \ Redemptive eyes, we see your mercy \ You made the choice, you took our place \\ I’m coming home \ I’m coming home \ To a place, to a place \ Of love and mercy, truth and glory \ I’m home, I’m home \\ I’ve got a home in glory land \ Outshines the sun \ Outshines the sun \\ ("Song of the Saints", track 4)</em></blockquote>
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This weekend has been a reminder that I’ve been missing something in my life. Music. On one hand, my every day is filled with nothing but the business of music. But just like the business of worship is not worship, the business of music is not music.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On Saturday, at a children’s festival, I saw anew the joy of experiencing music with one’s whole body. An amazing reminder that through music we praise a loving, living God, who revels in our dancing and loud clashing cymbals and full expression of the Creator-placed love within us.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Saturday night I went to support a friend’s band and was filled to overflowing with the peace of music, the way in which music can fill you with a feeling of contentedness. I was in exactly the right place, in need of nothing outside the music. His is an eclectic sound – a melting together of rhythms and melodies that speak into the night.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Music draws us together. It calls to a deep, ancient part of us that seeks connection and understanding. A part of us that acknowledges our lives continue only in relationship with those rhythms – internal, external and eternal.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<em>\\ I will sing to you this song of thanks \ For giving me abundant grace \ You broke the stones around my heart \ In you I’ve been redeemed \\ Amazing grace how sweet the sound \ That saved a wretch like me \ I once was lost but now I am found \ Was blind but now I see \\ ("Amazing Grace", track 1)</em></blockquote>
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In my world, I have a tendency to ask how music can serve others. So much so that it can become the only way I look at music – supply and demand. And in my experience, that is exactly the point at which music ceases to be. Music is never about supply and demand. We don’t sing along with our favorite song because it’s demanded of us. Most any musician would say that if they made music on a supply and demand schedule alone, they’d probably never make music.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But indeed music is my job, or at least a big part of my job. As such I get lots of emails and samples of new music to preview or download. Sometime earlier this year I received a sample of some new tracks by a band called Page CXVI and have become enamored by their collections. (Even as I type, I have my headphones on and find myself pausing every few minutes to close my eyes and rest in the sound.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Maybe that is the center of what divides music from the business of music – rest.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<em>\\ God is my shepherd \ I won’t be wanting, I won’t be wanting \ He makes me rest in fields of green \ With quiet streams \\ Even though I walk through \ Through the valley of death and dying \ I will not fear, ‘cause you are with me \ You’re always with me \\ Your shepherd staff comforts me \ In all my fears and the presence of enemies \ And surely goodness will follow me \ In the house of God forever \\ ("House of God Forever", track 6)</em></blockquote>
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have been reading and seeking a deeper meaning of rest. Of sacred, spiritual rest. Only very recently have I been rediscovering the power of music as mediator; its power to bring about this sacred rest.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I’ve been told that when people who self-mutilate are asked why they cut they respond that cutting makes sense of the pain. It gives the pain a center, a tangible location. And don’t we do this in less drastic ways all the time? Lash out at our friends, our children, our parents, our colleagues – ourselves. We find a center for the pain; a point to focus pain that otherwise confuses us and spins away.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<em>\\ Don’t lose your heart \ To doubts and fears \ Take in his word \ And rest in his grace \\ He laid out a path for me \ That I may see \\ I sing because I’m happy \ I sing because I’m free \ For his eye is on the sparrow \ And I know he watches me \ Ah… \\ ("His Eye Is On the Sparrow", track 2)</em></blockquote>
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The storm has begun to feel like a familiar place. In some ways, I suppose that’s just how it is sometimes. Certain times of our lives are stormy times. But there is a difference between the storms that surround us and the storms that are self-inflicted.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I spend hours upon hours in an attempt to control the chaos around me and maybe more to control the chaos within me. But music is my safety net. It offers me peace, a lullaby in the storm. It redeems me.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<em>\\ I’m so glad I’ve learned to trust thee \ Precious Jesus, savior, friend \ And I know that thou art with me \ Wilt be with me ’til the end \\ Jesus, Jesus how I trust him \ How I’ve proved him o’er and o’er \ Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus \ Oh for grace to trust him more \\ Jesus, Jesus \ How I trust you \\ ("Tis So Sweet to Trust In Jesus", track 7)</em></blockquote>
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I truly believe that music can heal us. Music speaks to our spirits, opens our hearts and purges our pain, nurtures our joy. In our creating, appreciating and resting in music we mirror a Great Comforter who creates, appreciates and rests.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In a complex, dissonant, sometimes cruel world, I am seeking just such simplicity. Heart to hand, breath to lips, fingers to dancing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Tis a gift.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>\\ When I feel lost and clouds arise \ I long for a home \ As hope within me dies \\ Jesus is my portion \ He sets me free \\ I sing because I’m happy \ I sing because I’m free \ For his eye is on the sparrow \ And I know he watches me \\ ("His Eye Is On the Sparrow", track 2)</em></span></blockquote>
</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-1776126393788067842011-11-07T18:54:00.001-05:002011-11-07T21:43:03.619-05:00Mud.<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I vaguely remember being on a community soccer team when I
was in elementary school. And every practice or game was a reminder that I am
not cut out for such things.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I remember playing once after it had just rained; it was
miserable and wet and muddy. And I hated it. All I wanted was for the game to
be over. I honestly felt with all my might that I could actually die in the
middle of a stupid soccer field while my miserable, wet parents looked on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">In an unusually athletic(ish) maneuver, I tried to kick the
ball away from an approaching player – and failed – landing instead on my wet
and muddy rear end, while the game went on without me. I remember sitting
there, thinking: This. This is what my
life is at this moment. I think I hate this. Why am I DOING this?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Well, mud; I’m back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Half a year and many moons ago, I wrote what I foolishly
thought could be a final chapter on weight loss. And for such a significant
part of the year, I felt a new-found sense of control over food. But if that
was a peak, then the rest of it has been a muddy ditch. And once again I repeat: This. This is what my life is at this moment.
I think I hate this. Why am I DOING this?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">In the game of weight loss and new-life living, I can't
really pinpoint any one moment of failure. I can't even tell you when I peaked
because, not knowing I was about to slip, I didn't think to notice. All I know
is that somehow I lost my footing and slid down to here. Again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">In an attempt to grab some traction, I recently quit my
second job. It was a logical, intellectual decision about time and Sabbath and
living a sacred lifestyle, but in those silent moments that I've created, I
don't know what to do with myself. So I end up watching episodes of CSI or
Bones or Ugly Betty. I sleep a lot or build villages with the help of
computer-generated pirates. (None of which is very sacred.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Truth? What I want is a brand-new me: a brand new start and
a brand new life. I don’t want to figure out how to live this new life; I want
to have <i>lived</i> a different life. Before
writing this, I read someone else’s blog that said something like: People sell the idea of going from misery to
happiness in three simple steps. But really, it takes more like a million
steps.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I guess the part they don’t want to tell you is how many of
those steps are going backward.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Life is a lot more like ‘Chutes and Ladders’ than a three-step
self-help book anyway. You exhaust yourself trying to climb up to yet another
vantage point, trying to stay in control despite the unknown spin that may or
may not move you on to the finish line. And then, just when you’re so close,
you slip and go all the way back down to some stupid square you already passed
by three times.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">My brain gets it. It gets that my life is not so bad. It
gets that what I choose to do or not do with my time is ultimately up to me. It
gets the logical reality of cause and effect, decision and consequence. But
sometimes I feel more like I’m back to playing a game I never wanted
to play. And I want some assurances that if I do climb back up, there won't be
some surprising fall again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">But, sigh, there are no assurances. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">There is just the next roll or spin; the moment <i>after</i>
you fall on your ass in the rain. Not the moment when the world closes in and
not even the moment when you slap at the helping hand of your friend or coach
or teammate. It’s not the moment when you lose your breath; it’s the moment
when you find it. When you put your hand on the ground and push up into the
rain. Into the miserable reality that in fact the game isn’t over yet. And
maybe you aren’t the best player, but you can sure do damn better than sitting
in the mud.</span><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #666666;">Have you ever fallen and given serious thought to just staying down?</span></em> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6715788964232094565.post-32269967255686937382011-10-31T17:02:00.000-04:002011-10-31T22:15:43.577-04:00Prayer and Laments<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Two of my very dear friends have endometriosis (more fully explained <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Endometriosis">here</a>). Both have experienced multiple treatments and medications and adapted to ever-changing pain management plans while also: working on their marriages, raising their children, and being amazing friends to me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">These wonderful women are part of my small group that meets each Wednesday. We’ve cried and lamented and shaken our fists. And we’ve lifted thanksgivings and given praise. We’ve done everything we can think of on their behalf in our conversations with God each week. And still our friends are in pain.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And while one of our friends seems to be finally finding some relief, our other friend’s case is decidedly more difficult and complex, with what seems to be a never-ending list of complications.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I won’t lie. I am pretty upset with God about this. Why God? Why would you be faithful to some and not to others? Why would you turn a deaf ear to all of us who literally beg each week, each day even, that you would heal this hurt and end this suffering? Why would this faithful, trusting, joyful person who does nothing but look to you in thanks and hope still be lying in a bed with a broken body? Should she suffer until her spirit is broken too?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As a small group, this has become a difficult storm for us to navigate. Often when we meet to study or discuss, we’re able to find answers in scripture or in history. We turn to the words of Jesus and the stories of faithful people. We turn to a tradition that lifts up psalms and prayer as a means of connecting with God. Of being heard by God.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And yet our deepest prayers seem to be left unanswered.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Last night one of us raised the question: “Why do we pray?” One response was that we’re not entirely sure; we don’t really know what prayer does. And we talked a bit about it before going off in another direction.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But all the way home I continued to roll that question around in my mind. Why do we pray? Why do I pray?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Personally, I’m not so sure God changes events in the way some people seem to believe. I’m not sure if God heals our physical bodies or stops us from crashing our car in the rain or moves tornados from a particular path, although I know people pray for those types of situations (and have even done it myself).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My experience is that through the Holy Spirit, God is able to provide peace, wisdom, patience, perseverance, and other similar things. For example, I often pray that God would “multiply my time”. And even though I know it isn’t literally happening that way, I find that I have focus where I didn’t before or wisdom in responding to people that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. I can’t quantify it but I know that those things aren’t coming from me; they’re coming from the piece of God that’s in me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">These days I often question God’s work in the world. In fact, I sometimes question whether God is at work in the world or whether God is waiting for us do the work. I suppose it might be a bit of both. And if God is working – through us or through some supernatural intervention – why would God choose not to work in the lives of deserving people who are hurting despite the faith of a million mustard seeds.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But in my questioning I’ve also discovered that, despite all evidence to the contrary, I do believe God answers my prayers. It’s just that sometimes (or probably almost all of the time) I’m asking for the wrong thing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I guess it’s kind of like this: If I go into a shoe store and I ask every clerk for a new coat, I would feel like no one was providing what I need. Because that’s not what clerks at a shoe store provide. So when I turn to the Holy Spirit and pray for my best friend to stop being a jerk, I might feel like God isn’t answering my prayer. Because that’s not what God provides. But if I instead ask for patience, wisdom and clarity, I find that most often my prayers are answered, because that’s what God does provide.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have always been a relatively healthy person and have never had to deal with any kind of chronic pain. But I doubt that I could do it with the grace and patience of my friend. Every email, every hospital text message, every plea for prayer she’s sent has included equal amounts of praise for what God is doing in her life. I’m constantly astounded at the joy that is in her heart, even while disease is in her body. Her living testimony is a complicated, compassionate reminder that God is a mystery to me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I pray for her almost every single day. And they are complicated, compassionate prayers. But through them, God reminds me that he is a complicated, compassionate God.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sometimes in the storehouse of God’s resources, I am desperately seeking a coat – to cover myself or those I love in new layers of protection; to weather the winds with a custom made, rain proof exterior. Perhaps though, God provides me something else: a new pair of shoes to support me through the storm; that in all things I might first be standing in his love.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And what girl can’t use a new pair of shoes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>What about you? How have you experienced God at work in your life? How has God been responding to your prayers or laments?</em></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">***See Katy's entire blog at girlsguidetofaith.blogspot.com!***</div>Katyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02533365863186387292noreply@blogger.com2