twenty twenty.

Today is the last day of the year.
The last day of the decade.
I have been feeling the ... impulse? ... obligation? to reflect.
So here is my attempt to put some words down.

This decade has seen such low points.
Ten years ago, at the end of a different decade, depression and anxiety felt like the masters of my life. Panic attacks were a common yet terrifyingly unexpected occurrence. I slept all the time because I didn't feel sad when I slept; I didn't panic when I slept--until I did. That year I found myself wondering if it would be better to not be around at all. It was made clear to me that that was not a better option. I'm thankful.

Two years ago I switched masters programs at Fuller after abruptly and heartbreakingly discovering that the plan and vision I had had was not something I could sustainably do. I'm still in the liminal space of finding what it is I should can will do. In the meantime, I can do what is in front of me. I'm thankful.

This decade has seen high points.
Five years ago Sam and I agreed to love, honor, and cherish one another for better or worse,  richer or poorer, in sickness or health. Only five years in and we've already walked through several of these scenarios. I'm thankful.

This decade brought hellos. 
I met seven out of eight nieces (from my siblings) in the past ten years. I met and became part of the Kelly (and Doman and Lovett) family. I started and changed jobs. I moved to a new city where I met new classmates, friends, and church family. I worked with a couple of therapists who have helped me to learn things about myself that I didn't even realize that I didn't know. I found new places and spaces and returned to familiar favorites too. I'm thankful.

This decade has brought goodbyes. 
Some were healthy; some were expected; others were neither. All of them were difficult.

The freshest goodbye is to the house I grew up in. The house my family brought me home to. The house where I had the room with the famously long closet and the swamp cooler. The house where I took my engagement photos and where I later got ready for my wedding day. It was and is a great place to live. Family members are buying the house so I'll still be able to visit. I'm thankful.


This has been a hodgepodge of memories. Lest you think too highly of me, the thankfulness that punctuates each one is found through much effort, and even then I don't always feel it.

As I close this post, and the year, I'll share this poem by Rilke. It's one I keep returning to and that I feel captures my reflections on the past, the work of the present, and my hope for the future.


God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby us the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

– Rainer Maria Rilke, Book of Hours, I, 59.

2009 to 2019

just enough light

Today is my last full day in Pasadena. This week has been filled with packing and cleaning; the week before was all about finishing school. We said our first goodbyes (to our community group) two weeks ago and we'll say our last ones tomorrow as friends come to help us load up the moving truck. Over the last few weeks, as the end of school and our time here was fast approaching, I have been trying to reflect upon and reminisce about this past season. There's so much I want to say, so many experiences to recount, so many people I want to thank. Maybe I'll make another post to do that. For now, I want to take a moment to claim and affirm some of the things I'm taking home with me.

My time here has looked nothing like I thought, hoped, or at some times even wanted, but I wouldn't change a thing. I am leaving Pasadena/coming back to Fresno so different than who I was when left Fresno/came to Pasadena two years and seven months ago. I have struggled, learned, ached, and grown in ways that I never expected. I've allowed myself to feel sad, angry, afraid, and confused and because of that, I experienced a greater hope and deeper joy than I ever knew was possible. It's not because those all of those emotions are enjoyable to experience, but rather it is because by experiencing them, I was able to be unapologetically myself. And ultimately, although I have changed, I am still me. In fact,

I am more myself than I have ever been. 

It's probably no surprise that I have found words from the ever-sage Henri Nouwen to help me articulate my perspective.  These excerpts describe hope. The kind of hope that I have found, that I carry with me.

From Here and Now:

While optimism makes us live as if someday soon things will go better for us, hope frees us from the need to predict the future and allows us to live in the present, with the deep trust that God will never leave us alone but will fulfill the deepest desires of our heart. When I trust deeply that today God is truly with me and holds me safe in a divine embrace, guiding every one of my steps I can let go of my anxious need to know how tomorrow will look, or what will happen next month or next year. I can be fully where I am and pay attention to the many signs of God's love within me and around me.  

From Turn My Mourning into Dancing:

Hope is willing to leave unanswered questions unanswered and unknown futures unknown. Hope makes you see God's guiding hand not only in the gentle and pleasant moments but also in the shadows of disappointment and darkness. 

And finally, from Bread for the Journey:

Often we want to be able to see into the future. We say, “How will next year be for me? Where will I be five or ten years from now?” There are no answers to these questions. Mostly we have just enough light to see the next step: what we have to do in the coming hour or the following day. The art of living is to enjoy what we can see and not complain about what remains in the dark. When we are able to take the next step with the trust that we will have enough light for the step that follows, we can walk through life with joy and be surprised at how far we go. Let’s rejoice in the little light we carry and not ask for the great beam that would take all shadows away.

Moving forward in hope,
Kate

begin again

It has been almost two years since I last wrote something in this space. That's a lot of life—ups, downs, and moving arounds. Even now, I'm in an interesting place, though not a totally foreign one. It's a place of ending and beginning, losing and gaining, fear and excitement. It's the coming and going of seasons.

I am heading into my last week of working with Aplos after three and a half years. It has been such a fun ride and I am sad it's coming to an end. I have worked for the best boss, with the best people, and that has made all the difference. I got connected with Aplos by a friend who knew I was desperate to leave the place I was in, but I could never have imaged how much better it would be. Since we were still a smaller startup when I joined there was flexibility for me to find what role fit me best, which ended up being customer support. Yeah, talking on the phone all day was surprisingly the best fit for me. (Sorry to all of you whom I've had awkward phone calls with—not even my husband is exempt from those. This really has been the only environment where I am not as awkward to talk to on the phone.) This season has been full of surprises and unexpected joys. I have been stretched and challenged and encouraged to keep growing, all while quoting Arrested Development daily and eating Chipotle on Wednesdays. I have learned the difference between cash and accrual reporting, about debits and credits for different types of accounts, and that eating a whole Costco chicken bake so I that can go "to the field!" is worth the stomach ache. I have met friends who will be stuck with me long after my last day. Leaving is held with feelings of sadness, nostalgia, and fear that can come with an ending. The overarching feeling, though, is thankfulness. Let's not overlook that. Oh, how thankful I am.

After this week, Sam and I will be headed off to Northern California to visit our ninth and tenth national parks: Lassen and Redwood. I see this as my transition time—something else I am so thankful to have since I know we do not always have that luxury. It is also, of course, a chance to celebrate that we have been married for two years, which seem to have flown by and at the same time it feels like we have been doing this for much longer in the best way.

Once we return to Pasadena, I will head into orientation, welcome week, and all of the other going back to school things. Aside from the handful of prerequisite classes I took online through a community college, it has been almost five years since I was last in school. That really feels like a long time ago. I am hoping that I quickly settle into the new but not so unfamiliar rhythm of being a student. I'm also a wife, which is new this time around. I am thankful for a husband who has supported and encouraged me to go back to school without hesitation from the very beginning. I am thankful for, albeit still working on graciously and humbly accepting, his willingness to "switch roles" so that I can be a full-time student and not have to balance a job of my own.

Sometimes I fear that I won't be able to bring enough to the table. If I am not working and have a schedule filled with classes and training and small groups, what will I have to give? There are times I feel myself heading towards the spiral of anxiety in the midst of this new and exciting next season, which is just frustrating, honestly. I have found Herni Nouwen to be a source of great encouragement over the years and once again he brings a refreshing reminder about what to do when the red flags and flashing lights of this anxiety spiral start to grow:

Perhaps the challenge of the gospel lies precisely in the invitation to accept a gift for which we can give nothing in return. For the gift is the life breath of God himself, the Spirit who is poured out on us through Jesus Christ. The life breath frees us from fear and gives us new room to live. A man who prayerfully goes about his life is constantly ready to receive the breath of God, and to let his life be renewed and expanded. The man who never prays, on the contrary, is like the child with asthma; because he is short of breath, the whole world shrivels up before him. He creeps in a corner gasping for air, and is virtually in agony. But the man who prays opens himself to God and can freely breathe again. He stands upright, stretches out his hands and comes out of his corner, free to boldly stride through the world because he can live without fear. (Henri Nouwen, With Open Hands, p. 64., emphasis added.)

So I am reminded that it is important for me to be willing to bring myself to the table, just as I am. I work on practicing what I preach about self-care and the great thing it is to allow others to help you in that. This is the beginning of much more than a graduate program, it is the beginning of a new season. One of trusting, hoping, humbling, and much more learning. I head into these next few weeks of transition, of endings and beginnings, and all that is in between with my hands open and eyes fixed above.

enjoying now.

It's that time. New year, new outlook, new goals...new blog post. I can hardly believe I started this blog two years ago. I didn't turn out to be the most consistent of writers, but I'm glad I've at least written as much as I did.

Two years ago.
I was recently graduated from college and about a month into my first full-time,"grown up" job.  I had student loans looming and a heart pining to be anywhere but where I was...mostly for Portugal. I remembering  feeling (and often complaining) that I was in an awkward limbo place life--finished with one chapter, but not allowed to move on to the next.

Two years later, I must say...I was wrong. Lots of life happened during this so-called limbo time. By the grace of God, my student loans were paid off. I learned a little about designing and coding and a lot about what kind of work environment I want (or don't want) to work in. I met some new friends and became closer to others. One in particular being my self-appointed "BFF"(a story worth sharing...someday) who has truly become my best friend. I started a different job and was given the honor of helping out two non-profits run by people near and dear to my heart. I became an aunt to another niece and found out that there will be three more lovies coming this Spring. There's so much more that's happened, but the point is...the past two years have not been empty. They have not been simply for waiting, although there was definitely some waiting...but isn't there always?

Sometimes there are clear beginnings and ends to the chapters in your life, but I'm finding that more often than that, you're in the middle of the next chapter before you even realize it's begun. I've got a couple of practical New Years resolutions written down (in a list with checkboxes) but I think that one thing I really want to focus on is the NOW. I can get so carried away with planning and thinking about the future or longing for what used to be that I dismiss the life space I'm in now as insignificant. It's not until I take the time to pause and look around that I can see how very significant now is.

I realize this epiphany of mine is neither original nor deeply profound, but I hope it encourages someone as it has encouraged me.

Happy New Year!

Just because I never tire of this view, from our most recent trip to Yosemite.

to do (and to not do).

Quite some time ago, my sweet friend Emery suggested I read this book:

That day, I added it to my Amazon Book Wish list and then promptly forgot about it until a few weeks ago when I picked it up on sale at a little bookstore in SLO. And am I ever glad I did. 

One of the things I like most about this book is that each chapter can stand on its own, so I didn't feel overwhelmed to read all of it RIGHT NOW. I breezed through the first few chapters, pausing for some "Hmm's" and shoulder shrugs, but I got a big fat  "Oomph" to the gut when I read the following from the chapter titled, "things I don't do":

I'm a list-keeper. I always, always have a to-do list, and it ranges from the mundane: go to the dry cleaner, go to the post office, buy batteries; to the far-reaching: stop eating Henry's leftover Dino Bites, get over yourself, forgive nasty reviewer, wear more jewelry.

At one point, I kept adding to the list, more and more items, more and more sweeping in their scope, until I added this line: DO EVERYTHING BETTER. 

-Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet p. 54

Now, this chapter already packed quite a punch but it wasn't until a few nights later that I really understood how necessary it was for me to read that.

---

It started when a very tired and disoriented me had an argument with my parents about something so trivial. Feeling overwhelmed, I fled the scene to my room. There I curled up in the dark and all I could hear was the booming voice in my mind was broadcasting, "You can't do enough. You can't be enough. "

I felt sick to my stomach, like my even my body was rejecting me.
I wished I could  get up and boldly stand on the truth--that God is enough, He is more than enough. But Instead, I just cried. Mourning over something I'd never had, someone I'd never been.

And then, after quite some time of being paralyzed by the darkness, I realized I was still learning what I had been hit with over and over last week:
it's not about me.

Let me be clear in explaining that this wasn't a beautiful epiphany.
I didn't just snap out of my pitiful state, get out of bed and slap a big smile on my face.

No, it was more like my process of waking up...which is the farthest thing from immediate. (Ask ANYONE who has tried to wake me up). I have stages of waking up including resistance and grumpiness. I need time. And that's how exactly how I'm learning this whole "it's not about me" thing--slowly, with moments of resistance and grumpiness. But I have hope that I'll eventually "wake up" to the idea as I find practical, daily ways to remind myself.

Coming back to the book, Shauna explains in that chapter how and why deciding what you want your life to be about isn't the hard part, but it's deciding what you're willing to give up for those things that is "like yoga for your superego, stretching and pushing and ultimately healing that nasty little person inside of you who exists only for what other people think."

So, the questions I'm leaving here are:  What are the things I don't do, the things I'm giving up, so my life can be about the things I've decided it should be about? (I hope that makes sense, it's poorly worded)

And the moral of this story is, LORD, I need You.

with open hands.

Sam went to a book sale a few weeks ago and picked up this book for me:

and I truly enjoyed it! I really appreciate  Nouwen's writing, and this book in particular had the added aesthetic of black and white photos. 

There were so many take aways from this book, the pages are already peppered with flags and underlines and quotes and notes have been scribbled into a notebook, but there's one in particular that has been showing up in my life repeatedly over the past week so I figured it was a good idea to chew on it a bit more.

"Praying  means to  stop expecting from God that same small-mindedness which you discover in yourself. To pray is to walk in the full light of God, and to say simply, without holding back, "I am a man and you are God." At that moment, conversion occurs, the restoration of the true relationship. Man is not the one who once in a while makes a mistake and God is not the one who now and then forgives. No, man is a sinner and God is love." - Henri J.M. Nouwen, With Open Hands

The message I gleaned from this, the one that kept making an appearance in my life this past week was this: it is not about me; trust Him.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, it was prepping for my Kinder life group.
The theme of the week? "I can trust God  is the One who knows everything; He knows what is best."
I don't know what I want to/am supposed to do with my life,
where I will be in a year
or even what tomorrow looks like.
But it is not about me.
I can TRUST God because He knows everything. He knows all of the options I have before me, and He knows which is best.  He knows my hurts, my anxieties, my sins and shortcomings, my joys and delights. He knows everything that I was, am and will become.

On Thursday it was two and a half hours of sharing life with the ladies in my life group.
Although we did specifically talk about the fact that "it is not about me", it was more than hearing and saying those words.
It was listening to each other's struggles and experiences. It was sharing my own insight and hearing a completely different perspective and understanding from someone else.
It is not about me, it is about US.

Today was probably the toughest bite to swallow. Today it was PJ message on James. My faith in Christ is (far too often) challenged by...myself.
My  desire to be in control
and know the plan
and find a way to make things (that I want) happen.
My plans, my way.
Apparently I still needed to hear it again: IT IS NOT ABOUT ME.
When I let myself get consumed in introspectiveness, planning and all of the unknown in my life, when I try to depend on myself, I grow anxious and ill and completely overwhelmed.

So the aim this week, this month, this year, this lifetime? Fix my heart on the One who it IS all about, the One who knows everything. To release my death grip on the plans and lists I've made and open my hands to receive the LOVE and HOPE and JOY that God gives. To let go, and trust Him.

two and three. [of ten thousand]

Well, it's been a tough weekend. This really is a battle.

I'm determined to keep going, to keep trying, to keep fighting.

This morning I read through the majority of my previous posts. It left me feeling pretty convicted and down. Like, who is this girl writing these words? She's trying, she's learning, she's growing. And then she stopped. I stopped. But I'm back again, willing and wanting to pick up where I left off and move onward and upward.

Anyway,I have reasons two and three to share today:

two.
He sees me, He knows me, He loves me. Specifically: I am quite thankful He put the notion in my head to start up a blog at the beginning of this year. In my first post I mentioned that this would serve as a giant post-it of sorts. I remember things much better when they're written down. Even when I don't remember them, I can look back and remember if they're written down. I forgot, but I had written it down and now I'm remembering. He sees me, He knows me, He loves me.

three.
He provides. Specifically: I have a home, a bed, a car, a plethora of clothes, a full fridge and pantry and a steady job. The essentials and then some.

This is short, but it's something.

As another wise friend once told me, deep breaths and small steps.

one. [of ten thousand]

After quite a hiatus, I am back. Back with words, words that matter.

To be completely honest, these past couple of months have been/are still difficult. There are many factors  that have contributed to that. But I'm being honest here, so I have to say, the biggest factor is...ME.

Paul sums it pretty well here:
"For we know that the law is spiritual; but I am of the flesh, sold into slavery under sin. I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree that the law is good. But in fact it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me."

I've definitely been feeling overwhelmed by my sin rather than His love. It's a constant battle within myself, and some days I really don't feel like fighting it. But I have to. Why? As a wise friend told me less than an hour ago, "to give up is to give away Christ's victory."

 As a step forward in this battle I'm challenging myself, and anyone who'd like to keep me accountable or join in, to find 10,000 reasons to praise God. (yeah, I was inspired by the song)

The plan is to share at least one a day. And these are  solid, specific reasons. 

Tonight, I praise God for the friends He's put in my life to pray me through this battle. For Trav and Beth and Tom, for Anna, for Lys, for Lauren, for Marissa,  Courtney, Fran, Micaella, Kelsey, Natalie, Cynthia, Ashley, Faith, Jianni, Amanda and Krissy, for Annie, for Marisela, for Amie, for Av, for Steven, for Sarah, for Emery, for Kim and Susan, and for so many others. These encouragers and prayer warriors,these friends and givers of great hugs, these tear-driers and hand-holders...they are reminders that I am seen, I am loved and I am not fighting this alone.

"But there's one other thing I remember, 

 and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:

God's loyal love couldn't have run out,
   his merciful love couldn't have dried up.
They're created new every morning.
   How great your faithfulness!
I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over).
   He's all I've got."

- Lamentations 3:21-23 

seasons.

Graduation was on Saturday.

Not for me, but for the rest of my class. We're done with undergrad. We're moving on.

The season is changing.

I've really struggled with the whole "seasons" thing. Change can be pretty difficult on its on, whether it's changing schools, jobs or place of residence. But mostly I've dreaded friendship seasons. I've heard it over and over that "Some people are only in  your life for a season, Katy."

I HATED that. 

Why couldn't they stay around? Was it something I did? How do I not do that or why did I keep doing that? 

I've talked to many and prayed a lot about having peace with this, and it's a work in progress.

I had a bit of a breakthrough yesterday, though. A breakthrough after a bit of a breakdown.

Breakdown: My roommate who became an amazing friend moved home to Southern California. It's been an enormous blessing to have her in my life for the past four years, and I'm confident we're "stuck" with each other, but it's still hard to see the seasons change from living in the same room to living on the same campus to living in the same town to just living in the same state. 

Breakthrough: Brad spoke on 1 Corinthians 9:1-19 and Paul's teachings on choosing Love over our rights and freedoms. It was the perfect message for me to hear on many levels, but a breakthrough came when I realized that God's calling of my heart to Portugal means I'll have to sacrifice a lot. A main focus of the passage was on Paul's defense and later refusal of his right to earn money for his ministry. (v. 14-18) Now, I came to accept the fact long ago that I wouldn't ever make a lot of money  doing what God was calling me to do. That I have no problem with. It wasn't money I'd argue with God about.

It's relationships.

Not even romantic ones, although there's been arguments and someday they'll be again over those too. But friendships. Deep, genuine, intimate friendships. 

It's been a common lament of mine that the friends I feel closest to and safest with live the farthest away from me. Whether it's another city or another state, there's at least four hours between us. 

In my selfish, narrow-sighted anger, I'd cry out: "Why are all of the people who "get" me and love me so far away?" What's wrong with me? Why doesn't anyone stay around?"

And then yesterday, the breakthrough...

God's placed those people in my life in different places so that I can learn how to do daily life without them and with Him. He's showing me that I can maintain friendships, deep, rich, intimate friendships, with people who live far from me. Whether we have eight hours of a time difference or driving separating us, it's totally doable. 

So, if you're changing seasons, remember He's got reason. ;)

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: 

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; 

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up; 

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 

a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 

a time to seek, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to throw away; 

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war, and a time for peace.

- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8