a letter to my[year-ago]self.

Dear Kate (or Kathryn, as you've decided to go by here),

You are about to start your first day of grad school after what seems like the longest wait—congratulations! I am happy to report that you make it through the first year. It's both easier and harder than you anticipated. It won't be the most difficult year you've experienced but neither will it be without trials. You will face new challenges, revisit old struggles, and explore a deeper understanding of what makes you, you. From all of that, there are a few key points that I'd like to highlight. You may not believe or be able to fully understand their significance just yet, but they’re worth having somewhere in your mind.

Be like a redwood.
Tap into your amateur dendrology knowledge and remember the way that Redwood trees depend on the vast network of roots surrounding them to stay anchored in the ground. In other words, don’t go at it alone. Give others a chance to see and hear you. Let them hold hope for you, just as you will do for them. You are not excluded from asking for help.

Approach self-care as a posture rather than a task.
Although a “self-care Sunday” routine can provide a helpful structure (and also has a nice alliteration), it can also become counterproductive when you berate yourself for not “doing” enough, in quantity or quality, self-care. Instead, think of self-care as an attitude or perspective you have towards yourself. This leads into perhaps the most important thing I have learned/am learning…

Be gentle with yourself.
Give yourself the grace to do good enough. Failing to do perfect work does not equate to being a failure. You are not perfect, but you are deeply loved.

So there they are; three lessons from a year in grad school. You might be doing the polite "nod-and-smile-because-this-is-obvious" right now but tuck these away somewhere, just in case.

Choose Joy,
Your second-year self

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.

starting on Someday.

It wasn't too long after I started college that I knew I wanted to work in missionary/member care. Through conversations with missionaries I served with and my own experiences with re-entry and debriefing, I saw a need for a holistic approach to the way we take care of the Body—and I wanted to be a part of meeting that need.  Throughout my time in college missionary care remained something I hoped I'd get to be a part of...someday.  Someday, when I've finished college. Someday when I've had more experience. Someday when I'm better equipped.

Someday, someday someday...

During my final semester of college I realized that I didn't know what master's degree I would or should pursue or if I even wanted/needed another degree. The thought of going into more debt, investing more time and money on something that I didn't know if I wanted or needed seemed unwise. 

So, I didn't. I was blessed to find a job before I even graduated and started a week after that. It wasn't what I wanted to do forever, definitely not a career I wanted to build my life around, but I was working full time—a cherished gift for a recent college grad.

But even though this job allowed me to pay off my student loans and start saving a bit of money, the yearning for Someday remained. I still didn't know how to get there, so I just kept working and waiting for Someday to show up.

A few weeks ago I had a chance to catch up with two dear friends (who also happen to be two of the ladies I lived with in Portugal).  I always leave feeling encouraged, inspired, loved and full of potential after spending time with these two. They both just have a gentle and genuine way of reminding me of who I am in Christ and how they see Him working in my life. During this conversation, I was asked about my passion/dream for missionary care and what I was doing to make that happen. I sputtered out some roundabout response about not knowing how to go about it or where to even start and all the unknowns and questions when my dear friend reminded me,

"The beauty is, you only have to make one decision at a time"

So, I've decided to start being proactive about figuring out what it would like for me to serve in missionary care. I've started researching schools, even went to visit one last month! (Arguably) More importantly, I'm having conversations with lots of people. People who I respect and look up to as mentors and friends. People who have the degrees I'm considering. People who have a heart for missionaries and the Church and taking care of other people.

I'm not at Someday yet, but I'm starting to look for ways to get there.

here we go.

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.