blank page.

I've decided it's better to wait until I have something to say than write simply to write.

I wrote that two days ago, hoping I would have find some sort of inspiration or have a grand epiphany...

nothing.

So, I reluctantly stuck to the original statement, and didn't write. I thought about not writing anything at all this week, but the thought of breaking the weekly post was so irritating.

I've got to find a balance between inspiration and discipline. 


And that's where I am right now. Trying to figure out how to be directed,intentional and genuine in the way I pursue loving God and loving others.

So far I've  found/am finding:

1. I need to keep working on being open and honest with the people in my life, specifically with those in my daily life.

2. I have to CHOOSE to TAKE the time to build relationships, with God and with others. I'm seeing that for me it's not about "making" the time, the time is there...to paint with Jesus, to pray for people when I say I will,to meet a friend for coffee, etc., etc., etc.

3. I cannot do either. I just can't. I am not wise or honest or brave or disciplined enough to figure this out on my own. God didn't intend for me to be, not without Him. So really this is about me learning to lay down my pride.


So there it is. Here is where I am. I'm still not entirely sure if this ended up being a blog post written for the sake of having a blog post for the week...




p.s. here's something I started to paint this week. You know, when I made the time...

heart check.

I kind of like writing on Sundays. Not only because it gives me a chance to reflect back on the week I just finished(I usually see my weeks as being Monday to Sunday) but because often I figure out(aka God shows me) what I should share after listening to the sermon at church.

Anyway, today it came to me when I heard Brad talk about how our behavior is an outward indicator of our inner condition, of our heart--what we believe and what we love. I saw how much of what's gone on in the past couple of weeks was the beginning of a major heart check for me.

It's getting late and I'm not sure that I'm ready to spill all the messy details of what that's looked like so far, but here's what I can say:

(Also from the sermon today) I'm seeing how individualism is an idol in my life.  Although I can talk a pretty convincing talk about the joy and benefit and calling to live in community and do life with others, if I'm honest, my heart isn't quite there and my actions prove it. Yes, I've joined a life group of peers and am leading a life group of some awesome Kindergarteners, but I know that I'm holding back and keeping a lot of my life to myself. My compulsive Darkside shows itself as I carefully decide what parts of my life are open and which doors must remain shut, locked and expertly wallpapered over. It's going to take some time for me to open those doors, but I think I can at least start on peeling off the wallpaper and acknowledge that they're there. (sorry for this analogy, but my dad is a wallcovering specialist)

Other than that, all I know is that my heart is not too healthy right now. I know I'm always going to need some kind of work and that this time of cleaning, discovering, refining and repairing has no real end. I know it's going to be painful and humbling, but I trust that it's necessary and hope for a day that I  might truly be able to understand that.

So here's to walking my talk. Letting you in to hold me to it.

Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and put a new and right spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from your presence,
and do not take your holy spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and sustain in me a willing spirit.

-Psalm 51:10-12

momma.

second Sunday of May. Momma, this one's for you.

Being adopted, I feel like I get to say that my mom was hand-picked just for me. (Well, I suppose it was more like me being picked by my parents...anyway...) I've often been asked how I feel about being adopted, and in a word: blessed.

I feel incredibly blessed to be the daughter of such a wonderful woman. She's hard-working, generous, compassionate, selfless--a genuine example of a woman striving after God's heart. But more than that, I feel blessed to have a slightly different understanding of what it means to be adopted into the family of Christ, to become a child of God.

How so, you ask?

Here's my thoughts:
My adoption was never a secret. For my family, adoption was not something to be ashamed of, quite the opposite! My mom always made a conscious effort to make me aware of and cultivate an appreciation for my Korean heritage. That being said, I often forget that I don't look like the rest of my family. My momma, is my momma.

I have had the opportunity to experience what it's like to be taken in and loved as part of a family that wasn't initially my own.

I don't say all this to disown or forget about my mother who went to great risks to keep and grow and bear me, for her sacrifice I am forever grateful. Actually, I am blessed to have two mothers to remember and thank and be grateful for. So...

To my Korean mother,
Thank you for choosing to give me life. For deciding that my life and all that it would become was worth the risk. Thank you for selflessly giving me a chance to be loved and cared for, I most definitely am. Most of all, thank you for showing me selfless love from the start.
사랑해 (I love you)
리 경 림 (Lee Kyung Rim)

To my Momma,
Thank you for choosing me. For loving me as your own. As a poem or book or card you've shared with me said, I "didn't grow in your belly, but I grew in your heart." Thank you for giggles and Katy days and trying new food and traveling to visit me and prayers. Most of all, thank you for your genuine example of unconditional love.
Love,
Kate

visiting me in Portugal 2007

Happy Mother's Day!

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 

eavesdropping

I've been really into stories lately. Life stories. You can kind of see it in the past couple weeks' blog posts.

I've been asked to share a story of my own for the Friends of Portugal blog.
(For those of you who don't know what that is or are wondering what me moving back to Portugal might look like check it out here.)

Anyway, I've been really excited to be apart of what FOP is doing and to be able to be a part of it all, but I was really struggling to give my story words.  And then, it just kind of happened. God's timing is impecable.Today, when PJ was speaking, I heard these words and knew how to tell my story...

"It's not what you know, but who you love."


When I was eighteen, a month after I graduated from high school, I and a team of three other ladies moved to Massamá, Portugal to work with the Espaço Vida Nova Church there. We were there ten months, living, learning and serving. I think I must have had some idea when I left my California hometown that this "trip" was something special, but in a lot of ways I feel that I am still discovering just how instrumental those ten months of my life were.

During our time there, I spent a lot of time hanging out with kids. I came with several years of experience working with kids in a variety of settings, so it was just a natural fit. There were three kids in particular that I spent time with: Joe, Mary and Harvey*. These were my three faithful attendees of any and everything that I did at Espaço. Sunday school, Saturday kids' club, changing the window display, sweeping the floor, you name it. If we were there, they were there.

When I work with kids, I sometimes wonder how much they're really taking in.  Are they really listening to this story or are they just interested in the awesome flannelgraph? Are they memorizing a Bible verse or just coloring a photocopied page? Are they learning what it means to live and love as a community or just concerned with winning the wacky relay race? (Present day me would like to just answer "Yes!" to all of the questions above by the way...) In all honesty, I felt this way, this doubt and uncertainty, for a large portion of my time in Massamá.

Did it matter? Was anything I was doing going to make a difference? Would these kids even consider anything I said in my broken, limited Portugese to be true?

Then, one Sunday near the end of our time there, all of those doubts and worries were silenced by an overheard conversation.

That Sunday, Marjorie taught her class (really just the table of the older kids that was next to mine of the younger) about Heaven. They talked about what it was like and that it was where Jesus was. After the service, while I was cleaning up, I saw that Marjorie was talking with Harvey. I continued to pick up the scraps of paper and stray crayons from my lesson while I watched them pray together. After they prayed Marjorie asked Harvey,

"So, do you know where Jesus is now?" 

He looked at her with this incredulous look expressing a sort of "DUH!" as he replied,  

"We just talked about that today, He lives in Heaven, remember?" 

Marjorie waited for a moment, and then I saw it. His little face lit up and a giant smile spread across his face and he pointed to his heart,  

"HERE! He is lives here now too!"

And that's when I knew. I was brought to Portugal not solely to plan lessons and relay races and create window displays, but to spend ten months with these three kids, to overhear that conversation and to see that expression of pure, genuine joy.

As I said before, I don't think I fully knew what ten months in Portugal would mean for me when I left, and I'm still finding ways that it has impacted my life that I didn't see before. But without a doubt, I came to Portugal and fell in love. I fell in love with a culture that values family and traditions and history. I fell lin love with the beautiful parks and old castles and cafes at every corner. And I fell in love with the people who live there. I may not know everything about Portugal, I'm still learning and have much more to learn, but I love Portugal. I think that's a good place to start.

*Names have been changed

behind the music.

 Apparently being out of town on a Sunday means blogging get pushed back to the middle of the week...

"Where words fail, music speaks." - H.C. Andersen

There's just something about words that are put to music that speak so much deeper into my soul than words by themselves.

I went to a concert on Sunday. That's not really big news, as most who know me know.
It was a Bon Iver concert. That IS big news. He's been on my list for a while now.

It was...
beautiful, visually (outside.Santa Barbara.stage design.lights.) and aurally, and cathartic.

I sat alone--well, alone while surrounded by strangers--and let the music and voice of Justin DeYarmond Edison Vernon (isn't that a fantastic name?) wash over me.

There's something about hearing a favorite song played live that makes me love it all the more.
Especially when it's prefaced with a bit of insight from the artist himself:

"Life is weird. *chuckles* Like how the hell'd we get here? But we're here. And it's weird. This is a song about that.  'Coz , sometimes it's unclear when shit's supposed to be good when it's bad."

Mister Vernon then proceded to play re: stacks, arguably my favorite song. Definitely in the top three.

What I'm trying to say is that as much as I love the song and find meaning in it for myself, it means so much more to Justin himself because he wrote it. It's his. His introduction was just a small glance into the story behind the words. [here's more on that song and others of his...]

That's what I love. That's what speaks to me in music. The story. The thoughts, emotions, joy, pain,  hurt and healing that prompt writing and are poured into the delivery.

Another example:
I have a friend who writes songs. He wrote one about one of the worst panic attack I had that he was present to help me through. The experience itself was awful. Terrifying. Dark.  Powerful.
The song that came out of it is simply perfect. It's an excellent song on its own, but for me, and my friend and maybe even for those who really saw where I was during the years I really struggled with depression and anxiety, it meant so much more.

I guess the point in writing all of this is to acknowledge:
1. We all have a story to tell
and
2. Words don't say everything, although they do say a lot

So...let's listen to each other this week. Let's take the time to find and listen to
the story behind the words

disney & roomies.

Well, I'm a couple of days late, but better late than never, right?
Tonight I just want to share how I got some perspective from a Disney movie and a former roomie.

Let's start with the Disney movie since that came first.

Pocahontas.


Hopefully you have seen this movie, or at least know the general plot line.
As I was watching the movie that I had enjoyed so much as a child, I realized how much I still really enjoy the movie. When I was younger it was the music, the characters and the fact that the bad guy isn't really too scary that drew me to the movie. This weekend it was the story.
One of the song's lyrics really stood out to me. I couldn't seem to get them out of my head.

You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew you never knew

I heard those lyrics and was reminded of how often we (okay, I) can be so quick to think our way, of thinking, of speaking, of living, is the best way. The only way.
How ignorant. How prideful.

The (former) roomie.
I spent the majority of the weekend with a friend/former roomie and it was simply excellent.
(for the record, I had two awesome roomies in college)

Aside from just spending some much needed (and missed) quality time together over the past couple of days, I was really inspired by her, simply being herself.
A specific instance of this genuine inspiration happened during our day in SLO on Sunday.
I took her to one of my favorite local cafes for breakfast as soon as we got into town. We enjoyed a delicious (and pretty healthy) light breakfast and then took some time to just relax and rest. (We left Fresno just before 5am, so we were pretty tired already)

While we were sitting on the comfy, worn in couch, an older gentleman struck up a conversation with us. I immediately felt awkward and let my roommate do most of the talking. During the time he was telling us about some of his experiences as movie and tv show extra, I continued to feel painfully awkward as I listened and tried to keep a polite smile on my face while nodding from time to time.  I kept thinking of ways to politely leave without being too obvious about how uncomfortable I was.

We eventually left and the day went on. we stuck gum on Bubblegum Alley, drank chocolate milk,  ate a big lunch, visited a friend, ate otter pops, watched a movie, toured Cal Poly, took a nap, ate fro yo for dinner and finally drove home.

But throughout the day and during the long, late drive home, I kept thinking about the man at the cafe. As I said, he didn't give the most reliable stories, but he did have a story. No, I did not know him. Yes, some of his stories sounded more like fiction than fact. But, so what?

So. What.

I am selfish. and sheltered. and scared. That's what.

I talk a big talk about wanting to live missonally, but I keep finding myself shying away from it being reality.  I talk about being frustrated with people who can't seem to see past the Fresno (and/or FPU) bubble, yet most nights I spend at home. In Clovis. Alone with a book.

I know being honest about all of this doesn't solve this problem, I still have to take some action.
But at least now you know.
So keep me in check, kay?

Let's take some steps, together, out of our comfy spots this week!