"How are you?"

Perhaps one of the most difficult things to do in life is be honest. Now, I am not talking about lying, whether telling large fictional stories or even small white lies.

I am talking about the honesty that we avoid when we are asked the most simple greeting and question: "How are you?"

We quickly respond and we quickly settle into the rhythm of conversation that usually is led with the word, "good". There are so many things left beneath the surface and yet in the moment we let everything skim. We are masters of skimming. If we run fast enough across the situation, and the condition of the heart we never sink into the water below. We float and we harness all of our energy and might to never let our toes dip into the truth.

All summer I have felt a specific conviction and challenge in this area. I realized that in wanting to live authentically and honestly that I had to be able to answer the simple question to first myself in complete vulnerability. Most days I can answer and say, "Ok." I know that on a large scale that I'm doing alright.

However the truth is, and the real deep down below the surface that I'd like to acknowledge is that there are moments in days when I am so far from being OK that I don't know where to begin with articulating the truth. There are moments that I am so heartbroken and lost in the midst of all the drama with Tex that I struggle with settling my honest heart there. I am scared to live and breathe in that place, that I push through and 'survive' to the next thing- at which point I can again say that I'm doing alright.

The best example of this roller coaster I can think of is the past three days. I spent a lot of time in the car driving to Ohio to get my car, then to Indy to hang out with Kristyn and Emily, then back again through Ohio to Virginia. I pulled into my garage at 1:30am last night/this morning. I was exhausted. I left Cincinnati after seeing Mandy for a quick visit over Chipotle, and I was so tired from the drama of traffic that my guard was down and tears streamed. I was honest. And there was no energy left to pretend that I was hanging in there. I wasn't hanging anywhere. I was just tired. I was depleted, I was as I was. She, was a champ. She listened. And she reminded me that the lie that I was being torn up by in my head, the one that keeps me awake sometimes, the lie that I like to call "Kari feels forgotten and thrown away and does not matter". She asserted that I knew the truth, that she knew the truth and she listened to me indulge the lie with my tears, and then she hugged me. Told me she loved me, and we parted ways.

Sometimes the lie beckons all my physical attention, and sometimes it dominates every shred of mental discernment. There are moments when the lie wins and I can't remember outside of Jesus what the truth is. The lie takes me from being ok, to not being ok, and sometimes it is so hard to feel like I am going to get through all the emotional heartbreak of not only the end of a dating relationship, the change that friendship has suffered because of that, in addition to the damage and destruction of my relationship with my own mother. The boundaries that I know that have to be in place are sometimes way taller then me, and stretch far wider then my heart can process. I know in my head that boundaries are good, I know that in the midst of this roller coaster of emotion that I am protecting people from the wrath of words not rooted in love or wisdom. I know mostly though, that I am protecting myself from not being able to hear or listen in ways that would be healthy and productive for where I am at in this process of grieving.

But most of the time. I am 'ok', which is more often then not: praise the Lord. I just want my best friend back. I just want to talk about my life, share my day, and laugh. I miss having that camaraderie, and I miss the security and safety of being known in the way that friendship brought. Today I was in Target and I realized that I missed my mother, and I missed being able to ask her random questions, or complain about bigger situations. However, neither of these two relationships are in a place of pretense or smoke and mirrors. I can't just call either of them up and pretend that nothing happened and just use them for what my heart misses. It would be an empty phone call. It would cheapen why they meant so much, and why this space hurts so much to do.

I am thankful however for some major things in my life. The unchanging ever present way that Christ is there in each, and every moment of this journey. Sometimes he pushes, sometimes he pulls: but I know that His hand is always present on my back leading me, and that my heart fits perfectly in His purpose. I am beyond thankful for the ways that I see this love tangible in some really hard situations. I also have the most amazing and beautiful support system. I am grateful that when I talk to any one of my girls, that the conversation always ends on the most important truth: "I love you". It's not cheesy and its not trite. I know that they mean it, and I know that when I return the sentiment its received in the purity and special bond we share. This struck me so much last night as I got off the phone with Julie and after spending a good portion of West Virginia on the phone with her I was lifted and refreshed. When we said goodbye and shared our mutual love and affection I put my phone down and thanked the Lord that though I have seen a lot of "unlove" behavior, and have been hurt in some major ways this summer, that I have seen so much love and friendship. It truly is everywhere. It is underneath the surface in which I am so scared of drowning in, and it is with me as I rebuild and grow stronger from all that has happened in the recent months.

When someone asks you how you are doing, do you answer truthfully?

When you ask yourself, are you able to speak honestly?

Who sits with you and waits for the real answer to come?

Thank you for praying. Thank you for waiting for the 'Ok' to quiet, and though sometimes the tears come, I am thankful that most of the time I am doing well. It ebbs and flows without warning, and when it returns I am made more strong for when it goes. It's strange to harness a message often spoke between Tex and I in this current situation as I am dealing with my heart in terms of him. But its always been true, and I know that for me, it quiets the lie that I am battling. Often said between us (and sung though not as wonderfully as Josh Groban), "You are loved. Don't give up." I know that in this moment what I'm doing is hard, I know that silence between us and boundaries never known before are impossibly difficult for me at times.

Yet, I know deeply and surely that somewhere in all that has been said and felt between us, his most sincere prayer is that I know that I am loved, and that I don't give up. And. That is just the truth. So... I continue. Walking and not running to get through this completely.

"Don't give up.

It's just the hurt that you hide, when your lost inside I will be there to find you.

Don't give up.

It's just the weight of the world.

Don't give up.

Everyone needs to be heard.

Don't give up.

You are loved."