we've moved

Desiring a place where both this and the postcard blog can live together in harmony...

We've moved to Wordpress.

Check out our new home here:

http://allroadsleadbackto.wordpress.com/

Three.

In an effort to write more regularly, and the sadness but yet peacefulness that I do not have time to keep up with postcards right now... a list of current favorite things.

1) Weather. My goodness gracious. I had a conversation with a friend once about weather in the winter, how it just does something to my mood, perspective... agh I just hate it. We've been fortunate to have the most wonderfully warm spring weather- allowing for skirts and dresses, cardi's, and shorts with long sleeve tshirts for errands. I love it.

I feel more alive in Spring. I know, I know... cheesy because the earth is waking up and putting on its best show... but seriously. The color on my face, the color in my wardrobe, the reminder that God makes all things new... I just love it. Now. I will be complaining in a mere few weeks that its too hot.

2) A Break Is Coming.

I have with the wisdom and push of Danielle whom I love love love love so much to take a week off. It's planned right now for the end of April. Krystal's birthday is the 22nd and that will begin my time away. I'm trying to get creative about what to do for her day, and get a feel for expectations. One never wants to disappoint the birthday girl! On Monday following I will be grabbing my underused best friend, the Canon and going for a road trip of sorts. To the Ocean. I plan to drive along the East Coast and check out places I've always wanted too. The time is meant to be reflective, restorative, and quiet. I'm thankful for the plentiful PTO time I have a year to make this break possible without removing the opportunity of summer trips, and fall getaways. I will return the following weekend to a Dave Barnes concert in Charlotte, and head back to work May 1. Wait. Have you picked up on how excited I am. WAY excited.

3) Visitors.

Moving to Winston-Salem and enjoying newness is always more fun when "oldness?" (that doesn't sound right), how about Old Friends. Yes... come to visit. This year I've had an oldie/newish friend Seth kick off the New Year on his sabbatical from Mercy Ships- it was so cold, but so fun! At the end of February I had Emily come visit for a long weekend to enjoy time away from mommy hood and sister time. Loved it. On Friday this week, Kerri Fowler Tank is coming to visit. I haven't seen her in AGES... like 2 years I think which is ridiculously too long and much too sad to comprehend. I pick her up in Charlotte and the festivities will begin. Target and Old Navy are always on the list. As is delicious tasty Mexican (taking her to my fave: Don Juan)... she will rub shoulders with my Winston Besties at an egg coloring party Friday night, and just enjoy time catching up and slowing down with each other. I'm grateful for the efforts of friends to come to me... its a welcomed shift as I was able to for a long time be the one to travel TO. Hosting is fun. Way. Fun.

4). So yes. The Weather.

The Vacation.

The Visitors.

Life. Is. Marvelous.

five things.

Of things worth noting... these are just a few things that come to mind.

1) When I was in the Bakery on Summer Staff in 2003, after a couple of times making "dirt" for what felt like thousands... I swore that I'd never make it again. Never. It was disgusting. The magic is gone when you know how its assembled. Fast forward to 2012. Brinkley and I were brainstorming a party to throw at work on Saturday. It's around Spring. I said I'd make "dirt".

This evening I got back from my hair cut, and I started making the pieces of the dirt puzzle. I could not believe for the life of me that I was making it.

A few things stood out:

a) making 2 pots of the dessert is WAY easier then 60,000 (not literally. but it was a lot).

b) I loved my Summer Staff experience. I met some amazing people. And while Jules, Matty, and Jess continue to be prized and beloved people in my life... there were others that made such a tangible impact on my life. The way I viewed community, Christ, and my role in a group of people radically changed that session. I'm thankful for the long lasting and what will be eternal effects of a time well spent. While working at camp I always felt so close and connected to what that experience looked like. It was never far. Not really. This summer it will be 9 years since I set foot in the bakery. It feels far. The context and content of my relationships with three beloved friends continues to evolve, change, grow, and morph into the present.

Yet. Today.

I remembered and reflected how it was one month of service that began it all.

So. Dirt. Was a great experience.

2) I got my haircut today. Not really anything. Just a few layers trimmed in the front. But I got my "summer" highlights done. It's amazing how different you can feel after 2 hours in a chair being done up. Mckenzie is my favorite colorist I've met to date. I trust her implicitly. I like that she can pick up on my tones of "I want change" but knows better then to challenge my desire to cut 12 inches off, just yet. I like her. She's really started to open up and become chatty. It's a good thing.

3) It's summer weather here. The air conditioning went on the other day. It hurt my heart. I turned it off just as quick.

4) Kim and I are going to the Hunger Games tomorrow night. I can't freaking wait.

5) Truthfully. Life is good. There are of course challenges, and highs and lows (sometimes even within the same day). But I feel quietly content and purposely challenged in each day. I've been dealing with some mild frustrations regarding sugar, and my internal roller coaster. There are days when I know that my light is not quite as bright, and that I'm more quiet then usual. Sometimes I struggle with the sound of my voice in my head, and pray that it passes quickly and with little damage. I remember talking to my brother last year about this time about the challenges of sugar, medicine, and such. It was the first time I can ever recall having allowed the emotional burden and exhaustion be heard. Said out loud that its hard. That its a struggle. A difficult one. He encouraged me in the way that I most depend, and yet am always surprised by. That life would continue to move along, and that I'm strong- independent, smart, and more than capable with my faith to tackle this and tackle it well. I feel as though I'm in a similar valley, and pocket of exasperation. I can hear him in my head. I can hear him helping me move along. The past couple of days have been better. But altogether, there's been a lot of emotional stress in the past two months and the priority of my health has not been in its top position. Pulling it together. We're getting there. And because of the Grace and Patience that I have been learning with and for myself... its there- that life is good.

(shout it out.)

If you don't know or are not yet a fan of the duo All Sons and Daughters.

You need to check them out.

We've been singing some of their stuff in church recently, and seriously love love love them.

Artsy.

Indie.

Folkie.

Delicatie (ok I just couldn't figure out another word to keep in line with the 'ie' trend).

A particular favorite is "All the Poor and Powerless". The bridge breaks it down into the most simple action,

Shout it.

Go on and scream it from the mountains.

Go on and tell it to the masses.

That He is God.

So simple right? Shout it out. Scream it from the mountains.

I have been involved in ministry as my full time job, and I have some beloved friends that are partnered internationally with purposes for Christ, some locally in their high schools, and others in places of worship on Sunday's. They are gifted at what they do.

With the thoughts of the future laying before me, and the transitional shifts taking place in what I would hope and dream for the years to come... I have often thought about how sometimes we miss the most simple, direct, and meaningful way to approach ministry. To change our environments at work, to change our churches, our friendships, our families. We get cozy and we get apathetic. I have noticed this to have been most true in my own life when I was on staff at camp, and sometimes still recognize it in beloved friends involved in ministry of the same nature for an extended amount of time. What is potentially hazardous in that place, is that we also get...

Comfortable. I'm not sure we even know when this happens. And sometimes when we are comfortable, we justify, explain, and excuse our behaviors. Our actions became motions that get us to the next place, position, goal, or desire.

Last year in the wake of some growing and stretching I felt convicted that love is a choice. And that everything that comes with that is a choice- to respond to a calling, to pursue with intention, to love much, well, and often. I began to understand how if I am to choose love when my sinful heart and selfish desires beg of me to pursue something different... that means when I actually commit actions of non-love... that too is a choice.

There has been great healing and growth in some dark and twisted areas of my heart over the past three years. Its been a longwinded but wonderfully purposed journey. I know that I am in the strongest, most honest, transparent, and porous time of my life. I am being grown, stretched, pushed and pulled by the people I work with in humbling ways, but mostly from a body of people I call my community here in Winston-Salem. Outside of these friends and times I've been asked recently where I've been. I've not visited anyone for the weekend, taken time off and away. Well. That time is approaching- as I plan and think about a small little spring break vacation at the end of April. To rest. To restore. To be before an ocean or even Mickey Mouse. To stand before myself. To reflect. To be grateful. But outside out of that time that is being purposed right now, I have no desire to go anywhere.

My life. Is here.

My heart is here.

Both in the same place.

Friends.

When was the last time I was truly able to say that?

Last Monday night Jules called. It's been awhile since we've caught up on the phone. And yet because I know that she prays, and reminds me that she is thinking of me in messages or texts, her love and friendship is never far. Jules is special. It's not that I am particularly different, or changed. But a more authentic, vulnerable, and painfully honest version of me emerges because she... is a safe place.

And has been for.

A.

Really.

Long.

Time.

I have spent the week pondering some noted and difficult things and spaces she's challenged me. But also in the encouragement to seek God's heart, and plan while determining the footing. I am thankful for the message of hope and of love.

Yet. I am most thankful.

For the spirit of celebration as she and Seth continue to be sensitive to God's calling for their lives and ministry and stepping forth in that Faith.

For the celebration that a long battled time of waiting, hurting, at times excitement and joy--all led me here. To this space and place.

She is a warrior. For God and with me.

When I get off the phone with her I am always sharpened for the adventure at hand, and I always want to pick up out of my comfortable and cozy place to be USED. To be different. To be BOLD. To spread out my arms and heart...

I want to shout it.

I want to scream it from the mountains.

I want to go on and tell the masses.

That He is God.

Thankful for a such a friend that can inspire that, and so consistently over the past 8.5 (sigh) years.

Lots of thinking going on here.

Lots of growing.

And a girl continuing to fall madly in love with her Savior, this season, time and space... and this new supporting cast of relationships. Love them. Lots.

emily & change

I went back to work yesterday after a very beloved and LONG period of time off, and a visit from Emily- whom has been my most treasured and active friend in some very intense seasons of life. She and I go back before Virginia, before Winston-Salem, before time traveling abroad, and before a broken heart. She's been through some tough things with me, and has pushed me so hard and so much towards the Lord. I am learning as I get older, what a rare gift it is to find girlfriends in life that go to war with and for you, and that are there to celebrate too. I have several special girls in my life, but Emily is different. She's in a class all her own. Which reminds me of friends like Jules, Sandy, Kerri, and Barb. Women that speak to me in truth, and allow me the opportunity to see within myself the shifts and maturities progress as I learn more about who God is, and who I am to God. It's amazing to share life with them.

In other news. There is a major shift about to happen in my place of employment. One that has placed a question on the table that has me searching through prayer, time quiet, and seeking the wisdom of people who love me and know me well. Matty and Seth without being on the same continent had very similar statements made, and I'm thankful for a consistency between them. I spent the weekend really sorting through what the implications of changing my mind would mean. I have been able to flesh out my thoughts and talk through what the different options could be, and I have felt loved and safe to change my mind five thousand times in one sentence.

I have talked about living Internationally for years. Literally forever. If I were to move, say, Turkey- no one in my life would be the least bit surprised. Especially in light of my career advancing, and progressing into something truly wonderful in its inclusion of all things that I love.

However. I love. Love. Capitol L love my life in North Carolina. I am digging in, deeper and with more meaning each week- and I'm home here. If I leave for a year, I would be opting out of that, but then also I know that Home is HERE. It's not anywhere else. I'm grateful for that, but my head starts to spin with the realm of possibility and tenderness in my heart as I sense...

That my dreams are changing.

I'm changing.

What a marvelous thing to feel happening, and yet the tailspin of which is scary, foreign, and somewhat uncertain.

Thankful however that things are becoming much more transparent and clear in prayer, and the pursuit of people who are willing to speak truth to me- and love me consistently and without ceasing. Emily's visit was perfect. The contrast between her friendship and others sometimes gets lost in the distance, but when I'm able to look across the table at her, I'm inspired by the women we've been, the places we've lived together, and now apart- and who through it all I know there's not a thing she would do on my behalf in the name of sisterhood and love.

I leaned in close. To not miss it. To listen. To be. Still. With her. It was fantastic.

Then experienced a final day off to run errands on my own, pal around with Gracie, and to prep for my contribution to the pot luck dinner in a place I love so much, and so dearly.

Work began yesterday, and I was thankful to feel truly rested. And begin planning for the next few weeks projects at work, and keep going. Into and for something that I have truly enjoyed.

Last night I sat with a group of people, who for the most part I do not know well. I got to talk to new friends, and connect with friends that I am truly pumped about having in my life in more intentional and deep ways.

I came home and slept.

Dreamed of a place where the two options that lay before me at work were able to merge into one.

I woke up not remembering how it was accomplished, but just that it was.

And continued to un peel the layers to the day, while winding up for a task at hand that begins at 1:30pm.

I don't know yet now what is to come.

But I'm way excited to meet her, as I've gotten glimpses of this changing person with changing dreams- all the while laughing, loving life. right now.

rest and complaint

I've been sort of a roller coaster recently. I know that its true because the first statement and place to look is, "kari, how is the quality of your rest?" Last week I had a dream, a bizarre and twisted dream in which my teeth started falling out. Mind you, I worked real hard for these straight precious gems and the idea of losing them while awake: terrifies me. Dreams about teeth has long said to be rooted in a lack in control, I didn't think much more of it. Then I was talking about it and thought well lets see what the Psychology journals say about this topic. Ok. I scanned through the meanings and interpretations, and finally on the last paragraph a spiritual consideration was written:

A scriptural interpretation for bad or falling teeth indicates that you are putting your faith, trust, and beliefs in what man thinks, rather than in the word of God.

Alright. That explanation and take was actually a wee bit closer to home. Well. It was all the way home, with the car parked in the garage.

How often do we do this? Seek the "counsel" of our peers, friends, community, and family for their input, opinions, and most of the time justification to feel a certain way, think a certain thing, react into a particular venue, or just console what we are struggling with.

In the most recent weeks I've been trying to relax and rest into life post Holiday. I think the one thing that I have struggled most in adapting is the knowledge and the value in what REST actually looks like. Instead of late nights at work, or early morning scrambling myself together, on a cycle that just wouldn't end... I am now well past the end. Its been 2 months since Christmas Day. How have I applied what I learned during that time, to this one?

Pace is a word used often at work. We talk about adjusting our pace to the flow of traffic, task, day, and season. Speed is what I remember being told to slow down my entire childhood. Either because of my chronic ankle sprains ("Kari, slow the hell down" --stan the man). Or because I was socially, way socially over stimulated. Never could quite sit still or be quiet.

Best thing learned while traveling solo?

Being still and quiet is ok. I don't always need to be "doing".

I adapted and truly began to understand, trust, and know the sound of God's voice (and my own) in the silence.

Yet. Now. I am here in this still somewhat new and unfamiliar place, and I've been flailing a little bit. I have been sensitive about things that I would never normally be. I've been quiet in moments that I would typically be expressing the root of tenderness. And yet, I've complained about situations, people, and circumstances instead of just being quiet. And still before Christ.

(the sermon Series at church right now may feel like it shines a spot light over my head each Sunday. Talking a lot about complaining. Yeah...).

Who am I trying to appease and justify?

What am I trying to establish?

Where am I trying to go? The future? The past?

When I complain what am I hoping to accomplish?

Why do I spend more time at lunch dates filling conversation up with complaint, then I do praying?

I seek the voices and faces of others because I think they matter more. My sin and self righteous behavior tells me that their thoughts and take are the most important.

I am trying to establish that I am right, or been wronged, am blameless.

Where I am going, is never forward. Its usually a tailspin backwards.

I am hoping to prove, and petition my point of view.

I do it, because I perceive that my voice will keep me in control.

Instead of letting it speak to God, and having Him unravel me, so that I can be shaped more in His sight, vision, and purpose.

Truth is.

Life is pretty sweet right now.

I love love Winston-Salem. In spite of being talked to about International opportunities this summer, I am truly happy and peaceful here.

I love love love love my church. I am growing and being stretched in the most perfect and difficult ways.

I am formulating true, real, deep friendships here. People that I have been cared for and loved much by. There have been some priceless Sunday afternoon's off in recent weeks, that I wouldn't trade for any day "doing" anything.

All of those things are more then enough.

They are more then any petition in prayer I've raised.

Yet.

Small. Insignificant details.

Larger pressures and ambiguity.

Are stealing my rest, and my joy.

And robbing the hope I feel in and for Christ to bloom and flourish.

A dream about losing my teeth was the first indicator.

Thankful for it.

But am totally overwhelmed.

And that I suppose. Is ok. If I'm talking to the right person, and not complaining to everyone else.

need to.

I need to write.

Sometimes as much as I need to eat. Breathe. Sleep. And Laugh.

Yet. I can function without it. I can make it through each day without taking the time to reflect or think in a way that forces me to use my big girl words.

I have rearranged some places in my house that got shuffled with Krystal's arrival. Tucked away in hidden corners were remnants of history and love. Life. People known and places seen. All scribbled away on perfectly smooth ivory pages, leather bound in my journals of choice: the moleskine.

Inside those books are memories. Heart cries. People. Tears. Grievances. Hope. Prayers. Pleads. Petitions. Celebrations. And so much of my heart, that I think you can feel it beat with the journal resting in your hands.

This blog has in the past served as a simple way to remain connected to home when I traveled. It fulfilled its purpose consistently. However, I remember a few weeks after it began how much it became a reflection of myself, to myself. That it became a way for me to be connected to me, when I traveled. When I was home. Regardless of where I was and what I was doing.

Sometimes its just hard for me to write on this blog. To focus long enough to sum up and collect the words and thoughts to place as a marker for this time, space, life, and thought. I also am saddened by my inability to use my hands, my favorite pen, and write it down in the moleskine. The newest one. That just waits. Each Sunday I use it for my sermon notes, and I think to myself that I need to write more. Say more of what matters. Even if for just one part of my day I'm able to put together my thoughts regarding that day. What I prayed for. Thought about, wondered, or struggled through.

I have the postcard blog that perfectly documents last year. Its a project I have so tremendously loved and enjoyed through and through. This blog has been a witness in varying degrees of commitment to my journey, story, and I pray- testimony to Christ.

I need to write. I need to write more. I need to find the time, somewhere, carved out to be real and honest. And to tell the story.

What story?

The one that shares the work that the Lord is doing in my life.

My heart.

That I am not the same today as I was yesterday as I run hard and chase after that which will sanctify and restore my life, heart, and relationships.

Writing allows me to reflect and pontificate on all things in which draw me internally, too deep into my head, and help pull me out of that somewhat silent place into a more transparent and vulnerable space.

Just some thoughts.

Why is it sometimes so hard to do what we know we so deeply need?

seven letters.

It has been awhile since I've written. Not that there hasn't been anything to say, but in actuality... where does one truly start?

In the past four years this forum has served as a space for me to ramble about how much I love my friends, how much I love my God, what I'm learning, and to vent through what I've been hurting about and through.

Some posts I can look back to read and I am instantly brought to the same place- minus the version of me articulated. It's amazing to have a collection of pieces written that stamp a time on an experience and moment. It helps me to see without a shadow of doubt that God is working in my midst.

What I'd like to say this morning. Is that I have known great. True. Real. Unwavering Love. It has come in forms and mysteries that I can only attribute to God's Grace and masterful hand.

Last Thursday after tripping outside my house on the 3rd floor I walked inside paralyzed by anxiety that I severely injured my not yet healed feet, and sat on the couch. Krystal told me that there was a surprise in the kitchen. I went over to it.

Stretched out on the counter were letters, and a few pictures. The notes ranged in of themselves with scripture, encouragement, greetings and salutations. And oozed. With love. So much you couldn't miss it. Each one was written by a friend I have at church that I've been hanging out with since I started going to Salem Chapel. They touched on things that they appreciate about me, who I am, and how thankful that I am here.

I think the most impressing part of this act of love and friendship is that it was solely conceived and executed by Justin. Upon reading all of them, and talking to some friends that had contributed I was so touched by the thought, time, enthusiasm, and care he put into this idea, and why. What was the purpose the letters were to serve? Encouragement. Affirmation. For Kari.

Jeff's made me laugh out loud when describing my lotion expertise being unparalleled.

Carolyn's handwriting reminded me of a friend I've had for decades, and it spoke true to what Barb would have said.

KP's was to the point, and I love that.

Kim Shu expressed a desire for more friendship. More fun. I'm totally in for that idea.

Sarah was thoughtful and expressed her gratitude for 'the breath of fresh air' that I have been.

Justin was funny in his pictures, but his note responded to my honesty, albeit brutal or awkward at times but still working at life together.

Each one could have been written by someone I have known my entire life. They were that personal, and poignant.

Letters are my most favorite thing. Perhaps because it was the sole form of communication between a parent I did not know outside of that format my entire life. It could also be in part because the world will throw in your face an untrue importance on earthly possessions, but the only thing that truly matters is the nature and condition of your heart.

How are you loving people in your lives well?

How are you reaching out into what you may believe will be difficult conversations, to show that the way you feel matters more then the fear of the unknown?

God has His love for us written in the Scriptures.

It is one big message of love. Sacrifice. How to live. What to say. Who to be.

Love is everywhere.

And I will be the first to admit that in failure, hurt, or tears that its sometimes impossible to see and acknowledge. I consider it a true sense of maturity and growth that in the midst of a hurtful conversation with Mandy yesterday, that I was still able to see and know the truth of what love is, supposed to do and be, and how my life has ben centered around that with transparency, hope and optimism, but also because of which has left me sensitive to the lack of love and friendship by others.

This morning I woke up and stared outside from the comfort of layers of sheets and bedding.

Gracie perched on the edge of my bed gazing out at the same spance of trees.

I just thought about versions of people I have known, and versions of me I have been.

I thought about things I wanted to yell, scream, and say.

I thought about how deeply thankful that I am living the life God intended for me, which only came at the release of everything I thought it was supposed to look like. A daily submission of control, a hourly reminder I am not ever able to understand God's total picture and plan.

I thought about how love is a choice.

I thought about how some people change and you never see them again.

I thought about how much love is there, everywhere. In our midst. In our souls.

I thought about a stack of letters that no longer have a home here, and I thought about the new additional 7 that do.

I thought about God a lot. "I will get glory" ex. 14:17, and how because of hardship and celebrations He can and does.

I thought mostly of gratitude that Mandy fought for me when it mattered most, and chased down the window to make sure I knew that I was loved, known and cared for in a single phone call yesterday.

And then the letters. That came days ago but still have such a wonderful glow to them as they have affirmed in me over and over again.

Thank you Jesus.

For all the boxes packed that never went anywhere else.

But came here.

When it was time.

I love you.

(25 seconds)

Since I last wrote I have celebrated Christmas.

Taken 150+ ornaments down from the ceiling at work.

I prepared to surprise the girls in Roanoke by attending a party that Kait was throwing.

I was also getting things together for Matt and Seth to arrive in Winston later that same weekend.

The Lord. However, had some tricks up his sleeves.

When I got into my car on the way home to Roanoke, I saw two voicemail messages. The first, Matty. The second, Seth. How strange two years later can feel like. I listened to Matt explain that he was being admitted to UVA. I calmly noted his lack of panic, and put myself in line with his tone. Then I listened to Seth. Which in hindsight sort of makes me laugh now, but at the time, all I could think of was how thankful I was that I heard Matt's message first.

I called them both back, and had good conversations. Obviously with Matt being admitted into the hospital, that meant he wasn't coming. Seth and I talked through viable options for our reunion- and settled in the end to leave things as they were. I was going to see Matty the next day, and had to return home to work- before his scheduled visit to me.

I sat quietly in the car for awhile. I called my brother and told him. I called Mandy to make sure she had heard from Matt. I texted a couple of people. I felt settled that I had done what I should, knowing that we didn't know much. I debated and thought about another phone call or two. Not quite sure.

Memories began to flood of a 25 second phone call I received a very hot August day from Tex, while I was hanging out in Roanoke. I remember everything about it. I remember I was standing outside Barnes and Noble. That I didn't cry. Not a tear. I remember I called my mother immediately after, and asked her to communicate with the family what was happening. I remember sitting in the backseat of Tex's car, as he picked me up to drive to the Hospital together with the Lexington crew. I remember the phone call coming in saying that Matt had made it to Roanoke on the helicopter. I remember the pause before I knew he had arrived safely that I thought he had died. It was a heavy. Long. Tormented pause.

I also remember all of the things I thought about in the car. I thought about meeting Matt in 2003 and how much of my life in Virginia was changed when we became friends. I scanned through thousands of images and memories with this friend, and I held onto one thing in my conversation with Christ, "I'm not ready."

A pained and traumatic moment came when his beloved parents arrived from Harrisonburg. Tex and I followed Fetzer downstairs so that he could park their car. Carol approached me weeping and asked if he was alive. Was Matthew alive? I crumbled. I said yes, and she collapsed into my arms. I have never in my life experienced something like that. Never. The day brought light and hope that Matt was going to recover, he was going to be ok. The trauma then would take an emotional and mental toll. The physical was being healed. Monitored.

That first night I sat quietly in a corner of the hospital. Deep and dark in thought. Finally able to begin the process of peeling back the layers of the day. I remember sitting there. I remember having fixated on a light coming from a building down below on the street.

One way that Chad loved Tex and I incredibly well was that, he drove all of our friends home. Tex and I left that night and drove to Sonic- neither of us having eaten anything in hours. We sat and we talked. And cried. And stared out into the night.

Nothing in my life was quiet the same after that night. It was the beginning of a really, truly, dark and tormented year. Two months later Tex moved to Oregon. And despite the visits I took to him there, I wasn't yet strong enough to handle all that those visits would entail. My family life fell apart, and I consequently found- the bottom. A dark, twisted, difficult and hard place. Yet somehow, in the midst of orphans in China, I was able to come back up. I came back up for air.

Life since then has been a wonderfully poignant and profound journey forward. At times I admit I fought it, and battled against what would come, what needed to happen, or what I felt should- because I deemed it more uncertain and terrifying then that which I was already entrenched. However, the Lord kept His promises- as always. And I was continue to be tenderly healed from a broken heart in light of so many difficult circumstances.

Walking into UVA last week. I was thankful that a)there had been no trauma that discovered the infection for Matt. and b) he was not in Roanoke, but in a new and different hospital. I led with humor and lightness walking into Matty's hospital room, after having a tough moment alone in the elevator with my thoughts. "Seriously?" we laughed. I spent a few hours there, and then when he went in for testing, Carol walked me downstairs.

We stood and shared. Hindsight. Concerns. Memories. She noted how hard things had been after the cardiac arrest- in my life. She spoke of it with tenderness. I responded with transparency- "I didn't realize that, was when- it started to spiral out of control." We talked about how different we all are now. Different parts of the country. Her grand babies. Perspective and caution. And sometimes fear. One thing I noted was just how much more accepting I was of the path. The journey. I was thankful I could spend the short time with Carol in a hospital hallway able to acknowledge the differences between now and then.

The biggest and most tenderhearted thing I realized in the car on my way to Roanoke Thursday night was, and well on my way to UVA the next morning was never, never, thought or spoke, "I'm not ready." I think I could hear the angels in Heaven when I noticed that statement had never been considered.

I'm never going to be ready. But that is not the source of that statement.

The source and meaning behind it, is that: I love Jesus. Totally and entirely with every part that my sinful self will allow. I trust Him. I trust that He loves Matt, has a whole plan and purpose for Matt. I believe and know that Matt loves Jesus. We are all covered in more Grace then we could possibly every comprehend. I don't need to ready myself to lose Matt, or lose anyone. I have to continue to prepare and assert my heart to Christ the Father to do His thing- and I will trust it.

I love Matt more then I could ever explain to another human being. It's pure. It's familial.

We have been friends a long. long. time. Our friendship has survived where others have not.

He is in my future. Forever.

I know that I love my siblings that same way.

There's nothing I wouldn't do for Matty. Nothing. Even if it meant giving him my own heart.

The blessing is that, when you love someone that much, and that way- and you know Jesus.

You know.

It's all going to work out according to His plan and purpose.

So I have somehow learned in the 2 1/2 years between hospital stays that I am invited into this friendship with Matt here on earth, but that the real party is in Heaven. I can't control if, how, or when. I can only trust in Jesus to ease my concerns, my anxieties, to be my source of strength. And Love Jesus enough to accept whatever hurt may come to walk confidently in the direction of the unknown- to be vulnerable with in my hurts. Because. Life. Just hurts sometimes- and to celebrate the gifts of friendship he has given to me here. in the now.

There is joy.

Wonderful. Bright. Joy.

Thankful to know that more today then I did yesterday- but mostly for being able to walk into a hospital on my own.

Strong enough. Prepared. Able.

Not needing a single hand on my back to lead the way.

I can.

We can.

I am.

We are.

Living with joy and hope in Jesus.

Life is good. Better. Then I thought possible even in the beginning of a very hard year, that began: two and a half years ago with a single 25 second phone call.