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?