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.

He's Waiting

Sometimes I wish that everyplace that I look, and at every task I am trying to complete came with a post it note that said, "take pause. here."

I don't want to miss Christmas. Especially now that I'm decorating my house, wanting to contribute to my community with Holiday Cheer (having house dinner Christmas WAY early was smart for this over tired and exhausted girl).

What I've been learning a lot about, and what I am thankful about is that, here. At the edge. Of exhaustion. Myself. The task. The day. The season. My heart. My mind. Is sometimes the only place I remember to lean back, to lean in, and to give up all my ambitions, desires, and intentions to- Jesus. I can decorate, exchange gifts, and "add" onto the Tree and Season with my offerings.

But the ONLY thing that matters does not require a bow, a cookie, a meal, or a tree.

Jesus asks for my heart. My time. My focus. My energy. My exhaustion. He waits. And waits. Knowing that the choices I will make that will pull me in directions that will not nourish me, and knowing what burdens I will carry before I give them up.

And he waits.

In a manger. Under a dark sky lit with one bright, holy divine star.

He waits for me. He waits for you.

He waits. And we spend so much time and energy focusing on every other tradition, detail, requirement, hope, and wish. That we forget the only one that gives us life, that brings true relationship, secures our eternities, and quenches every dream and wish- is waiting. For our time. For us.

I have 3 days. Two more working days before Christmas Day. I have learned so much this Holiday Season with the stresses, and the work load, and the 75 people I help manage and lead... that a moment, a breather, a conversation outside of the context of the task is encouraging and life giving when the to do list is endlessly long.

At the end of myself and this season I am thankful to be reminded of in small moments and in bigger hopes and plans- that the only thing I need, the only thing He wants, is my heart. All of it. For always.

Sometimes it just takes having no other personal strength or perspective left, to see that one bright one star- in what feels like a very long dark night.... to bring me back home, lift my heart up, and to enjoy that relationship fully, because He's waiting. For it, for me. Forever.

holiday decor.

My sister decorates her house in excess. She claims that its almost as if Christmas Threw Up on her house.

I could not be more different.

I have never decorated for the Holiday. Never bought a big ole tree. Nope.

Explaining this in years past I would just leave it simply with "I'm never home for Christmas". But the truth is, I just couldn't do it. Somewhat of a Scrooge, and a tenderhearted girl to family moments and traditions lost in the space between siblings, and dissolve of my parents marriage.

Last year was different. I sat through Crossroads' (Mandy's Church in Ohio), and wept through their production of Awaited (Their Christmas Show). Like seriously. Cried through nearly the entire thing. Their song "We Three Kings" unglued me. At the seams. I could not control how often the tears dropped. I had been searching. For a very long time. For something. In the midst of that performance, I was able to see without question or obstructed vision. That the Star. I have traveled so far. Both literally and figuratively. He had the power to give me sight. He restored me, in my weakness- in my hurt. The movement of the dancers, and the singular star that was positioned above them. Took my breath completely away.

We three kings.

Have traveled so far.

Through fields and mount

In pursuit of the star

And we with humanity, seek to find

What lies beyond the earth and sky...

Dreamers, three

Unsettled are we

No truth, we find

Or love that sets free

But whisper has come to our ears from afar

To rise and follow this star

Star of wonder

Star at night

Reach Reach Reach for the Star

Star of wonder

Star at night

Star of wonder, star at night...

Reach. Reach. Reach.

Oh, star of wonder star at night

Star of wonder. Star at Night.

You have the power to, to give us sight

To feed the hungry. Restore the weak.

Are you the one, for which, we seek?

We three kings. Have traveled so far.

Abandoned all.

For the sake of this star.

My heart had begun to change while in China, about what does a family look like- what will my traditions be for my children one day- how do you truly honor God in your relationships, etc... my hardened and burdened heart for my own lost traditions began to open wide so that they could be healed. Newness was not replacing beloved favorite memories, but it was helping move a very stubborn foot forward.

I am in the midst of the most stressful season of my professional life. I have had these seasons before. I would get lost into them. They were an excuse for not participating. I was able to hide.

Now that I'm here, and have hung 150 plus ornaments from the ceiling at work, I was sort of at a loss for the desire my heart had to decorate my own home. I wanted my own tree. While at brunch after Church a few weeks ago I shared this. I shared how the Lord has changed and worked in my heart in this regard. Justin suggested that at house dinner the following week, everyone would come bearing an ornament to decorate my tree. I would have a tree. And it would be decorated in friendship. Amazing. When I set my tree up I started rustling through drawers and boxes locating ornaments given to me in the past. Tiffany's was from Emily last year. Diet Coke was found somewhere awhile back- I bought it in hope that it would find its true home on a tree, just didn't know when. Up! Was purchased when they released the first Hallmark Pixar Series (I hang out with K.Piper alot, she enlightened me in this regard). It was funny to me how I'd had about half a dozen ornaments for a tree I never planned on ever having. God is funny that way.

My front door has a Wreath that Kim, my Winston BFF MADE herself. I love it. It's perfect. There are stories on the tree. A globe I found to represent all the times I've been around the world- and how now. Here. Now. Home. Is what matters most.

A home that now houses a tree.

My very first. True. Decorated and beloved tree.

I love the light it casts in the dark night- but also as the sun sets and the glow of the lights reflects on the framed photographs on the wall.

Pictures are below. Including Gracie next to her most favorite new thing. Sitting close, and near to the splendor and joy that is Christmas here. It's like she was waiting the whole time for it to come. She looks at her stocking and sniffs it, and then she sleeps next to the lights. I love it.

feeling better.

Never underestimate the feeling of being healthy. Like no more sniffling, sneezing, coughing, or headaches. I have been sick before, like in the span of my life obviously. But I've never been hit so hard back to back in the span of three weeks. The flu was awful, but the bronchial illness was enough to make my heart sad.

But the healing does come. And something even better returns- ease. Today I returned to work after two whole wonderfully purposed days off. I Christmas decorated (more on that later), I shopping for some misc. gifts, I prepped for House Dinner here tomorrow night, I hung out with Kristyn a lot, and I laughed, talked, texted, caught up, and just loved it.

I returned to work laughing at the banter of the afternoon Alexis and I shared, and began my day with Ed. Whom makes me smile and brings me out of my sometimes over focused on the details in the work place. He was visiting us to help us out while Danielle is out resting her back which she injured this week.

I mention all of this because it was marvelous to come home tonight, to sit and begin to reflect on the day and acknowledge that I feel better. The day was better. It should be important to mention that I love my job, and I love the people I work with- and even in the midst of illness I still love my job, and I still love the people I work with. But today was definitely the FUN that I'd been missing.

So. I will try and rest, and recoup. In typical fashion the next few days are manic and jam packed with work, a dinner party, work, and a flight to NYC!, and a football game, and a Family Christmas celebration early, and a flight BACK home... to work.

But I will love it all.

Especially now that my fever is gone. My coughing has stopped.

I can breathe and laugh and not hyperventilate... and its fun. Again.

Yay.

thankful.

the girls.

favorite picture from Thanksgiving.

From the moment Winston-Salem came on the scene Matt was affirming in me that he'd be at my house for Thanksgiving. The party was smaller. But that didn't make it less meaningful or special.

Explaining who I was sharing the Holiday with was interesting to new friends. Making it clear that Matt and I are not dating, and then how I knew the Pipers- considering I've never lived in Kentucky/Ohio- was interesting. Sometimes just hard to not get lost in reflection, but for the most part: its a great story. The ties that bind us continue to remain closely and tightly woven in a beautiful, remarkably resilient and wonderfully poignant way.

I remember going to hang out with Robin and Kristyn Piper the weekend before Christmas a couple of years ago. I went to help decorate the several Robin Piper Christmas Trees and shop and cook and laugh and love on them. I barely knew them. Tex had just moved to Oregon, and I knew that I was spending Christmas with them as a family. I was driving back to Virginia from Kentucky and I remember I was talking to my mother about the long weekend we had all shared together. Kristyn, Robin, and I ate some amazing meals- played Rummikub until all hours of the night, laughed a lot, and we cried for people we missed, parts of our families hurting, and just loved each other a lot. I told my mother that I felt like then, even before I knew the future and how it was all going to play out- that part of why Tex and I met and shared such an incredible story, was to get me to those women. And to get those women into my life. Because the sisterhood and love that was born was instant. It resembled a lot of what I felt like when Tex and I became friends.

Through fights, and tears, and the rollercoaster of the originating Piper friendship- I'm humbled and amazed (albeit shocked and surprised) and how tightly Robin, Kristyn and I have clung together in sharing life, love, Holidays and friendship. Not to mention, Kristyn moving to Winston-Salem!

Sitting at my dinner table on Thursday night were not my sisters, or my brothers, or my parents. But I had a brother. A sister. And a mother.

Sometimes I think about the family I will have one day. The kids that will call me mom. The man that will call me theirs. I daydream about being moved Internationally with my current job, which is becoming more of a reality each day. And sometimes I worry that I will have to choose between dreams and realities. Then I'm able to sit back and reflect that while my name is not mom, and there is not a ring positioned on my left hand. That I still have young people in my life I love dearly like they were mine. And that I'm claimed by a loving and living God each day. I have a family that is my own. They are a group of characters that have been accumulated and kept through the years, and they are mine.

I am thankful for them. Those at the table. And for the several friends and siblings of mine that are scattered up and down the East Coast and to the West that I continue to know and love- and share this crazy life with.

Next week my family is meeting in NYC for the Giants/Packers Game. It will be the only time I'll be able to spend with them for Christmas. I can't wait. I am not sure there's much more room in this overwhelming heart for more of what I've just experienced. True and lasting love and friendship. (Even my brother Justin is flying in from California for the game!)

Amazing. Thanks to Matty for helping keep my favorite Holiday tradition alive, and being the best friend and brother a girl could ask for. And love. Endless love and gratitude to the 2 Piper women that have never let me go.

sunflowers.

I have noticed in the unpacking and setting up a new house that you can truly start afresh. You can leave memories tucked into boxes that you've not yet been able to sever yourself from. You can remove photograph's from frames. You can keep mementos of a story, a love, a friendship, a time, a season hidden from view. Having a Birthday recently, and compiling my Christmas Card the other day may have heightened this awareness as I visually looked at all of the events of this year. It's been interesting.

A few weeks ago I completed the decorating project known as: Kari's New Place. There will be a separate blog entry posting favorite new things, favorite new places for old things, and just some things that I believe make a home- really a home.I was done placing photographs on walls. Several new pieces made their debut. Some old ones that I still love so much, and can't decide what new should take over. There are a few that were replaced immediately so that their reminders were made a little less raw.

The truth is. Tex and I aren't friends anymore. The story is long, and there are moments when I'm able to rise above what has been said that has been so hurtful, and for the things unspoken that I think should have been said, and I'm able to have a moment of pure. sweet. uninhibited gratitude. However. Those moments are too infrequent, and too much time spans between them. I pray that they will grow closer together, but right now I'm in the valley of anger, resentment, disappointment, and judgement about it all. I have learned that you can un friend someone on Facebook. Edit out songs on your iPod. Take pictures out of frames. Change the way you tell certain stories. Remove reminders. The best, moving to a new place- the ghosts and memories dissipate. Before you know it, you've nearly wiped out a memory, an entire person. It's so bizarre.

I've not wanted to write about it, then wanted too but felt I couldn't. And then today finally sat and looked through old posts here about what has been good, hard, true, and real... and knew that this story. This part of this story was and is true to me. It's part of what I'm learning. It's becoming part of who I am. I won't ramble on about what he said, or what I did. I will share that decorating a new home, in the wake of that relationship ending in finality- hurt with the reflections I found in perfectly chosen and coordinated frames. Without even thinking I moved through each room and placed things that I loved and repositioned them countless times trying to find their space, their placement of perfection. It wasn't until my birthday that I realized I had one picture left to select, and only a few pieces the right size to put in this one place: my bathroom.

The one picture I had refused to place anywhere else up to that point remained on the bed. It was a photograph I received last year for my birthday from Tex. A field of sunflowers. My most favorite flower. It was a perfect gift, last year from a beloved and treasured friend. He took it, and it makes me laugh because its a point of view I would have captured myself. He did good.

This year, on my birthday I stood and reflected on the year. That person. And all of the moments I have listened and been challenged by Christ in Church recently during our sermon series came into full volume.

My heart is bitter, hardened and angry towards Tex. I have specific reasons that I sometimes hold onto so tightly because they justify me. But the truth is, having a hardened heart towards one person- hardens my heart to all people, especially in my relationship with Jesus. We are called to pray for our enemies. I hadn't prayed for Tex in a long time. So a few weeks ago with this challenge posed, I began to pray. Not for our friendship, not for anything related to me. But for him. That has been so hard. Sometimes I get so mad. Sometimes I want to call him up and scream... but then I know somewhere afterwards we'd probably start laughing... which would just hurt more then the screaming.

Most of the time it leaves me quiet. Hurting. And sad.

But as I've prayed for Him. I know that my heart continues to heal. Not in hope for anything more then I will know and proclaim Jesus through each breath, step, and moment of this life. In the good and the bad. When I'm sad and frustrated. When I'm excited and joyful. My heart will be open to His calling, timing, purpose and Love. My spirit will respond to His peace when I'm unable to see or feel anything else.

Thinking all of those things I decided to place the sunflower picture that I had been hiding behind other choices in my bathroom. Its purpose is that in seeing this picture that I will remember to pray, for Tex, for the hurt that I am fighting and watching be healed in an authentically slow and marvelous pace. It's not meant to serve a reminder of the past, or the friendship. It's an image that will force me to remember. To pray. Its the one place I see each and everyday multiple times a day. I can breeze past hallways, and I can avoid guest rooms. But my bathroom. Is central to my daily routine. I will pray. Sometimes I wonder what or if there is a photograph placed with purpose in his house, I wonder if he struggled like I did, with so many old photographs- so many old memories. I hope there is one, that remains.

Sometimes when I'm brushing my teeth I will look at it through the mirror. If I have shoes on I can sometimes see a glimmer of silver that catches the light. On the ledge of the frame rests a key, carefully placed out of sight. When I took the key off my necklace collection of keys and my lock weeks ago, I had it hidden away in its box. The other day I thought about it, and realized its home was here- where sometimes I'd see it, sometimes I wouldn't. But they are together. Not to celebrate or remember a person. To remember to grow. To keep moving forward. To stop cycles. To hold onto what is real. To be honest. To love more. To embrace Jesus.

To Pray.

For our enemies. For those that hurt us.

To have a heart softened, and pursuing Christ with fervor.

I have and continue to meet amazing people. I am busy with work, with my new church, with social groups, and visits from friends. The pace is hectic and busy, and sometimes I'm so content in the new life here that I forget to look back on the story... the road to here. The people that line that journey, those that continue to contribute. I obviously, never imagined that Tex would be part of the past. I never. Never. Never. thought that. (n e v e r).

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, which I love so much I have tried to spend some time reflecting on the blessings of this year and life. And when I'm honest and vulnerable with myself and God, I sense my heart so hurt and hardened by this entire situation turn to mushy goo, when I think about how happy I am, how great my life is- even in spite of sadness because I am growing and blessed abundantly.

Love is a choice. Friendship is a choice. Forgiveness is a choice. Grace is a choice. I pray that I continue to show discernment and vulnerability with those choices. That I'd be filled with the Spirit, and would approach relationships with continued optimism and hope. That I'd be aware that deceit, secrets, and cycles are a choice too. Mistreating someone we love is a choice, we blame dispositions/time/circumstances... I pray that I would be shown where to grow in those spaces and places to choose better.

But mostly.

My heart swells because I know, that I am loved. (Oh, So l o v e d.)

It's everywhere in my life right now. Sunrises and Sunsets. Nights around bonfires with new friends. Surprises on my Birthday. Letters and Care Packages. Laughter. Real true friendship.

And so, I am also thankful for someone I knew a season, whom I thought would be a lifetime- and I pray.

one picture.

I am in the process of designing and creating my christmas card for this year. It is one of my favorite things to do. I think about it nearly the entire year. Last year was fairly epic: I credit turning 30 and feeling the sincere desire to celebrate a difficult year with much learned.

This year I have debated and considered how many photo's and which ones that captured best each individual thing. The first year I launched this tradition was in 2008. I remember what was on it. The girls that lived in the house at the time, me in California, the picture of BC and I on an elephant in Thailand. The people have been fairly consistent, Matt has been present I think on all of them? I am pretty sure.

Last year I was able to break down and apart what the key things were of the year. All of the faces, places, and moments unspoken in a silent image.

This year.

It's different.

I have selected a template that allows 9 photographs to be chosen. I have already created a file of more then 30 options. I will have more to add to that list in the coming weeks, with Winston Thanksgiving, and the Packers/Giants game with my family.

Right now the card sits temporarily completed. The nine photographs are poignant to this year. Matt, and Mandy are obviously represented. As are my sisters. The Roanoke friends are too.

But what has also made its home in the line up are two photographs of life here. In this place, time, and space.

I just got home from Life Group. We are getting into Exodus with our Sermon Series, and some tender and sensitive spaces in people are starting to come out. I love it. I love hearing about what people have learned. I love hearing people hash out whether they would believe the warnings of the Plagues, or if they would have a hardened heart like Pharoah. I love everything about the conversation, the questions, the dynamic. I love that I'm not the strongest or the weakest. I might just be the most articulate? Probably. I'll take it. I'm growing a ton. Like I leave and I can actually reflect on choices, moments, and life- and everything about it feels. So different.

On my drive home I thought about this christmas card that I tend to get crazily and excitingly obsessed about. I sometimes get wrapped up about how much different, better, or more fun it will be this year compared to last.

Then I think about if there was one image. One picture to sum it all up- what would that picture be? What do I feel takes every nuance, joy, heartache, lesson, and love and presents it the most poignantly.

How lucky am I.

That I make a file to choose a collection of 9, and there are over 30.

How on earth could I pick.

Just.

One.

Then I think about and see this picture. It's one of the series I took for my "I moved" postcard. It was a favorite profile picture on facebook, for a long time.

There are a few things that I love about this picture.

a. Facing forward, while taking a glance back.

b. In front of a house I love. And still own. A house I pray for each day that those living inside would know the same love, safety, and security that I knew my entire residence.

c. I am so. Happy.

My last two weeks in Lexington were really. really. hard. I was heartbroken for memories. For ghosts. For people that are no longer real, and do not exist. I would open boxes that had been taped shut for a year, and I would hurt as their contents were revealed. I even called Mandy asking her to come help me. I couldn't do it. I lost it. And then something happened.

Something shifted. It was quiet. And like the sun rising to great us for the day, it felt like God saying, "I told you I'd come back. I told you I would rise. Again."

And so I learned how to grieve. Truly grieve memories and relationships while simulataneously celebrating such an amazing work done in my heart, life, spirit, and walk with the Lord.

I was happy. In being found broken, and made whole. Again. Each day.

My life in North Carolina is not a stretch from what anyone imagined it would be, or become. I am a social butterfly. I'm joining amazing community. I'm excelling at my job- and am the favorite of the district. Everything has lined up, and continues to live out perfectly. Insanely perfectly. Like almost too perfect, you wait for the other shoe to drop. I was waiting for that shoe- and instead a boy surprised me for my birthday. A very different sort of shoe. It's true. But that shoe, and the many other steps that led me to this place remind me of this girl. That stood with her favorite green shirt. Armed with a camera and her remote clicker to capture a goodbye moment in front of her house.

This year. This picture. Would sum it up.

The sun did rise. God did and continues to show me His grace is never ending, His love unceasing. I waited. And waited. And hurt. And broke apart- that last couple of weeks. I placed myself tenderly and quietly in a bubble. And I celebrated so much friendship I could have busted.

Tonight I sat in a room of new friends. Who might one day feel like family. We are still getting acquainted, and learning the pace of conversation and vulnerability.

But it felt like home.

Just like I felt, knew, and embraced in this picture.

God. He's just so amazing.

I walked into my apartment tonight with the Apple TV still shuffling (to keep Grace company). Remembering the English translation of the song playing, I smiled and reflected on a God that has been in each sunset, and rise of the moon- in every City, and time zone. He has never. Left. Never.

When He felt far away- I would dream, and my words always failed.

I knew. I knew that He was with me.

He, my moon and sun- and every star in the sky, was and is with me.

The English translation of Con Te Partiro:

"When you are far away.

I dream on the horizon, and words fail.

And yes, I know that you are with me.

You, my Moon are here with me.

My Sun, you are here with me."

31.

My dad just left. He was here for a couple of days and I was able to show off my new town, employment, and life here in this space. It was great.

I am realizing more and more how important it is to invite people in, to bring them in from outside conversations- things talked about while on vacation, trips, or while in different locations.

The heart of life.

The heart of relationships are at home.

Real things are talked about at the table, while there is chaos in the kitchen.

Tenderness is found on the couch when you are touched and held in a cozy place.

Home is where it all comes back.

I always have had an open door policy for my house. Dinner could be made at a moments notice. Sisters could always know there was a place to be for however long they needed. Hospitality is one of my things. It's a passion. And I can always sense struggle in either my own heart, or in a relationship if something is off at home. If I have someone over, or a family member in town and its too hard- or something is difficult with them being at the house, there is something that needs to be addressed in the relationship, (though personal space issues aside).

Not that any of those thoughts are new- I think I'm just still working out what it looks like and means. In a new place. With a set of different walls.

Last weekend I knew that JJ was coming to visit. I had invited and hoped that Kaitlan and Leah would also be able to make the trip- as our Vegas plans got postponed. There were legit reasons for both of them, so I never really daydreamed that either of the girls would show up. On Friday afternoon however, pouring out the Jetta though not Kaitlan, was Leah and Alexis. You could have picked me up off of the ground, I was that surprised.

I had the flu last week. Pretty much incapacitated for 48 hours. When my Birthday came, I hoped to gather some hours in the morning that I could be quiet. Run my errands. Spend some time with just me, my thoughts, and yes- my constantly beeping and ringing phone. I felt loved for days before 31 arrived, but it was special. And when the car arrived full of friends from Virginia, and not even Lexington- but Roanoke, I was flabbergasted. In the best way possible. In a way that meant I knew and was processing how amazing the Lord worked in those friendships, that they'd want to pursue me to celebrate. For three full days.

Alexis had never been to the Lexington house, nor met Gracie. Two fairly large markers in my life. There were moments that I would watch him soak it all in, and just find his place in the movement of girl talk and conversation. Leah and JJ walked through each room, poured over each wall, and took the time appreciating each small detail placed with care, thought, and love.

On Friday afternoon I was still 30 seconds behind them, just feeling worn out from the illness, and truly speechless. The pace was finally set, we all in sync, and I showed them my life. I opened up in ways that I knew I hadn't when they worked for me. I brought them to work. We talked at lunch about my life, what I'm learning, how I feel stretched. What's been hard. What's hurt. What's finally healed. What's arrived. It was amazing.

The weekend was a lot of that.

Our collective relationships all took a turn after those three days. We laughed and watched a lot of movies, got lunch delivered, quoted comedians and favorite memories. We were quiet, while together. Gracie loved taking her rounds to maximize her attention.

Leah was challenged, loved, and held accountable to her dreams in a way she hadn't been yet.

JJ and I got to laugh and share like we always had, just different because dB wasn't the backdrop of conversation or complaint.

Alexis and I took a step forward. One that I never anticipated being asked to consider, or an intention made known.

Turning 31 could not look more different then 30.

Last year there was an ache for an arrival, and someone missing from the party.

Last year I knew that something huge was about to shift and happen, though I didn't know yet, what.

Last year my voice was burdened with hurt, even though I spoke in strength and confidence in the Lord.

This year.

I sat at a dinner table with new friends, and older friends- and celebrated the diversity and likeness of people I have met and loved.

This year I was not aching for an arrival, nor was I searching for anyone else.

This year I have experienced the something huge that happened, and the overwhelming joy that has come from being patient for the right thing.

This year my voice speaks mostly love, echoes laughter- and my silences speak a consistent strength and confidence in a loving Savior whom has loved me so much and so perfectly.

30.

Turning you, was amazing. It was a great year. I learned, loved, lost and let go of a lot. And while I wish I could have changed people, or some details of what transpired- I wouldn't change the goodness that came from seeing relationships, jobs, a house, and a town all the way through.

31 came and a week later my dad arrived. Remarking at the details of the life I've facilitated and created here. Loving each nuance. And finally, when leaving "you look and sound so happy. That's the best." Yes. Dad. That is the best.

At home. In and of myself. And really thankful for the amazing people in my life that pushed me to this place, and continue to participate.

So far 31 has been completely fun, and unexpected. In great ways.

monday has arrived.

jj. came with 2 surprises.

it's monday.

i'm still breaking down how i feel about this past birthday weekend, full of all sorts of laughter, quiet moments, dance parties, and tenderness.

i was celebrated.

a lot.

and that.

was amazing.

the very amazing party planner, my new BFF: Kim

the party crew. there was a lot of sequins. loved it.

she. never ceases to throw things at me. in love.

she "gets" me.

1 of 2 surprises. was literally shocked.

the 2nd surprise. i screamed. twice.