Jack and Jesus... or Woody and Buzz.

Jesus outside...

Jack has a hurt eye... but is a PIRATE!

I am procrastinating. Seriously I am. I have a monstrous to do list that I keep telling myself has to be done ASAP, and yet I find myself walking by the computer from time to time and I just sit. There are countless things in this house I need to do. I have laundry, I have cleaning/organizing, and I have some misc. unpacking to do.

There are pictures making their way back to their homes on walls, and I have moved some furniture around spreading out in this home now only occupied by me, Gracie, Jack and Jesus.

SO let's begin there. There was a mouse once. Then it turned into mice. With twice monthly Dodson visits, outlet sonic pitch mouse deterrents, and time the mice still fell in love with this house. I returned back from all that was this Spring last week. On Friday with Kristyn's arrival joining Mandy who came into Wednesday we saw one. A little ole cute as a button I could kill you with a shoe, Mouse. (Mandy did kill it with her Chaco). We started making calls. I was supposed to be grilling out for the girls, and Jamie was coming over. I bailed on all previously made evening plans to pursue Cats. I wanted two. I didn't care how I was going to acquire them, I was going to have two cats and the mice were going to die.

Mandy called a few places, and after finding where we could take 2 male kittens home that night we set off for Staunton. I should have followed my own intuition as the 2nd kitten... skiddish, not personable, and can I say this? Had somewhat nappy hair. I judged said kitten, and I said no. Mandy the ever advocate for loving the loveless and forgotten got me to adopt the kitten. At the counter the grey one jumped on my shoulder and we decided: Jack the Pirate. Then what would we name the other? Still to this day, I do not know how Jesus was chosen. Jesus flew out of Mandy's clutches in the parking lot, so she had to sneak underneath the neighboring Mustang to pull him out. The car ride home: two kittens scared under my seat.

Bringing them into the house went well- Gracie LOVES LOVES smaller play friends. Jack was an immediate winner, it was meant to be. Jesus? Under the couch.

So... I have two kittens. One that doesn't come inside for anything (though yesterday Kristyn and I brought him inside, and then I could not for the life of me put him back outside: NO LITTER BOX IN THIS HOUSE). Jack is now Woody, and Jesus is now Buzz. Figured they needed a dynamic duo name, however I still call Woody, Jack... and Buzz, Jesus. I can't shake it.

What I like about Jack/Woody is that he will snuggle with Gracie and he is turning into a dog. He goes in and out of the house freely and without hesitation. He had a scratched eye, which turned into an enormous vet bill, for which I paid because I was already attached to him... but more importantly: no noises, no scurries, no remains of said MICE.

So today I am cleaning every last corner, cabinet, and closet to start fresh and clean so that if said mice are really still here, that there hiding places and paths would be known. Well I am trying to clean and stay focused... and yet I am here writing about kittens, mice, and all that I should be doing.

Oh but those kitties--- are restoring my sanity about this house. Praise the Lord. (and yes I mean both the real Jesus, and the feline that lives on my deck).

And now I am going to go play Super Mario Brothers to beat this game b/c K, M, and I couldn't... that to do list? It. Will. Get. Done. After... this one thing...

Technically Tomorrow.

It's technically tomorrow so I am writing. Though I have not yet gone to bed, and officially said goodbye to Friday. And I have many things worth writing about that require pictures, and well those are still being housed by my memory card. So blogging with pictures will have to wait...

BUT I am awake... which is typical these days. I can't seem to get myself to fall asleep easily or stay asleep once I do. I dream weird, and while not disturbing, I always wake up and it feels like creepy de ja vu.

In the process of settling back into my house in Virginia I have had the opportunity to also procrastinate by reading/looking at items shoved into boxes or tucked away in drawers. This evening I pulled out of a box three moleskine journals. One from the summer of 2007 beginning with my arrival to California. The 2nd was from Matty to document and record Thailand. The last one began at some point last year. I am now nearing the completion of my fourth, and while its taken the longest (writing in the past year has been infrequent and difficult: that should have been a very large warning sign to myself about my stability!), I still love what the pages contain.

I opened up Summer of 2007 journal and I began reading just now. A few things struck me:

1) I have been using the same type of pen for years now and I love it still.

2) My handwriting. I really like it. I wish I could make it into a font.

3) The things I struggled with then are the same exact things I struggle with now.

4) I recognize me, but I am thrilled that tonight I can say that I have grown up and beyond the version of me on the pages and that I am more at peace then I have ever been.

5) I write about the same people as I do now. Matty, Mandy, Julie, Family, Tex is in there (oh those early days before complicated friendship ensued), Emily, Jesus, etc. This particular point brings comfort that I am still loving the same people today as I was then.

6) I was really anxious about my Thailand trip, and while I didn't speak of it, there are pages where I am just praying and stressing about it. Strange that of all the places I have been, and things I have done I was most broken there. And yet, when I read through the Thailand Moleskine I don't yet know it. Documentation is funny. In the midst of the train wreck... sometimes we have no idea. (that feels like the story of my life pre-China... and soon we can laugh about that, just not yet).

7) A favorite quote from a book I was reading in October in regards to living with Christ:

"When you run ahead of me, you end up doing what I've asked you to do in your own strength rather than mine. Instead of being cloaked in the sweetness of my spirit, your efforts are cloaked in your flesh. And sometimes my dear daughter, your flesh ain't that easy to receive."

8) My last entry in this book comes December 4, 2007. I write about a sermon I heard about Mountain Top experiences. I have had SEVERAL experiences on top of some amazing mountains in my life, and most especially since the beginning of this Summer 2007 black book. I am humbled and amazed by the boldness Christ has given me to pursue time away with Him alone in the river close to home, and the salt water in Oceans far away. The 2nd of these quotes I wish I knew in my mind then just believing its true in my heart.

"We don't live on the mountains. We live in the valley. The valley is where life is."

"What He says about us is true. Amidst what I thought about myself or what others say, If Jesus is sufficient we wouldn't always try to live on the mountain tops. Yet we spent so much energy trying to recapture them."

9) I need to remember to write. Sometimes I stop because I don't want to read later what I had to say. Other times its because people cheat and read the blog before pursuing me. Most of the time however it is because while writing is cathartic and its a discipline that I hate and love equally, I don't always push myself to put words to things I think and instead act out instead of living. I have thought about changing the blog address, putting up some boundaries by invitation only, and better protecting the space in which I have found here. Yet whenever those thoughts come there is usually one random person who had bookmarked this place when I began and had found their way back, and just wrote to say hello or to comment on something I had to say. The world in that moment feels instantly smaller, and I remember that words have power, words are important.... and that I need to remember to write more, and write still.

10) The last thing that struck me about this little black book filled with scribbles, sermon notes, song lyrics, desperate pleas in prayer, and just random thoughts about life and the past was (besides that I wish NO ONE to ever read them), is that life isn't safe. There are few guarantees. In this book I was sitting on my bench on the pier in Santa Monica for the first time. I was revisiting Bakersfield after 2 years away. I drove between points on the West Coast with all the windows open and the air conditioning on because it was so hot. I came home and claimed September 6th to be the day to radically change the course of a friendship. I had an insanely inappropriate conversation with someone in the midst of a Margarita night in Florida. I laughed until I cried. I drove home on 64 following a Black Silverado. I went and saw many friends, and made many new ones... and I boldly chose to see the world because I knew that this was the time. This book is pre-Thailand, pre-BB&T, pre-silent treatment and pre-family meltdown. It is before all that shaped the year that follows it happened. It is simply me- jumping and believing without a single shred of doubt, that Jesus would catch me.

I need. To. Remember. Her.

(and I need to write more).

More to come. I promise.

Love.Love.

I Will Write. I Will. Tomorrow.

I will write.

I will write.

I will write.

But for now I am wrapping up a week long sister fest with Kristyn Piper and Mandy Stegman.

We've had tons of adventures, played in the Ocean and the River... have had some tasty dinners, and laughed until tears came.

Life in the USA has been intense- married off a sister, and am back in Virginia.

But, I will write.

I will write.

I will write.

Tomorrow.

LOVE.

Andy & Woody

It is well known and understood that I am passionate about Disney and Pixar movies. I have been looking forward to Toy Story 3 for a long time, and now freshly returned to the States, I was able to see it. Tex warned me that it was emotional, and of course my reaction was "what? Do Buzz Lightyear and Woody die in a fire?" (that was a random question, I didn't cheat).

In the end however resolution came, and the most poignant exchange of friendship was expressed.

I... was beside myself.

I... was silent in my tears.

For all that Tex and I have been through in the past three years, and the relationship pursued and prayed for, there is one aspect that I have never once doubted. And that is that we were best friends. Meant to nurture, challenge, and care for one in another in a capacity we had not yet experienced outside of our relationships with Jesus. I have experienced the joy of that friendship for a long time, and in the span of dating knew that everything after the commitment would put the original friendship at risk. While the context of our relationship continues to be molded and changed by the intentions- and though we are taking a step back, and apart... I know that by actively pursuing truth and Jesus what matters most in this moment is not what we have determined in dating or not, but the friendship at the core.

Sitting in my movie seat I knew that despite all that has happened between us, and all that has been said... I knew that what Andy spoke about Woody in passing him over to Bonnie was true of Andrew and I. In my heart, and through my tears having been so deeply moved by the ending, I wished more then anything that I could lean over and hook my pinkie with Andrew's and be silent having just heard exactly what is known between us, defended before others, and have fiercely fought for.

'Now *Andrew, he's been my pal for as long as I can remember. He's brave, like a cowboy should be. And kind, and smart. But the thing that makes *Andrew special, is he'll never give up on you... ever. He'll be there for you, no matter what."

I am absolutely certain that sentiment is mutual with thanksgiving, with a promise found in the linking of two pinkies to protect the core, rain, shine, hurt and happiness. No matter what.

garden.

In the book "The Shack" there are many legitimate theological debates. There are those who feel very strongly about those debates and will discredit the imagery and imagination found in the pages. I read it almost two years ago in the midst of a trip to California with the Boys. At the time (and this statement writes like a broken record), I was just really struggling. Days before the trip I stood in my kitchen with Matt and Tex and just randomly lost it about every last thing that I was upset about. The core of that issue was not that I was just struggling, it took me over a month to articulate the truth of the matter to Tex in the car on the way back from Thanksgiving weekend in Ohio/Kentucky. I had made a poor decision in a friendship, and I crossed a boundary that I had been hurt by in the past, thinking that it didn't matter. However, it did matter and in the end I did damage to my heart and had to let go of the friendship.

While sitting on a plane to return to the East Coast October of 2008 I read a poignant part of The Shack which I have carried with me since. Now, please excuse me as I butcher this retelling, but this is what I remember from it and what mattered to me. Mack, the main character arrives to the shack in the woods and is outside with a transcendent deity that works in the garden. In Mack's opinion the garden is a haphazard mess, to which the deity exclaims in joy "yes! I love it". There is no organization, rhyme or reason for what is being cultivated in the garden in Mack's eyes. Yet, he obeys and together Mack and the Spirit clear out a particular section and rework some areas. In the wrapping up and unveiling of the trinity and deity of Christ in the book we learn that the Holy Spirit was working in the garden, and that the mess and unconventional beauty in the horticulture is really Mack's own heart- and during their time together Mack and the Holy Spirit created space for what was to come. While the book is filled with poignant imagery, it has been this description that has made the longest impression.

Our hearts are gardens. They are a beautiful combination of sunflowers, roses, and even some overgrown plants and weeds. I admit that I have resented the process of growing and that I have stifled the pruning. I too often try to control what gets planted and how fast it grows, and in other times when I am focused on what matters- I wait patiently for what I know to be true, to come. I wish I could say that upon its arrival I believe it naturally and easily. I have found myself more comfortable in the waiting at times then I have in the vulnerability required in accepting something prayed for in trust and thanksgiving.

China was different. I left with some big questions and I left with some definite preoccupations of the heart and mind. There were moments in days that beckoned the voice of only one person, or comfort (and even times when I did not know whose voice I wanted to hear, or what comfort I desired... I just wanting something). What was created in the wanting was space. What arrived to fill that space was the Lord. I was able to take some inventory of my heart, and I searched it. I paused before areas that I could recognize the beauty, blessings, and growth of my life and I was silent in gratitude. And I stood in the wake of change in my heart and I started a conversation, and I prayed for discernment and courage.

I thought, prayed, wrote, was silent, and talked my way through my experience at New Day with those on my team, and others that I met there. I went to bed early each night, and I woke up early each morning. I wrote in my Moleskine, and I wrote in emails. I decided to be transparent and honest when writing my blog and prayer email updates. I began to live what I felt I was being taught, and that was that we are meant to be known. That God's love, light, and Grace are to be shared in the truth of our lives- the good the bad the ugly. When we live in joy regardless of our circumstances, our Father in Heaven is glorified.

The garden in my heart was able to be transformed because I understood that the mess was going to be used to grow and change me. I made room for what was to come because I was able to let go of what was. There was no television to watch, cell phone to answer, or magazine to read. Every action, every motivation was focused simply on loving kids in China for Jesus, while understanding my voice could not describe it in articulating theology.

Right now I am sitting in the cottage my family has rented in Mystic, Ct for the week to celebrate Jon and Krystal getting married on Sunday. I arrived back to the States after a 36 hour travel day that was the worst experience flying to date. I was up for almost 48 hours straight before I forced myself to go to bed last night, and then I woke up 4 hours later. I sit here in this chair and my mind wanders and I am grateful. I didn't know how I would feel getting back, and I didn't know how I would feel after talking to some important people in catching up and reconnecting. Now that those things have past I can see how the Lord was preparing in my heart a place to listen and speak upon arrival. I knew that I couldn't let what I learned live only in China, and I could not keep my feelings locked away. Yesterday I came home, and I was able to invite. I was vulnerable and I was honest, and in doing so I was able to share the garden of my heart and I invited those I love to sit with me and talk... and I was able to listen. Yet my hearing was infused with clarity from Christ and I was able to rest.

I will always imagine my time abroad recently a lot like Mack going to work in His garden. It wasn't a dream sequence and it was hard. But in the time and space and commitment to pray I was able to appreciate that everything that has happened has worked for a purpose and that I could not have gotten to this place without it. That what I perceive to be a ridiculous jumbled mess is considered beauty in the eyes of the Creator- whom is always doing a work in my heart and life.

The garden. A composition of overgrown and perfectly manicured horticulture. Thankful for the work of the Master in it, but also for the ability to invite you in and sit awhile with me here.

shine.

"It is easy to acknowledge, but almost impossible to realize for long, that we are mirrors whose brightness, if we are bright,

is wholly derived from the sun that shines upon us."

-C.S. Lewis

For the past few mornings I have woken up to watch the sunrise- only to find the rising sun masked by a heavy blanket of Tokyo fog. Perhaps part of this driving force to wake up comes from the remembered goodness of Santorini last summer and wanting to connect to something authentically beautiful. However there is more to it then that.

I have always always loved Sunsets. I have written about them, and I have hundreds of captured images of the sun falling into the ocean for a long nights rest. I wrote last year in an email to a friend the epiphany I had about the difference between my love of sunsets, and their love of sunrises. I was able to understand in myself that I love the closing of a day, I love the promise of the next one. I love knowing it all begins again. I noticed in my friend how it made sense that they would love sunrises. They are eternally hopeful. I could appreciate that by watching the sun rise in the morning that they don't have to wait to know that tomorrow could or might be better- they get to see it unfold and know for certain that the sun did rise, and that each day is another gift. I have always waited. My hope has rested in the promise as the sun says goodnight. They were silent before it, their hope lived in the arrival in the new day. What I loved about watching the Sunrise last year while on Santorini was the silence. You could hear each wave hit the shore, and in between you could hear your own heart beat. There is an uncanny attention in silence when we first wake up. No wonder the best times with the Lord are in the early morning hour before all the noise pollutes our ears and distracts our spirits.

It may have taken me a really long time to get to this place... but the greatest thing about waking up the past morning and gazing into the movement of the Tokyo Bay has been the clarity and the conviction that has come. The sky has turned from its darkness of night to a bright hazy day, and even though I have not seen the sun introduce itself, I know it has come.

I begin the long journey home in about 24 hours my time. I will be returning to Eastern Standard Time. I will in fact be going back in time... but this heart that has learned and felt so much in the creases of each day, the love of those cuddled with, and the stillness of the past few days alone does not want to lose what I learned in the time change. I do not know the capacity in which this adventure will be shared, or whom I will sit before and talk about the details. I do not know many things about the future. But I do know a few things for certain.

The Call was Love.
I was productive and I was used.
I was vulnerable and I was restored.
I was broken and I was healed.
I was tired and I was given rest.
I was joyful and I was blessed.
I was still before the Lord and I was able to hear.
I was away and I came not back, but To.

Last summer I woke up to take pictures of the sunrise for a beloved friend. I walked away knowing more about the friendship because I was able to understand our differences. A year later (almost exactly), my heart after all of this time feels more hope and joy in watching the day begin then I ever have in watching it end. I may have taken a long time to get here, and I may be influenced by someone who has always loved them- but I got to this place finally able to hear the authentic voice that comes with stillness and silence before a waking day. I found it in Faith, but I was able to recognize it in Love. (aren't you proud?)

The cage is gone. Wings are flight. This smile, is shining bright.

Come To Me.

When I left for China I heard what I thought was my phone ringing but it was just "Come Back to Me" on the radio in a car that was pulled up to the curb at the airport. I took a double take for sure, and then I went on my way. I have thought a lot about that song since I've been gone, and while I will always treasure its connection to someone special, it has changed here in Asia.

It's so bizarre and today I was standing in line for the Tower of Terror, and I was thinking about the email I plan to send Sunday morning to my prayer warriors before I leave- and I got completely choked up. People, seriously. I almost lost it (in a good way). In comparison to every massive adventure of my life in the past five years (California '05, leaving Staff '07, Thailand '08, Europe '09, and now Asia '10: btw I realize how enormously blessed I've been to be able to write that list), in the close of those trips and times I was always really grateful for the experience and knew in my heart I was ready to get home: back to the grind, etc. Sometimes I came back hurting more then not, but the high of the adventure was euphoric and I was content there. However, this is the first time I can say in complete honesty that I am really excited for the adventure that waits for me at home in the States. I will miss this time, and I have missed my friends at New Day, and I have hurt my way through epiphanies and realities... but today while waiting for my turn to scream and shrill on a ride, I heard clear as day from the Lord not, "Come Back to Me"- but "Kari. Come to Me." And then quickly after thought of my favorite part from Falling Slowly and I just tried so hard not to cry.

Falling slowly, eyes that know me
And I can't go back
Moods that take me and erase me
And I'm painted black
You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It's time that you won

In the midst of impatient and ridiculously dressed Japanese tourists in line for a ride I had the most intimate and peaceful moment with the Lord. It was a great example of how He will speak to us at any moment, and in any place- we just need to have the ears to listen.

I have been the moodiest and most manically emotional person this year. Actually- lets just be honest, probably the past 2, maybe even 3. I know that most of it is based on how well I'm taking care of myself and making sure I eat three times a day, etc... but the bigger failure is that I have not taken care of my heart and spirit in communion with Christ. I got lazy, because I got tired. I have had some unmistakable times with the Creator during this time of manic and mania emotional distress and dysfunction. I have grown in some ways infinite amounts, but I have been made painfully aware in recent weeks that my moods have erased me, have painted my view at times more black then white... and in this wild adventure serving the Lord in China I was able to see that I have been at war with myself for a really long time.

The experience of New Day and the children I met, and the team I worked with was a purposed vehicle that was in place before I even knew or understood what I was going to learn there. I am thankful that by not moving to Indy, and pursuing the future with Tex, that I was free and wide open to go on the trip with Cathy and Sarah. I will always be indebted to the ways that Tex has pushed me and challenged me to be a person who "goes" boldly forward into the craziness abroad. He has always prayed and hoped in what I would find, and has celebrated with me in the triumphs and hurt with me when circumstances were painful. In those ways he has been a part of the fabric of the traveling in the past three years in a greater capacity then anyone else in my life. It's a gift- and he has a collection of postcards that have articulated the journey that one day will be used to craft the memoir (and possibly a movie too...? I day dream about who would be cast in my lead role).

This time and this adventure, has been different. It hasn't been about self reliance, independence, personal beauty, captured images, or a marathon of 6 weeks alone. This time I was called only to go serve, love and participate in service capped off with some time in Tokyo. I was terrified and emotional and completely a basket case preparing to leave (as previous posts have detailed, its been a challenged time). In the past I've tried to hold onto home and the past while trying to grasp the present. This is the first time ever, ever, ever- that I let completely go, of everything. I didn't want my hands to be full, I wanted to be open to catch and touch it all.

However, what happened here has been huge. Because I went, I was able to come not just back but more importantly to Jesus, and I saw clearly the darkness in which I was drowning, and I heard the invitation to win the battle that I've been losing on my own with the only love that exhibits perfect commitment with His children. He isn't afraid of choosing us, He isn't afraid of us hurting Him so much that He holds back. He is extravagant. He is merciful and gracious. His love is so great it bestows us with free will and a choice. There is no half way with Him. It was death on a cross in plain day. I need to love more freely and completely in this way, and I have already begun to see some major shifts and changes in some relationships.

My life has completely changed in this way. I am wrapping up my time here in Tokyo and have loved Disney, and am going to experience some authentic Japanese culture next. I have had the opportunity to hold the hands of preschoolers in China, and in turn have had my heart most delicately and intimately restored and healed by Christ.

What waits for me at home is difficult. I have a house to get ready to sell, a listing process, and some decisions about the future to make. I know that it will be hard to stay focused when everyday stressors and triggers are reintroduced into my life (don't worry I already have accountability lined up about this topic specifically!), but I know that I return to the States on Sunday night a girl completely in Love with the Savior... the adventure at home is going to be bigger and greater then this one because I am ready. I am focused. And I am restored.

What is your war?

He's just waiting and loving you to come... so together you can win.