a very Spanish Christmas

Randy and I shared an incredibly special first Christmas together!

As I was thinking about what to get Randy I decided to go the sentimental route and put together a photo album of our walk across Spain, frame our compostelas/certificates of completion, and create a clock with no hands. (We met a kid on the Camino with a tattoo of a wristwatch that had no hands, which symbolized all kinds of things including not being a slave to time and embracing every moment that is ours.)

My sister-in-law Kari had the same idea, sending us mounted photos of our journey.

And from these items we created an "inspiration wall" in our new home. 

Randy's mind was also on the Camino.

12 days before Christmas a box appeared on the island in our kitchen with a letter of the alphabet inside. And each day thereafter a new letter appeared. Clues to my Christmas present.

The letters didn't come in any particular order. I didn't know how many words or how many letters in each word. In fact, I didn't even know what language the puzzle was in.

Each day I came up with random phrases with the letters I had. "So time" and "It Moose" and "Te Amo Mi Son".

Finally, with all letters in hand (and a couple clues from Rand!), the puzzle came together: "One More Time?" he asked in Spanish.

"Are you asking what I think you are asking?" I questioned.

"I have 3 weeks blocked out in March," he said.

WE ARE GOING ON CAMINO!!

Last April we parted ways 306 kilometers before reaching Santiago. So we're going back to finish our Camino. Together!

Best Christmas ever!

my Christmas letter

Dear loved ones,

2014 has been a year of faithfulness!

I rang in the New Year with a new circle of family and friends, who will forever have a place in my heart. More than anywhere else this year I have seen God at work in their lives, from healing relationships to physical healing, from prayer and financial support to radical faithfulness. Their strength has taught me what it is to be strong.

2014 has been a year of travel!

By the first week of January I was already off! After flying to Texas with my parents and older brother, we joined my aunt, uncle, cousins, and grandma on a cruise ship for a week. Then I was off to Corpus Christi for a week with my younger brother, sister-in-law, and the cutest niece in all of Texas.

On March 4, I was back at the airport and off to Madrid for a 30-day walk across Spain! On day 58 I finally arrived in Santiago, having spent the first 34 days falling in love and the next 24 days falling apart and trying to put it all back together again.

The next 6 months were spent healing, navigating the transition "home", and traveling back and forth to California. This was by far the most challenging part of the year.

2014 has been a year of family!

I was "gone" as much as I was "home" in Ohio this year, but every day there was spent with family. Experiencing four of my nieces turning 5 and my nephew turning 8, t-ball games and football games, trips to McDonalds and visits from the tooth fairy, weekly family dinner nights and boxes of wine after the kids went to bed, walks with my dad and talks with my mom, these are the "moments" that make up the year.

Even when the decision was made to move to California, it was still all about family. Randy, Jovi, and I spent as many days with family members in Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and New Mexico on our road trip as we spent on our own.

And arriving here didn't take me away from family, it simply expanded it. I now have even more brothers, sisters-in-law, kids, nieces, nephews, and parents to love and be loved by.

2014: "Walk With"

2014 may be remembered as the year that I walked. But for those of you who have taken this journey with me, you know that "walk" wasn't my word of the year. Because it wasn't about walking; it was about who God placed on my path to "walk with".

With gratitude to all of you for your prayers, walks, and love!

Katie

lean into grief

"I didn't miss the sad story, did I?" Kelli asked, returning from the ladies room.

"She's right in the middle of telling it," I said, surprised she would want to hear again the story that just weeks ago had dissolved her into tears.

We were at a women's brunch at the church, listening to Nichole Nordeman share in story and in song. Word for word, song for song, the same set we had listened to last month during the Women of Faith conference in Sacramento. (And it was just as powerful the second time.)

The sad story was about a young couple, deeply in love, who asked Nichole to sing at their wedding. Shortly thereafter the groom was diagnosed with cancer and within the year Nichole was singing again, this time at his funeral.

When Kelli had dissolved into tears beside me the first time I had only known her for about 3 hours. So even though I wanted to wrap her up in a hug, I didn't. This second time, however, I knew her enough to put my arm around her, exchange a little conversation and some shared tears.

Kelli's own son had met and fallen in love with and married a young lady, beautiful all the way to her core. And earlier this year, still in her 20s, his beautiful bride passed away.

It struck me that Kelli would want to feel the grief inspired by the similar story that Nichole shared. Isn't grief a feeling most of us try to avoid? And yet Kelli has discovered, I think, a secret that might better serve us. That to lean into the grief, to feel the feelings, is where healing comes.

In addition to being Kelli's daughter-in-law, the young woman who died was also Randy's niece. During our family Thanksgiving prayer last month, his brother named the sadness that we all felt at her absence from us, but the joy that would come when one day we would be with her again.

Again it strikes me that the grief would be named, felt, shared, rather than being the elephant in the room or the thing that everyone knows not to talk about.

I'm heartbroken for this family's loss, but grateful that through it they are teaching me how healing comes.

Creating a Home

Randy and I just moved into a place of our own. Yet another adventure!

When I came to visit for the month of September, the primary item on our agenda was to find a new home. Something small and homey, with room for the dog to run. Each week we looked at Craigslist and Zillow, the local newspaper and the Loomis Facebook page. We told everyone we knew and even had a local realtor friend checking on upcoming properties for us.

Finally, on the last day of September, just hours before my return to Ohio, we visited what this week became our new home.

But not without lots of minor hiccups along the way.

The current tenant hadn't yet given her landlord notice, because she was waiting for everything to be finalized with the home she had just purchased. So we didn't actually know if or when we would be moving in.

I had more than one meltdown about where I was going to work and where the dog was going to sleep and how I was going to feel about moving to California in November and living in a place that wasn't ours. Out of suitcases until this place came thru. Which prompted Randy to wonder if this was in fact the place for us, or if he should find us somewhere that we could immediately move into on or around November 10 when we'd be arriving after a 16-day road trip.

But 3 days into our trip, the last week of October while at my grandma's in Arkansas, we got word that the current tenant had given notice. We were then able to speak with the landlord, fill out a rental application, and sign a rental agreement, all over our cell phones. The place would be ours! We just had to wait until December 1.

Meanwhile, Randy had an office all setup for me in the condo he was living in, and a place for the dog to sleep. My clothes found their way into the closet and we enjoyed a comfortable three weeks together, hoping each day that the current tenant would decide to move out early so we could get in and settled.

She didn't.

In fact, she injured herself so she wasn't able to clean the place, an assignment left to her by the landlord who was out of town getting a face lift, having left another one of her tenants in charge of caring for her 35 indoor cats.

So when we finally did get into our new home we found nests of black widow spiders, earthworms creeping along the tile floors, a distinct cat smell, and two days worth of cleaning on our hands.

Nevertheless, we enjoyed cleaning side by side, creating the welcoming environment we had dreamed of.

When the day came to move in our stuff, a mix up meant Randy's suburban was not at our disposal. And there was no way we could move everything in my car.

So we went shopping! Where we found a great deal on a washer and dryer. And my credit card was promptly declined.

99 percent of the time I appreciate Capital One's fraud protection which automatically declines "unusual" purchases. But this was not one of them.

Then, at the same store, while admiring a Charlie Brown Christmas tree, we broke the one ornament that decorated its pitiful branches.

Still determined, we gathered Randy's son and another friend and made our move on Wednesday. Even while the rain poured down and my phone repeatedly alerted us to the flash flood warnings that made our new country living driveway a muddy mess and drew even more earthworms into our living room.

But here we are at last! Happily making a home. Not even letting the mountain lion that lives in our backyard deter us from loving life together!

Nutty Chicks

Almost 9 months ago, on our first day of walking across Spain together, Randy gave me this Nutty Chicks granola bar to have as my lunch.

It was the best thing I have ever tasted.

And not just because I was so ill-prepared for what turned out to be 2 days of walking through waist deep snow over and across and down the Pyrenees Mountains.

Randy told me that a woman, an ER trauma surgeon, had started the company after her coworkers loved the homemade granola that she would bring in to work every day. She started selling the granola, which evolved into these delicious bars, at farmers markets. The demand grew and soon stores were placing their orders.

A few months after I had my first Nutty Chicks bar I met the woman behind it all. It was late at night, after her shift in the ER, and she was elbow deep in granola, trying to keep up with demand.

This past weekend I met her husband. He shared with us that the people behind the Emmys had called, and then the CMAs, asking for Nutty Chicks bars for their "swag bags".

"It was huge," he said.

But it soon became apparent that his wife felt more overwhelmed than excited.

So they said "no" to the Emmys. And the CMAs. And to the company altogether. At least for now, while she continues working full time as a surgeon.

It was shocking. But I can't help but be inspired.

It's easy to hear this story and think they made a terrible mistake. To come up with all kinds of ways they could have made this work. From selling the recipe to hiring a ton of staff to quitting their day jobs in order to make it big in the granola world.

But when it comes down to it, they chose the only option that would eliminate all their stress immediately.

They said "no" to what could have been fame and fortune in order to say "yes" to what was more important -- their emotional well-being, the day jobs they feel truly called to, their relationship, etc.

Maybe some day, when they retire, Nutty Chicks will revive. At least in our local farmer's market. But for now, this delicious snack is just a memory.

you are loved

The Women of Faith tour was in Sacramento this weekend. Women of Faith is a Christian women's event that brings in amazing Bible teachers and musicians to inspire women to deepen their relationship with God. This year's theme was "From Survival to Revival", challenging and encouraging us to not just go through the motions of life, but to leave behind whatever holds us back in order to embrace every moment as the gift that it is.

Randy has 3 brothers, two of whose partners went with me to the event. Robert is married to Suzanne. And Roy is engaged to a different Suzanne. Kelly, Robert's daughter's mother-in-law, also joined us. And the time of fellowship with these 3 women was the highlight of my weekend!

On Friday night of the event, the emcee asked us all to take out our cell phones. "Now text 2 of your girlfriends who aren't with you and tell them that they are loved," she said.

Many of us wriggled uneasily in our seats. Just randomly text a friend and say, "You are loved"? Isn't that a little weird?

"Just do it," the emcee said.

So we all dutifully grabbed our phones and texted the first 2 women who came to mind.

"There are 8,000 women in this arena," the emcee said after giving us a minute. "That means 16,000 women just received the message that she is loved."

How cool is that?! And how many of the women who received that message needed it at that exact moment?

I immediately received a text back from one of my girlfriends, telling me I was also loved (and reminding me that it was 3 hours later in Ohio... it might take me a while to get used to the time difference!).

My other friend has yet to acknowledge the text. But that is okay. The point wasn't to get a response. The point was simply to remind the women in our lives that they are loved. Loved by me and loved by God.

Would you add to the number of women this weekend getting the message that they are loved? I know it's a little weird and a little awkward, but it just takes a second and it might be exactly what she needs to hear right now. So just grab your phone and text two people these 3 words: "You are loved."

Carley's Invitation

At church yesterday Randy and I heard a very inspirational testimony from a man named Joe.

Joe lived in Texas, grew up as a pastor's kid, but in his adult life turned away from the Lord. He started living for himself and pretty much made a mess of his life and his marriage.

At the same time, in California, a little girl was born. Her name was Carley. Carley was brought up in a Christian home and attended Rock Harbor Church with her family.

Eight years later, Joe and Carley's paths crossed for the first time.

It was at that time that Joe and his family moved to California for a job opportunity. Joe still didn't want anything to do with God, but God had other plans.

One Sunday, Rock Harbor Church passed out invitation cards and told each member to invite someone to church. Eight-year-old Carley took 7 invitation cards, put them all in one envelope, and gave them to Joe.

How could Joe turn down such a sincere invitation?

It was that invitation that started him on the path toward repentance, forgiveness, grace, love, and joy. And, as Joe said yesterday, "The rest is history."

One of the most beautiful parts of this story, for me, was that Carley was in church yesterday when Joe was sharing his testimony.

How often do we wonder if the things we do make an impact? How often do we do things without intending for them to be life-changing, only for God to use them in powerful ways?

On our 16-day drive from Ohio to California Randy and I had several opportunities to be the hands and feet of Jesus to strangers.

When the credit card machine wasn't working at the farmer's market in Ohio, we used our cash to pay for another customer's purchase.

When a homeless man in Dallas was anticipating winter, Randy gave him his jacket.

When another couple was boarding their dog at Carlsbad Caverns the same time we were boarding Jovi, we paid for their dog too.

When a waitress in Las Vegas had several customers in a row complain about their food, we left her an extra large tip. Which took some coordinating because she wasn't our waitress.

While it would be awesome to have a Carley moment, sitting in the audience to hear how our simple acts of obedience changed a life, we'll never know if or how we made a difference. But that's okay. It isn't our job to know. It is our job to love and care for the people in our path.

flexibility

We learned right away we were going to have to be flexible on this journey.

The week before we were to leave, my car was in the shop to fix the minor scrape I got two months ago when I got hit in a parking lot, and to make sure it was in fact minor and not hiding something major.

It did end up being minor, but they estimated it taking until the day before we were to leave to get done.

Which meant that we wouldn't be able to get a hitch put on my car to pull the u-haul until the day we were to leave.

Which meant borrowing my dad's truck in the middle of harvest in order to pick up the u-haul so we could get it loaded while the car got worked on, and pushing our take off by at least half a day.

Then Randy missed his flight to Ohio.

Luckily the next flight had him landing just an hour later. His luggage, however, took the scenic route, through airports he never even flew through, and we had to pray it would arrive before we departed.

It did. In the middle of the night. With a loud banging on the door and a need for a signature.

The trip itself was smooth sailing compared to this rough start. But I'm glad we had it. Because it reminded us that whatever came up we would be able to handle it. That we might have to be patient. That our schedule might get changed. That we can see the delays and detours as opportunities, rather than annoyances.

You see, because we couldn't leave until Tuesday afternoon, I got to go to the airport with my little brother (who was in town visiting for the weekend) and my parents on Tuesday morning. We had the car ride and breakfast to spend time together.

And because we didn't get an early start, there were other times in the trip when we decided that we could also wait until noon to begin our driving day. Days that one or both of us had to work. A morning just hanging out with my niece Riley. Lingering over breakfast or taking Jovi (my dog) for a long walk before we spent the rest of the day in the car.

And because Randy missed his flight, my nieces had time to put on their Halloween costumes after church to go with me to surprise him at the airport. Followed by a trip to Foy's in Fairborn where we could buy them candy since we would be missing out on trick or treat.

The flexibility and patience of this trip was similar to that of our walk across Spain. Never knowing from one night to the next where we would be sleeping. Taking much longer than most to make the journey. More often than not stopping short of our daily goal. Intentionally adding miles, even when our deadline for being home was approaching.

And enjoying every step of the way!

home at last!

We made it! 16 days, 11 states, 4000 miles... and we're finally home!

I love the motto of my new town: "A Small Town Is Like A Big Family".

It's true of the place that I grew up and it feels true of my new home as well.

It was also true of our journey to get here. Along the way we visited my grandmother in Arkansas, my cousins (even some I'd never met!) in Oklahoma, my brother and sister-in-law and niece in Texas, and Randy's mom in New Mexico.

We are blessed that our family stretches all the way from Ohio to California!

Initially I chose not to write each day of our trip (like I did when we walked across Spain) because all of the last minute arrangements were a little overwhelming, from packing to getting the car and u-haul ready to saying so many goodbyes.

But after a couple of days I began to appreciate being able to be present to our adventure, rather than focusing on what to write and when.

I don't think I'm alone in this challenge. Figuring out how to balance being present to an experience with documenting it -- whether that be in words or selfies or something else entirely.

As a writer I feel I should have written more. But as a partner I'm grateful that my energy was focused on enjoying every moment with Randy and the family and friends and places we visited.

I think I chose the better way.

But we did take lots (lots!) of photos, so perhaps in the coming days I'll share more of our journey, now that we are home!

halfway there!

Randy, Jovi, and I are halfway thru our road trip, moving me from Ohio to California.

We've been to the Arch in St. Louis, grandma's house in Arkansas, lunch with cousins in Oklahoma, a Cowboys game in Arlington, and to the beach with my niece, brother and sister-in-law in Corpus Christi.

Not exactly the most direct route to Loomis, California, but worth every extra mile!

This journey reminds me of our walk across Spain, which began exactly 8 months ago today.

We are taking it slow, in order to enjoy the people and the places. We are talking a lot, learning how to communicate our own needs and meet the needs of the other. We are eating tons of good food, from ribs in St. Louis to pizza in Oklahoma to BBQ brisket in Texas.

And we are recognizing that there is so much to learn in the process of the journey, not just the destination!

to say or to do

I spent yesterday afternoon in our hotel room in Forth Worth, Texas, writing about God and the purpose and plan he has for each one of us.

Randy was out walking the city streets, getting fresh air and a cup of coffee. He struck up a conversation with a homeless man and ended up giving him the jacket off his back. 

It struck me that what I was writing about doing, Randy was actually doing. 

Writing is an important ministry to me, one that God has clearly called me to. But writing about Jesus should never take the place of living out the teachings of Jesus. In this life I am called to both. 

no words

I asked Tysen last night if she knew Randy and I were leaving today for California. "No... do you want to see my flashlight?" she responded.

Tessa said goodbye to me just like any other night. But cried when she hugged my dog.

For the first time in months Kenzi didn't ask me to buy her sparkly boots for Christmas. (Which I've already done and wrapped.) But asked me to put gummy worms on her Amazon wish list instead.

Kaylee gave me a card that her great-grandma had given her great-grandpa 50 years ago, and showed me her favorite pair of slippers.

Even Kasen gave me a "Love you" and a hug.

Most of the adults have had the sentiment: "Be careful. Be safe. Have fun. Keep in touch."

But my sister-in-law Kari and I finally tapped into what everyone has really been saying, through their actions and words that seem to fall short. As we hugged we said: "There are no words."

No words for how great the last two years have been. To be so close to such great friends and family. No words for all the experiences. The tooth fairy and Elf on the Shelf. Zoo trips and skating rinks. Church and work and family dinner nights. Late night chats and early morning triathlons. A home I created here.  

No words. Inadequate words. So "goodbye for now" will have to be good enough.

a necessary mess

I've been too busy making a mess to write much lately. 

But I've been thinking about how sometimes life is messy right before a breakthrough. A move. A new adventure. A growth opportunity. A deeper sense of purpose.

So I'm embracing my mess.

Knowing that it is necessary to get me where I want to be. 

Randy flew into town yesterday. Today we load the u-haul. And tomorrow we'll be on our way!

everything is beautiful

Seven months ago Rand and I stayed at this very bare bones albergue. Which was as stark on the inside as it was the outside. The beds were barely as wide as my hips.

But what I remember most about this stay is not the lack of luxury. What I remember is that as we prepared to leave in the morning Rand said, "Love makes everything more beautiful, doesn't it?" And when I looked at him like he was crazy he pointed at the yellow (flowers? plant? bush?) growing out of a rock pile across the street.

This memory came to me today as I was thinking about how beautiful Ohio is right now. How yellow. And orange, red, and green.

I'll miss Ohio's colorful seasons. (California was already brown when I visited in September.) But I'm looking forward to the challenge of looking with new eyes. Eyes that see -- that know to look for -- beauty in all things!

"Well done, good and faithful servant."

Quakers have this practice of writing and recording what they call a "minute". I like the way Bethesda Friends Meeting defines this:

A minute is a statement of belief that an individual or group would like to record for others to see, both now and in the future about a certain topic or person.

On Sunday I was given a minute that Xenia Monthly Meeting, the church that I have been speaking at twice a month for the past couple of years, wrote about me.

It reads, in part:

Xenia has benefited from [Katie's] insights into the world of practical spiritual living. We have been uplifted by her infectious smile, her candor, and her ability to find a spiritual message in the most mundane activities of life. We have been buoyed in spirit by her eternal optimism and her willingness to take risks as God has led her in her life. 

If I could have put into words two years ago how I hoped God would use me during my time in Ohio, these are the kinds of things I would have asked for. This is precisely the kind of legacy I would have asked to leave. And through this minute it was like God was saying, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

My heart was humbled. And filled with love for God and this community.

The minute was read and presented to me right before I was invited to offer a final sermon. I used this time to reminisce with folks about our time together:

• The first sermon I gave, when it was so cold in the sanctuary that I wore a coat and hat. 
• The Sunday they invited Lois, their other regular pastor, and I to preach a sermon together. 
• Our sermon series on spiritual gifts.
• The Sunday I told them I was training for a triathlon. The Sunday I told them why I'd gotten divorced. The Sunday I told them I was going to Spain, and the Sunday I told them I was moving to California. 

I also used this time to tell them how they had ministered to me. From using our Sunday school hour and long lunches at Frisch's to get to know each other better, to sharing their very personal struggles so that we could pray for one another, to wearing brightly colored socks, holding hands with their spouses every week, and simply allowing me to be me.

God has blessed me so richly with the connection I have to this church. And I'm grateful to know that the feeling is mutual.

Do I have the courage to keep showing up?

Two people I care about have been "caught" in wrong actions this year. And have responded very differently in their relationship to the church.

The first was engaging in an extramarital relationship. And when confronted, stopped going to church. Labeled that particular church judgmental. And started looking for a new church filled with people who would be excited to support and worship with the new young couple, ignorant of their history.

The second is facing criminal charges for possessing child pornography. And when confronted, showed up the next Sunday morning in desperate need of prayer. The church responded with an outpouring of love and support, and is seeking to take whatever steps necessary to make themselves a safe and welcoming place for all, which includes full disclosure.

When I was going through my second divorce, I was the person who stopped going to church. Who started looking for a new church where no one knew my story. So I wouldn't have to confront my pain in community.

When I was in college, I attended the church that was a safe space. No one pretended to be perfect, but it even went beyond that. We fully embraced ourselves as a broken people, seeking to listen and respond to God in our lives and in the world. Together.

These situations have taught me how beautiful it is to be in a place where you can be who you are. Without having to hide for fear of condemnation. And how painful it can be to be so afraid of judgment that you'd rather turn your back on your community than invite them into your struggle.

Our conversations tend to focus on how the church should respond in these situations. And, more often than not, how the church gets it wrong.

But what about how we as individuals should respond when confronted with our own shortcomings?

It takes a great deal of courage and humility to keep showing up. And we do face the possibility of being judged and condemned by a people who are called to love. But we are also doing a disservice to the church if we never challenge them to be who they say they are. And we miss out on the beauty and healing that comes when the church gets it right.

spiritual friendships

I've been richly blessed over the years with the deep, spiritual friendships I've formed with so many amazing women. And I had the opportunity to be with the majority of them last week!

Christina and I were in the college gospel choir together and did ministry at the Grand Canyon for three months one summer. She continues to minister to me as I see her putting God first and praying daily to be the best wife and mother she can be.

Angie and I were in a weekly prayer group for several years after I first moved to Indiana. Her friendship saw me through the hardest times of my life. And she continues to minister to me as I see her trusting God in her workplace and in navigating the single life.

My former coworkers at Friends United Meeting, their new staff members, and many members of their board of directors have also given rise to spiritual friendships, shoulders to cry on, women to celebrate with, who also hunger to do God's work in the world, the office, and the home.

Each of these relationships has enriched my life. Encouraged me. Held me accountable. And challenged me to be faithful.

Thank you ladies! You are loved.

I trust God to bring into my life another deep, spiritual friendship(s) when I make the move to California. Because he knows how important these relationships are to me. How they help nurture and guide me, and teach me more about him.

Thank you for joining me in prayer that a new friendship would form for me, and for those of you in need of enriching friendships!

"home"

I did not want to leave California yesterday morning. I had such an amazing month with Randy, his family and friends. From getting a closer look at his catering business, to house hunting, a weekend at the beach, concerts, hikes, and visiting several churches, I felt completely at home.

Yet I find myself comfortable in Ohio this morning as well. In a place I've made home for the past two years. Walking my dog to the sound of combines in nearby fields. With my family right around the corner.

I imagine this will make leaving at the end of the month both easier and harder. Harder because I'll be leaving home. But easier because I'll be going home.

My hope for the next few weeks is to take time to focus on what I have here. To cherish the relationships, the scenery, the support, and the life lessons that make up Ohio. So that when the car is loaded and we are on our way west, the memories and the gratitude will go with us.  

church shopping

In the three weeks that I've been in California, Randy and I have visited three very different churches.

Small, medium, and large.

With a simple organ and piano.

With guitars and flashing lights and internationally recorded artists.

One with its own campus. Another that rented a room for Sunday mornings.

One with buckets, another with plates, and the third with purses to receive the offering.

Where we knew lots of people.

Where we knew no one at all.

With street parking.

With huge parking lots, volunteers directing traffic, and private parking for first time visitors.

And this is what I've discovered:

It's not easy to find a new church home.

I really liked the sermon at one. The warm welcome at another. And the informal nature of the third.

But where I liked the sermon, I didn't care for the music. Where we received the warmest welcome, the sermon left me confused. And in the atmosphere where I felt most comfortable, the room was way too dark.

Doesn't the Bible say that Jesus is the Light???

No church is perfect. Even the church where I've been attending most of my life has things about it that I don't care for. But through time, community is built. Family is created. And you come to think of it as home.

I don't know where Randy and I will end up. Maybe at one of these three. Maybe at one we haven't visited yet. But I do know that finding a place to worship on a regular basis is important to me. And will require more than one visit to feel at home.

thanks to those who pray

It's pouring down rain in California today.

I'm working and listening to the K-Love radio station. A station I listened to in Ohio. A station based here in Sacramento.

The DJ came on a few minutes ago and said, "I'm looking out my window and it is raining. Really raining. It's an answer to prayer."

I looked out my window and saw the same view.

From the drought in California to the raging wildfires that have encompassed over 95,000 acres just east of us, rain truly is an answer to prayer. The prayers of countless people around the world who have heard the news of the need here.

The DJ went on to not only thank God for rain, but to thank the people for their prayers.

It made me think about how often our prayers are answered but we fail to thank God. And fail to thank the people we asked to pray for us.

So let me just take this moment to thank all of you for your prayers this year. They have been felt and they have been heard and they have been answered. And thank you God for leading and guiding, knowing our needs and answering our prayers.

 

simple things

"Thank you for appreciating simple things," Randy said, as we sat in the sand watching and listening to the ocean waves.

"Simple?" I replied. "This is the most exquisite thing I could imagine."

"And simple," he said with a smile.

I wondered if we'd just discovered a secret to our happiness. This ability to see simple things with an eye for all their beauty, extravagance, and grace.

When the Game Stands Tall

Why would anyone voluntarily go up against the team with football's longest winning streak? According to Del Oro Head Coach Casey Taylor, "You get better playing the best."

And why would De La Salle, that winningest team, bother with a team like Del Oro? In the words of a De La Salle fan, whose brother is one of their longtime coaches, “Our programs are similar… it’s not about football.”

Having listened to a couple of the Del Oro pep talks the night before game day I can attest to the truth of this. Talks that focus on goals, character, discipline. On and off the field.

“So what if they have a movie out?” Coach Taylor said Thursday.

I imagine Bob Ladouceur, former head coach of the De La Salle Spartans, would have said the same thing were the circumstances reversed. In fact, he seems like the kind of guy who would say to his team, “So WE have a movie out. Who cares? That is not the measure of our success.”

I haven’t seen the movie yet, but reading the book When the Game Stands Tall tells me that the De La Salle Spartans have beat plenty of teams that towered over them, the way they towered over Del Oro on Friday night. Because they cared about one another, they played with heart, and they worked hard, together, as a team.     

And while the home team didn’t pull out an upset on Friday, instead sending De La Salle home with another big win under their belts, they did inspire an estimated 8,000 people to come together as a community to watch a little high school football.

And anything that builds community is a success in my book.

What Coach Lad did with the De La Salle Spartans should challenge us, not to be awed or intimidated by a Catholic school's football team in California, but to live exemplary lives right where we are. 

It was incredibly inspiring to see Coach Ladouceur, standing right there on the field before us with the opposing team Friday night. But so was hearing the Del Oro coaches teach their kids that “fear” stands for: Face Everything And Rise. 

Because they've figured out the same thing Coach Lad did. That they are in the position to influence these kids, and help them grow, not from boys into football players, but from boys into men.

Do fish listen to iTunes?

Yesterday Randy and I took an early morning walk at the fish hatchery. The fish aren't running yet, but lots of people were out walking, running, and enjoying the bike trail.

We detoured onto the dirt paths to walk closer to the river, and stopped to sit and watch the fishermen throw out their lines while the sun came up.

"There is something so calming about water," Randy said, barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the men at work.

I nodded in agreement. Just as one of the fisherman's cell phones went off.

The man answered it. Chatted for a while. Then pocketed the phone.

"My grandpa would have grabbed that phone right out of his hand and thrown it into the water," I said. Thinking of the man who regularly took my brothers and I fishing.

It wasn't long before another fisherman answered his phone. Rod and reel in one hand, iPhone in the other. And when he hung up he set his iTunes to play. Loud enough that we could make out the words from our seats up the bank.

I found this incredibly disenchanting. I haven't been fishing but once since my grandpa died in 1996. But I assumed this past-time still held on to the sanctity of silence. The appeal of being removed from technology and transported to a simpler time. Where you became one with nature.

Is there no longer anywhere that this generation is allowed, expected, to be quiet and leave the noise behind?

The Natural World

Everyone in Placer County, California, loves Randy. It is amazing the love and support for him, and us. Everywhere we go, from the grocery store to the high school football game, from church to the brewery, people have heard about us walking across Spain together and want to hear it again direct from us.

It has been so much fun retelling and reliving the Camino!

But also exhausting.

So this morning we escaped the social world and went for a long walk. Just like old times!

It was the perfect day for it. A cool 65 degrees at the start and a beautiful 85 by the end, made all the more perfect by sticking our hot feet in the cold waters of the American River.

The only negative to the whole adventure was the smoke-filled air from the neighboring forest fires. Not close enough that we have to worry about them, but close enough that the air tastes like your face is pressed deep into a wood stove. The smell is especially strong first thing in the morning.

We were discussing the fires yesterday with some friends. About how they are nature's way of taking care of the earth.

It is easy to think of forest fires as a bad thing. But they are actually necessary for new growth, proper nutrients, healthy habitats for animals, and the necessary thinning of overcrowded forests.

(Think about this like purging your Facebook friends list. Eliminating the relationships that are no longer life-giving makes more room and time for new and deeper relationships, and for nurturing the growing relationships you already have.)

Not surprisingly, the problem with allowing nature to takes its course in the forest is a human one. People have moved into these woodland areas. Therefore, allowing the fires to burn out on their own would mean the loss of many homes and communities.

Of course this is just my very simplified version of the issue. But hopefully a reminder that we need to take care of our beautiful earth AND the people in it.

With special thanks to the firefighters who specialize in controlling and containing the wildfires in California!

An unexpected love story...

The last thing I expected to learn from my walk across Spain was that I didn't trust God.

Two years ago, after my second divorce was finalized, I began to doubt that love could last a lifetime. Or, at least, I began to doubt that it was ever going to be in the cards for me.

I didn't recognize at the time that losing faith in the forever kind of love was really losing faith in God.

Shortly before going to Spain I began dating a man who I quickly and easily fell in love with. (Falling in love has never been a problem for me; it's the believing it will last forever that is the problem!)

This guy made it especially easy to love and be loved. Our relationship felt perfect. I couldn't imagine being happier.

And even though I had a hard time imagining I would ever be ready to marry him. Or anyone for that matter. I didn't see anything wrong with that.

But then I went on the Camino.

And met Randy within minutes of beginning my walk.

It wasn't love at first sight for either one of us. (He was even more cynical about love than I was, if that's even possible.)

But slowly, day by day, walking together, talking together, making decisions together, seeing the best and worst of each other, our walls began to come down. Catching us both completely off guard. And we started to have hope. And hope turned into love.

Yet, the first time he asked me to move to California I was nowhere near ready to think about forever together. And when he offered to move to Ohio I wasn't ready for that either.

I was starting to see that it would take way more faith for me to get married a third time than it did the first.

A faith I didn't have.

It wasn't until a friend of mine, also divorced, began talking about getting remarried that I realized God and I had unfinished business.

"Are you jealous?" I felt like God was asking when I had concerns for my friend. And I realized I was. Not of their relationship or upcoming nuptials, but that they trusted God enough to believe their love could last a lifetime.

I finally asked God if I could trust Him that much. Because, for the first time in a long time, I wanted to.

And God reminded me that He put Randy in my path for a reason. Not so I would put all my faith in Randy. But so I would put all my faith in God.

It was then that all my concerns, fears and doubts, washed away. And I knew I was ready. Ready to trust God completely. Ready to say yes to love. Ready to move to California.

I make the choice...

"I've made the choice to move to California," I said near the end of my sermon on "choices and consequences" a couple weeks ago.

Immediately my 5-year-old niece Tessa burst into tears. Which continued throughout the rest of the service. (Who knew the kids even listened to the sermon?!)

Afterwards she came up to me and said, "When you said you made that choice, to move to California, that made me sad. I make the choice for you to stay."

I explained to her that when you get to be my age you get to make your own choices. But that also means you are responsible for the consequences of your choices, which include missing out on family dinner nights and other fun times with her and her siblings in order to move forward with the plans God has for me.

It's a hard lesson to understand when you're 5. (Or almost 35.)

Especially when my choices directly affect her.

But I hope in the long run she will learn from this to not be afraid of making the hard choice when you know it is the right one. To not be afraid of the "what ifs", or fear change, or focus too much on what can no longer be. And instead to be brave and see all of the possibilities that open up when we take the next step forward to follow our dreams.