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!

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!

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.

"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.

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?

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.

Frozen Choices

Spoiler alert! If you haven't watched the movie Frozen, go buy it and watch it before continuing!

Ever since watching the movie Frozen for the first time (and the 20+ times that have followed), my sister-in-law has been waiting for me to write a sermon about it. 

She knew it wouldn't be hard. From being the first Disney film with a female director, to having a princess NOT rescued by a handsome prince in the end, there is much talk about this movie. And many sermons have already been written on the subject.

Since Sunday was my last sermon at my home church for the imminent future, I decided it was finally time for this message. And to invite my 5-year-old nieces up front to sing "Do You Want to Build a Snowman?" and "Let It Go" for everyone's enjoyment. Well, mostly everyone. 

[Giving a 5-year-old a microphone takes a lot of faith. But they did awesome. Even Tysen who refused to sing and had her hands over her ears the whole time.]

The sermon was about choices, decisions, and consequences. Here is a quick summary of the "Frozen parts": 

Elsa's parents, the king and queen, choose to lock Elsa up so she can’t hurt anyone with her powers to produce ice and snow. It’s a choice made with good intentions because they want to protect Elsa while she learns how to control her powers. But it comes with the consequences of isolating Elsa from her family and her community, and teaching her that what makes her unique is not to be celebrated.

Elsa chooses to run away after her parents die and her abilities are exposed to the community. It is again a choice made with good intentions because it lines up with what she was taught, to protect others from herself, but again it results in her isolation and alienation and feeling like she can only be herself when she is a safe distance from others.  

Elsa’s younger sister Anna [which Tessa frequently reminded me from the congregation is pronounced "Aahh-na"] chooses to accept a marriage proposal from a prince she just met. This ends up being a really bad choice. In some fairy tales this works out for the princess, but not so for Anna ["Aahh-na"]. Prince Hans turns out to be a bad guy with bad motives which are revealed after she gets to know him a little better.

Anna ["Aahh-na"] has to choose whether to save herself or save her sister. In the end, she chooses to sacrifice herself in order to save her sister, and in turn she ends up saving the entire kingdom. This act of true love is the very best choice, even though it seems to come with the consequence of losing her own life. But lucky for Anna ["Aahh-na"], her choice to save her sister was the act of true love needed to save her own life. 

You can see how we sometimes have to choose between what is good and what is bad, or what is good and what is good, or what is good and what is best. And that regardless of what we decide, there are always consequences, positive and negative.

Christian tradition tells us that Jesus made the same sacrifice for us that Anna ["Aahh-na"] did for Elsa. [I love that we get to be Elsa in this analogy, the beautiful Queen with special abilities and unique qualities.] And that even though it meant a gruesome death for Jesus, it was still the very best choice.

blessed by your presence

Colette and I met 8 years ago when we were selected to be roommates on a mission trip to India. It was there that she showed me what happens when not just a family but an entire community raises a child to know that she was saved by Jesus, and saved for a purpose. That child grows up with so much love inside her that she can't help but carry it to all the world. And my beautiful friend Colette has done just that.

We hadn't seen each other since India, so on Saturday I surprised Colette by showing up at her bridal shower. And her immediate reaction was to burst into tears.

Have you ever seen someone cry because they felt so blessed by your presence? Blessed... by me... simply showing up.

My heart has never been so full.

Spending time with Colette and a house full of women who, like me, have been touched by her life and ministry was like heaven on earth. Colette is one of the most humble and loving and kind women I have ever met, and we all left feeling like we had been the reason for the party.

I hope we all have people in our lives who, simply by being in their presence, make us feel filled with the Holy Spirit, empowered to do his work, and overflowing with a love that we can't help but carry to others. We should spend more time with people like that!

(By the way, Miss Colette, the most beautiful person, inside and out, I have ever met is from Ferguson, Missouri. Ferguson -- the community that raised her to be so powerfully loving. Let us hold that community in our hearts as they seek to return to who they know they are.)

savor

Family cookouts. Hot dogs over the fire.
Time with loved ones. Those who live next door. And those visiting from California.
Shared laughter. Making memories. In the front yard. And farther distances.

Football. Playing catch with nieces and nephews. Two a days and scrimmages and camps. Cheering on your favorite team from the stands or your recliner.

Giant marshmallows. Sticky fingers and faces.

Moments worth savoring.

an imprint only you can leave

"God's given us this fingerprint that nobody else has, that nobody has ever had in history, that nobody in the future will ever have, so that we can leave an imprint in the world that nobody else can leave." - Keith Craft

Kasen and Grandpa

an ant is a bug

Tessa: Aunt Katie, are you a mom or a dad?
Me: Neither.
Tessa: You are a mom AND a dad!
Me: No. "Neither" means I'm not a mom and I'm not a dad.
Tessa: Then what are you?
Me: I'm an aunt.
Tessa: An ant is a bug.

To the kids, "aunt" is not a title, like mom or dad or grandma or grandpa. To them, I don't have an "other name", like dad whose other name is Tim, or grandpa whose other name is Tom. To the kids, "aunt" does not define my relationship with their father. It's simply my name. Aunt Katie. Not Katie. Not Katie Terrell. But Aunt Katie. (And "ant" also happens to be a bug.)

Our society is such that titles are important. The world tells us they give us value. And without them we can feel as insignificant as Tessa's ant.

I've held the title of Mrs. and Mom and Editor. But through change and circumstance I can no longer claim these. To the world I'm simply Katie. To the kids I'm simply Aunt Katie. And sometimes that is a hard thing to be.

It's not the life God wants for us. God doesn't want us to get our value from titles or roles or corner offices. He wants us to know we are worthy without any of those things. That the title "child of God", which we can all claim, is the only one that matters.

But it can be a real challenge. When the world says otherwise. And you feel more like an ordinary ant than a child of the King.

leaving the nest

My best friend since kindergarten and I were talking over the weekend. About how no matter how old we get we still want the approval of our parents. To know that we make them proud.

Even when it is time to leave the nest. And long after.

We leave the nest in many different ways. From finding our own spirituality/religion/church, to making our own relationship and career decisions. How we choose to raise our children, how many we have or whether or not we even have any. Our dreams become not theirs but our own.

And, of course, we leave literally. Just as my turtledoves have spread their wings and set sites on nests of their own.