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

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.

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.

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.

going nowhere

Kasen: "I hate hiking. We aren't even going anywhere."

You will have to forgive Kasen's attitude. We were "forcing" him to hike on a morning when it was already 83 degrees, with an added 73% humidity. And it was true--we weren't going anywhere. We were simply wandering the trails until we got tired and turned around.

But it made me pause. And think. Because hiking is my absolute favorite thing to do.

How could I love something so much that gets me nowhere?

Granted, some hikes have destinations. The bottom of the Grand Canyon. The top of Mount Whitney. A waterfall or hot spring. But most times I hike simply to hike.

I love feeling the earth beneath my feet. I love the green plants and towering trees. I'm not a fan of bugs but I can appreciate the architecture of a spider's web as long as I'm not walking right into it. I love listening to creatures I cannot see, making their way thru leaves and debris. I love the distant sounds of cars and planes, reminding me that I am my own mode of transportation. I love the space it gives me to think and dream and breathe, or to empty my mind of everything.

So hiking, for me, is not actually about getting anywhere. In fact, I think it is a gift to have no idea where you are going to end up and still be able to enjoy the journey.

Because success is not always having an end goal. Or everything turning out the way we planned. And we don't have to wait to arrive in order to be happy. We can be happy every step of the way, if we begin to see the ordinary moments for the extraordinary moments that they are, even if they don't appear to lead us anywhere. Even if we have to turn around or begin again. Because it is in the dailiness of life that we see who we really are.

And I for one want to be someone who can enjoy life, whether I am going somewhere or nowhere at all.

smoothed edges

Yesterday during her children's sermon, Linda talked to the kids about how rocks are rough, with jagged edges. But through adversity--being tossed around by the water and the waves--they can be made smooth. Likewise, God can use the challenges and obstacles we face in our own lives to make us more like him.

Former Buffalo Bills quarterback Jim Kelly was a hot topic last week. (Is it a "coincidence" that I visited the Pro-Football Hall of Fame for the first time recently???) Not only because of his success on the football field. Or his battle with cancer. But also because of all the good he has done for families and children battling degenerative diseases like the one his son died from.

A couple of years ago, while crafting a devotional book, I was directed to an interview that Jim and his wife gave. In it Kelly talked about his son's diagnosis, the hardship that followed, how his family had to learn to stop treating Hunter like he was going to die (even though they knew he was going to) and start showing him what it means to live (which likely contributed to him living 6 years longer than doctors expected). And Jim's devastation when his son died in the hospital 5 minutes before Jim could get there.

Obviously he wouldn't have chosen this disease for his son or their family. But instead of allowing that reality to make him bitter, he used their experience to reach out to other children and families affected by Leukodystrophies.

"My son Hunter made me the man I am today," Kelly said.

And that is a man after God's own heart. A man who has taken the challenges life has given him and used them to make a difference.

It is not part of my faith DNA to believe that God makes bad things happen. But it is my belief that he can make us stronger if we choose to trust him when they inevitably do.

I can see God using my own experiences--my mistakes, my hurts, my heartaches and my hopes--to encourage others. And I believe he wants to do the same for you.

So if you find yourself tempted toward bitterness, remember that when you offer those rough edges to God he can make them smooth. And use you to give hope to the people you walk with.

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.

simple solutions

Last week was my week to go to Quaker Knoll Church Camp in Wilmington, Ohio, to share devotions with the kids around their nightly campfires. Last year I learned that what these kids (grades 5-8) are looking for is authenticity. So during my first campfire talk I shared with them my recent struggle...

Me: Lately I've been feeling lost. Like I'm not sure what God wants me to do next. Do you have any suggestions for me?
Camper: Take a nap.
Me: Great suggestion. And if I wake up and still feel lost?
Another camper: Take a longer nap.

It's easy for me to want to over-spiritualize whatever I'm going through. To think if I just pray hard enough, read the Bible long enough, or sing loud enough then I will start to see the signs God is planting in my path. But these kids reminded me that no matter what I'm going through, Jesus is there and He is the way. And sometimes all I need in order to see that is a really long nap.

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.

graduation

My nieces graduated from preschool yesterday.

All of the kids were adorable, singing songs about ice cream and guacamole, receiving their diplomas, walking down the aisle to Pomp and Circumstance.

But in the grand scheme of things it was just another day.

Why? Because a ceremony can't capture all that they have learned. Experienced. The fun. The challenges. Growth. Daily victories. The hilarious things that come out of their mouths (during yesterday's slideshow Tessa kept asking when she was going to get to play on the slides). The light bulbs that go off when they finally connect. Friendships made. With students, teachers, parents, and aides.

It's kind of like walking across Spain. And expecting the Cathedral in Santiago (or the piece of paper you get that says you walked there) to hold all of the magic. Only to realize that the moments you will forever cherish didn't take place on that last day. But all along the way. In the people you met, the mountains you climbed, the bones you broke, the tears and the laughs and the wine.

Day 44

Day 44 – Cacabelos to Villafranca del Bierzo – 9.5 km

As I was leaving Cacabelos this afternoon I took a short detour, following the commotion to the town square. What I discovered was an abundance of small children getting ready to run a 20-meter dash.

Kids bring so much joy to the world! And Spain has been no different.

I was reminded of the twin boys Randy and I met in Estella. Their dad told us to speak English to them because they were learning Spanish, Basque, and English in their kindergarten class. They were fascinated by our placemats (which only pilgrims get) and our accents.

And I thought of the young girls in Espinal who were thrilled when we asked them to stamp our pilgrims passports. (I blame them for our enthusiasm to get anyone and everyone to stamp our passports from there on after!)

I remembered the groups of teenagers who “interviewed” us in Pamplona and Burgos, videotaping our conversations for their English classes.

And of course I thought of my nieces and nephew back home. How a few years ago Tessa, Kaylee, Tysen, and Kenzi would have held hands as they ran their race. How Riley would be too curious about what was ahead to wait for the starting bell. And how Kasen would do a victory dance as soon as he crossed the finish line. I can’t wait to hug them all!

But in the meantime I’m enjoying the many kids that continue to cross my path!

After getting settled into an albergue in Villafranca del Bierzo, I had dinner with two kids who wanted to practice their English pronunciation. They also helped the adults around the table understand each other, translating various English, Spanish, and French words so we all knew what we were talking about!

And I talked to Merena (age 4 ½) and her family about Merena’s first Camino. This is her dad’s sixth Camino and her mom’s second. Dad is riding a bike, with Merena in a cart on the back (and only a coloring book to entertain her!), while Mom is walking. They started in Leon where they live and where he works in the audio-visual department at the University. He is recording the journey for Merena, so she will remember this journey and be able to share it with other families considering the trip. 

They will do a week long stretch now and another in the summer in order to get from Leon to Santiago. Dad said when Merena is old enough (maybe 8), they will think about visiting California, where they can have lots more outdoor adventures!

It is really fun to see so many families enjoying the Camino, letting the kids teach us, and speaking the universal language of smiles!

today is the day

Today is the day!!

Six months ago today "I" came up with this crazy plan to walk across Spain for Lent. It felt like a long time then, but now I can't believe how fast and full it has been. The preparation has been as much mental, emotional, and spiritual as it has been physical. And I imagine being stretched in all those ways over the next 52 days. 

I keep thinking back to the mantra we came up with to guide us this year:

Today I will be brave, honor my commitments, explore life to the fullest, enjoy the journey, and take time to selah--pause and calmly praise God for that.

We are certainly fulfilling that prophecy!

Today I feel brave. Today I am honoring my commitment to this journey. I will explore. I will enjoy. I will selah. And it all begins at 3:55 p.m. when I board a plane in Columbus, Ohio, make a quick stop in Philly, and wake up tomorrow in Madrid.

In the meantime, I had one last family dinner, tucked in my nieces one last time, hugged my brother and sister-in-law, kissed my nephew and my boyfriend, took one last walk with Jovi this morning, paid one last bill, saw one last Ohio sunrise, and will have one last lunch with my parents before I say goodbye for almost 8 weeks.

It is my hope that I will be able to continue to blog and update you each day, probably in the early afternoon for you eastern time zone folk (I'll be 6 hours ahead). But who knows what the coming days will hold! Regardless, I promise to walk with you and your prayers. Thank you for walking with me and mine.

Going to miss my walking buddy Jovi!

One last Ohio sunrise

I'm still here

"You're getting good at this," Kari said. I was holding back Kaylee's hair and propping her up while Kari held a "bucket" under her chin.

Within seconds of Kaylee getting sick the first time the entire house had mobilized. Kari was making a sick bed on the couch, cleaning vomit out of the carpet, getting wet washcloths and buckets ready (she really is Superwoman!). I had Kaylee in the bathroom getting clean pajamas on and scrubbing her little fingers where she had tried to catch the sickness before it hit the floor. And Tim was comforting the other girls who were either grossed out by the whole affair or jealous that Kaylee would get to sleep in the living room while Aunt Katie and Mommy watched their shows.  

We were on round 3 or 4 of this when Kari told me I was getting good. 

It wasn't exactly the evening we had planned. But I went home happy. Feeling sorry for poor Kaylee, of course, and praying the rest of the family doesn't end up sleeping on the couch. But happy nonetheless.

Because it has been so easy to get caught up in being gone for two months that sometimes it feels like I've already left. That all my thoughts and conversations are about what it will be like when I Walk With Spain. Or even what it will be like coming home.

But feeling like I'm already gone isn't what I want for my last few days here. 

I want to be present to these moments. Here. Now. The dailiness and the ordinary. To make ponytails and memories. Hold hands and be happy. To feel like I'm still part of this life. 

Because I am still here. Not yet there. And it's the ordinary moments--the family dinners and reading books, the laughter and tears--that I imagine missing the most.

the ice cream scoop girl

While Kari and I were attempting to catch up on some mindless television this week a horrible noise started coming from Tysen's room. 

It sounded like a clogged garbage disposal. 

Upon inspection it turned out to be one very congested little girl. 

We got her out of bed and Tysen sat with Kari while waiting for the Vicks and vaporizer to work their magic, and we continued to watch our mindless television.

Until the horrible noise started coming from Kaylee's room. 

Kari went off to investigate and I asked Tysen if she wanted to go to bed.

Shaking her head 'no' she said, "I want to watch the show."

"What is it about?" I asked, wondering if she was actually paying attention.

"Girls," she said. "And boys. And they sing."

Spot on.

"Do you want to sing when you get bigger?" I asked.

Shaking her head 'no' she said, "I want to be the ice cream scoop girl."

"The ice cream scoop girl?" I asked, making sure I understood her correctly.

She nodded, "So I can feed all the people who are hungry." 

(I've said it before--world changer, this one.)

"Do you know how to make ice cream?" I asked.

Shaking her head 'no' she said, "Mommy has some in the freezer. I just want to scoop it for the people."

(If ever you need a lesson in Walking With compassion, just spend a few minutes with Tysen.)

Shortly thereafter she was sound asleep, no doubt dreaming about changing the world one ice cream scoop at a time.

Meanwhile I'm left thinking I can't imagine a better thing to grow up to be than someone who feeds hungry people. In fact, I think I want to be the ice cream scoop girl too.

the only one

I was hanging out with some friends this week when they got to teasing me (in good fun) about "doing my own thing".

It all started when a pack of gum was presented and everyone in the room wanted a piece. Everyone except me.

"Everyone else is chewing it," they said.

"I'm different, yeah I'm different," I sang.

And we all laughed.

Most of the time I love being the one who is "different", not afraid to follow the road less traveled and go my own way.

But that doesn't mean it's easy to maintain your stargirl qualities when you are "the only one":

The only one who doesn't chew gum (it gives me a stomach ache). The only one who doesn't have kids. The only one who doesn't smoke. The only one who doesn't have anything to complain about. The only one who goes to church. The only one who is divorced. The only one who works from home. The only one who leaves her phone at home on purpose. The only one...

You can fill in the blank for yourself. Because as many times as I am "the only one", there are just as many times when I'm part of the majority, leaving someone else--maybe you--to claim "the only one" status.

It can feel isolating to be on the outside of inside jokes. To have different tastes in music or movies, hobbies or passions. But I'm always in awe of the person who refuses to compromise who they are. Because I know how hard it can be. And how beautiful. And how worth it.

To Walk With integrity to your true self is a challenge. But knowing that there are times when we each feel like "the only one" is an invitation to celebrate each others' uniqueness, encourage authenticity, and be kind. Always.

expectations

No one has ever been more excited to win anything than Kenzi was when she won this tool set at the annual Lions Club pancake breakfast on Saturday (except maybe Kasen, who won an ice scraper last year).

The surprise of hearing her name called literally lifted her out of her seat and had her running to the prize table to receive her very first socket set. Her smile lit up the room for the rest of the hour, not the least bit concerned with the impractical nature of the prize.

I was sitting on the opposite side of the table, next to Tessa, when Kenzi's big win occurred. And suddenly Tessa was presented with the challenge of now expecting to hear her name called as well. But her name wasn't immediately called, which gave her time to eye the prize table. Presenting the additional challenge of not only expecting her name to be called, but expecting her prize to be the giant flashlight that was obviously the missing piece to the magic show she performs for us nightly.

"Expectations" has been a huge word for me in the past week. Realizing how easily I am disappointed when they aren't met. How I, like Tessa, have so much room to grow in patience and being a gracious receiver of what is offered to me, even if it isn't what I've laid out so carefully in my mind.

At the same time I am fiercely against the adage, "Don't expect too much and you won't be disappointed." I think this is a terrible philosophy. One that denies the opportunity for hard work, dreaming big, and growth in times of disappointment.

I would much rather teach Tessa to Walk With an expectant attitude, to expect to hear her name called, and expect the giant flashlight as her prize, but to be happy regardless. (And to confess to her that I am continuing to learn and grow right alongside her.)

But before I could get around to discussing this life lesson with Tessa, her name was called.

And when Kevin told her that her prize was a bottle of tire cleaner, she responded, "But I wanted the giant flashlight." And he kindly gave it to her.

Because sometimes life really does measure up to the fullness of our expectations!

(With special thanks to Judy and Kevin for making it happen!)

journey, take 2

Carol, who does baking and crafting with my nieces once a week, pointed out to me that Tysen draws her stick people from the feet up. 

While my grandmother is a very gifted artist, I got the short end of that paintbrush. So I've been paying attention to Tysen's creative expression ever since, totally jealous and inspired by the way she grounds her people and builds them from the earth up.

While the end result may not be that much different than any her sisters draw (from the head down), it's the journey--the process of getting there, the way she progresses--that makes Tysen unique.

The same can be said of life. While life inevitably ends in death, the life we live, the journey we take, the unique plan and purpose of our lives, makes each of us distinct, special, irreplaceable.

So, while my journey may look vastly different from yours, it doesn't make mine better, or worse. It simply makes it mine.

commitment, take 2

"You are a brave soul," the woman with a cold said as I walked into the YMCA at 8:30 yesterday morning to get in a workout. My car registered negative 10 degrees and was one of few in the parking lot.

"I'm trying," I said, thinking about yesterday's blog on bravery.

But the truth was, my showing up to exercise had nothing to do with bravery. And everything to do with commitment.

I went to the gym because I'm committed to being healthy, now and for my future. And because I'm committed to walking across Spain this year.

And I was brave yesterday with my nieces because I'm committed to them, to loving them, protecting them when they are on my watch, and encouraging their curiosity, energy, and spiritual growth.

I've previously thought that I had to be brave in order to commit, but now I see that it also works the other way around. Commitment makes you brave, and makes others see you as brave. It gives you the courage to do things that are scary or hard or even dangerous.

Perhaps I will be less intimidated by this word--commitment--if I can see it as a source, an inspiration, for being brave.

brave, take 2

Anytime I take these four girls anywhere by myself is a test of bravery.

Yesterday's bravery started with picking them up from school. Making sure they all got zipped into their coats. That each one had a backpack. And everyone was holding someone's hand as we navigated the parking lot.

Tysen immediately asked if we could go to McDonald's for lunch. Tessa quickly added, "The one with the slides." Shame on the McDonald's RIGHT NEXT TO their school which doesn't have a play place.

Which leads to the next act of bravery: riding in the car with these girls and their questions and stories for half an hour as we drove to a McDonald's with slides.

Kenzi wanted to know if their great-grandpa Buck was wearing shoes in heaven and if he had a nickname like "Mr. Silly Pants". Kaylee said when she got to heaven she was going to make him cupcakes, which prompted Tysen to say "I don't like pizza." Tessa then asked how many people are on earth and if 7 billion people would fit in her house as long as no giants showed up.

Arriving at McDonald's required another parking-lot-everyone-hold-someone's-hand-I-wish-I-had-eyes-on-the-side-of-my-head challenge. Followed by me praying they wouldn't sit down and eat french fries with strangers while I ordered 3 cheeseburgers with no mustard, 6 nuggets, extra barbecue sauce, two large fries, and 4 waters while stocking up on ketchup and napkins. Lots of napkins.

As soon as we sat down Tessa had to go the bathroom. Which reminded Kenzi she had to go. NOW. And Tysen too. But not Kaylee. She wanted french fries. So I bravely tried to keep hands from touching anything too gross in the kids bathroom, sinks from being stopped up, hand sanitizer out of eyes, pants pulled up and buttoned before exiting the bathroom, and one eye on Kaylee making sure she didn't choke on her sandwich.

After an hour of slides came possibly the bravest act of the day. Taking them all to the grocery store. I got my work out in pushing 120+ pounds through an icy parking lot, then up and down the aisles looking for "four things so we can each hold one". Not to mention talking to every person in the store who has a twin, a premie, or knows someone who knows someone who has triplets but finds quads unimaginable.

The easiest part of the day was taking them back to my house for a game of hide and seek. We did lose Tysen for a while--long enough for her to wet her pants (she's really committed to hiding)--but we found her in time to get them all home for dinner. And you can bet that Aunt Katie slept well last night!

Being brave with these girls is worth every laugh, every worry, every challenging question, and every hug. I'm looking forward to a year of bravery with these soon-to-be 5 year olds!

journey

Suzie challenged me with the word "journey" on Monday's post. My sister-in-law challenged me with the same word months ago when we realized I would be out of the country more than in it, at least for the first half of 2014.

I do love to travel. Already this year I spent a week in the Caribbean on a cruise, stopping in both Mexico and Belize, and a week with my brother's family in Corpus Christi, Texas.

"Journey" is more than just travel though.

It's a band, a beautiful little girl, a store, a game. It's a process. A progression. A movement forward, deeper, further.

Life is a journey. Success is a journey. Relationships are a journey. Travel is a journey. Writing is a journey.

Journey means speed bumps and missed turns, unexpected beauty and life lessons.

Yet still I hesitate. Is it the "right" word? Does it give me enough direction--THE direction--that I'm looking for in 2014? Because I'm not interested in wandering this year. I want this year to have a clear goal in mind, a narrow path, filled with love and light and lots of adventure.

It's a good word. It could even be MY word. And maybe it is. Maybe...