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.

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. 

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!

"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.

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.

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!

Realizing A Dream

My crazy beautiful friend Colette got married last Thursday and is now on her honeymoon in Israel. She's been praying hard for months that they would feel safe enough to go through with this adventure in the midst of all the violence in the Holy Land. And their faith has proven strong. They even got baptized in the Jordan River earlier this week, just like Jesus once did.

So many things struck me during their wedding, which was personally and uniquely designed.

The very first charge that the pastor gave was not to the bride and groom, but to the guests. About our role in supporting and nurturing this young couple. And when asked who gives this bride the response was, "We all do."

Often times we go to weddings because they are beautiful and filled with an as-yet-untainted love that inspires us. We get a chance to dress up and dance and eat delicious food. And we know one, or sometimes both, parties. But we should take seriously what it means to be present when vows are shared. It means we believe in this couple, that God has brought the two together, and we are willing to be encouraging and supportive to them in their lives together. And if necessary remind them when they are veering off course.

Quakers emphasize this role by having the entire guest list sign the marriage certificate, not just the officiant.

Colette, as I mentioned a few weeks ago, is from Ferguson, Missouri. She is African American. And her new husband is Caucasian. The couple decided they wanted to end their wedding ceremony with a video of Martin Luther King Jr. reciting his "I Have a Dream" speech. They didn't know when they picked their wedding date that it would be the 50th anniversary, to the day, of this speech. And people all over the world, as if in solidarity with this newly married couple, were listening to the same speech while we were.

The "icing on the cake" as it were, was two sided. Vanilla frosting down one side of the cake and chocolate down the other. But when the cake was finally cut we realized that the diversity was merely superficial. On the inside the cake was ALL red velvet.  

I believe a lasting impression was made on the hearts of those present that day. Because John and Colette were faithful to who they are as individuals and the life they want to live together, witnesses to the unity that is possible as long as we continue to have a dream.

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.

allowing others to make a difference

I spent last week in Athens, Ohio, with a friend of mine. She had just had surgery and asked if I could spend a few days with her helping out.

I know how hard it was for her to ask for help. It reminded me of just a few years ago when I broke one of my ribs in a 4-wheeling accident. I couldn't drive or carry anything, clean my house or any of the other ordinary things that we do on a daily basis without thinking about it. I had to rely on my coworkers to drive me to work and doctors appointments, carry my purse and anything else over five pounds I needed.

I hated feeling helpless and I hated asking for help.

But I know my coworkers didn't mind helping. They were glad to help. And last week so was I. Because I knew my friend was sore and tired and frustrated. And even though I couldn't take any of those feelings away, I could help with the kids, the laundry, the house, and try to take her mind off things with much needed girl talk.

Yesterday I got a card in the mail that said, "You make a difference in others' lives, and you allow them to make a difference in yours."

It reminded me that I am here on this planet to love others. But so is everyone else. And maybe I am the person they are called to love. Therefore, if I don't allow others to love and care for me, I'm denying them their purpose. I need to be just as good at receiving love as I am at giving it.

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.

ABRA

I had just sat down in the driver's seat of my car, closed the door and put my new book purchase in my lap, when I was rocked from behind. I got out to see a man gracefully and apologetically removing his Dodge Ram from the rear panel of my car. We exchanged info; he parked and went into Walmart while his son made fun of his poor driving/parking skills, and I drove away.

Within the hour this same Walmart was evacuated. A suspected shooter was inside. The news reported from the same parking lot where I had left some of my paint on someone else's bumper.

My instinct was to pray for the man and his son. I knew nothing more of him than his name, the make and model of his vehicle, and his insurance policy number. But that wasn't nothing. That was something. I could pray specifically for this man, whose name I knew. That after hitting me in the parking lot his day didn't get a whole lot worse.

When I talked to the insurance company later they told me to go have my car looked at, that the nearest place was called ABRA.

I just opened my new book, the one that was on my lap when the man hit my car. It wasn't the book I went in to purchase. But when I couldn't find the one I wanted I bought this one instead. Doctor Sleep. Stephen King's sequel to The Shining. Wouldn't you know that Part 1 of Doctor Sleep is called: ABRA.

Isn't it strange that my car got hit outside a Walmart that was later evacuated, and the collision shop had the same name that opened the book I had just purchased?

And on my way home a black cat ran in front of my car.

I don't think the black cat has anything to do with it. I just threw it in there to remind us not to over analyze life's synchronicities.

Maybe there is some deeper meaning to all this that will eventually be revealed to me. But maybe it is just a little reminder that if we pay attention we will see these connections happen all the time, to all of us. Because there is Someone greater at work in the world.

"Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening." 1 Samuel 3

share your story

I'm so blessed for all the opportunities I had this summer to share my journey walking across Spain. With church groups, individuals, reminiscing with friends I made on the Way.

And today in the local paper!

Terrell Walks el Camino

I've taken time to start to lay hold of some of the life lessons, and may share those with you in the coming weeks. Even as they continue evolving and revealing themselves.

But for today I will say this: 

If you have a story to tell, tell it!

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.

turtledoves

My turtledoves hatched while I was in California.

I've been thinking about these two birds and how they must feel listening to and watching all the other birds in the yard. Running and jumping and flying. Doing the things they were made to do. While my little squeakers (that's what you call a baby dove!) aren't yet ready to leave the nest.

Because even though they are far closer to achieving God's plan for the next stage of their life than when they were encased in egg shells, just because they hatched doesn't mean they are ready yet to fly.

This speaks to my own frustration. My longing to live into the next adventure. To explore more of the beauty, community, and opportunity beyond my front door.

But like a nestling, I have to be patient. Until it is my turn. My time. And then, soon enough, I too will be ready to fly.

blank pages

I have no idea what to write about.

It isn't writers block.
It's more like when a person retires and they don't know how to fill all of their new found time.
Or a relationship ends and you have to figure out all over again who you are without that other person.

Writing was easy when I was in Spain. There were new adventures every day. People. Food. Vistas. Pain. Determination. Kilometers that needed walked.
And it felt amazing to have such a clearly defined purpose. In life. And in writing.

But now it feels like I'm trying on all of my clothes (literally and metaphorically) to see what still fits and what doesn't. What still serves me and what I can give up.

And in the meantime I have no idea what to do with myself. Or this blog.

birds

My nephew enlightened me over the weekend about cardinals. (His chosen bird for a school project because he's a Louisville fan.) They can sing up to 16 different songs and are the state bird for 7 states. (I don't know why I imagined Ohio had sole claims to this one.)

Birds are amazing creatures. Seemingly connecting heaven and earth, the human and Divine. Inviting us to spread our wings in order to reach new heights, embracing what we can see and what we can't.

Birds were very much a part of my journey across Spain.

The cuckoo bird that showed up any time we were struggling--with sickness, pain, or doubt.

The vultures that circled overhead, hoping we would give up in the Pyrenees.

Small birds with large voices and large birds that were silent. Some that floated easily on the wind, and others that struggled against it.

One man told me that he walked the Camino during a particularly hot summer and didn't hear a single bird on his journey. I don't know that I went a single moment without one making itself known.

And of course the stork. Nesting on every church top in northern Spain. "The one that brings babies" everyone called it, regardless of the country they were from or the language they spoke. The perfect symbol for what we all hoped to gain from our walk--new life, rebirth, awakening.

The stork returns to its nest, year after year, to raise its young. Just like we all returned home, after walking, to begin the process of raising up whatever new insights were birthed inside of us.

I even came home to the promise of two new turtledoves.

the in-between

In Spain, I had a clear and defined "purpose"--to walk. 

Today I am wrestling with what that clear and defined purpose is now that I am "home". If I have one. If I need one. What is next.

Or if I'm being called to stay in this "in-between" place for a while, to rest and reflect and recover. 

It is an unsettling place. The in-between. But that doesn't mean it's not right where I'm supposed to be.