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!

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."

everything is beautiful

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

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

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

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

"Well done, good and faithful servant."

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

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

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

It reads, in part:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

spiritual friendships

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you ladies! You are loved.

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

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

simple things

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

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

"And simple," he said with a smile.

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

When the Game Stands Tall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An unexpected love story...

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then I went on the Camino.

And met Randy within minutes of beginning my walk.

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

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

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

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

A faith I didn't have.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

married in McDonalds

One of the many life lessons that I took away from my time in Spain is that we can't confine God to a "box" (ie., a church building).

I expected to come to know and love the Lord better in churches and cathedrals, through prayer and walking meditation, learning to recite the 23rd Psalm in Spanish, and honoring the Sabbath. But, in retrospect, I spent very little time doing any of those things.

And yet, I still came away feeling closer to God.

Because I encountered God in the people I walked with, the hospitality shown to me when I was tired and hungry, conversations over bread and wine, tending to one another's feet. Rainbows and snow covered mountains, watching shepherds tend their sheep.

Which shouldn't be surprising. After all, Jesus spent way more time outside the church -- on mountain tops, beside the sea, in gardens and other people's homes -- than he did inside.

And while I still think it is important to have a church home where we regularly attend, we shouldn't think that God can only be experienced within those walls.

I was reminded of this yesterday when I shared this picture on my Facebook page, asking friends if they would marry their partners where they first met:

As I read through their responses: French class, 4-H camp, BP gas station, church, square dance, martini bar, football stadium... I couldn't help but think that these are all perfect places to get married. On the travel channel this week I even saw a wedding in McDonalds. And that seemed perfect too.

Because they are places of significance to the couple. Maybe where they fell in love at first site. Or at least the place where the energy of one first encountered the energy of the other. A reminder of how and why they came together.

Not long ago I would have told you that church was the best place to get married. I might have gone so far as to say the only place for a Christian couple. Symbolizing the importance of God's role as the One holding it all together.

But God has been working in my heart to get me to lighten up. To remind me that nothing can separate us from his love -- not a gas station or a fast food drive-thru, not an elementary school hallway or Ohio stadium when Ohio State and Michigan are playing.

And if God is in all those places he can certainly honor commitments we make in those places. After all, it's the commitment that is important, not the place.

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.)

Perfect peace

I went to a baseball game this week. It was scheduled to start at 7 pm. At 10 minutes till it started to rain. Hard. And it didn't let up for over an hour. The entire backstop was under water. Once the rain let up it took another hour to prepare the field for play. The start time ended up being 9:05 pm. And the game went into extra innings. Resulting in a loss for the home team. Well after midnight.

But the most amazing thing happened that night.

So amazing it is hard to believe.

While we sought shelter with 5000 fans as our seats gathered rain, I didn't hear a single person complain. No one seemed angry or put out. People chatted. Kids played. The ball players from both teams danced in the rain and entertained us with skits made up on the spot. We pointed out the rainbow to one another and shared towels and sweatshirts to dry our waiting seats.

It was the best experience of waiting I have ever had.

A little glimpse of heaven. An evening that proves peace is possible!

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 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.

first steps

Three months ago I took my first steps on the Camino de Santiago, embarking on an adventure I couldn't even fathom.

I often get asked what my favorite part of the journey was. There were so many amazing moments, days, views, meals, conversations... you would think it would be hard to pick just one.

But my favorite part was definitely those first few steps. Adrenaline at an all time high. Realizing I was about to do this epic thing. And immediately bumping into Randy. Knowing I would not have to take this walk alone.

March 6, St. Jean Pied de Port, France

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.

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.

Day 62

Day 62: Philadelphia

After a 9 hour flight from Madrid to Philadelphia, I was welcomed back to America with the most amazing surprise.

Randy.

There in the airport. Holding a sign with my name on it. To congratulate me on reaching Santiago. And help me begin the transition from two months on the Camino back to “real life”.

After hugs and laughs and rearranging my flight schedule so we could spend a day in the city together (the Camino has definitely encouraged me to be more flexible!), we did the most “American” thing we could think of.

We went out for Philly cheese steaks.

And I got my first taste of the “American” things I am going to have to readjust to. So many choices (what do you mean what kind of beer do I want?). Finding the toilet handle (what is it doing on the side of the tank?). American prices and dollar bills (where are the fifty cent and one dollar coins?).

And those were just the adjustments I faced in the first hour.

The rest of the evening was mostly spent crying. Tears for all the amazing experiences. The easy and the difficult ones. Tears of joy and accomplishment, relief and exhaustion. Tears for leaving a beautiful country that was home to me, that cared for me and challenged me to grow. Tears for all the people I met along the Way, that they too would have an incredible journey, far into the future. All the tears that I wanted to cry along the way that I didn’t allow myself to. And tears for whatever changes are ahead.

Randy tells me the tears are a normal and natural part of the transition. I feel so blessed that the Camino brought him into my life. That he was here to share his transition experience with me and help me ease into mine.

I know the transitions, the processing, the learning will continue far into the future. But I can’t imagine a more perfect way to begin!  

Day 58

Day 58: Boente to Santiago - 46 kilometers walking!!

Today was a day of blessed connections.

I met Brett and Katherine (a travel writer!) from Indiana. I walked with Seth, a student from Virginia. I bumped into Tony and Andrea (the torn meniscus') who introduced me to Kevin from Philadelphia who just decided last week to come to Sarria and walk to Santiago.

Then, about 5 p.m., I met Viktor from Sweden. A man in purple pants with elephants on them. And we walked all the way to Santiago!

Day 46

Day 46 – Holy Saturday

“And they rested on the Sabbath according to the commandment.” Luke 23:56

Every journey, every Camino, every calling is its own.

Many people I have encountered have felt led to walk to Santiago. Others beyond Santiago, another 87 kilometers, to Finisterre. Or even a day’s walk beyond that to Muxia.

Not everyone is called to Santiago, however. Some are simply called to walk.

Some started in France. In St. Jean Pied de Port, like me. Or further away. In Le Puy. Or Paris.

Others began in Spain. Roncesvalles or Pamplona. Burgos or Leon. And some will begin in Sarria, to walk the last 100 kilometers.

Many do the Camino in stages. One hundred kilometers or one week at a time. Over the course of a few or many years.

Others follow the guidebook recommendations and walk from St. Jean to Santiago in 33 continuous days.

I’ve met people who walk far faster than this. And many, like me, who go much slower.

My own calling was to walk for Lent.

I thought it would take me to Santiago. Or Finisterre. Or Muxia. I thought I would have “arrived” by now. But I find myself 185 kilometers short of Santiago. Resting in Villafranca del Bierzo. Because that is what the Scriptures say happened between Jesus’ Crucifixion and Resurrection. Rest.

After Good Friday, a day of processions and services, holiday crowds and late night music, I welcomed a day of quiet. Both outside in the streets and inside my own mind.

Because the Camino is a difficult journey. But not just on the body. It challenges you mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. And after 46 days I needed a break. In body, mind, and spirit.

So that I would be prepared for the celebration of the new life that comes with Resurrection Sunday.

Here they say ‘the authentic Camino begins when it is completed’. So even though Easter marks the end of Lent, my journey has just begun.

I’ve decided to stay in Spain for another 2 weeks. To listen more deeply to what it means for me to live the Camino.

I will continue to walk. But by now I know (and I hope you do too!) that the Camino is so much more than walking.