i am pleased to announce that i'm moving my blog to www.actuallykatie.com
...this blog will remain up for a while, because i'm so attached to it. but new posts will now be on the other site. i hope you'll continue to read and grow with me.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Friday, December 23, 2011
christmas eve eve.
i am not a believer in new year's eve resolutions because i think you should start immediately instead of using a specific date as an excuse for motivation... usually a motivation that flickers and fades out pretty quickly.
however, i am a believer in fresh starts.
i've basically been forced into a fresh start as of late. my dad's death marked a new chapter in my life in more ways than one. i am reminded of the brevity of life, jarred into a sense of reality, wide awake and re-evaluating everything.
i love to write.
i write on napkins, sticky notes, envelopes. i write small notes and ideas in the memo app on my phone. i have stacks of journals, and cases of them that i lost to hurricane katrina. i have hundreds of drafted emails and word documents on this computer. i love a blank, new sheet of paper but i cannot bear to leave it empty.
it has been difficult to keep the dozen-or-so random day jobs i've had, when forever in the back of my mind i'm thinking, "i need to write that down... i need to write this down... and this..."
it hurts me, physically, that i have not committed more seriously to my writing. God forgive me for not pursuing something you've made me passionate about.
the thing about being a writer is that you absolutely hate it. you love it, but really you hate it. every writer is a little weird. every writer has an odd expression behind their eyes. i've never met a writer that didn't look pre-occupied constantly.
you hear someone say something and you spend twenty minutes thinking about just one sentence that they've said, either thinking it would be a brilliant line in a story or that it's the worst thing you've ever heard. you'll laugh about it in a few weeks because you wrote it down somewhere and you'll never forget it.
(if you are my friend or family, i have one or more quotes from you written down somewhere. there is no question about it.)
writers are usually misunderstood. deeply complicated but profoundly simple. writers itch to understand, love strongly, and spend too much time in reflection. i know this because i am close friends with many writers, and i would like to say i am even related to a few.
my fresh start is that i will become the writer i want to be. i will actually work at it, not play around. so what, it's a dream. well it's not going anywhere unless i use it. it's just sitting there.
i regret that my dad died only have read a few of the things i had ever written. i regret that the people i love most have not yet held one of my books in their hands. i regret that i have yet to see my name in ink.
regret will get me nowhere.
new page.
however, i am a believer in fresh starts.
i've basically been forced into a fresh start as of late. my dad's death marked a new chapter in my life in more ways than one. i am reminded of the brevity of life, jarred into a sense of reality, wide awake and re-evaluating everything.
i love to write.
i write on napkins, sticky notes, envelopes. i write small notes and ideas in the memo app on my phone. i have stacks of journals, and cases of them that i lost to hurricane katrina. i have hundreds of drafted emails and word documents on this computer. i love a blank, new sheet of paper but i cannot bear to leave it empty.
it has been difficult to keep the dozen-or-so random day jobs i've had, when forever in the back of my mind i'm thinking, "i need to write that down... i need to write this down... and this..."
it hurts me, physically, that i have not committed more seriously to my writing. God forgive me for not pursuing something you've made me passionate about.
the thing about being a writer is that you absolutely hate it. you love it, but really you hate it. every writer is a little weird. every writer has an odd expression behind their eyes. i've never met a writer that didn't look pre-occupied constantly.
you hear someone say something and you spend twenty minutes thinking about just one sentence that they've said, either thinking it would be a brilliant line in a story or that it's the worst thing you've ever heard. you'll laugh about it in a few weeks because you wrote it down somewhere and you'll never forget it.
(if you are my friend or family, i have one or more quotes from you written down somewhere. there is no question about it.)
writers are usually misunderstood. deeply complicated but profoundly simple. writers itch to understand, love strongly, and spend too much time in reflection. i know this because i am close friends with many writers, and i would like to say i am even related to a few.
my fresh start is that i will become the writer i want to be. i will actually work at it, not play around. so what, it's a dream. well it's not going anywhere unless i use it. it's just sitting there.
i regret that my dad died only have read a few of the things i had ever written. i regret that the people i love most have not yet held one of my books in their hands. i regret that i have yet to see my name in ink.
regret will get me nowhere.
new page.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
holy fear.
how many times in the past few months have i sat alone in my room and told God, "i dont understand."
it isn't supposed to be confusing. i've decided this: i am not supposed to understand. i am a very, very, very little person on a very big planet. to God i'm probably just like the speck on 'horton hears a who'. i am not supposed to understand or question or be confused. i can take comfort in this... i am not alone. i'm safe. and whatever happens, is all part of a plan.
you can trust Jesus because you will never understand Him. it is the pursuit of Someone much greater than you can ever imagine that produces holy fear; reverence and awe of a Being that swallows everything in His path.
you can find peace and rest in the fact that this overwhelmingly huge God keeps His gaze trained on you. every single minute, of every hour, of every day. you can find relief from worry and stress because He is in control and you aren't, and you don't have to be, and you never will be.
so, feeling as if you are blind folded and groping for the light switch is all part of the joy of life. it is a free fall into completely trusting the grace of Abba. “i don’t know what i'm doing, but You do.” so you take every day believing that it will work out, you’ll be o.k. someone’s got an eye on you.
“i don’t know who i am, but You do.” the One who designed the shape of your face, the contours of your smile, the small cracking wrinkles around your eyes… He knows what His intention is for you. all you really have to do is get out of bed every morning and try your hardest to fully love and fear Him.
this is incredible. what a gift, to be so small! what a pleasure, to feel so tiny and so safe.
fear of the Lord leads to life. - Proverbs 19:23
it isn't supposed to be confusing. i've decided this: i am not supposed to understand. i am a very, very, very little person on a very big planet. to God i'm probably just like the speck on 'horton hears a who'. i am not supposed to understand or question or be confused. i can take comfort in this... i am not alone. i'm safe. and whatever happens, is all part of a plan.
you can trust Jesus because you will never understand Him. it is the pursuit of Someone much greater than you can ever imagine that produces holy fear; reverence and awe of a Being that swallows everything in His path.
you can find peace and rest in the fact that this overwhelmingly huge God keeps His gaze trained on you. every single minute, of every hour, of every day. you can find relief from worry and stress because He is in control and you aren't, and you don't have to be, and you never will be.
so, feeling as if you are blind folded and groping for the light switch is all part of the joy of life. it is a free fall into completely trusting the grace of Abba. “i don’t know what i'm doing, but You do.” so you take every day believing that it will work out, you’ll be o.k. someone’s got an eye on you.
“i don’t know who i am, but You do.” the One who designed the shape of your face, the contours of your smile, the small cracking wrinkles around your eyes… He knows what His intention is for you. all you really have to do is get out of bed every morning and try your hardest to fully love and fear Him.
this is incredible. what a gift, to be so small! what a pleasure, to feel so tiny and so safe.
fear of the Lord leads to life. - Proverbs 19:23
Saturday, December 17, 2011
not much.
signed into blogspot to discover that a draft i had written a few days ago posted on accident... charming.
in the least possible grinch-like-way, i am so ready for the holidays to be over. i have not had the greatest week. i have had a difficult month. and actually, overall, it's been a milestone year.
for the past several days i wasn't feeling so well. one day it was a fever, the next day it felt like a flu.. then just a cold.. i'm honestly really confused with the difference between all of those anyway. every day has been tough. every song heard has made me long for my dad. every hour seemed to drag. i have prayed and wept and spent more time sleeping than i would care to admit.
i understand that most of the beauty in life is the struggle and growing part. i understand that maturity comes with hard lessons. i understand that the endearing stories are the ones marked with tragedy and triumph.
sometimes i just wonder at the cards i've been dealt.
sorry, guys. next post will be more cheery. i would continue to encourage you to embrace every moment of your life.. thank you for reading, thank you for caring enough to share a moment of your day with me.
in the least possible grinch-like-way, i am so ready for the holidays to be over. i have not had the greatest week. i have had a difficult month. and actually, overall, it's been a milestone year.
for the past several days i wasn't feeling so well. one day it was a fever, the next day it felt like a flu.. then just a cold.. i'm honestly really confused with the difference between all of those anyway. every day has been tough. every song heard has made me long for my dad. every hour seemed to drag. i have prayed and wept and spent more time sleeping than i would care to admit.
i understand that most of the beauty in life is the struggle and growing part. i understand that maturity comes with hard lessons. i understand that the endearing stories are the ones marked with tragedy and triumph.
sometimes i just wonder at the cards i've been dealt.
sorry, guys. next post will be more cheery. i would continue to encourage you to embrace every moment of your life.. thank you for reading, thank you for caring enough to share a moment of your day with me.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
this is love.
I have been overwhelmed with the weight of Jesus’ love lately. how much he loves me. and the idea/realization that love was really what he was and IS all about.
My dad died a little over a month ago. I was at cane’s, with my cousin, eating french fries. Dad text me about coming home, wanting to know how late I was gonna be. he gave me the usual speech about driving safely, buckle up, etc. I responded to his text message by saying that I wasn’t tired but I wouldn’t be home too late. he answered back and told me to text him when I was almost home, and he would leave the porch light on for me and unlock the door right before I got there.
this was my last conversation with him. not even twenty minutes later, I received a phone call with my mother’s desperate voice on the other side, “I think your daddy just had a heart attack.”
what a story. the story of my father’s death.
you can learn a lot about someone by knowing what they said and did in the moments right before they died. the truth is, everyone will have a story of their death. some of us will see it coming, we will be old and grey. either in a hospital or in our easy chair at home. for others, death will come like a thief, with no warning.
my dad certainly did not know he was about to die. I can say confidently that none of us saw it coming. and as heartbreaking as it is to lose him, the moments before his death speak volumes of the life that he lead.
he was being love... by loving me, my sisters, my mom. by loving Jesus and loving people.
I hope that I can be that picture of the love of Jesus. that even in my last seconds on earth, I am caring about someone and showing them what love looks like. what a testimony it would be if in my last breath I was telling someone.. “be safe coming home. I’ll leave the light on for you. I’ll wait up to make sure you’ve made it.”
this is a picture of Jesus. sounds exactly like something he would say.
“by this all men will know that you are my disciples… if you love one another.” – Jesus said that in John chapter 13. if you want to be like Me, then love people. it’s that simple.
the story of Jesus’ life was that he loved people, and he loved his Father. this is also my dad’s story. this can be your story. I believe, now more than ever, that love is the solution to most of the issues I may face. and I hope it will be my story too.
My dad died a little over a month ago. I was at cane’s, with my cousin, eating french fries. Dad text me about coming home, wanting to know how late I was gonna be. he gave me the usual speech about driving safely, buckle up, etc. I responded to his text message by saying that I wasn’t tired but I wouldn’t be home too late. he answered back and told me to text him when I was almost home, and he would leave the porch light on for me and unlock the door right before I got there.
this was my last conversation with him. not even twenty minutes later, I received a phone call with my mother’s desperate voice on the other side, “I think your daddy just had a heart attack.”
what a story. the story of my father’s death.
you can learn a lot about someone by knowing what they said and did in the moments right before they died. the truth is, everyone will have a story of their death. some of us will see it coming, we will be old and grey. either in a hospital or in our easy chair at home. for others, death will come like a thief, with no warning.
my dad certainly did not know he was about to die. I can say confidently that none of us saw it coming. and as heartbreaking as it is to lose him, the moments before his death speak volumes of the life that he lead.
he was being love... by loving me, my sisters, my mom. by loving Jesus and loving people.
I hope that I can be that picture of the love of Jesus. that even in my last seconds on earth, I am caring about someone and showing them what love looks like. what a testimony it would be if in my last breath I was telling someone.. “be safe coming home. I’ll leave the light on for you. I’ll wait up to make sure you’ve made it.”
this is a picture of Jesus. sounds exactly like something he would say.
“by this all men will know that you are my disciples… if you love one another.” – Jesus said that in John chapter 13. if you want to be like Me, then love people. it’s that simple.
the story of Jesus’ life was that he loved people, and he loved his Father. this is also my dad’s story. this can be your story. I believe, now more than ever, that love is the solution to most of the issues I may face. and I hope it will be my story too.
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