Lenten Journey

I'm preparing for Lent, which starts on Wednesday, and getting a little excited.

I'm not gonna lie. I haven't really been thinking about it or excited about it or even very interested in observing Lent this year. Things have just been so hard, so exhausting, so much, that the prospect of another trial, self-inflicted, was too much to ask it seemed. In previous years, I've fasted something that was important to me, or something that I felt helped me keep control instead of allowing God to have control. You know, those tiny little things like holding onto things that would help me get what I wanted or was called to do because God must not be able to handle it...

This year is different. This year requires a different set of priorities. A different set of lessons and a different focus.

This year, following a set of readings and word prompts, I am going on a photo journey. Every day has a different word to express through photography. A word pulled from a Scripture reading. My plan is to read the Scripture, journal about it, and take a photo to express what I'm thinking about it. The challenging part is that its hard to stay consistent with something like this every day.

I'm planning to share these photos over on my photo blog, A Thousand Hidden Gifts. I may share some of the journal as well here.

I'm getting excited about something new to focus on. And as always, I am going to enjoy worshiping through photography. I love to use the camera's focus to bring something into perspective, some beauty to the surface that otherwise might never be noticed.

Lent is not a time traditionally recognized for beauty. But there is beauty in pain, shadows, and darkness. And it is valuable to spend time there sometimes, to soak it in and let it change us, soften us, and rely on the Light of Christ in those shadows.

Just Katie

Who am I?
Deep down inside, where the heart pumps, sending blood coursing through my veins?
What are my dreams when I close my eyes? What are my hopes, my fancies, my wildest imaginings? And how do they fit with this body I live in, this humanity that covers my soul?
Who is this person, and what are her goals, and where is she going?

And so I begin a questioning and serious thinking as I try to define even more who I am. More blogging will come from this. I've begun already a little the past few days. But more ideas of who I am will come trickling up from the depths.

I'm thinking of my future and where it might be going.
I'm dreaming of my home and lifestyle and way of doing life.
I'm imagining different paths to take.
I'm examining my passions and joys.
I'm captivating these glimpses and putting to words what I see.

Some things may appear here. Some will be written on my heart, for others to discover later.

Who am I?
Just Katie.

A Global Story

I just love nativities. My favorite of all time is the one my grandmother made of ceramic and painted many years ago. We lovingly place it in the most visible spot in the living room every year. For as long as I can remember, I've gazed and contemplated Christmas and Christ through the weeks it was displayed, and it still brings me back into the story of His birth when I look at it.

A couple of years ago I decided to start collecting nativities, but not just any nativities. I decided to collect them when I travel world wide. And I wanted small ones, the size of my hand or smaller.
I think collections should be carefully selected, with items chosen because they invoke feelings or memories or thoughts. I think collections should be small enough to be enjoyed, each piece known and loved.

This is a photo of my collection.

The nativity in the back is special because it is a little house, with doors that open and close. Inside the holy family sits, and below the shepherds reside with their sheep. I was fascinated by the house, and it traveled home with me from Bolivia, my first trip there.

On the right the donkey is tired, but carefully led by Joseph, with Mary and babe perched on his back. I love how the figures have no faces, but allow for imagination to take over. I can picture a "Mary" I know, who said, "let it be according to your word!" and a "Joseph" who courageously accepted what seemed impossible. Faces I know can replace the ones the artist would use. This is made of olivewood and bought in Jerusalem. I haggled with a Jewish man who had just given me fresh orange juice, the freshest I've ever tasted. He declared I was starving his children, but when I left his shop we were both satisfied.

And on the left, is my latest one, bought in Santa Cruz this year. I love how the family looks so Bolivian with a tabor tree behind them.

I think I am fascinated because I love the ethnicity of them. I love seeing how people in different cultures represent Jesus, and how they take their artistry and weave it into the global message. I love seeing Jesus portrayed in different color skins, different cultural details telling a story to people in familiar ways. It fascinates me to think of how different places in the world view Jesus and His story, how they clothe Him in their clothing, how they picture his setting like their own. And I wonder about what I add to the story, unknown, from my own setting. Perhaps my Jesus was born in a shed in the middle of a cotton field. Its really a beautiful thing, how we can all read the same story, written thousands of years ago, and all from different times and cultures, and yet are united by the same story of salvation for all. Grace and strength for all.

Its a global story for all.

Reflecting

I'm feeling kind of quiet and reflective. I've had a lot going on the past few weeks, and its all coming to a point soon. I've been mulling over some things and looking back and rethinking. Its draining and exhilarating at the same time. One of those moments when the next breath might change your course, never to return and make a new decision.
In the midst I keep trudging on with every day tasks and thoughts, and take out these others during repose or moments of respite.

I've been thinking of re-reading my blog and journals. Every year, near the start of the new year I like to look behind at where I've come from in order to gain some perspective of where I might be going. The path behind is often indicative of things that are patterns or directions that might be missed if we never reviewed them. Its time for this review, time to take stock and see where I am and who I am.

Somehow, the girl who started out this year feels so different than the one ending it. I'm almost afraid to look at who she was, and cringe a little at what I might see. I hope its a better version of Katie at the end of the year than at the beginning. I hope its a deeper and more mature Katie, one showing growth and change in a positive way.

There have been so many adventures, so many dark places, and yet a lot of light, too. I feel like I climbed a mountain, took in the view, and now...what's next? Coming off the mountain top experience can be sort of like getting the breath knocked out of you. But it is a view everyone should experience and remember vividly. Its a vision, really, of where we should be aiming to live. A big picture viewpoint.

So as this year winds down, I begin to reflect and revisit places in the path, ebenezers and markers, to see where I've been, and catch a glimpse of where I'm going.

Most of all I want to follow Jesus. Where ever that might lead.

A Journey of Faith

Faith. Like a mustard seed, so tiny it is lost in the palm of your hand. And yet this is the chosen symbol from Jesus' mountain sermon. The people gathered there looked around them on that rocky hill and understood, for all around them were the mustard plants. It was imagery that was fresh, that used pieces of their reality. It was imagery that symbolized that a small insignificant seed could produce a tree, a miracle to be reckoned with. A symbol of the kingdom of God.

A journey of faith can be just as doubtful as looking at that mustard seed. It can be impossible at times to look at that seed and really believe it will produce anything worthwhile. That anything will come of it.

I am in that doubting moment. I doubt that the seed of the calling God has spoken in me will really come to anything. I doubt that water will come and sun will come and nutrients will come to bring that seed to fruition. I doubt that money will come to pay for what it requires to follow Jesus. I doubt that ministry will open up, that strength to follow through will be found. I doubt that these God-given dreams which I cannot escape will become reality to be reckoned with.

But I was reminded today of the journey so far. Remembering where I've been, where I came from, the innocent and unsuspecting beginnings. The beginnings that gave no hint of what was going to happen next.

My whole life has been woven and spun with graces and mercies. With strengths and unasked for provisions to accomplish what I did not suspect I would even ever do or become. Throughout, it has been intertwined with the golden sparkles of God's love and gifts.

And yet I sit here doubting.

If I have been called to something, if a ministry or mission has been given to me, if I am made for greater things, how could I think that I was then expected to achieve it on my own? Foolish thought! But a very real and even disquieting one.

Faith, looking into the spiritual dimension to see what God says about a matter, and then doing it.
Faith, believing that somehow, someway, God will move and the impossible will be possible.
Faith, hanging on and refusing to give up, refusing to accept the second rate offering.

Faith is stepping out, even with no idea of where that step will take us. Faith is not being discouraged when the rain feels late, when the knots are big, when the way is long.

Faith is a journey, I am learning. A journey towards living in peace and quietness, fearlessly trusting that God, who sends you, will also arrange for the message to be delivered. That God, who is weaving the story, who is controlling the threads, knows the pattern. That God knows when the rain and when the sun is needed.

Hebrews 11:1-3 Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for. By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God's command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible. 

This Is Mine!

Today I was listening to some music and started imagining God saying about me, "this is mine!" It kind of makes me stop and think, that God would claim me.

I know I am not that terrific. I am mean all the time. And I have the worst ugliness in my heart. And I have problems.

But even with all that, with being so ugly and unlovable, God still would say about me, me! that He claims me as His. That He would even go so far as to say, "this one is mine!"

Amazing to think the God of the universe, the God who made the earth, and has so much more on His mind would take the time to even recognize this minute bit of existence, this piece of humanity. The me that I am, and take pleasure in knowing me. Take pleasure in who I am.

I need someone to take pleasure in me. To accept who I am with all the mistakes and sins. To claim me.
I am grateful I know the One who does.

The Teacher Was Homeschooled (And Other Ironies Of My Life)

Irony 1. The teacher was homeschooled. And has no idea what a 'classroom' is supposed to look like.

Not only do I not know what it's 'supposed' to look like, but I also have no idea how it works. You know what it feels like so far? Like juggling 5 siblings and all their activities. Except, these siblings are all the same age. Maybe being the oldest of 9 will come in handy, after all. (Don't make me use my teacher voice!)

Irony 2. The teacher knocks over the kid in the playground on the first day. Great.

Parent: "Do you like your new teacher?"

Kid: "She knocked me down on the playground!"

Parent: "What kind of teacher is this?! "

(It was actually an isolated incident which was caused by a child walking behind a teacher who was swinging. The teacher was unable to stop the child or the momentum in time. I was that unfortunate teacher. There were no serious injuries in the making of this irony. Maybe I should give up swinging.)

Irony 3. The new PE teacher has never been to a PE class in her life.

She can't shoot baskets, she can't do push ups, and she doesn't remember the rules to 'freeze tag'. But somehow, these things will probably not hinder her as she guides 40 kids through PE classes. Oh no. Not at all.

~

Somehow, I think I'm going to absolutely love this job. After the first day, I still have things to do with them for the remainder of the week, and lots of ideas for our studies and activities. I'm surprised there's not the irony of using up a weeks worth of classes in one day. But grateful for that not happening. Ask me tomorrow if it really didn't happen. Ha!

Today I got more of a feel of how long it takes to do things with 5 year olds. (Basically, forever.) And I got more of a feel of where they are in their abilities. (Basically, my level.)

Looking forward to more teacher adventures tomorrow! But I think I will attempt to avoid knocking over kids on the playground.

Healing

A broken heart. I know how it feels. I know the intense pain so deep and strong. At times barely able to breathe. At times blinded, vision blurred with the force of the pain. Reeling from a roller-coaster of emotions and memories. A broken heart, a thousand pieces, and shards within causing internal bleeding.

Oh yes. A broken heart, with darkness all around. And thinking there is no hope- thinking the pain would be present forever.

And then slowly, like a cool soothing balm, God's Spirit touches that brokenness. Touches and heals, putting the pieces back together, making it whole again. God's finger, writing joy back into our hearts and lives.

It reminds me of the broken heart of Christ, when rejected at crucifixion. His was a heart broken from rejection from His Father. His was a heart broken because of the mistakes and evil things thought and acted by others. His broken heart made possible the healing of our hearts. His heart, resurrected, allows our hopes to be resurrected as well.

A broken heart can seem so impossible to put together from the many bits and pieces. But the Creator of the universe can create anew our souls. He creates a new heart from the pain, a new soul. And where the cracks were is made stronger and more unified than ever possible before. And how do we get this healing?
It's simple. We ask.
We ask and we receive.

I know of healing. I know at times it creeps along slowly. One atom at a time, one vessel at a time until a whole organ, a whole soul is revealed. I know that healing has to be asked for, and worked toward, sometimes. We ask for it, and it is simple. We allow Christ to heal us. I know that it is real.

Healing will come.
Broken hearts remade.
Broken lives restored.
Broken worlds made new.

Why? Because God heals. And that is sure. Something to hang on to during everything.

It's true. I know. Because it is happening to me.



~

Psalm 30:1-12
I will extol you, O Lord, for you have drawn me up, and did not let my foes rejoice over me.
O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me.
O Lord, you brought up my soul from Sheol, restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit.
Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name.
For his anger is but for a moment; his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.
As for me, I said in my prosperity, "I shall never be moved."
By your favor, O Lord, you had established me as a strong mountain; you hid your face; I was dismayed.
To you, O Lord, I cried, and to the Lord I made supplication:
"What profit is there in my death, if I go down to the Pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it tell of your faithfulness?
Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me! O Lord, be my helper!"
You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
so that my soul may praise you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.

2 Kings 5:1-14
The story of Naaman, asking for healing.

1 Corinthians 9:24-27
Running to win the race.

Mark 1:40-45
The leper is healed.

Philippians 4:8

Whatsoever things are...

Pure.
Lovely.
Virtuous.
Of good report.
Honest.
True.
Just.
Praiseworthy.

I would like to be a whatsoever.

Like this:
Whatsoever true: Katie. Whatsoever pure: Katie. Whatsoever just: Katie.

This is what I am striving for. Letting these fruit of the spirit, these indications of Christ show so others can see it and know I am His.

Whatsoever is honest, lovely, pure, true, just, praiseworthy. What ever is these things...think on them.

And in thinking on these things, life suddenly turns into something a little happier and a little sweeter. Because you're thinking of pure, lovely, honest, true, just, praiseworthy things.

Ripple Effects

I ran across this video on Facebook this evening and just had to share. It's a great picture of how our Christian life really effects our community, and not just the people we know or meet every day. A fruitful Christian life is like a stone tossed into a pond...the effects ripple out far beyond the stone itself. What about you? Are you creating a ripple effect with your life?

Writing

I sit down to write and stare at a blank screen, the white almost blinding as pictures of thoughts dance across it faintly, tantalizing and daring me to catch them and frame them forever in black and white. Words itch to break free from my fingertips, to splash across the screen and join the others in the celebration of communication. And yet, they are silent, waiting impatiently for my bidding to begin.
But I am still.
And nothing comes and nothing comes and nothing comes.
The click of the keys begin at last and fingers hesitantly and cautiously begin to type, only to stop and erase and begin again. Begin again and again and again.
Ideas come and go, too quickly to catch, impressions that are too shallow and too faint to bring to life. Ideas to be communicated and shared, emotions and feelings to express are dancing around in my brain, heels and toes tapping faster and faster, but not matching the slow touch of my fingers on the keyboard.
Slowly, slowly, slowly.
Words build on top of each other, building deeper and deeper, building understanding and comprehension. They mount up, building word cities, the black characters forming traces on a page, lines like a city skyline, stretching on and on and on.
Words and phrases, satisfying and delightful, rolling off the tongue, rolling from my mind, rolling along to reach another's eyes and soul.
The rate of my fingers picks up and the typing forms a staccato like the steady beat of a drum, calling attention to a subject and topic, calling attention to sit up! and notice. They take on a life of their own and unbid, they strike and form words, striking and hitting and ceaselessly moving until ideas are captured and held tight in place, a period like a nail on the end of the sentence.
Fingers that fly and fly and fly.
Fingers that take to the air and catching imagination they're away on the wing, away to form ideas and thoughts I never knew I had until it stares at me from the page, from the screen, from the mirror of my heart.
And sitting back, I stare in that mirror, a glimpse of my heart, and look to see what it means. Look to see what it says, look to see what is there.
Then, exhausted, my fingers tumble over each other, finally coming to rest. The tumult ended, the words are found and put into place.
And silence reigns again.

Flying

In the middle of November, my sister and I flew to St. Louis to attend a conference for those who are discerning whether their calling includes ordination within the United Methodist Church. It was an excellent conference, and came at a time when I was particularly struggling and wrestling with what my calling might be. That mysterious thing that nags and whispers and for which you have to find answers.
I've since been mulling over things that were said, or thoughts that came to me there.
But one of the highlights of the trip for me was the flying.

I love to fly.
I like takeoff, when the wheels are keeping me to earth and then suddenly, there's the lift and the earth falls away beneath me and I rise and rise and rise.
I like ascending. I like to look around me and watch the clouds. Flat on the bottom, puffy on top, with sun glittering and making it all seem like a marshmallow ocean.
I like everything suddenly coming into perspective, the little houses and neighborhoods suddenly making sense, and the roads and towns all become a real map spread below. No names or lines to distinguish things, just the big picture beneath me.
All the things that are usually big, suddenly made small, because I can see everything.

I like that. Big things made small because I can see everything.

One day, I will see everything that happens in the aventura de la vida and all the big things will be small. One day, things will make sense. I will be flying.

For now, I am still on the ground, wheels turning, keeping me here. But there is that hope that one day, one day I will see it all beneath me. And clouds, spread out around me like a marshmallow ocean, the Son glittering over it all.

Hooray!

I'd like to pause here a moment to express my extreme excitement.

I.

Bought.

A.

Camera!

YAY!

It's a Canon EOS Rebel 450D SLR! I'm so excited! Better pictures! More lenses to come! Dirt cheap!

Expect more photos on this blog in the future. Because I have a camera and I'm not afraid to use it!

And on that note, here is a photo I took last weekend pre-new camera.

Something Cool

This, my friends, is something really cool. This is a gate in the area of Tel Dan which is said to be one that Abraham the patriarch of Israel went through on the way to the land of the Canaanites. They have covered it up with a big tent structure because it was made of mud bricks. Thousands of years ago Abraham and his wife Sarai left their inheritance and land and family and friends to go to an unknown land, an unknown place. And this structure still stands from that time until now.

Cool huh?

And in the words of one of my dearest friends, "I was there!"

A Find!

Today was rather full. This morning we went to the site and it felt so empty and quiet because all the Germans have left. I marked pottery this morning for a while. About mid morning before 2nd breakfast Rosaura and Fernanda and I were talking, and Fer was not feeling well. We decided she needed water, so she and Ros went to get some...and Fer fainted. We had to call the ambulance because she hit her head when she fell and hurt it somehow. So I cleaned up the pottery and went to dig for a while.

While digging I found some fragments of a coin! Since it was fragments, I kept it and didn't report it. I know it's a coin because it is blueish green from the metal oxidizing.

This afternoon we came in and because it had been 100.4 degrees F today we were tired and all took a nice long nap. Then we cleaned our room a little and took a walk. We stopped and got some fresh squeezed pomegranate juice..so nice.

No pictures today because blogger is doing some kind of update and won't upload. Maybe tomorrow!