delete all following

I tend to see myself as a fairly whimsical, flowy person.

I try not to view my life in concrete manners and definitely don't even pretend to have it all together.

I like to have a high degree of freedom.

I go here, there, back, forward, quickly, skipping, dancing, around, everywhere...

This is not to say that I am careless, because I can assure you that I am not.

I just really feel like today is for living and when you're overly concerned with the details of the mundane beautiful things are often overlooked and discarded.

I've learned wonderful things over the course of the last 8 months.

My academic life is thriving and my love of learning continues to grow.

The most beautiful thing I have learned though may have been outside of the classroom.

This is not to say that my courses have been anything less than incredible, for that would be a complete lie, but it is to say that life has been new and from it I have learned.

I have learned that here in the States being carefree comes at a price.

Life is lived quickly and precisely.

Consequently, I use Google Calendar to schedule both the consistent and sporadic.

It is easy to become slave to a calendar, or a list.

Following a detailed plan and religiously checking boxes does keep you organized and on track, but at what cost?

What do you miss?

What do you fail to notice?

What could these oversights have taught you? 

In order to maintain sanity in the face of chaos, I keep an exhaustive schedule.

My phone receives text messages 30 minutes before a scheduled event is set to take place.

My calendar keeps me going in the right direction, but it doesn't rule over me.

A few years ago, I would have said that my calendar definitely has control over me.

I cannot miss a single minute of allotted time.

That would be to fail.

This year I have disciplined myself to intentional presence.

I have said yes every time someone asks to get coffee with me.

I have volunteered in Kingdom places.

I take the time to encourage my mentors.

I have mentors! And I meet with them.

I am prioritizing people.

Ironically, these people also end up on my calendar.

But that is just so that the craziness of life does not cause them to be forgotten.

It's a tension that I hold:

freedom and control.

To what degree do the realities of my life infringe on my deseo por la libertad?

It is a balancing act for sure.

But it is a tension that is of high value to me, relationships are becoming increasingly important as I move, develop and define what core values make me the woman I am, and am to be.

_____

Today was sad.

I was putting some things on my calendar for my last week in Chicago when I realized that there are several regular, scheduled events that will be no longer.

So, I deleted them.

When you delete something on Google Calendar it gives you three options:

1. Only this instance

2. All following

3. All events in this series

I would love to be able to click option number one, but unfortunately every time I had to delete "all following."

Events like small group, tutoring Diana, church, Sunday school, coffee with Jessica, youth group, UNO in the 209...

Regular events that will never be again.

And if for some amazing reason they do happen again, it will never be the same.

_____

If only this was a new feeling.

But it's not.

This has been the same feeling for the last three springs.

I was Skyping Rick last night and I kinda lost it.

Memories are not isolated.

Experiences are informed by prior experiences.

Feelings are repeated.

Things are re-membered into your life.

This works both for the wanted and unwanted.

Tengo memorias que ya no quiero.

There are memories that you want to be reminded of.

It's an incredible thing when you are slipped into the past for a moment that had been completely forgotten to you. When you can relive joys and be filled to the measure with the tangibly warm sense of belonging and bliss.

It is, however, a shattering moment when you are thrown back into memories that you had forgotten for a reason.

There are certain sentiments that are best left in the past, or brought back to life on purpose for reexamination, not by coincidence.

Three springs in a row I have left.

Three springs in a row I have abandoned people.

Three springs in a row I have been removed from places where I had routine.

Three springs in a row I have dived into the unknown with excitement and frigidity.

New is new.

Old is known.

New is well.

Old is welcome.

New is beautiful.

Old is beautiful.

_____

I deleted "all following" events that were stable, consistent, life-giving, full, dedicated, commitments.

Pain.

_____

I am going somewhere new.

Pain

_____

I am leaving somewhere loved.

Pain.

_____

I am going somewhere new.

Trust.

XX

It has become tradition to write about my sister on February 4th. 

It is, notably, her birthday.

And, as so, is probably the best day of the year. 

She deserves to be celebrated.

Twenty years ago today this world gained a winner.

They gained a woman with such strength, confidence, courage, might, snark, love, tenderness, compassion, and drive.

They gained Madison Stelle.

_____

I was thinking about making a list of all the things I love about my sister.

But, as it turns out, I literally love her more than words can even begin to describe.

I started to list things like her incredible sense of justice, her determination to not be stopped, her laugh when she's trying not to laugh at mom's jokes, her laugh when she's laughing at jokes that she isn't ashamed to find funny, her particular 'take a selfie with Quincy' face, her fearlessness when it comes to cliff jumping, her phone calls 'just to say hi' or 'just to use me as a living Spanish-English dictionary', her phone calls when she knows something is up with me and is determined to make me talk about it, her hugs, her snuggles, her zumba skills, her underwater zumba skills, her quick wit, her terrible directions that will definitely get you lost every dang time but you'll be lost with Maddie Frickin Stelle so it will still be a blast, her random artsy creations, her crazy thoughtfulness...

Really I could talk about how awesome she is for years.

In fact, I do.

Both Rick and Diem joke about how they probably know more about Mads than they do about me.

And ya know what? There is definitely some truth to that statement.

I kind of want to talk about her all of the time because everyone who knows her instantly becomes 539473250 times more amazing because they have such a wonderful human pouring into them.

_____

I asked Diem, "What is something you love about my sister?"

She said, "Well Kayla, I love that you talk about her all of the time and that because of that I know her. I love her humor and how you are when you're talking with her."

Then I threw the question out there to a few people who have experienced the beauty of knowing my sister.

What is one thing that you love about Madison Stelle?

Rebecca Crow

"That blinding smile is what I love."

Leigh Iosia

"I love all her pet peeves that we rant about together, but they make her who she is and I love it at the same time! Also that she is so bad at directions, so I'll be her Columbus anytime ;) Also, I love that she is an expert job finder too, and her addiction to candyyyy."

Katie Bryant

"Hm, one thing I could say about Maddie... She has a great sense of humor and is not afraid of a challenge or adventure... And in all our conversations she never spoke badly of anyone, she has an amazing heart."

Jim Graffe

"I selfishly love the fact that she trusts me. I appreciate how she hurts deeply, and loves deeply, I truly admire that about her!"

Tyler Stolz

"I love how she can so easily make me laugh and smile. I love how she is never afraid to be herself, an amazing, weird, genuine, loving goofball."

Rick Riedy

"She takes my side on conversations about being vegetarian. She eats bacon. And steak."

Karla Mahar

"All of her but especially her fierce loyalty and honesty!"

Lillian Amrine

"Maddie has so much infinite, inner strength packed in that little body of hers. I appreciate her honesty, loyalty and heart for what is right. I know that she not only talks about justice, but she faithfully acts upon it. She challenges me."

Jeremy Bryant

"Madison is a fierce, confident competitor. I admire that."

Hunter Vatsula

"I love her authenticity and her willingness to tell it how it is no matter the subject whether it be church, God, faith, friends or love. As well as her ability to see faith in others even when they may not see it in themselves."

Joelene Lemke
"I love that she is fearless and has en enormous heart. She will conquer the world someday!"

Heather Maher

"I love Maddie's spunk, sense of humor, and her strong spirit. Also... BACON."

_____

My sister and I talk all the time.

For real, she'll call me "Hey, just goin' to the store and didn't want to walk alone. What's up?"

So we talk.

"Hey, so my show on Netflix ended, can I talk it out?"

So we talk (and maybe cry or yell or both).

"Hey, so this happened and it was really hard."

So we cry.

"Hey, wanna hear a funny joke?"

So we laugh.

"Hey."

So we be, together, from 2,000 miles apart.

Mads knows how to love me well. 

And for that I am so, so, so thankful.

There is no one on this planet who knows me better than her.

There is nobody even close to understanding me like she does.

There is not a soul who feels my pain, joy, love, confusion, doubt, excitement and fear like Mads.

She is my sister.

And sisters are forever.

_____

I remember this awesomely terribly phase for my parents during late elementary school and early middle school where Maddie and I fought constantly.

It didn't even matter what was going on, heck, I'm sure we found ways to fight intensly when we were agreeing with one another.

It was a bad time.

My wonderful mother would take two chairs and face them to each other in the living room.

She would then sit myself and Madison down so that our knees were touching and say

"You girls can't leave here until you are friends again."

We thought we were soooo clever.

We'd still be angry but we'd "laugh" and say "We're good!" then run away giggling becuase HAH we fooled mom!

Like we actually fooled our mother,

Jennifer Stelle is far smarter than that.

She knows that for the entire time we were sitting knee-to-knee in the living room we were talking about how to trick her into thinking we were getting along again.

News flash:

We were getting along.

We were scheming together.

We were playing.

Mom, you rock.

Mads, we were so dumb.

_____

Madison, I love you so much.

And I'm not the only one.

Look at all of those wonderful people who truly think that you are incredible.

I love your awkward smile when you don't know what to do about the fact that mom is taking a flash photo of us during a movie in the theater.

I love that we play together, well.

I love that we take embarrassing selfies in department stores, low-key all the time, in the sunglasses department.

I love that we can be total fools together.

I love that minutes after this picture was taken you lost your frickin mind.

 

So those of you who have visited my family in Rocklin have most likely been to this epic milkshake place named Taylor's. Taylor's has 300+ flavors of awesomeness. I like to get the "cucumber lime" milkshake because it is a true delight. Madison on the other hand, thinks that the "cucumber lime" flavor is of the devil because she is a crazy person. On this particularly wonderful summer afternoon we went to Taylor's so that Hunter and Jacoby could experience the wowness. I ordered the magical "cucumber lime" and Mads ordered the boring-as-ever "peppermint bark". We sipped, we smiled, we shared stories, everyone made fun of my "ruining dessert by being a vegetarian" (ummm newsflash, YOUR SHAKES WERE VEGETARIAN TOO UNLESS YOU GOT BACON FLAVOR). Then Mads needed something from the car and she asked me to come with her. Fast forward three minutes: we sat back down at the table and I took a sip of my milkshake... peppermint bark! I kept it cool (as a cucumber...) and waited for Mads to take a sip of the shake in front of her. I didn't have to sneakily look to see if she had tried it, oh no, I'm sure all of the greater Sacramento area heard her reaction. She leaped backwards out of the bench, flung herself into the bushes, spit everywhere, and then I swear that steam started coming out of her ears as she yelled "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU THIS IS THE WORST MOST DISGUSTING THING YOU RUINED MY DAY MY WEEK MY MONTH MY LIFE THIS IS AWFUL AND I'M NEVER FORGIVING ANY OF YOU KAYLA WHY DO YOU SUCK SO MUCH YOUR CHOICES ARE AWFUL AND ALL OF YOU ARE ROTTEN HUMANS FOR BEING SO MEAN AND MAKING ME CONSUME A BEVERAGE STRAIT OUT OF HELL ITSELF IVRIOVNWOIVWOVNFFF!!!!!" (or something along those lines.)

_____

Madison Stelle, everyone.

_____

Thank you for truly being the craziest person I know.

You are my favorite human.

My confidant. 

(even though you throw me under the bus like it's your job. whatever.)

My snuggle buddy.

(even though you insist that we snuggle under your Kobe blanket.)

My zumba in the pool partner.

(even though you are way better than I am.)

My road trip DJ.

(even though Taylor Swift is definitely a thing with you.)

My best friend.

(even though we're sisters and the world says that can't be a thing.)

I love you.

(even more than I love cucumber lime milkshakes.)

what's the point

a finals week haiku

coffee sleep coffee

more coffee write read coffee 

waterfalls of tears

*snaps*

_____

The last few days I have received 5 different letters with Starbucks cards in them.

My friends and family know me well.

In the last week I have spent a total of 23 hours in various cafes preparing for my final exams.

At this point, I believe my blood has been replaced with coffee and my brain is riding a fine line between explosion and deterioration.

I have rewritten the first five pages of my final paper for my Senior Seminar course like seven times.

No joke.

_____

It's during times like these where personal health and relationships are often put on the back burner.

I do it.

You do it.

(Well maybe you don't, and if that's the case- kudos to you, my friend)

_____

This year in University Ministries at North Park we have been exploring the theme of

What's the point?

It has been a wonderful challenge as I pass through my final year of undergrad to be asking myself what the point is of my studies, my relationships, my work, my personal time, ect, not in a cynical way, but in an encouraging way.

What's the point behind my Spanish studies?

What's the point behind my area studies?

What's the point behind my work in the International Office?

What's the point in my relationships?

What's the point behind my job searches?

What's the point behind how I spend my "free time"?

What's the point behind my involvement in my church?

What's the point behind my work as a tutor?

What's the point behind my writing?

What's the point behind my Christmas gifts?

What is the point?

_____

2 Peter 1:1-7

"This letter is from Simon Peter, a slave and apostle of Jesus Christ.

I am writing to you who share the same precious faith we have. This faith was given to you because of the justice and fairness of Jesus Christ, our God and Savior.

By his divine power, God has given us everything we need for living a godly life. We have received all of this by coming to know him, the one who called us to himself by means of his marvelous glory and excellence.

And because of his glory and excellence, he has given us great and precious promises. These are the promises that enable you to share his divine nature and escape the world's corruption caused by human desires.

In view of all this, make every effort to respond to God's promises. Supplement your faith with a generous provision of moral excellence, and moral excellence with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with patient endurance, and patient endurance with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love for everyone."

_____

This is the point.

God has given us everything we need to live a godly life.

He has given us these great and precious promises that enable us to share his divine nature and escape the world's corruption.

It's in view of all this that we enter into this list of how to respond to God's promises.

Faith

Moral excellence

Knowledge

Self-control

Patient endurance

Godliness

Brotherly affection

Love for everyone

_____

I love how Peter writes this.

He starts with naming himself a slave and apostle, declaring his willful submission to God then proclaiming his calling.

He continues with encouragement.

We share an amazing faith to a just and fair Savior.

This incredible God has given us everything we need to follow the bar that he has set super high.

That list (Faith to Love for everyone) is no easy task.

I know, undoubtedly, that I can't do this.

Kayla can't do this.

But, Christ in Kayla can.

The bar is set so high, but God gives us the pole to fling ourselves up and over.

My favorite part is how this list builds and culminates with "love for everyone."

What is the point?

Love for everyone.

That's not a typo, that's the end goal.

Yesterday in church, Jeff Hunter said something that I really appreciated.

"It is becoming increasingly clear to me that being a Christian isn't complicated, it's just hard."

Following Christ is not rocket science, but that doesn't mean that it's easy.

It requires a willful submission to Jesus and trust in these precious promises.

He has given us everything we need,

it's up to us to live into that truth.

_____

So, what is the point?

How are my studies, work, relationships, activities, investments and spirit responding to these promises?

In view of all this how am I loving well?

In view of all this how are you loving well?

_____

Finals week, man.

Coffee.

Tears.

Migraines.

Sleep deprivation.

All the crazy.

What's the point?

she made me a home anyways

My mother and Molly Weasley have many resemblances.

They're both incredibly loving.

They adopt the role of "mother" for the motherless.

They humbly pour their wisdom into those around them.

They are often picked on, in a loving way of course, by their children.

They retaliate swiftly and surely, also in a loving way, of course.

They are encouraging beyond measure.

And they are undeniably fierce.

In Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which I saw recently rewritten jokingly for accuracy in title: Harry Potter and the Holy S**t  We Were Not Emotionally Prepared for This, Mrs. Weasley  ferociously defends her daughter, Ginny, from the unbelievably evil Bellatrix Lestrange.

In this iconic scene, Bellatrix is about to murder Ginny when Mrs.Weasley steps in between them and orders Bellatrix by saying, "Not my daughter, you b***h."

Don't mess.

Don't mess with Molly Weasley and definitely don't mess with Jennifer Stelle.

___

Scrolling through Instagram the other day I saw this funny post that said

"When people try to come back into my life after doing me wrong... Sorry I can't cause I already told my mom what you did."

So true.

One of my good friends, Chris, calls my mom "Mamma Bear".

Where did that come from? I don't know. But it's a thing, I promise.

___

My mother is strong.

She is strong in the way that she protects the family, but she is also strong in the way that she cares for the family.

She is so observant and thoughtful in the way she interacts.

She remembers the little things, the important and the not so important.

She remembers them and reminds you of them when needed.

The other day I called her and we were talking about my unpreparedness for the winter. A few days later I received a package in the mail with a pair of pants in it, just because pants are something needed in the cold. 

She loves deeply.

I would confidently say that every one of my friends who have met my mother have wound up in incredibly deep conversation with her within minutes of talking without even realizing transition made from talking about the weather to the pain they're feeling regarding their parents' divorce, their struggles in school, their faith crisis or their overwhelming relationship with the future.

She notices you and she re-members you.

She helps pull you together and place you into a family, my family.

___

She is my advocate and she shows me the Kingdom.

This last Tuesday I sat down for my weekly coffee date with Pastor Judy where we're working through naming what I'm mourning. It's a painful, yet necessary, process.

Once it has been named it can be appropriately grieved.

Last week we talked about one of, if not my greatest loss:

the loss of a space that is known by me and equally knows me.

A space that when entered contains a wealth of memory that is all consuming; a space where you can experience the temperature of specific moments, smell the air that was breathed during significant conversation, feel the ground that held you while you cried, be surrounded by trees and walls that laughed with you during times of joy and be embraced by the environment that grew you.

By all accounts, that space is no more. Whether that space was the couch by the fireplace in my parents' house in the harbor, the lawn chair on the deck, the ski bench precariously hanging from the tree on the cliff or the sand dollar-filled beach at Bill and Joelene's; those spaces are no more.

There is nowhere that remembers me, and the places that I remember are no longer mine.

___

The transition for my family from Gig Harbor to Rocklin was anything but smooth.

My dad moved down in October to begin pastoring Community Covenant Church while my mom stayed in the Harbor for months trying to sell the house.

My family was spread across the continent with Christmas on the horizon, homeless.

We couch surfed together for a small while, it was not pleasant.

I remember one day the four of us driving, driving to nowhere. We had no place to go and no place to which we could return. We explored together, but the exploration was tainted by a deep seeded pain of knownlessness.

A few months later my parents home in the Harbor was sold and a house in Rocklin was purchased.

A wonderful house was purchased, but it was yet a home.

My mother made it a home.

My mother made it a home for me with great intentionality.

___

I remember getting a text shortly after they moved into the house with a picture of my empty room.
It said something along the lines of 

"Kayla, this is your room. It's white. I know you hate white. Can I paint it for you?"

Yeah mom, you can paint it for me.

A few weeks later I received another message

"Kayla, I found a comforter, it matches the walls. Can I buy it for you so you have something to curl up under when you get home?"

Yeah mom, you can buy it for me.

Later another message came

"Kayla, I found a great bed frame. It matches the walls and the comforter. It has space for you to put boxes under so you can hide what you don't want to show. Also, I bought boxes for you."

Thanks mom.

The messages kept coming

"Kayla, next to the closet there's a great space for shelves. Can I buy you shelves so that you can display the new you on them when you come back? Can I buy those for you and put them up?"

Yeah mom, you can buy them and put them up.

"Kayla, I have an extra bookshelf and when I was unpacking I noticed that you have a ton of books. Can I give you my bookshelf so that you can store your books well?"

Yeah mom, thanks for sharing.

___

When I came to that house, I had a room.

Truthfully, I didn't really want a room. This was not my home. I didn't want to put in the emotional effort to make another home. I was done.

She made me a home anyways.

She took me to this awesome home decorations warehouse type shop and let me pick out frames, lamps, art...

She walked along side of me and supported me as I added to the room.

She helped me move into the space.

She helped me create.

She showed me a tiny piece of the Kingdom.

___

Is that not a beautiful picture?

God making me a home?

"Kayla, I have a room for you. It's white. I know you don't like white. Can I paint it for you?"

"Kayla, I found a comforter. It matches the walls. Can I buy it for you so you have a cozy place to curl up and just be?"

"Kayla, I found a bed frame. It's perfect. It has space under it so that you can store the things your not ready to re-member. Oh, I also bought you boxes."

"Kayla, there's a wall that's perfect for shelves. Can I put shelves up for you so that you can display the things that make you distinctively Kayla?"

"Kayla, I was going through my own stuff and I found a bookshelf that would be perfect in your room. I know how much you love to read. Can I share this with you?"

How wonderful is that?

God is making me a room.

It's perfect because He knows me so well.

The color is the exact right burnt orange, the comforter has the ideal fluffiness, the frames have pictures in them that show the most beautiful moments that I have experienced and the ones that I have yet to experience but that are to come, the boxes under the bed and in the closet contain my pains that will maybe one day be in a frame once they have been properly grieved and claimed, the chair in the corner is the most comfortable chair in existence and will hug me intimately as I curl up to read, the air is clean and will contain the feeling of knowness and with every breath I will be increasingly embraced and homed. 

God is making me a room.

A real room.

A room that knows me and is known by me.

A room that contains all my loves, pains, laughs, cries, crazies and mellows...

A room in which I can be.

Be with myself.

Be with others,

Be with God.

Be.

It is real.

It will be home.

I'm moving there.

I'm actually super excited.

"On Earth as it is in Heaven"

But it is a process.

Already-Not Yet.

But there I will find rest in the arms of the Almighty who also happens to be a lot like my mom.

Or rather, my mom is a lot like Him.

___

Mom, you show me the motherlyness of the Father,
the warm embrace only matched by its fierceness and might.

"As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem."

Isaiah 66:13 

when no praise can find your lips

___

Another day

Filtered thru tears

Cause the broken hope

Has become the fear

Shoulders low

From sorrowed days

You cry an empty prayer

From a borrowed faith

Autumn's gone

& Winter's here

Just know my love

That spring is near

___

Do you have a song that you consistently return to?

Your "favorite song"?

The one you're sure speaks to you on a far greater level than to anyone else who happens to hear it?

Anyone else who claims it as their "favorite song" surely is mistaken, misunderstanding the song's true depth and significance...

Maybe you go as far as to call it "your song" (not Your Song by Elton, though that one is as well, magical)?

For the last few years, the song "Rivers and Roads" by The Head and the Heart has been that song for me. 

Lyrics such as 

"A year from now we'll all be gone

All our friends will move away"

or

"Nothing is as it has been

And I'll miss your face like hell"

or how about this one,

"If you don't know what to make of this

Then we will not relate"

cash money.

"Rivers and roads 'till I reach you."

___

A few days ago TJ Stafford released three new albums with his newish band, The Rigs:

White

Gray

and

Black.

Go listen to them. All of them. So much heart.

___

I was talkin' through my stresses with PJP the other day when I realized that I'm all talk and no joy.

I believe in joy, I really do. But, at the moment, my faith is pretty dang joyless.

What does it take to get back to a passionate faith?

Have I fallen out of it? Is that possible?

We talked about how Western theology has developed a faith that sort of reflects a mattress.

We have it, but we don't find true rest in it because we are afraid of rolling out and off during our sleep.

Like that's even possible... becoming cozy in your faith and rolling out of it while sleeping.

Would God really let that happen? Is that what's happening to me? Did I roll off the mattress onto the hard, cold floor without realizing it?

We contrasted that with a faith that reflects hammock rest.

You get it, you curl up in it and you find true rest because you can't fall out.

I'm not talkin' those lame Home Depot hammocks that have a pole contraption so you can stick 'em in your lawn; I'm talkin gnarly, cocooning hammocks you tie up between trees.

You can get such solid rest in those because they hold you,

they beg you to come over and rest, restore your spirit and then wake ready to take on life in a full and overflowingly Jesusy manner.

They hold you so tightly that while you rest, you can thrash around, cry, scream, curl up in a little ball, question and freak out while still being wrapped up, surrounded by the comfort and consistency of the hammock's embracing fabric. You are held.

Recently my prayer has been a meditation on Psalm 51:12,

"Restore to me the joy of your salvation"

Remind me. Show me. Hold me. Warm me. Winter frickin' sucks.

___

When the night

Has swallowed hope

Rest assured the sun

Is soon to show

Someday soon

The pain will cease

And the sun will rise

On the darkness seen

Take my hand

& walk with me

Cause I met this man

From Galilee

The burden's hard

& the pain is deep

But the blood is strong enough

To set you free

When the cold 

Chills the bone

Know that heaven's near

To hold you close

("Autumn" by The Rigs on their album, Gray)

___

"Restore to me the joy of your salvation"

As I'm working through the grieving process, I often throw my hands in the air and say "I'm done!", I'm over it, grief will no longer define me, I am fine.

I remember when I came back to the States from Botswana having a conversation with my Uncle Eric regarding reverse culture shock.

I left Bots and 45 minutes later was in JoBerg, SA.

After a brief layover there, I flew 18 hours and stepped off of the plane into the heart of New York City.

I then took the subway to Manhattan to hang out with a friend for a few hours, exploring the city and all of its "wonders". 

I remember her showing me this beautiful hotel. The outside was stunning and the inside was so bright! It was lined with golds, silvers, shiny light fixtures, marble staircases, elegant piano music...

I couldn't handle it.

New York City was too much.

My uncle asked me, "Sometimes don't you wish we still traveled by boat?"

Could you imagine, that 18 hour transition time being spread over a few months; all that time to process change and enter into a new life with a new you?

Wonderful.

But then, given the opportunity, don't you think that all of those people who crossed the Atlantic on boat would have given anything to be able to do it by plane?

Those months of staring at the sea, seeing nothing but blue ocean and blue sky? Facing storms that surely seemed like they would be the end, and for many, were? Living in filth and sickness? Rationing food and water? Arrival to your destination not being certain?

I'm sure just about every one of them, at one point or another, wanted to jump ship.

I'm making a conscious choice to take the boat through my grief.

Every time I say that I'm done, I'm fine, I'm over it... I'm not really. I'm just sick of rationing my water and facing storms.

I'm choosing the boat because the boat is healthy. 

PJP and I have talked substantially about defining the bottom of grief. 

Ya know, when you jumped in the pool as the kid and started to sink to the bottom... your ears would begin to pop and you thought that surely you couldn't handle it anymore, but at that moment your feet touched the bottom and you pushed back up to the surface?

That breath, that life above water, that's waiting at the shore.

This trip across the Atlantic will end, and when it does I will have pushed myself towards the surface, I will have had my joy restored and it will be rooted in His salvation. 

___

Jeremiah 31 has been a great comfort to me,

It speaks of restoring Israel to it's intended glory, reclaiming it, re-membering it.

Jeremiah 31:2 says

"Those who survive the sword will find favor in the wilderness."

This promise, this word of encouragement is wrapped up in all kinds of ick.

Yeah Israel, you're going to survive the sword. Hell yeah, you'll survive!

Then, guess what, you'll find favor!

...in the wilderness.

This is a process.

I'm surviving the sword and I will find favor; may I find joy in that favor.

This life, may it be more than survived, may it be lived.

___

When no praise 

Can find your lips

Let the One who knows

Lend you His

When you wake 

& the silence breaks

Hear the melody 

Of the angels sing

___

Autumn's gone

& Winter's here

Just know my love

That spring is near

father time, john the baptist, double helixes, and my dear gram anne

Time is interesting

and often confusing.

Feeling is beautiful

and often painful.

.

A date passes, an anniversary of a new beginning, a marker of a blissful memory.

This is a beautiful thing.

A date passes, an anniversary of an ending, a marker of a tragedy, an aching memory.

This is a painful thing.

I am incredibly blessed to be in relationship with Pastor Judy Peterson.

We kick it usually three times a week and have the opportunity to pour into each others lives and walk together through the good, the bad, the ugly...

the dark and twisty, the bouncy and giggly, the honest and difficult, the simple and joyful.

Life, as it is. 

Lately we have spoken a great deal regarding loss.

What does it mean to lose?

What does it mean to mourn?

How do we mourn? Alone? Together?

How can we identify what we're truly mourning and then care for it appropriately?

What does it look like to live amidst tragedy rather than to merely survive it?

She often refers to time as a double helix, much like DNA.



Along the edges of the helix passes your life, and the view you possess of your life.
This is time.
Or rather, this is our understanding, our perception of time.

As you twist and turn, twirl and spiral onward and upward you meet people, you build relationships, you trust, you love, you succeed, you inspire, you are inspired, you laugh, you smile, you do silly shenanigans and you create beautiful memories filled with joy, peace and warm, fuzzy feelings.

As you twist and turn, twirl and spiral onward and upward you meet people, you loose people, you break relationships, your heart is ripped to shreds, you lose life, you fail, you lose inspiration and motivation, you mourn, you cry, you leave comfort, you loose comfort and you create painful memories filled with hurt, ache, and cold, bitter feelings.

Thankfully, due to the design of the helix, we are not in view of all of this all of the time.
But as we pass certain points, we can look down and see perfectly the connections.
The feelings, we've felt them before, but when?

When I smell jasmine flowers an incredible thing happens.
As the sweet, calm fragrance is inhaled it fills every corner of my body and my soul.
I feel the stems spreading through my veins, the branches shooting out along my skin, the leaves springing to life, bursting into color and finally the tiny white flowers bursting into full bloom as they shine light throughout my body and fill me with a reminiscent joy that relates me to my childhood home in Ventura, my mother's perfume, the walk to my grandparent's home and the unique and fanciful vision that only a child understands.

The smell of jasmine flowers aligns all of these memories,
and I smile.

At this season in my life, this corner of the helix, events of death and loss are heavily present.

Moments of despair, pain and great hurt are in full view.

This week was a week of throbbing remembrance. 

This pain that once was acute, now lingers as a constant, a thud.
thud.
thud.

October 14, 2014 marks the death of my wonderful grandmother, Anne.
That day pierced my soul and sent shocking pain through every particle of my being.
It rocked me thoroughly and continues to linger as a pain without felt remedy.

This date passes and in full view is the loss of a brother, the loss of love and relationship, the loss of homes and comfort, the loss of friends and community, the loss of being known, the loss of reliance on what thought to be true, the loss of childlike trust and optimism, the loss of motivation, the loss of family who I thought would be forever, the loss of loved ones to the world beyond and the loss of any certainty or solid ground.



One of my wonderful mentors, Jessica, asked me a pensive question the other day.
She said, "If you could pick one character, metaphor, story, verse, theme, etc. from the Bible that you think mirrors your personal faith story, who or what do you think it would be?"

I had to take that one home with me.
So many options to review!

After a few days of scatterbrained thinking I decided that James' story is a close reflection to my own.
(We can unpack that more at a later time.)

A few days later, I was walking home a sweaty mess from the gym when I realized how miserable I was. I was tired, disgusting, had heaps of homework waiting for me at the apartment, was ticked off at God, catching a cold, bogged down with work stuff, mourning the loss of the above mentioned list, and generally super unhappy with where I was and what I was doing when I heard the voice of God.

This voice, though not audible, convicted me profoundly.
With the question Jessica has posed to me still lingering, I said out loud (like a semi-crazy person) as I was walking "I wish my faith story mirrored that of John the Baptist."

I don't really.
I mean, his life...
He wore camel skins, ate locus and wandered around in the desert.
Granite, he got to baptize Jesus, which is cool.
But still.
He wandered around wearing what I can only imagine would be super itchy clothing, ate frickin' bugs and lived in the ridiculously hot with sand surely in nasty places.
He spent his whole life serving God and in the end got beheaded in a dungeon with no recognition.

But really, I do want my faith story to mirror his.
I mean, his life...
He wore camel skins, ate locus and wandered around in the desert and was beheaded in a dungeon all the while proclaiming boldly the name of Christ.

His life was anything but ideal and yet he lived it so incredibly committed to the Lord that none of the terrible mattered.
He confidently sang of the coming of Christ while living in conditions that nobody in their right mind finds joy in.

I guess this is the "peace that passes all understanding" of which Paul writes to the Philippians.
It just doesn't make sense.
But it's God.

"peace that passes all understanding"
the peace that allowed John the Baptist to proclaim the goodness and the coming of Christ while eating bugs, wearing itchy terribleness and sleeping in the sand.

I wish that my faith mirrored that of John the Baptist, "restore to me the joy of your salvation."

This week I have spent remembering.
Gram Anne was the most incredible story teller. She actually recorded herself reading fairy tales for my sister and I when we were smaller so that we could snuggle up and dream together. She made me a beautiful quilt that keeps me warm every night. We exchanged letters consistently until she became too tired to write; she would always sign them "MMM", Mad Madam Mim. We would imagine together, reality had no need to be reality.



In all of these ways, she is still with me.
Dreaming, creating, imagining and inspiring are not only of this world.
For every point of sadness on the helix of my life, for every corner I turn which begs the mourning of Gram Anne, there is a point right around the bend, a memory of great beauty and power that brings me to a point of imagination and with every dream,
every creation,
every wonder,
she is there, and she creates with me.

Father time has his ways.
His twisty, turny, curvy, helixy ways...

But God has his ways too.
Time does not take form with God, He is present in it all.
He breaths life into every memory, every moment, every minute to come.
He walks among the joy, the pain, the beauty, the misery and he gives life.

"In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! we are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory."
J.R.R. Tolkien

choose one

The wise mad built his house upon the rock,

and the rains came tumbling down.

The rain came down

and the floods came up,

but the house on the rock stood firm.

___

Today, I am splish-splashing around Albany Park in my oh-so-colorful rain boots enjoying, and melting into, the rainy day that has become. 

Days like this provoke an equally excited and melancholy response in the deepest corners of my soul.

I'm thoroughly enthused by the sound of rain hitting my window, cars driving through puddles and the absence of voices due to everyone being tucked away in their homes, probably snuggling, or so I would like to assume.

I wish there were "rain days" in real life such as were "snow days" in elementary, middle and high school life.

In the Harb we would have "snow days" all of the time due to our total lack of preparation when it came to winter. It's so incredibly hilly there that if we had even 1/4 inch of snow, the buses could not run and we would get to stay home, cozied up by the fire, livin' the dream.

Even better than that was when we would get a "two hour delay" because they knew that the 1/4 inch of snow would shortly melt. On those days we were allotted a lazy morning but did not have to make up the lack of days come the end of the semester. 

How wonderful would life be if on these stormy days the world said, "Let's take a two hour delay. Enjoy your coffee, wool socks, fluffy blankets, and mental health."? 

___

Mental health.

What even is that?

Does it exist in the real world?

Or is mental health just as fanciful as receiving textbooks on time, having Beyonce as president, liking spinach, or being able to run a 6 minute mile?

The rains came down.

I recently saw this diagram and it made me laugh,

then frown because...

accurate.

Being the perfectionist that I am, an even more accurate statement would be

"choose one."

A snarky commentary posted this image to describe the actual college life.

"Choose two" to succeed but really "choose one" to excel when the reality is that you have 1,639 categories from which none can flourish as a result of the ever constricting element of time.

The floods come up.

___

What am I building my house upon?

I ask myself this question often.

But I rarely do anything about about the reality of my response.

___

The foolish man built his house upon the sand,

and the rains came tumbling down.

The rain came down

and the floods came up.

,and the house on the sand fell flat. 

___

I would love to say, undoubtedly, that I build my house on the Rock.

"Rock" being Jesus, not Dwayne Johnson, in case you were confused.

Yeah, totally, Jesus is my foundation.

Everything I do in life is rooted in Him.

I give Him glory through my studies.

I center Him in my work.

My relationships revolve around Him.

The way I use my "free time" stems from what is holy and good.

I walk humbly, love mercy, and am active in pursuing justice.

I mean... it would be super cool if that was true.

But it's not.

___

Recently I was totally convicted regarding my priorities.

Pastor Judy has challenged me to memorize 2 Peter 1-13.

So, I have a laminated, bookmark shaped, copy of the verses in my Bible.

The other day I grabbed my Bible to work on the verses when I caught myself thinking.

"Man, I should put this in my planner so that I look at it more often throughout the day."

Good job, Kayla.

Maybe you should just look at your Bible more.

Maybe you should build your house there, not in your own plans.

Get your house out of the sand, and steady on that rock, or you'll be washed away. 

___

This semester is uncomfortably hectic.

My mental, and spiritual, health are too often put on the back burner.

I am so quick to justify studying till three in the morning but not at all down to take 20 minutes to go on a walk with God.

Saying is one thing, 

but doing is another.

Calling out issues does nothing if not acted upon in a manner of change.

___

So build your life on the Lord Jesus Christ

and the blessings will come down.

The blessings will come down

as your prayers go up,

so build your life on the Lord. 

Let's take a two hour mental health break.

World, would you like to join me?

There will be nutella, veggie straws, Christmas lights, Hilary Duff's "Come Clean", and most importantly, the Lord of Lords, King of Kings, personal, loving God, that is Jesus Christ our Savior.

This is how a house begins to be built 

on the Rock.