Saturday Shout-out: Thank you for accepting my invitation

Do you remember that day you appeared out of nowhere and I invited you to lunch?

Since then, we have served, cried, danced, and laughed together. You have been invaluable to me in what was so far the loneliest year of my life.

Thank you for understanding me. Thank you for being gracious when you don't understand. Thank you for laughing at my jokes when I am in my weird, silly moods and about to take it just a little too far. Thank you for still laughing when I do take it too far and not turning on me like all the others. (They know who they are.)

Thank you for great memories, for confiding in me, for joining me in adventures, and for encouraging me on my adventures. Thank you for letting me be me and feel what I feel; thank you for being the most supportive sounding board.

Thanks for texting me what you're thinking and not judging me for what I'm thinking.

You are such a beautiful friend, and my life is more beautiful for having you in it. Thank you for the art that you live everyday with your life. Thank you, friend, for painting your love on me <3

And thanks for going out to lunch with us that day and never looking back!

School of Hard Knocks: Singleness

Five things I learned from being single

1. Being newly single is hard at first, but then it's fun.

I remember the exact moment being single went from feeling lonely to feeling actually pretty great. It was a Friday. I had a crazy day, and I was on my way to meet a friend I had plans with when she texted me she couldn’t make it. I sighed and made a U-turn, thinking I would just go home. Something stopped me though, and I thought, Katelyn, what do you want to do? I decided, and then I did it. I didn't have to call anyone to let them know the plan had changed again. I didn't have to make sure anyone else would also think that plan was fun. I didn't have to hold on to this secret idea of I wanted to do and say, "I don't care," when someone asked, for fear of my fun idea looking silly to someone else (see: Lesson #3).

I got to do exactly what I wanted to do in that moment. No one else got a vote, no one else even had to know. So I went, and I sat at the library, and I read a book. Because I wanted to.

Another Singleness is Fun moment I had recently was at a wedding, usually an emotional hell for singles. I sat with two of my favorite married couples and one of my favorite fellow singles. We listened as our married friends discussed when they should leave the wedding, when they wanted to go to bed, and the fact that one usually doesn't go to bed without the other. They weren't fighting or complaining, but it took effort to decide such things. I looked at my single buddy, smiled, and said, "I'm gonna go to bed tonight whenever I want. What about you?" We high fived.

Being married is awesome, I'm sure. Relationships are fun. They offer mutual support, friendship, and love. You have a person. It's great. But singleness is a season that there is a time for under the sun also, and it's also great. Smile, singles. Do something you want to do, and then go to bed whenever you want.

2. I actually am a fun and worthwhile person. Beautiful, even :)

Relationships make it tempting to see the other person as a mirror of your personal worth. You dress up for him or her, but it doesn't mean as much until they see you and tell you how great you look. You tell a joke, but is it really funny if that special person doesn't laugh? You let someone in close to see the real you; it makes sense that what that person thinks of you would hold a lot of weight in terms of how you think of yourself. But that's not a good place to get those self-worth feelings from.

Spending more time hanging out alone has made me come to appreciate myself. My brain thinks of funny things, and they're just as funny when I think of them as they would be if I share them with someone who'd laugh along. I plan fun things to do whether someone else will be there doing them with me or not. I've had experiences similar to the egg tasting scene in Runaway Bride; without anyone to conform my preferences to, I got to learn what I really like. Space to live like I want and make choices that don't effect anyone else solidified things I believe, things I need, and things I want. I'm assuming this information will be invaluable in future relationships.

I also had days where I had to be complete and content on Team Me and God. I had to enjoy existence regardless of who, if anyone, was next to me. And I really did! The days I am most proud of are the ones I wake up and look in the mirror. Hey, I say to myself, you're cute! And I mean it. I look in the mirror and see someone beautiful who I am proud to be, and no one had to tell me that was true for me to believe it.

3. Relationships, even the healthy ones, make people a little crazy.

Your brain chemistry changes when you're in love. I'm not talking metaphorically. The chemicals in your brain literally become different as you react to having a crush, falling in love, and loving someone. They make you feel, think, and act differently. Your brain acts in love like it does on drugs.

I know this because of books about science.

But I know other things from watching people I know be in relationships with each other. A girl asks a boy she is dating to do something for her that she could do herself. Why? I don't know. I've done it. Is it to test their love? Their willingness? Is it because we don't wanna and there's someone who also doesn't wanna but will? I have no idea. But it's funny to watch from the outside. I want to laugh and tell the girl that's really too bad her legs stopped working, when did that happen?

I also watch people I know in relationships with each other be a little bit meaner to each other than they would to their friends. Maybe it's because it's scary to let someone in so close so at times you have to be sarcastic or a little mean to maintain that last bit of distance between you. Maybe it's the opposite - you're so close you let all your filters down and sometimes say whatever thought pops into your selfish, imperfect, human brain. Maybe it's both or either, depending on the day. Sometimes a relationship is just a big pile of not enough and too much honesty, all at the same time.

Two flawed people putting their lives close together is going to be a mess, and people are going to get crazy. I have learned this and tried to prepare myself for when it happens to me again.

4. I can be myself, and someone can like that or not.

I had this idea in my head that I had to act cute on a date. I should think of coy things to say and learn how to effectively bat my eyelashes. In reality, I shouldn't have to act anything. The best dates are when I can just be.

My friend, Ashley, had some good advice recently. I was trying to text back a guy I recently met and was hardcore stressing over punctuation. I go way overboard worrying about grammar in text messages to boys I like. (Will they judge my haha's and lol's? Emojis or no emojis? Wow, I seem to be putting an exclamation point after every sentence… maybe I should take it down a notch. Etc., etc.) Ashley told me to, "Text him like you'd text me." You mean, I can act like this is a human to human interaction and not go insane about it?! (Again, see Lesson #3.) Relax, and be what is normal for you.

If someone doesn't like me when I'm not putting any effort into it, the relationship has no chance. It's wasted effort to act a certain way or tell little lies to seem more appealing on first dates. It's more fun anyway when I don't worry about how I'm supposed to act and I just hang out (or text) as myself.

More importantly, I don't have to take personally any negative feedback I receive for being myself. This is me, and I've already decided I like me. People can act like I'm not beautiful or valuable all they want. The God of the universe says I am, so…

Someone not texting me back or breaking up with me or passing me on Tinder (just kidding, ew) has no impact on the validity of me actually being beautiful and likeable and, dare I say, loveable. It's more important I believe that than anyone else. And, funny thing is, the more confident I am in myself, the more others will think I'm pretty great, too. 

5. I can have adventures all by myself.

I read a book once that implied a man is made for adventure, a woman should wait to have a relationship with a man until after he's lived great adventure, and a woman's greatest adventure will be hookin' her marriage train to a godly man. Well, I will never understand a man's great need for adventure. But I was not given life to live a bland one and wait around for someone to hook on to. I have had some great adventures this year. I've crossed so many things off my bucket list, much because I didn't have to bring anyone with me! Someday, I may have a wonderful husband to adventure alongside. I'm not going to wait for him to come along to get my living in!

If you are reading this and you are single, have fun while you belong to this club! Get to know yourself and don't rush into being with someone just so you're not alone anymore. I always say it's better to be alone than in a relationship and unhappy. As fun as it is to fall in love, adding another person to your mix does not simply make your life better. Figuring your stuff out and learning to love yourself well does. And it will help you when a relationship does come around. It is easy to say and can be hard to do: enjoy your singleness.

If you are reading this and you are in a relationship, the grass is green on your side of the fence, too! Our grasses on our respective sides are equally green! I don't post this to make you envy or wish for singleness. You are learning different things in your relationship than what I am learning through being single. You should blog about it so we can benefit from your wisdom. 

Guess what we get to do today

There's a scene in the movie The Rookie where Dennis Quaid's character is discouraged about his so far frustrating time in the minor leagues so he takes a walk.  He ends up walking past a little league game and remembers what it's all really about.  Back in the locker room, he walks in with restored love in the game and hope in life.  He tells one of his teammates, "Guess what we get to do today.  We get to play baseball." 

I lose track of the great beauty in simple, everyday truths.  I forget what a miracle it is that I exist.  I get caught up in my schedule and my responsibilities, and I forget.  But guess what we get to do today.

We get to be human beings who are self-aware and whose actions can change reality.  Even when it seems like our lives are out of control, we get to decide, for the most part, what our todays look like. 

We get to exist in the twenty-first century with iPhones and computers and wireless internet.  We get to have quicker access to more information that anyone has ever had in history, and we can choose to use these powers for the good of connectivity and community.  We get to have a louder voice and a more accessible soapbox than our ancestors; we don't have to publish our thoughts in books, we get to participate in the ongoing transfer of thoughts, ideas, and information, all the time, whenever we want. 

We get to live on earth.  We get to inhabit the mountains and deserts and plains and forests.  We get to swim in the oceans and lakes and rivers and ponds.  We get to watch the weather and gaze at the stars and climb the rocks and sit under the trees.  The sky turns colors, rivers dig canyons, rain falls, morning comes, birds sing, and we get to witness it all.   We get to breathe the oxygen that trees make for us, for goodness sake. 

We get to coexist with other humans, none of whom are exactly like us.  We get to figure each other out, learn things from each other, strengthen each other, and love each other.  We were born into families to have a shot at belonging from the get-go.  We get to be loved by other humans and accepted by groups and welcomed into tribes.  And even when others don't love or welcome or accept us, our identity doesn't have to be phased one bit because Jesus says we aren't who others say we are; we are who he created from dust and brought into his hope and family and purpose.

We get to open the Word of God and read the history of our faith forefathers, the hope of our good news, and the future of our reality.  We get to rely on the promises of God who gives good gifts to his children and walks with us through fire to refine us into the best versions of ourselves. 

We get to be a part of the body of Christ.  We get to study and worship and work together every day with inspiring people we don't even know, but they have the same mission and life goals as we do: to live and Die for Christ alone and to love others relentlessly. Some of them even die for it, and we get to be a part of all that. We get to be a part of a worldwide movement that started long ago and will never end.

Even on bad days, we serve a God who rebuilds the rubble, who trades beauty for ashes, and who breathed his life into the dust of the ground to bring us into being.  He promises that even when our life is full of garbage, he'll use it for good.  He promises to redeem our mistakes, to change even our past into part of our story for his glory.

We get to be creatures who remember the past, exist in the present, and hope for the future. But we don't have to be prisoners of time, we get to be citizens of eternity. We get to live life to the full forevermore, and we get to share that with others.

Count your blessings, friends.  Take a deep breath, inhale the possibilities, and exhale with hope.  Guess what we get to do today!  

The Vice President of the organization I work for was showing me how to build a PivotTable in Excel. I thought I was proficient in Excel before; now I was learning something I didn't even know I didn't know. I was enthralled. But while I was listening to him explain how to set values and add filters, my brain jumped to a weird place: his small children at home. 

They don't know what their dad does at work, I thought. They don't know any details besides he leaves in the morning, goes to a place called work to do a thing called work, and comes home in the evening. They may be starting to understand that this is a thing some grown-ups do, ideally at least one per family, to make money to buy things, but they don't know that their dad used to work at a famous software company and gave it up to work in ministry. They don't know what a PivotTable is or even what Excel is. They know nothing of this world.

And it clicks in my brain: this is why my idea of adult is so skewed.

I am thoroughly enjoying this book Adulting: How to become a grown-up in 468 easy(ish) steps by Kelly Williams Brown. On the back cover it says, "Adult isn't a noun; it's a verb."

When we are kids, adults are these things that are just around. They're the big people who dress in the crisp clothes and go to jobs to work and feed us and tuck us in. They make food and plan vacations and know how to read chapter books. There is a clear distinction given the fact that, when we are little, we do not know how to cook a meal that involves an actual oven rather than a light-bulb powered one, and we couldn't even begin to organize a vacation. (Once, I tried to "run away". I packed a backpack with my doll in it and a book I liked and went into the backyard until someone noticed. No one noticed, so I came back inside. I was "away" for maybe five minutes.)

We didn't see them become grown-ups, they just were grown-ups because they knew more things and seemed to have stuff pretty well together most of the time. Grown-up seemed like a noun. 

The noun adult idea was reinforced by the most popular question I remember anyone asking me: What do you want to be when you grow up? What do you want to be. Noun.

This idea assumes that when I grow up I will be something. I will have a job presumably, a career hopefully (when I was around 6, I wanted to work four part time jobs: mermaid, dental hygienist for the elephants at the zoo, professional singer, and ballerina). There seemed to be a moment in time I should aspire to, when I grow up. There would be a time before it happened and a time after it happened, and afterwards I would be something.

Fast forward to December 2012. I am graduating from college. I sit through this ceremony and think, Is this it? Is this… grown up?  But I don't have a fancy job or even an idea of what I'd like to be. Is school really over? Is this real life?

My parents are proud, my best friend is excited, but I am lost and sad. Is not-grown-up-ness gone now? Must I start to be something? But what will I be? How will I decide? Does the fact that I haven't decided mean I've already failed?

It took me a year and a half to finally realize what is stated so simply on my new adulthood guidebook. Adult isn't a noun. It's not something I become one day or wake up as, as if the adult fairy will leave a career under my pillow. It's not a place I arrive at or a thing I turn into. It isn't a what or a who, a when or a where. It's a do. It's a happening. It's a verb.

Class of 2014, maybe you are excited this week as you finish classes and accomplish a college degree. You darn well should be excited and proud, too.  You did an amazing thing, you worked hard, and you and your parents just bought the most expensive piece of paper you will ever own. Wear an over-sized robe and a silly hat and show off that piece of paper.

But maybe like me you also have some emotions floating around in there that you didn't expect to feel. Maybe you feel nostalgic and oddly sad that you will never again turn in a paper or sit in those desks with the ridiculously tiny writing spaces. Maybe your time in school since kindergarten flashes in your mind like a movie montage and you think, Is this it? It's really over? Maybe you feel lost and scared and a little like you don't want to be a grown-up after all. No one told me this, but those are okay emotions to feel during this time as well. 

Relax a little, though, because you don't have to worry anymore about getting to some strange land called Adulthood. You will never arrive, you will only journey, and it's only tiring if you don't enjoy the ride.

Saturday Shout-out: Thanks for answering my call

I knew my situation was not unique, but I didn't know many people personally who had been through a broken engagement.  As least not personally enough to call up and essentially say, "I am going through this hard thing that you have also been through.  Help."

I am so thankful that what could have come across as a nuisance - a random phone call digging up a past you were trying to forget - didn't seem bothersome at all.  I felt a weight lift off of my shoulders when I heard the compassion in your voice. 

Compassion: to suffer alongside.  You understood my pain, my confusion, my regret. 

You gave me the advice you wish someone would have given you.  You told me what you would have told yourself if the you now could tell the you then how to deal. 

One thing you said was a major help in processing through my emotional wounds.  You told me to let myself feel what I feel.  Your mom had wanted you to be mad and hateful, but some days you woke up devastated, without the energy to be mad or the motivation to hate.  You said you should have let yourself be sad those days or happy on the days you felt like life was okay enough to be happy about, but you stayed mad.  For a long time.  You told me to process it better, to just feel what I feel. 

It was so freeing to talk to someone who knew what to say in light of many other people in my life saying nice things with good intentions hoping to love and comfort me but really not helping.  It was even more freeing to know that I didn't have to rein in my emotions or try to decide how to feel but that it would help to just feel it all. 

And it did help.  A lot.  I could tell that my mom, too, wanted me to be angrier than I was because of how angry she was on my behalf.  I appreciated her anger and her motherly desire for pain to come to anyone who hurts me (pain that would likely be delivered by my equally angry father and brother).  Some days I was angry and hurt and wanted pain to happen to him, too.  Other days I felt bad being angry.  I felt almost in agreement with his choice not to get married.  And those feelings had their place; they needed to be just as valid.  The best days were the days I woke up feeling strong and content.  I couldn't be angry or sad on those days because that would be a step backwards.  The emotions eventually sorted themselves out as I let them come and go naturally and as God continued to care for my hurting heart. 

Thank you for this wonderful advice, friend.  Thank you for being there for me in my time of need, for being willing to meet me in my hurt and help me find my way out of it, and for being someone I could call for a lifeline.  Thank you for answering my call.  

Jealous of what?

I happen to be standing at church behind a woman I think of as much prettier than me.  She is tall and thin, and I don't know if she has ever considered being a model, but she could be.  She dresses nicely, always looks put together, and is, overall, very beautiful.   

She is one woman of many that I have been jealous of over the years.  One of many who, from my perspective at least, seems to have been born with an effortless beauty.  One of many who I have wished I could look like more than I look like myself.   

But last night at church, something changed.  A sentence happened clearly in my  brain; it was my voice, but it was not something I would say.  It seemed familiar, but it was not something I had ever thought before.  It happened the same way other thoughts normally happen in my brain, but it seemed to come from somewhere else.   

Her beauty reflects the same God as your beauty does.   

I had to sit down.  The thought washed over me, expelling the jealousy. It was oddly sudden, but I wanted to keep experiencing the truth of this thought, the clarity it was offering, so I kept repeating it to myself.  Her beauty comes from the same sources as yours.  Truth happened in my heart, truth I should have realized before but never did, truth that was expelling the shadows of lies and brokenness and imperfection.  I made her, and I made you; your beauty is not a competition, it's a cooperation.  I grabbed my notebook out of my purse and wrote things down.  I didn't want to forget this thing I shouldn't have needed reminding of.   

We are the body of Christ.  When one part is particularly beautiful, we are all beautiful.  When one part succeeds, we all succeed.  Anything good we do, have, or make, came from God, and he calls us to give it back for his glory.  I have no reason to be jealous, ever.   

I have written before about my comparison complex, how I may be content with what I have until I see someone with something better.  I have noticed, though, it doesn't work just in one direction.  I don't compare only when I come out behind; I criticize to feel right, I judge to feel better, I look down on to feel higher than.   

The second case, puffing up and feeling better, is obvious pride.  But the first is pride, too.  When I am jealous, I am still making the world about me.  When I'm jealous, I'm not being a good body member.   

I've memorized Philippians 2:3-4 before, which encourages us to have humility like that of Christ, but I always thought the verses before stuck out a bit.  I never understood how they fit in with the rest of the section until just now, when I read it in new light.   

2 So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, 2 complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. 3 Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. 4 Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. 

My paraphrase to myself: Is it helpful to be part of the body?  Convenient sometimes, even?  Does it bring you joy?  How about fellowship with Christ, ya like that?  Then fellowship the right way.  Be a real team.  Don't join in only when it suits you; don't be a part of this only for what you get out of it.  Be together, really together.  Be for each other, even when it's hard.  Celebrate someone else even though it means you're not being celebrated in that moment.  Because actually, when you're really together, you're being celebrated when someone else is, too, because your King is being honored.  

Saturday Shout-out: Thanks for the ride

I called you late from an airport.  It was you I called because I knew there would be no, "I told you so" comments coming from your end of the line.  I told you that I had just broken up with my lying, cheating boyfriend, the one all my friends had been trying for months to convince me was a liar and a cheater.  I told you that I didn't regret giving him as many chances as I did but that I knew he had used up his last one.  You were patient and kind; you let me talk through my anger and my hurt with you, and you asked questions like you really cared. 

At the end of the conversation, whether you really meant it or were just trying to offer me a bit of friendly comfort, you offered me whatever I needed, even to pick me up from the airport when I flew in the next day.  I was thankful that someone was willing to catch me while I felt like I was falling in the darkness.  I spent the night at the airport and planned to fly home early the next day.  Just wanting to check my bags and get out of that airport, I ended up taking an even earlier flight to somewhere near home. 

You came and got me.  No hesitation, no questions, no taking back your offer of whatever I needed. 

What I needed was a friendly face, a loving hug, and a way home.  You came, on top of all that, with chocolate. 

I just remembered this the other day and felt badly that I had never offered to help pay for the gas to get me home.  I hope I at least thanked you profusely.  I can pay you back now, if you'd like, and I'm sorry I never thought about that before. 

When I was expecting my parents and my friends to welcome me home with proud I told you so's, you welcomed me with the selfless love of true friendship.  Thank you for being there for me when I simply needed to be loved and cared for.  Thank you for coming without judgment and with chocolate.  Thanks, friend, for the ride.