me and mama on 6th street!!!

TIM RIGGINS...Here I Come!

HOLY AUSTIN TEXAS!
Austin will be one of those places that is hard to leave.
I'm staying with friends that are HILARIOUS and have been so hospitable but even just the city itself is so fun; it has a little bit of everything!
My mom and I got to spend 2 days in Austin before she flew home. We wanted to end our time with a bang so we figured we'd go out on the town and as we asked around it seemed the place to be (hands down) was 6th street. WELL, everyone we asked failed to mention that it was like the Bourbon Street of Austin. It didn't help that it was Halloween weekend, it was absolutely nuts. I saw more nipples than I'd care to and my mom kept gettin hit on, pulled this way or that which was a little unnerving. But we did find a great little rooftop patio to have dinner and drinks which was so fun! (seriously, if you want an amazing margarita, go to the iron cactus!)
The next day we got to visit old friends that now live in Waco at a bomb-diggity BBQ joint (the Salt Lick). It was fun to hear my mom and them swap old stories and have them encourage me in my journey. (They also brought their 2 little boys who stole my heart instantly and we played at least 25 rounds of thumb wrestling...my thumb is still recovering!)
That night my mom and i tried to get to bed early because i had to (got to) take to her to the airport at 4:45AM (barf!). It's not like either of us were excited for her to leave, but I think you just get anxious before you travel, you don't want to miss your flight and your mind runs and runs about things you want to do or bring or not forget...I'm not sure exactly what it is, but whatever it is it made it real difficult to get a good night sleep. From midnight to 2 I got a few solid REMS in but after that I'm not sure if drifted back to sleep or not. Part of the problem was that my mom, who i had ZERO trouble sleeping with EVER, started snoring. (p.s. What do you do with snorers!?! waking up and telling them their snoring doesn't really help because you feel bad waking them up and then they fall right back to sleep and do the same thing! So after analyzing all my options...waking her, kicking her, plugging her nose...i decided to simply move to the couch.)
I went to lay down but couldn't get comfortable and finally after 45 mins or so of tossing and turning I thought it might help to shut the blinds that were letting the moonlight in. So I walked over to the sliding door and as I pulled the stick thingy to drag the curtain over it hit a plant and the plant crashed to the floor.
YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!
It was our first night with my friends and we had already kicked one out of their bed and now I'm breakin things and causin a ruckus at 3 in the morning. I wanted to vacuum it up but didn't want to wake them. So I sat down and picked up little clumps of dirt with my fingers for about 25 mins. When you're eyes have to wake up enough to have hand eye coordination you're kinda past going back to sleep so I sat on the couch...looking through the blinds I had failed to shut, thinking about this trip, about life, about thinking.
I came to the conclusion that I think too much! (surprise! haha) and while that will probably NEVER change i decided that this week in Austin will be my vacation from my vacation. I will do my best to not think as much, not make tons of deep, meaningful revelations (although lets be real, I will and I''ll write them down but I'll just blog about em later!) but if you readers get on and wonder why I'm not blogging, its because well...I'm busy livin the dream in Austin and trying to find Tim Riggins! (yes, he lives here, well not Tim, he's fictional, but Taylor...the actor...I'll be stalking him!) So bare with me...I'll be back at it in a few days!

Edens Edict

Lately as I travel, I can’t help but think of my God daughter Eden. During the summer when I was her nanny (along with her 3 other sisters) it would never fail that she would use the phrase “me too!” at least 10 times each day. The contexts she used it in were always shifting …often it was more of a question, like ‘can I do it too? ‘ ‘Can I have some also?’ A lot of times it was also a response; I’d say, I love you Eden…she’d say, “me too!” (I guess I always assumed she meant, I love you back, but maybe she quite literally meant that she also loved herself!) And sometimes it was more of a statement “hey, I’m doin this too!!!”After a while the phrase became kinda  a joke as I’d mimic Eden in her sweet lispy tone…“Me too guys!”

Today as my mom and I explored Lubbock Texas (YES, my mom is with me (woo hoo!) and yes Lubbock has more to offer than you might think) we stopped into a shopping center, one of the most unique little places I’ve seen called ‘Cactus Alley.’ We almost didn’t go in. It wasn’t far from our sketchy hotel and we were wondering if we should travel into the nicer more bustle-y downtown area. But since it was right there we figured we’d check out some of the shops…we really weren’t expecting much.

We stopped into a boutique called 'The Swanky Nomad.' There were two women in the store, one was working behind the counter and other was her friend. As they figured out that we were out-of-towners and that we were on this crazy adventure they began to ask questions and as we began to talk we gradually moved from a nice safe, comfortable horizontal conversational to a very personal vertical one. We talked a lot about culture and faith. I asked them about their own personal stories and how they felt about religion and church in the south and how culture plays into their beliefs. They answered honestly and openly in whatever I threw their way. At multiple points in the conversation tears were held back just barely by a short pause or deep breathe. 

There was so much difference between us and yet so much the same. I found myself being blessed and encouraged by what these women were saying, how things they’ve experienced in their life were not that far off from my own journey. As we talked about walking with Christ and how that often means deep pain and sorrow we came to the conclusion that the meaning behind it all; the worth...the peace…it comes from having someone hear your story and say “me too.” I believe that is what my trip is ALL about…divine appointments with people who I might never have met otherwise, people totally opposite me, people in a whole different space and place in life…for us to sit with each other and go “hey, me too!” 

As I walked out of the store all I could picture was sweet little Eden with a cute frilly dress and high top sneakers (I’d like to think her fashion sense was something I passed to her!) waddling over to me…”me too kate, me too!”

me in the little town of Mesilla-gettin a history lesson on Billy the Kid and Poncho Villa

BEAUTIFUL New Mexico terrain

                                                      

So you're imperfect...NO MATA

I’m a little behind on blogging, forgive me.

The last 3 days I’ve covered more ground than I have in the past 3 weeks and it turns out it’s hard to type and drive at the same time. After my last blog in San Diego I stayed a night with an old friend and mentor in Mesa, AZ and then traveled to stay in Las Cruces New Mexico with a random (like seriously SUPER random...like friends of my dad’s old co-workers random) connection. It has been the check point that I think I was most nervous about because I don’t know the people or place AT ALL!

We originally set it up so that I would arrive at their home around 8:30 or 9 pm and so I figured since it was about a 6 hour trip from Mesa I should leave Arizona around 2. Well I failed from the start because I didn’t even get on the freeway til 3 and THEN got stuck in traffic for an hour, so I wasn’t even out of Mesa 15 miles by 4 o clock! (for those of you that know me you know that this isn’t a huge surprise and if it were family or friends I wouldn’t have been as anxious but I didn’t know the family I was about to inconvenience and I just didn’t want to be “that visitor”).

 Here’s where it gets worse…as I was passing into New Mexico I looked down and realized my phone had jumped forward an hour...I had crossed a time zone! I immediately called and talked to Josefina (the mother) and apologized over and over…”I won’t be there for another hour I’m so so so sorry!”  her voice was so calm and so genuine…”do not be sorry, it’s ok!” I told her “if you guys need to go to bed you can leave a key or I can sleep in the car. she said, “no it’s ok, we’re waiting for you to have dinner with us anyway!” and she didn’t say it in a way that made me feel bad (although I did) she was just trying to relay the message that, NO, they would not be going to bed; that they were excited to meet me and wanted to share a meal.

I pulled into their driveway in front of their beautiful adobe, mission style home and walked to their door practically dripping sweat…I felt absolutely sick to my stomach! They opened the door and greeted me with smiles and hugs and gave me some baloney explanation how they sometimes eat this late so I shouldn’t feel bad! (I didn’t buy one bit of it but appreciated that they were trying to make me feel better!) Dinner was a fabulous authentic Mexican meal and it couldn’t have tasted better after a day of munching on granola and Cheetos in the car.

As I got settled in the room they had put me up in I quickly realized they had kicked out their daughter (Liz) so that I could have her bed. I confronted her about it when I ran into her in the hallway…”ummm, where are you sleeping?” she didn’t answer just sorta grinned…her mom popped her head out…”she’s sleeping in here with us!” I couldn’t help but burst out in a rambling “Oh My Gosh, no, stop it! Please have your room back! This is silliness.” Here’s the thing, It’s one thing if I had gotten here on time and walked in bearing gifts, but I had literally been the worst guest. But that’s when I realized the Kind of people the Mata’s are…they are grace filled people. Like God, they didn’t give me what I deserved, they offered better. They didn’t judge me based on performance; they loved me based on the fact that I needed to be loved. Period.

Well I wish I could say that that was all, but nope, the kindness continued. In the morning (after sleeping in late because Josefina INSISTED I not set an alarm) the whole family took work off and took me to breakfast (I shouldn’t have been surprised at this point, but they didn’t allow me to pay!) and then they drove me all around town to see the sights. When we got back to the house I packed up my stuff and was saying my goodbyes when Jesus (the dad) hugged me then handed me a very generous amount of gas gift cards…I had no words. I’m hoping the tears that streamed down my cheeks were the smallest start of some form of articulation that they had gone above and beyond, some tiny illustration of the love I felt. As I walked out the door and looked back to wave I couldn’t help but be convinced that I had stayed with a host of angels on Tuesday night. These are people that emit Gods light like no bodies business, people who reminded me of and modeled God’s extravagant and lavish love. The stop I was dreading most has quickly become the one I revisit most in my heart. Why am I doing this trip? Oh ya, that’s why…

p.s. the thing I forgot to mention is that other than being INCREDIBLE hosts, Jesus and Liz are amazingly gifted (like breath-taking) artists. Thought I’d share their links so you can get a feel for the artwork I got to see ( lizbethmata.see.me and jesusamata.see.me )

                                                  Me and Betsy on the Coronado Ferry!
                                            bottom left is a menu from Gloria's (best little
                                        whole in wall mexican joint that Brock took me to!)

Homeboy

I had the chance to go on a date with Brock yesterday morning (and while he's married, its been far too long since i've been on a real date, so i'm counting this one! haha) We ventured into this cute little part of town to get coffee at a place called Calabria (super good!) and while we both worked on e-mails and what not a man sat down at the table next to me. He set his hat down and it said "HOMEBOY." It's an organization that works to rehabilitate and work with ex gang members. It was started by father Greg Boyles in the LA area but is growing bigger and bigger and has apparently made it to San Diego! I knew about this organization because Boyles writes all about it in his book "Tattoos on the Heart" (if you haven't read it I HIGHLY recommend it!)
Anyways, I was actually hoping to visit Homeboy industries on my way through LA but I had actually thought it was in Compton and so by the time I had looked it up I had already passed it:(
I turned and asked the man if he worked for Homeboy and he answered (in the cutest Irish accent mind you) that yes, he did! First of all, this man's name was Fergle...so I knew he was a bad ass right off the bat! but it was also just so fun to talk to him about this work and the ideals behind homeboy and the places they envision bringing the organization. I couldn't help but leave feeling like God had scheduled a divine appointment. I had missed my chance to see Homeboy's hub in LA, but perhaps even better, got a private interview with a very passionate, intelligent man. Hate to over-spiritualize, but just another reminder that God's plans are so much bigger than mine!

Member That Time we Got Dropped Off on the Highway?!?

IT HAPPENED...the kind of thing you expect to happen when you're traveling the country and you serve a God with a unique sense of humor! My car got TOWED!!!

I was picking up my friend Eddie for dinner but when I pulled into his apartment complex (a lot more like a dorm for SDSU students) he wasn't quite ready so he asked if I wanted to come in and meet his roommates. This experience alone was enough comic relief to get me through the night. Two were from Germany and the other, Saudi Arabia. The friend I was seeing was from Jackson MS, which might as well be foreign, so between the 5 of us there wasn't a whole lot of understanding but there were definitely A TON of clarifying questions. We talked all of 20 minutes, about what I couldn't tell you because I'm not altogether sure. I got a glass of water, used the restroom and then we were off! We walked outside and my car was no where to be found. I'm not sure if you've ever had the feeling, but if you have you know that I can't possibly do it justice by trying to write it out. Fear, anger, anxiety, denial, bargaining...all of the grieving stages bundled into 2 loaded seconds. Your stomach drops, your blood pumps, your knees go weak...WHERE THE HELL IS MY CAR?!?

Within 5 minutes we figured out it was in fact towed and that YES, it would be hell on earth to get it back! (Brian Regan anyone?!?) Neither me or Eddie knew the area or the bus system and it was only nearly 7 but it was already getting dark. We roamed around (each carrying one of my obnoxiously huge purses...thank god I had taken them out with me because while it was awful to carry em, it gave me piece of mind to have my important things with me).

We posted up at a bus stop (the wrong one of course). When a bus finally rolled through the bus driver must have felt bad for us because he was kind enough to help...said,"there are no buses that go directly that way but I can get you as close to there (the towing company) as possible. THANK GOD, YOU'RE AN ANGEL! well I spoke too soon because he literally drove us a mile or 2 then pulled over at the side of the highway and let us off. He gave us directions and pulled off. UMMMM, hello, its dark and we're on the frickin freeway! when I pulled up GPS it told us we had another 3.7 miles so we just started walking. At about the mile and a half mark the woman from the towing place called (she had by now become my worst enemy...i mean really ma'am, you'll have a large chunk of my hard earned money in your hands tonight, could you be a little more helpful? At least sensitive? Maybe even just kind?!?) she called to tell me that she'd be telling her worker to leave the yard if we weren't there in 15 minutes. So with our large bags we began to run. I felt like I was in the best shape of my life as we did a full sprint to the finish line...breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth, in through your nose, out through your mouth.

Even after getting there it seemed to be all problems. My dad's name is on the title and all the registration forms and the guy helping us that night was what one might call an avid rule follower. I showed him that the address on my ID was the same one under my dads name, showed him my name on my triple A card...nothing was good enough, he said he needed my name on a document with vehicle description to prove that I in fact was allowed to have this particular car. I found an insurance slip with my dad and moms name and right as I handed it over, Eddie asked him a question about his job and I'm thinking it distracted him enough to not realize that Kimberlee Hunter was NOT my name. Whatever happened it worked and we begun the paperwork!

THREE HUNDRED and THIRTY-THREE dollars later (ouch!) we got in my car and started to laugh (my laugh turned into a sort of hysterical cry of course!) There was a part of me that felt bad for Eddie (I felt worse for myself of course) but I seemed to be inconsolable...that pit in my stomach just wouldn't go away, plus I was just done...beyond exhausted. He offered to get me a drink, a milkshake...whatever would help ("I'll pay he said laughing!") Ya...I guess a milkshake couldn't hurt! We pulled into In-n-Out and sat for an hour reliving and recovering from the night.

I kinda wish I had an amazing take-away, a life lesson of sorts...something to show for the black hole that is now my bank account. But all I could think to say is check and DOUBLE check parking signs, those towing companies aren't messin around!

                              me, my aunt Kathe and cousin Whit at Echo Park...livin the dream!

This Park Echoes Hope

Yesterday morning we drove a few miles south to Echo Park, Las Angeles. I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting but from stories my aunt Kathe told me, who lived there some 20+ years ago, I was gearin up to be mugged and beaten. As we drove to get coffee and walk around the lake my aunt shared gruesome stories: beatings near the park, bodies in the lake…not pretty stuff. Those who know my rebellious spirit know that this made the outing more intriguing. So you can imagine my disappointment when we pulled up and there were no sirens, no caution tape…nothin! 

p.s. let me clarify something real quick: it’s not that I love scary or unsafe places purely for that reason alone. It’s that I love places people have disregarded and given up on, places that are dirty and grungy and daunting on the outside but that have those hidden jewels;  those beautiful, quirky, gritty, poetic places that speak to pieces of your spirit. (Or maybe it’s cause I’m a sucker for underdogs and places that go unnoticed remind me of teams that no one is rooting for).  I realize my explanation doesn’t make it any safer for me to travel into places like this, but understand that I don’t go out looking for trouble! 

Anyways, so as we turned the corner off the main boulevard the landscape drastically changed, there were cute little shops and artsy cafés. The one we popped into had Seattle written all over it. (I’ll admit I even compared it to Herkimer, so you know it was good!). Next to this fair trade coffee shop was a tacky thrift shop with one piece denim outfits that I KNOW Macklemore would be all about! People were wearing plaid and skinny jeans and had beards…it was that, “I did shower I just want it to look like I didn’t” kinda swag that I feel like Seattle has perfected.

As we walked down to Echo Park and around the little man-made lake I felt as though I had been transported home and walking around Wrights Park in Tacoma. There was the occasional drug dealer, a handful of homeless youth and a man sitting on a bench that seemed to be having a fascinating conversation with an invisible friend. BUT the park was also filled with families! There was a group of people from what we gathered was a Quinceanera celebration, couples in paddleboats on the lake, people picnicking and throwing a frisbee on the grass. You couldn’t argue that there wasn’t life at that park that day!

Although I was a little upset that it wasn’t the sketchy, make your heart race kinda place I had envisioned, I loved that I felt at home and I loved the message behind what I was seeing. Transformation.  People movin into the neighborhood. Hope.

FORGIVENESS AND FOOTBALL

(quick note: I’ll be honest, this blog's a vulnerable one for me…but as a writer and someone who is committed to transparency and truth, I find it impossible to let you in on my heart and revelations while censoring or telling half-truths. Plus this is part of my trip, its not just the landmarks and cities, it's the hard stuff and the heart change.)

What is forgiveness?!? It seems like one of the main pillars on which the Christian faith is built and it seems so simple, or at least that’s how we throw the word around. “God died on the cross to forgive our sins”, “god forgives you”, “god is forgiveness”…but what does that even mean?!? I don’t know about you but God always reveals things to me in the most unlikely places and times. This most recent one was today during the Husky football game and requires a background story… 

Sophomore year of college, while having so many fun and meaningful memories, was certainly a year of searching (and thus almost unavoidably, a year of hurt). It was that year that I met a young athlete and fell into a sort of entrancement with him. He was good looking and well known…but most importantly, he noticed me. He didn’t go out of his way to make me feel special, never asked about anything that held a shred of significance in my life and he NEVER drove me home, never even offered. But he wasn’t fake and didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t, which I kinda always admired. I shrugged off all the aspects of our “relationship” (I use that word loosely) that I didn’t like due to the fact that he made me feel pretty and worthwhile and I soon grew to be an enabler and encourager of bad habits. 

The connection was purely physical and so in the moment it felt passionate and exciting but then I’d leave his dorm room and walk home, my eyes welling with tears.  It was always that 15 minute walk home in the cold, quietness of night, through the quad and up memorial way, that I felt closest to God. What am I doing? (The question that haunted me most). I’d think "God, if you had a silver platter with all the things you would love for me to have and experience and the idea of ‘intimacy’ was on it I‘m pretty sure what I’m doing right now isn’t even close.” I knew that much. But what intense power insecurity has over people. The desire to feel needed and wanted will drive people to do just about anything.

It went on like this for a while until…well, until I ran away from it. I wish I could say I matured enough in my faith to say no or stick up for myself…or that I learned discipline or that me and God grew so close that I couldn’t help but do the right thing, but nope, I simply fled. I did a study exchange in Mississippi for a semester. But funny how you can only outrun life for a short time because when I came back He was everywhere. I saw him walkin around campus, I heard his name in conversations, he was all over TV. I vowed to do everything in my power to forgive and forget. I even went as far to approach him one day on campus. I apologized for the part I had played in what I considered an unhealthy and unconventional relationship. I apologized for misrepresenting myself and God.  I apologized that I gave the message that treating women like toys was ok. And I apologized that I didn’t give him the chance to be a gentlemen because I never presented myself in a way that would require that. I said these things because I needed to forgive myself and in order to do that, I needed closure. And if I’m honest the romantic in me was hoping he’d see me and hear my words and fall in love with me and want a second chance.  (Reconciliation is kinda my favorite thing!) The outcome I got was not quite that whimsical. He said, (and I quote) “girl, that was forever ago…you’re still on that?” felt like more of an idiot than I ever had. 

Yup…still on it...silly me! 

 Walked home in a constant state of déjà vu as my eyes welled with tears and my stomach dropped in a pit. HOW DO I MOVE PAST THIS!?!?

Forgiveness. I knew the answer all along…but how do you get there? What do you do?

The first HUGE realization I had to make is that forgiveness is NOT reconciliation. (this one has been hard for me) I think I had been working to make things right with this man when 1. He didn’t seem to think anything was wrong and 2. He wasn’t working toward a similar goal. As the conversation on campus proved, I CANNOT make him (or anyone) care about what I care about…what’s real for me may or may not be real for them. But that doesn’t change to requirements and traits of forgiveness. Forgiveness doesn’t count on anyone else. It doesn’t hold weight of opinions or suggestions. It doesn’t have to make logical sense on a piece of paper or hold its own against a pro’s and con’s list. It’s not a vow of discipline or work, it’s not a life sentence of proving yourself. It is clearing a debt free of charge. It allowing someone to NOT be God and NEVER holding that against them. It is not “you owe me $100, let’s work together to get my account to where it was.” It’s giving someone $100 and never asking for anything in return. (The hard part about this is that there is also the unseen cost…it’s not simply the money, it’s that you don’t know how NOT having that money might affect you in the future). I’m tellin ya, this forgiveness thing is difficult.

Since my sophomore year I have yet to be able to sit through a Husky football game. I tried going to a game my senior year and at the end of the 1^st quarter walked home alone because I saw his face on the big screen one too many times. Even a few weeks ago I tried watching with a group of friends and found tears streaming down my face as I sat back and listened to everyone in the room weigh in on his stats, his personality and his looks. And today, as the huskies played the ducks, I was only able to make it 15 minutes into the game before escaping to my room. It's not difficult to see him because I love him or can't let him go, it's that he is a haunting reminder of mistakes I've made and insecurities I fight. HOWEVER, it was in that 15 minutes today I came to a pivotal place in my faith. As we sat and watched the game my uncle remarked about Him, said he “looked like I nice guy” but before he could even finish I said “he’s NOT!” and I sat there in bitterness and hurt secretly wishing the huskies lose, secretly hoping he breaks his ankle, secretly wishing his career ends today. And it hit me…

How do you know you’re forgiven? You act like it. Saying you forgive yourself is one thing, but try living into it. I KNOW God has forgiven me because he acts like it…he continues to bless me; everyday, all the time. It became clear that I have most certainly NOT forgiven this man because well… I don’t act like I have. People say it’s like getting a gift and not opening it, but I’d say it’s like getting a gift and not using it! I believe we often receive gifts (the invisible, kingdom kind) and we might even open them and muse…we set it up on a shelf and let it collect dust. We talk about it, we show it off…but we never use it.

So as I sat and watched the game today, I closed my eyes and prayed a blessing over this man who I have not loved well over the last few years. I prayed for more than a win (although I prayed for that too) for more than health, for more than success…I prayed for peace, for meaning, for happiness, for overwhelming love. It didn’t come natural, it felt like I was fighting a thousand tiny evil ninjas in my head, but I believe with practice it will be easier and easier.

So YES, I’m still on it…have had to work on it and will probably have to continue to do so but I sense myself slowly letting go and living more and more into the blessing of God’s forgiveness (the words blessing and forgiveness seem interchangeable now) and when I lean into that it’s nearly impossible to hold onto regret and hurt.

God must secretly be a Duck fan or something. If nothing more he’s a football fan because he definitely used the game today to reveal himself to me in a new way.