just some visual updates

me and Jay in Philadelphia roaming around the bakery!!!

soaking my toe in New Jersey...

almost comical...(sorry for those with queezy tummies!)

and on the 7th day he created toe nails..and it was dumb!

When I get to Heaven (assuming the best) I'm gonna ask God..."why toe nails?" I'm wondering if God was in a funk the day he created toe nails (probably the same day He created the appendix...and molers) because they all seem completely useless.

Here's why I'm so turned off to toe nails.
So I've been in Arlington, VA for the past week but was getting a little antsy so planned a little excursion North. Of course the night before I was to leave for Philadelphia my right toe really started to hurt. (Keep in mind you my left toe nail is non-exsistent). You could say I have an on-going problem with in-grown nails...and if you said that, you'd be correct. So I did exactly what you're NOT supposed to do and went diggin around for it. After an hour of soaking and prodding, I pulled it out. (well I thought I pulled it out...turns out I missed a little piece). The nail itself wouldn't have been a huge issue except that being a diabetic makes me really prone to infection. So I shouldn't have been surprised that within a few hours my toe was literally purple. That little teeny tiny piece of nail was irritating my goop infected toe and I could not put a single ounce of weight on my foot.

This was the 5th or 6th time this has happened in the last few years so yes, the pain was awful, but more than anything I was just super frustrated. I tried to sleep but that throb kept me wide awake. I'm pretty sure that somewhere between the hours of 3 and 5 I got a solid REM cycle in but then it was back to tossing and turning. At 5:30 I gave up and turned my computer on to watch "How I Met Your Mother.' (On the bright side I was able to finish half a season that morning waiting for a podiatry office to open up). Anyways, I was finally able to see a doc for an 11 o' clock appointment, during which he took off the whole nail. He told me I should get both toes chemically treated so that no nail ever grows back. Here in lies the question (and the insanity of it all)...if I don't need em, why the hell do I have them?!?

Anyways, I got my toe wrapped up and headed to Philadelphia. When I arrived, hobbling in like quasimoto I explained the story to my hosts (who just so happen to pastor a church out here in Pennsylvania)  maybe they have a teaching or scripture that would unpack Jesus's thought process behind toe nails...I sure as hell don't get 'em.

South East

If you were wondering, the place I've been told to NOT go in this area is South East DC. So after asking a few people about it and doing a little of my own research I felt good about a visit. Thought it'd be a safe bet to post up at a coffee shop and find some folks to talk to there. There was only one small problem, there was literally ONE coffee shop (according to my phone) and it was a Starbucks in a Safeway with no seating (and that just wasn't gonna work for me).

But I didn't know that was the set up until I pulled into the Safeway parking lot. I was already there so I figured I'd go in and see what it had to offer. When I walked in I quickly realized something I had failed to notice...I was the only white person there. Everyone shopping and everyone working was black. I don't know why but I suddenly got the giggles...I couldn't help it. So I thought it was best that I leave. As I walked back to the parking lot I noticed little kids pointing at me (my mind flashed back to when I was in Kenya last summer...people would point and yell "muzungu, muzungu" translation: "white person, white person!") I got in my car and drove around for a bit. Literally saw not a single Caucasian. It was SO fascinating (and to me wrong, but that's another conversation.)

I was ready to head out but my blood sugar started to feel a little low. I had just passed a cute little pub right on the main drag so I flipped a U-y and looked for a place to park thinking I could get a cranberry juice real fast. (Mom and dad, you wont be surprised, but you won't love this next part). As I crossed the street a man that was takin a smoke out front stopped me "hey!" He was intimidating but not scary. "Hi..how are you?" We chatted outside for a bit..."can I buy you a drink?" It took some talking into, but I decided he was harmless enough, and he promised to share some of his story with me. (I mostly wanted to figure out why he was missing the bottom half of his front tooth but I didn't want to be rude!)

Anyways, he walked me to his seat and introduced me to his friend 'slim' (didn't understand where the nickname came from...he was a bit husky). But he was so very sweet. We sat and chatted for a solid 20 or 30 mins. I learned that both were born and raised in the area and that neither had left. I also learned that both sold marijuana for a living. Such a bummer because I could tell both were extremely smart...super articulate (and pretty dang witty). Kinda seemed like a waste of talent. But I also know there is always more to the story and if that's all you know and all you've seen...how would you know to do different?!?

The whole thing just made me so mad. I don't want to make excuses or justifications and while I believe that we all have a significant amount of choice (like what I blogged a few weeks back) that at the end of the day it's our call...I also can't help but feel super convicted that some people seem to have to make harder choices...or like there are hurdles put in their lane. And saying "life's just not fair" doesn't seem to make me feel any better.

Who do I blame for all this? Do I blame them? Their parents? My ancestors? Myself? I know it's not about blaming anyone (and if it was it would be a mixture of all the above) but I left feeling so small...so defeated.

Food for my Soul

I'm in Arlington these days; a great little part of town, not too far from DC. The only problem is getting anywhere worth going means getting in the car, so I've had to be very intentional about pursuing little adventures all week (otherwise I'm prone to stay in bed and watch episode after episode of 'How I Met your Mother' yes, a new addiction).

Well on Friday I decided to just get in my car and drive a little ways. As I grew hungry I decided to stop (I'm not really sure where I was...but I knew I had passed Howard University just a few miles back). So I parked and got out to look for a good lunch spot. As I was walked around I stopped to chat with (what a assumed to be) a homeless man. I was really cravin a warm, home-style meal so I asked him for the best place to eat around those parts. Without hesitation, "Oohs and Ahhs." He proceeded to tell me where it was, and hollered as I was walking away..."Get the fried chicken." I was sold. I headed over to "U" street and walked into the tiny, tucked away shop. It was long but not very wide...you kinda had to scoot in sideways (stuff like that always adds to the appeal for me though!)

As I was waiting in line the guys behind the counter welcomed me and asked what they could get me. I explained that the man down  the road told me that this place had the worlds best chicken and so I was feeling convicted about trying anything else. Before I could even finish my sentence the man behind the counter handed me a plate with 2 wings on it. "Go'head see if he's right."

SOOO good (almost as good as E&L's in Jackson...almost!) So I ordered some wings and a side of Mac n' cheese (maybe more properly named 'hot cheese with a few noodles'...so yummy!) I sat down right there and started to dig in. Just then two older black women walked in and sat down next to me (listenin to them order and comment on the food was the highlight of my whole lunch!) I introduced myself and asked a little about them...within minutes me and Ola (the other was Annette) were laughing about our shared joy in taking off our bra's at the end of the day (somehow our conversation had gotten there...I'm not sure how, but I kid you not!) And right before they left they invited me to Church in the morning. (I had EVERY intention of going but literally slept through my alarm this morning and they only have one service:( but maybe next Sunday!)

Anyways, I stayed awhile after they left and chatted with two guys  behind the counter. One in particular, Wade, was so sweet in asking question after question and listening to my theories on travel and adventure et cetera. I randomly asked if he would hire me so that I could learn to make fried chicken and they said I could come in any time to learn. So guess who might put on a hair net next week and learn to make herself some fried chicken?!? That's right...me! I'll keep ya'all posted on my soul food expertise.

history isn't history

When I was growing up I sometimes hated the trips we'd take as a family. Partly because the trips themselves never sounded that exciting...like road trips to Nebraska for a family reunion (I remember all the other kids in my class were going to Cancun or Hawaii) But I think I also dreaded what we'd do once we got anywhere. My dad was the type that would drag us all around town. We visited historical districts, monuments and museums til it all blurred together..information was simply information..presidents, wars, first ladies, art, Indians...it all seemed the same.

But as my dad and I drove up the east coast I have found a whole new appreciation for all that history stuff. Yes 5 hours of continual museums is still too much for me. But I now actually enjoy a casual stroll around a historic district, peering through windows, reading up on a building or structure or statue. I think I didn't care for history because it seemed so irrelevent from the world I live in today; yes, far away...but totally seperate, like we jumped from then to now. But as I sat on the steps of the house that Flannery O'Connor once lived (one of my favorite authors) I was reminded of how fluid life is. I was sitting, walking, thinking in the areas that she once did the same. I felt the breeze she felt, smelled the smells...sounds corny and romantic, but its true.

We are where we are now via a long, winding journey, not a sudden jump. In that sense those times are important because they are just as much a part of me as today is. I don't know, it all made more sense in my head. I guess I was feeling overwhelmed with the conviction that what we do MATTERS (now and in the future) because someday we'll be someone else's history; someone's starting mark. boggles my mind.

P.S. quick update: I'm in Virginia these days and movin slow due to blizzard-ish type weather!

Everyday Faith

If you’ve ever been single for a substantial period, long enough to start asking yourself the question“why?” then maybe you’ll have heard some of the same cliché BS as me: “Gods timing is better” “you have to love yourself before you can love someone else” “Once you stop looking, then it will happen” and the list goes on and on.

Well I received lines from that pile of dooky the other day and made a revelation. Here's the thing though, all of these cliché christianisms are true. And you know what? I think I even believe em, but they are just so dang hard to lean into. That’s when it hit me…the deep faith stuff isn’t hard for me to believe (I mean, its not a cake walk) but it’s engraved in my bones. I know God loves me. I believe in the cross…the complex, bloody cross. Grace and hope….sign me up.

What’s hard is the every day faith stuff. Do I love myself when I look in the mirror? Do I love God when my friend dies? Do I turn the other cheek when I get cut off on the highway? Do I lean into the fact that his plan is better? His plan sure as hell doesn’t seem better. Mine involve money and kissing, parties, grand adventures and pretty dresses. My plans are pretty great.

That's when I have to remember that the small distinction between 'bigger' and 'better' is HUGE. Gods plans are BIGGER. My plans only see past the next few hours, through the present insecurity, during the frustrating unknowns. BUT, they are small. His plans are bigger and THAT'S why they are better (in the moment they wont always seem that way though) which is why it is SO freaking difficult to believe in them in the moment. The eternal stuff...I can kinda wrap my brain around...the right now, this second kinda stuff...GOD that's hard.

Step Back Stockton...

So based off my last post you already know Tom and I had some great discussions, one of which Tom reminded and encouraged me "Kate, you engineered this..You CHOSE this!"
I guess somewhere along I kinda forgot that...like this had all kinda just happened to me or something. But he was right...for better or worse, I CHOSE this. He wasn't pressing me to be prideful or give myself a pat on the back...but to remember that I am not outside of this journey, it's not passive. I am the main character.

He wasn't telling me that my life is in my own hands; to start taking initiative because God won't. He was reminding me that God is in EVERY decision that I make because he GAVE me the chance to make the call. It's never either/or, it's and/with. It's not (and shouldn't be) I'm gonna choose today, God can choose tomorrow. Since he gave me the ability to choose, he's a part of my process by default. For all my sports fans, an analogy: it's like he's throwin me alley-oops so that I can dunk! (and sometimes the roles are reversed and I get to assist) And so yes its true, this way one or the other isn't getting the points attributed to his jersey number...but its a team affair, I sure as hell can't pass to myself! I can't dunk either, but that's beside the point!)

At the end of the day does he have absolute control? Yes, I believe he does. I believe he could make me choose something whether I wanted it or not. But I believe he so wants us to search, to seek, to question, to wonder, to learn...that he allows us the opportunities to do so for ourselves (and in order to do that, and make it really real, I think it has to be our choice).

In that sense Toms comment was a call to continue to make the hard choices, to be an active participant in my own story, to recognize my own importance..not outside of or in spite of Christ, but within his own call. John Stockton may hold the all-time highest assist record in the NBA, but he aint got nothin on Jesus. He's dishin the ball to us left and right. 'you can do what you want with it' He says...'but I was kinda hopin you'd dunk!'

Yacht Club

 As if my trip wasn't "whimsy" enough...I am now staying in the cute little town of Annapolis...on a freaking yacht!!!

Last night, as me and my dad got closer to town I started getting nervous...
      a boat, wow, it seemed so cool at first, but now that I'm thinking of all the logistical things. I'm     beginning to wonder how this is all going to work out! Are there beds? Are me and my dad  gonna have to share? (not the end of the world, but not ideal!) is there a bathroom? running water? I need a shower!!! 
 But then as we pulled in to be greeted by Tom, a dear family friend, the worries faded as he kissed my cheek and embraced me, "hey hun, good to see ya!" (Instant comfort).

Tom is the kinda guy that when you're with him you don't just want to be better...you ARE better. I've never felt more supported and backed by someone and yet, more challenged. (That balance of Grace and Truth that I've been desperately trying to find...Tom has it!) He's got white hair that flows every which way and untrimmed scruff to match...the combo makes him look masculine and manly "been workin on the boat all day" type of vibe...and yet there's a little hint of Santa or something..."come sit on my lap." (I mean that in the most non-creepy way of course).

Anyways, we begun to get settled in on the yacht and the best way to describe the boat life would be that it feels like glorified camping. The bathroom is the size of an airplane lavatory...you have to kinda slide in sideways, and when you sit on the pot (a removable port-a-potty type deal) your knees touch the door. The bed, once put together, takes up the whole room and everything's tucked away in secret compartments. Like camping, you kinda settle in around the fire because there isn't anywhere to go or anything else to do...no restaurants, clubs, TV's, etc...similarly, once your on the boat you're kinda committed to being on the boat. So me, Tom and my dad hunkered down, space heaters blaring to warm the drafty ship. At one point I sat back and just listened to the old friends reminisce and laugh...an old pastor of mine would call it "holy laughter" (the kind that has a depth, the kind that cures soul wounds). I could be content sitting in that space forever.

How did I get here?!? on a creeky boat, with 2 "old" men, sharing our hearts...

Breaks Over...Back to Work

What is it about the airport that makes me want to burst into tears? Lol. My heart can’t handle the extremes of all the coming and going; being ecstatic to see a friend who’s been gone for far too long or sobbing as you walk away from someone who has your heart. (Plus the added element that you very well might crash and die can put ya on edge). And it turns out I don’t even have to be the one experiencing these emotions, just witnessing it in other travelers sends tears streaming down my face.

Regardless of my love/hate relationship with airports I couldn’t avoid that dang place. Today I was dropped off at Sea-Tac by a friend so that I can re-embark on my adventure. I was in Tacoma a little longer than I had planned…weather on the east coast caused  my original flight to be cancelled, so had to rebook  for today (which was a whole other story. Man those automated flight people will really test your patience!) But I’ll be back in Nashville tonight to grab my car then head to Georgia tomorrow. What a whirlwind!

Just wanted to let everyone know that I’m back at it. Stay tuned…East coast, I’m comin for ya!

The Gift

As I sat on my couch, ripping open presents on Christmas day I was hit upside the head with a sledgehammer type revelation. I'M SO PRIVILEGED!!! I guess I've known this for some time now but somehow I had forgotten.

But even more so than the tangible gifts I was unwrapping, I realized the enormity of all the intangible ones...especially this trip (and everything wrapped up in it). The food, the relationships, the prayer, the emotions, the challenges, the miles, the scenery, the conversations, the tears, the journaling, the laughing. Its an amazing privilege to be doing what I'm doing.

As I sat and talked with a friend about some of the ups and downs of the trip I came to the realization that if this trip is in fact a gift, I want to be someone who honors (and uses) the gift, and perhaps more importantly, honors the gift giver. This doesn't (and hasn't) meant that there aren't times where I want to turn around and go home, just like there are probably those gifts that you get that you're not sure what to do with (useless trinkets, ugly paintings, hideous sweaters) but you love the person who gave it, so you suck up your pride and wear the damn thing.

There are days where I'm alone, tired, I want to be in my bed, tired of driving, want to sit across from dear friends...but I feel like I've been given such an amazing gift to be able to do this adventure. the time, the space, the resources, the finances,the connections, the support, the ability...it is no small thing. So as I thought about how I might honor the gift giver I realized it's easier than I first thought, to honor the gift giver...you simply use and appreciate the gift.

How can we (how can I) use the privileges we've inherited in life? How do we look past the hard, ugly, scratchy sweater parts to realize that at its core, life's a gift? How do we remember to not forget this?