Tell Us A Little Bit About Yourself...

I was raised in the church. If my mom were here, she would tell you the story of listening to me on the baby monitor when I was around a year old. She heard something that sounded like music coming from that little monitor, and realized that I was singing a song I’d learned in nursery at church. So I’ve been singing about Jesus since before I could speak. 

And what a privilege that is. I was prayed for before I was born. I was spoken to about Jesus before I could speak. I was read scripture before I could understand it. I was told about forgiveness and love as soon as I was able to realize that I needed it. I had godly examples to follow from day one—from my parents to others in the church. And those things are a huge part of why I’m a Christian today. In some sense my relationship with Jesus has been rather boring—I literally can’t remember a day of my life that I didn’t know him—but my parents would be thrilled to hear that. And I know that many of you have the same hope for your children. So I wanted to point these things out as an encouragement to you. Mundane faithfulness is crucially important. My parents didn’t do anything magical. They encouraged…okay sometimes forced…me to read my bible. They ensured I focused on others—I remember one thing they did was that on the way to church on Sunday morning when I was a teenager, they would remind me that after church, I was expected to tell them something I learned about 3 different people’s lives while I was at church, and they couldn’t be the same people as last week. It was small, but it sent a clear message that I wasn’t at church just to glean something for myself—I was there to be part of a family, and to think about others besides myself. I tell you these examples to encourage you that your children see and notice things like that, and the love of Jesus really is permeating their heart because of them. They’re marinating in it, if you’re being faithful. And that is really beautiful. 

But my relationship with Jesus has grown and changed since singing about him in my crib, thankfully. As a teenager, I grew stronger in the faith. I went to public school, and so I had faced some opposition to my faith—kids made fun of me, I was excluded from certain things, etc. In the course of all of that, I developed a pretty strong sense of purpose. And I was sure that because I’d been faithful to God, he was going to bless me. Because that’s how it works, right? We do what God asks of us, and he gives us what we want. So, by the time I headed off to college, I had a pretty solid plan for my life. I was going to go to UVA, major in Economics, stay single, and then move to a far away country to do missions—specifically micro-loans to help the poor. 

Well, within 1 day of setting foot on campus, a nice young man named Matt Kirkham, who was a friend of a friend, came to see how I was settling in. And within a few months we started dating. So much for staying single. Then I eventually took my 3rd economics class, where we started combining calculus with economics concepts. Didn’t go so well. Met with my advisor who said in no certain terms that he didn’t think economics was where I was gifted. So much for my major. By the time I graduated, Matt and I had gotten engaged, he’d gotten a job in Newport News, and we ended up getting married and moving back to within 30 minutes of where I grew up. So much for going to a foreign country. 

And then, I became successful in my career. Like…really successful. Like…flying on private jets (once by myself), giving college lectures around the country about sustainability and our company’s story, giving away millions in charity, talking with reporters daily and seeing my name in the NYT, literally winning a national “Rising Stars Under 30” award in DC. I tripled my salary in 6 years of working—I was the youngest ever Director at the company. I could do it all. And then. 

5 years ago, we became parents. My plan was to keep working, and to continue to rise. Because after all, I was doing it all for God, right? So he would bless me! Or at least if I decided to quit to raise my babies, I was going to do it in such a way that it made a statement to everyone I worked with—I would be an inspiration for them. Not quite how it worked out. The depression started when Jackson was around 4 months old. And it hit hard. Suddenly, I couldn’t sleep anymore. Ever. My eyes were just leaky faucets—unable to stop shedding tears. My thoughts turned dark—“I’m just a burden to everyone.” “They would be better off without me” “This is never going to change.” “No one cares about me.” Then, the panic attacks started. First just one or two, and then daily, and then multiple times a day. Finally, I found myself in the fetal position in my office during a panic attack at work, and I called my dad because I couldn’t get a hold of Matt. And he said—-"Kat, I think it’s time. It’s time to quit." I couldn’t even drive home that day—he came to pick me up and I sobbed as I skulked out the back door where no one would see me. I called my boss and told her I was taking the rest of my FMLA leave, and wasn’t coming back for a month—and then eventually decided I wasn’t coming back at all. I never even got to say goodbye to those I worked with, much less inspire them with my story. I just faded out into the background. But praise God for medication and my church family (and my actual family) because I was healthy again within 6 months. We were happy again. Life was good again. We decided to have another baby, and prayed constantly that it was a girl. 

God granted me my undeserved and unearned wish of having a baby girl, two weeks before the start of the pandemic. I will never forget the joy I felt in the hospital, slipping on her bejeweled pink hat with a bow the size of her face. Literally every nurse that interacted with her used the word “perfect” to describe her. It was uncanny. She was this beautiful gift from God that I just didn’t deserve. She was perfect. Until she wasn’t. One day when she was around 7 months old we started to notice some strange behavior that over the course of a couple months morphed into seizures. They then came multiple times a day, and were horrendous to experience. It’s hard to describe what it feels like as a parent in that moment—the helplessness you feel as you watch the thing you love most in the universe suffer. And also just the spectacle of it all—I remember vividly trying to check out at Food Lion and she had one while sitting in the cart. I had to stop what I was doing to pick her up and hold her for a couple minutes until it stopped, and everyone around was just watching us, unsure what was happening or how to react. Doctors were puzzled by her—her brain scans are very abnormal, and unlike other cases of epilepsy they saw. We went to specialists, then even more specialists, then got our whole genome sequenced. For about 2 months, we were waiting for results to tell us whether or not she had a genetic syndrome that was fatal by age 5. She had a lot of the markers for it, and we were waiting to see if her DNA was consistent with it. I’ve never felt pain like I experienced during that time. I remember telling my pastor that I felt like Abraham—who prayed for years for his perfect little boy, and then was asked by God to give him up. And he responded by saying “But remember what happened? He didn’t end up having to give him up. God provided.” And then he showed up on my doorstep with a couple days later with a stuffed ram as a gift for Annabelle. We all know we have to trust God with our lives, with our plans, with those we love. But I’ve never had to do it in the way that I did during that time. 

And, during that time while Annabelle was hospitalized, struggling, being tested, and still having daily seizures, I started to think I might have depression again. I was having mood swings, didn’t want to eat, was so tired. So I thought I should go see a doctor and maybe get back on antidepressants. But we knew the doctor’s first question would be to ask if there was any chance I was pregnant, so I wanted to rule that out before we went. Surprise! I saw the double lines and nearly fainted. You couldn’t have scripted worse timing. I was drowning, and now I’m being handed a baby? I had a hard time bonding with her while pregnant. Fear overwhelmed me. I kept being scared something would be wrong with her, that I would get depression again, that I wouldn’t be able to care for Annabelle well because I would have this baby to care for. And then, she was born—all 10 pounds of her, fast and furious with only 5 hours of labor and 1 push. And she was lovely from the start. I loved her immediately and fully. But only a couple hours after birth, she wasn’t breathing well. And then they ran some tests and thought something was wrong with her heart. So doctors came and told me in calm voices and tones that she would be transferred to another hospital without me. That Matt could accompany the ambulance behind her and call me when he got there. But I had already been through the possibility of losing a child, and I wasn’t about to lose one and not be there with her while she died. So, only 6 hours after giving birth, I got discharged, signed a paper saying they weren’t liable if Allie died in transit, gave her a kiss, got in the car and drove to Norfolk. We closed the door, and just sobbed. It felt like God was asking us, yet again, to trust him at a new level with this tiny little person I had just learned to love. She ended up being perfectly fine—it was just complications from her large size and fast birth. But that experience is one I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

 
So, needless to say, my life turned out nothing like I expected. Here I am, a stay at home mom with 3 healthy, and beautiful kids. God has just unraveled my plans over and over and over again, and has handed me different ones—his. 

But not only has he unraveled my plans, he’s also unraveled my heart. It’s virtually impossible to put into words the changes that Jesus has brought me and the work that he’s doing inside this broken, messy life of mine. But the biggest one I’ve noticed is the realization, slowly and overtime, that it isn’t my life. That I’m not the center of the universe. That God has plans and is working on things so much bigger than myself and I’ve learned what it looks like to trust someone with that, at least partially. 

So where does that leave me? What has it meant for me to live in light of this reality? I’ve always loved the part of the song called “Thy Mercy my God” where it says “Thy mercy is more than a match for my heart, which wonders to feel its own hardness depart.” I look back even over the short number of years I’ve lived and my heart is so much softer than it was 5, 10, or 15 years ago. God promises to take our hearts of stone and replace them with hearts of flesh, and you know what? Fleshy hearts bleed more. They cry more. They bruise more. Not only over their own struggles, but over the struggles of others and the brokenness of the world. They're more like Jesus—-the man of sorrows, who entered the world and wept with us. So I’ve seen God working on me and I know he will continue to do that. I have an image of a sculptor working on a statue, and every time he chisels away a bit of the rock, it exposes a tiny piece of flesh underneath. 

So, though that process, I’m slowly losing grip on my plans, on my heart, and on my life as he chisels away parts of me, but God is showing me that I can trust him with all of those. I know that God will continue to wreck my plans again and again, and he will continue to show me places where my heart is hard and it needs to be replaced. But that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? That we aren’t in control; He is. 

Anxiety/Depression

It is now no secret to anyone that knows me that I suffered from Postpartum Depression/Panic Disorder after my son was born. Mercifully, I can confidently say that part of my life is now behind me and I am fully recovered from this awful, awful condition. 

Since that time, I have been pretty open about my experiences and as a result have talked with many folks about their similar struggles with anxiety, depression, and other issues whether related to the birth of a child or not. And guess what. LOTS of us struggle with this. And I mean lots. For awhile, I was having conversations almost daily with new people about their struggles, and a common theme emerged. We all think we are the only ones struggling with this. YOU AREN'T ALONE. Of course, most shared their struggle with me in confidence so I would never share it with others, but there were so many people I knew, that knew each other, that were sharing with me how alone they felt. And the whole time I kept thinking..."This other person you know and love is struggling with this too! I wish you would talk to each other about it!!" 

So. Let's talk about it. You're anxious. You're depressed. You're having panic attacks. You can't sleep. You don't want to get up in the morning. You have lost your love for your life. What should you do?  How do we treat this debilitating condition? I can't speak about your specific situation, but I can tell you what helped me. While ultimately my healing came from God, there are a bunch of practical things you can do right now, today, to help. So here we go. 

1) Consider medication. If you have been feeling severely anxious, having panic attacks, feeling depressed, are unable to get out of bed, have lost hope for the future, or in any way have considered taking your own life, please go see a doctor immediately. A prescription for antidepressants was the thing that helped me most to recover. I was terrified to take them (it's ironic that you have to decide to overcome the anxiety of taking them to help with your anxiety), but I had no major side effects and they helped me tremendously. And guess what? My fears of being completely numbed of all emotion and having to take them for the rest of my life didn't come true. I am fully off medication now and am perfectly fine. 

2) Take care of yourself. This one is particularly hard for those with PPD, because having a newborn in your life means that by default you don't get to care for yourself the way you want to. But you NEED to prioritize yourself in order to care well for your baby. A depressed and anxious mom does a baby no good. And, if you don't have a newborn in your life, you still need to care for yourself well in order to care for anyone else in your life, like friends, spouses, children, parents, etc. It is not selfish to ensure you get the care you need. I found this image, and I literally printed it out and put it on my refrigerator. When I was having a bad day, I went, one by one, down the list and did what it said. I felt silly doing it--I felt like I was a child or something. But. It is amazing the difference a glass of water, a snack, a shower, and a phone call to a friend can make. Usually by the time I got down to number 10, I felt so much better. 

3) Sing.  This one might sound silly to you and it might not work for you, but it was a huge help to me. I love music, and I love song lyrics. It is amazing how easily they get stuck in your head. So use that!! Pick a couple songs with very encouraging words. For me, these were worship songs that spoke truths that I needed to hear. They need to be songs you know well enough that you can sing them in your head at any moment. And then whenever I had a panic attack, I forced my brain to sing those words over and over again. If I was alone, I sang them out loud, but if I was in a group or in public, I just went over and over them in my head, and forced myself to dwell on them. Music is powerful and it can help you. Did you know that when Jesus was on the cross and experiencing immense suffering, he quoted lyrics to a song from his childhood? Even the perfect man used songs to get through difficulties and suffering. 

4) Write. Another thing that helped me was writing out scripture. There were a few Psalms in particular that helped me—when I would write, it forced my brain to calm down and focus on what I was writing—both what it said and just the physical act of doing it. Here are just a couple of my "go to" Psalms: 

• Psalm 23: I like coming back to this one because it is so familiar that I can quote it from memory. I use this one often in the middle of the night to combat any anxious thoughts when I don't have the energy or ability to actually get out my Bible, or write anything down. 
• Psalm 6: This one was helpful on days where I just needed to vent to God about how awful I felt. It is so encouraging that the Bible includes desperate language--God WANTS to hear your desperate and/or angry prayers. I used this as a jumping off point for prayer, and added all my specific personal prayers to it. 
• Psalm 22: This was the one I went back to the most. Verses 1 and 2 of this one are the song lyrics I talked about that Jesus quoted from the cross, so that was comforting to me. God knows how it feels to feel abandoned and desperate...so much so that he prayed this prayer! Verse 22 was an encouragement to me--David says that after God delivers and helps him, he will proclaim how good God is to everyone he meets. And I have tried to do that as much as possible since God gave me relief. He is there with you, and he will continue to be there with you as long as this trial continues. He doesn't promise that it will end quickly, but he does promise that you won't be going through this alone, and I am proof of that. God was with me in my darkest hours, and he is with you too! 
• Psalm 27: This one is helpful to remind yourself of what is true. 

5) Talk. Don't go through this alone. You are not the only one who has suffered, and others in your life WANT to help you. You need someone you can call at any time of day--ideally a spouse or a friend that lives with you or is in very close proximity. I would wake Matt up in the middle of the night or text him during work when I was panicking and he would drop everything and help me. He told me things I knew were true but were veiled from me by my fear (you are strong, no one is judging you, you are not alone, there is no reason to panic, etc. etc). I cannot say enough how thankful I am for Matt and his support. So picking someone who can be that for you and can be “on call” day and night would really help. Now, when I occasionally still get anxious (usually in the middle of the night) I don’t even have to wake him because I can already hear his voice in my head. It’s beautiful. Beyond just a friend to talk to, consider a professional. Consider counseling. It is not going to hurt to bring in an objective third party to help you sort through your emotions and figure out a game plan for your specific situation. Just do it. Don't be too proud to reach out for some help. 

Lastly, but importantly, remember that this is temporary. You will not always feel like this. Life is GOING to change. That can be hard to believe, but it is true and I am living proof of that. You can change and things can get better. This is a disease, and it is not who you are. You are not "a depressed person," you are a person suffering from depression. That is a subtle but very important difference. You are not defined by this suffering. You may have a quick and complete recovery, or you may struggle with this for quite a while, but you are not helpless or defenseless and there are lots of steps you can take to feel better. 

Please. If you don't have anyone else to talk to, write me, call me, text me, knock on my door, or send me a smoke signal if you need help. I know how you feel. I have been there. I know what it is to wake up dreading the day and wishing for it to be over, but then the moment the sun starts setting, to dread the long night ahead. When I was suffering, a friend of a friend that I had never met who lived in another state said they would fly to me to help me if I didn't have any one else. I thought that was a crazy offer at the time, but now I understand. Having gone through this, I would do anything to help someone else not suffer the way that I did, or to try to ease that suffering as much as possible. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. 

Love,
Kathleen 

Jackson Levi

Oh, Jackson. How you've changed my life. You've changed who I am, what I do, and virtually every aspect of my existence. You came screaming into my world and I will never be the same.

I remember my first look at you. You were staring at me with intensity, with a look that said "Whoa...what just happened?!?" and I looked back at you with that same identical look. We both cried. And I remember that seconds after you were born, I looked up at your dad, and he immediately teared up and was staring at you with a combination of fascination, fear, and overwhelming love in his eyes.

And then he looked at me, and I will never ever forget that moment where we locked eyes and simultaneously realized that we were now parents. The emotions were simply overwhelming. I don't even remember anything that happened after that--the stitches, the pain, frenzy of activity in the room. I only remember holding you on my chest, staring at the top of your cone-shaped head, and never wanting to let go. Just in shock as to what had happened and unsure what to do now, but knowing that I didn't want anyone to take you away from me, even to weigh you or clean you up. You were mine, and that was all I knew.

Then, the hard part came. Getting through the next month. I had no idea how difficult it would be. Pregnancy had been hard, labor and delivery had CERTAINLY been hard, but those were nothing compared to the next month. Jackson, please never doubt that I love you. If you had been there with us (of course, you were there, but if you'd been able to really experience it) you would know. I've never been so tired. So emotional. So raw. I was in physical pain, of course, but the hormone changes and the sleep deprivation turned me into a person I've never been before. I was anxious, every moment, about you. Even when I had the opportunity, I couldn't sleep. Were you eating enough? Were you sleeping enough? Were you gaining enough weight? Were we being good parents to you? Were you thriving? Were you happy? And sometimes the answer to some of those questions was no.

One time, in the hospital, you had a scare where for a brief moment we thought we might lose you. And I've never been so scared in my life as when that happened. Scarier than breaking my arms. Scarier than hiking on a narrow path 2,000 feet up. Scarier than getting married, being left alone for the first time at college, or anything else I'd ever experienced. My heart was wrenching in my chest. I couldn't breathe. And anytime you cried, I was physically in pain. I would do anything to make it stop. Anything.

And now, looking at you at 7 weeks old, you already seem like a totally different person from the day I met you. You're smiling, laughing, observing the world, (slowly) learning to put yourself to sleep. You bring so much joy to everyone around you, including me. You've cheered your Pop Pop while he goes through chemo. You've cheered your Mimi while she cares for your great-grandma. You've encouraged your grandma as she stresses over planning a wedding. You've made your dad smile after an especially long day at work.

And you are SO loved. You should have been there for your baby showers, Jackson. The whole world (or at least our whole world) showed up and gave you gifts. Mountains of gifts. Our friends and family were so excited about you that we had to come up with more things to add to our baby registry because everything had already been bought. People that you still haven't met knitted you blankets. Do you know how long it takes to knit a blanket, Jackson? And they did that for you. Before they'd even met you.

And, through it all, God has been so gracious. Did you know that is what your name means? "God has been gracious." There have been so many desperate moments, Jackson, where I didn't think I was going to make it through this past month, and God has carried me. One night, I was crying, desperate because I'd been up without sleeping for days, and I begged God to be kind and let me get some sleep. I went to bed thinking, well if that happens, it will be a miracle. And then, you slept for 4 hours. That was the first time I'd had more than 1-2 hours of sleep since you'd been born. And I cried again when I woke up because God had been gracious. He'd answered my prayer even though I didn't deserve it and all the circumstances pointed the other direction.

I've prayed more these last 7 weeks than I have in the last year. And you've helped me do that. And even though it has been the absolute hardest thing I've ever done, I'm so thankful for you. You're helping God to shave away my rough edges, even though I'm kicking and screaming about it the whole way. I simply can't wait to see who you will become. We love you so much, Jackson Levi.

Parents.

A teenager I know confided in me a few weeks ago that she feels her parents are disappointed in her. That she is not living up to their expectations and that it hurt her heart. I think her exact words were something like, with tears in her eyes, "I'm not sure they really love me, and I think they want me to be different before they will really be proud of me."

And, as I teared up with her, my thoughts (and my hands) instinctively went to my belly. Oh, honey, I thought. You have no idea. You have no idea how much your parents love you. Pray for you. Worry over you. Dream about you. Work for you. Cry with and for you. Physically feel your pain as you're hurting. You have no idea how their love for each other is manifested in you---how much you are the culmination of everything they have been working for their entire lives. You have no idea how fully intertwined your happiness is with theirs. How they cannot even imagine life without you. How they would take a bullet without even thinking about it for you. How they would give their kidneys for you. And images, like flashes, came into my head of the (I'm sure) hundreds of sleepless nights, thousands of diaper changes, endless meals, unrelenting laundry, (and the list goes on and on and on) that these parents had done for this child.

I was thinking, you have no idea how ridiculous that statement is that you are making. They could not possibly love you any more, and there is absolutely nothing you could do that would change that love. And they have proven it to you over and over again--how could you possibly not know that they love you like this?

And then. It hit me. God describes himself as our Father----as our parent. And I was suddenly convicted. How many times have I asked this exact question about God? How many times have I wondered, "Does He really love me, or is He mostly just tolerating me?" How many times have I thought I needed to get my act together in a certain area of my life, etc. before I could come talk to Him? How many tears have I shed that were just as ridiculous as this young girl's?

God is our parent. He loves us in this self-sacrificial, fierce, almost ridiculous way that parents love their children. It is an active love, one that goes through pain and suffering for His children. One that aches for relationship with them. One that would do anything, even give up His own life, to be with you. The current you---not the "new and improved" you that you hope will one day exist. I hope you know that and dwell on that today. It was very convicting and encouraging to me.

That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.

This Christmas season has me thinking a little more than others have in the past couple years, about all kinds of things. Maybe it's the pregnancy hormones, but I keep thinking about how maybe I'm not so sad if we stop using the word "Christmas" too much. Like, if we call our office Christmas party a "Holiday Party," maybe that's good. Because it isn't really celebrating the true Christmas. Christmas is so much more than some sweet stories about a star and a baby, shepherd costumes, and family time and gifts. Christmas is the most important event in all of humanity, with the exception of Easter. So maybe if we are not actually talking about Jesus, it's okay to use these other terms. Because the reason we celebrate is because God has come to us. Not because we have a great family, or because we have some fun experiences and feel warm and cozy around the holidays. A God that loves us proved that he was in control of the world and made a promise that He was going to right all wrongs, at Christmas. And that is what we're celebrating. The fact that love broke through.

The one thing I have learned so far in my 14 weeks of "parenthood" is how good of an illusion of control I had in my life before this. The reality is that I am 100% dependent upon God to keep this little one healthy and developing, and there is really nothing I can do to control it. This has always been true for everything in my life, but this baby has put that into focus. Friends, God is in control. Of my child's development, of your career, of your family members' health, of your broken relationships, of your loneliness, of your life. And that is terrifying. Until we realize the personality of the one in control.

Someone is in control that loves you so much that He came here, for you. The God of the universe, the one that created you, that created the Grand Canyon, that created the stars, set aside heaven, with all its relational perfection, with all its peace and joy, with all its wholeness and beauty, and came here, to earth. To be born under scandalous circumstances to a poor young family. To grow up and learn to be obedient, even to broken parents. To be homeless and penniless, without a single asset to his name. To be single and never make it to the age of 40. To be betrayed by his best friends. To be discriminated against by the criminal justice system. To be executed, painfully, as a criminal, while his executioners bartered for his clothes. And he did all that. For you. To live the life you should have lived, but didn't. To die the death you deserved to die. And He did this, not only for you, but so that he could begin the process of weaving the world back together again. So that he could start the long and sometimes painful process of turning our hearts back to the shape and size they were meant to be. So that he can rid our hearts of the icky things inside of them and replace them with beautiful things like patience, humility, joy, hope, and love.

And one day he will bring you Home. To the real home that you have been longing for. One where you don't have to watch your family members get put into the ground. One where love doesn't ultimately break your heart but rather dismisses your fears. And It's almost too hard to believe that there will one day be a time when all that is lost will ever be found. There's too much roughness and pain in the world to think that it could ever be righted. But that's what we're promised. And that's what I believe. That one day, every tear will be wiped away from our faces, and that there will be no more pain or tears or loneliness or sinfulness.

And that's what Christmas is all about. That God has come. That he saved us from ourselves. And that the little baby born in Bethlehem over 2,000 years ago was the first flicker of a new world that is still yet to come.

"And the first time that You opened Your eyes
Did You realize that You would be my Savior?
And the first breath that left Your lips
Did You know that it would change this world forever?

And I, I celebrate the day that You were born to die
So I could one day pray for You to save my life"

Grandma

Back in February, I lost my grandmother to a battle with cancer. It was awful. Watching someone you love suffer like that is horrendous. There is a loss of dignity that comes with death that is hard to encapsulate in words. It is simultaneously maddening and helpless. 

As our family was making arrangements for the funeral, my dad asked me if I was interested in saying anything. I immediately said no, worrying about my ability to keep my cool in front of all those people, and figuring that others would cover what I wanted to say.

Then, the more time that went on, I felt God pull at me. I rarely say things like that, but I really did feel that God was leading me to say something at the funeral. I couldn't sleep that Saturday morning, so I got up, went downstairs, sat at the computer, and within 15 minutes had written what I was going to say, and I am so thankful that I did it. I was given 5 minutes at a microphone in front of my family, friends, and coworkers to simply and purely share the gospel and the hope that it brings in the face of pain like this. And I'm so thankful for that opportunity. 

Here's what I said. 

When I got the news on Friday morning that my grandma had passed away, I was in New York for a business meeting. I found myself in the midst of flight cancellations and delays on the way home that afternoon, and spent about 2 hours waiting on the tarmac for my plane to take off. The entire time I waited there, my constant thought was “I just need to get home.” Over and over I just kept thinking, if I can just get home, everything will be alright. Finally, the plane took off, landed, and I drove straight to a family dinner. I walked in out of the lonely blistering cold to a room filled with people that I love, who immediately embraced me, ate with me, reminisced with me, and cried with me. It was beautiful.

As I reflected on this, I couldn’t help but think that my grandma had been waiting too, and I’m sure the thought that encompassed her during these last couple weeks and months was that she too just wanted to get home. Her REAL home. Because I think deep down, we all know that this life as we’re living it now isn’t what we were truly made for. We all know that people we love are not supposed to get sick, struggle, or die. Neighbors and friends aren’t supposed to be at odds with each other. Family relationships aren’t supposed to be broken. Our hearts aren’t meant to be filled with jealousy, hatred, and anger. None of this was supposed to be this way. And we know that, too, because there was a time when God—the God who created the world—came and lived here with us on Earth. And you know what he spent much of his time doing? Crying. The Bible calls Jesus the “Man of Sorrows.” He wept over the brokenness of this place, and over the brokenness of our hearts.

And He died so that things wouldn’t have to stay this way forever. Jesus lived a perfect life, but was killed as a criminal anyway to pay for the sin that lives in the hearts of those who believe in Him. And then, the craziest part is that after He died, He actually rose from the dead. Now, He is beginning to weave this world back into the place it is intended to be, and when my grandmother woke up on Friday morning, she was with Him. This weekend was the best weekend she’s ever had, because she’s finally home. And one day, Jesus is coming again to put everything right and bring all his people home with him. The Bible says that He will wipe away every tear from our eyes, and that there will be no more funerals like this one, but only wedding feasts, and that we’ll live with Him forever. I’m confident that I will see my grandmother again. And not only that, but I will hug her, laugh with her, eat with her, enjoy a glass of wine with her, and maybe even scratch lotto tickets with her. And we’ll finally be home.

I was blessed to have my grandmother for the first 26 years of my life, and I'm certainly going to miss her. But I'm happier to say that I will see her again. 

Her house 

Movin' On Up

After we finished our wainscoting project, we immediately started thinking about what home project on our list would be next. We ended up deciding that furniture for the music/foster kitten/storage/christmas tree/foster dog/exercise room (also known as our formal living room) was next up on the list. So, we've been scouting various furniture websites and stores without much luck.

Then, on Valentine's Day, we decided to have an extremely romantic date and head to Costco. While we were loading a box of 800,000 K-cups into our cart, a sectional sofa caught our eye. Not only did it look comfortable, the right size, and the right color, but it had been marked down more than $200, making it extremely affordable. We flopped down onto it, talked for about 2 minutes, and said...SOLD!

We grabbed a friend's truck, and because it is a sectional, each piece wasn't heavy at all and we had all the pieces loaded and unloaded by ourselves in no time. One of our friends has dubbed it the "cuddle zone" and I totally agree. It is SOOOOOO comfortable, and I've already taken a nap on it, watched tv on it, played guitar on it, and read books on it so I'd say it's a keeper! It also allows us to use the Mac as a "TV" and watch Netflix or stream shows online, which has been really fun.

Here it is after we "accessorized" it a bit with things we already had around the house. 

The only pieces left in this room are to figure out the wall color, get an area rug (this one is here only temporarily), and figure out wall hangings.

But I'm excited to finally say, after 2 years, that there are no more empty rooms in our house...which is a big deal for us, considering that we'd previously been apartment dwellers with virtually no furniture.