something old, something new

My handsome husband, a UT blanket and Christmas lights on our first night.

We thought we were old-house people when we began searching for our first married home. We looked at new apartments with working appliances, closet space and parking spots, but somehow, those didn't feel right. We found our little shotgun house on Craiglist, and through a series of fortunate events and God's infinite provision, we started renting it three weeks later.

I remember walking in for the first time and beginning to mentally place my own things in a space that wasn't mine yet. I consistently choose character over functionality when it comes to most things in my life, so Keller was not surprised when I fell hard for this strange, tiny house with hardwood floors and lots of windows in about two seconds.  In typical Katie fashion, I looked past all the projects and plaster and jumped right into a world of gallery walls and storage solutions.

Anyway, let me get something straight: I love our little house--more than closet space and a stove that works perfectly all the time. But it is WORK. And here I am, a month into marriage, staring at apple-green walls that need to be painted and stacks of clothes that are still on the floor because we're waiting for the hanging racks to be shipped. The plaster needs to be redone a little bit (the house was built in the 50s) and the oven doesn't actually tell me when it's done pre-heating. Also, sometimes you look down and realize that there is not a place for the roll of toilet paper, so back to the hardware store you go.  There's a lot of guesswork with this house, but it is ours. It's the home we chose to spend our first years of marriage in, and so we have committed to creating a space for friends and family to feel loved in. We have prayed for hospitality, generosity and community in this home, and perfection was never part of that. So I am learning to let go of gallery walls and my search for the perfect pillows.

I am also learning to let go of the expectation that my husband will respond perfectly all the time, know exactly what I'm thinking exactly when I'm thinking it, and never sin again. I am realizing, more than ever, that he is human also, and that our favorite being married and also being best friends moments have reminded us of that.

We still fight (sometimes silly, sometimes deep, heart-wrenching sin on sin fights), and we still fight hopelessness when we are not satisfied in Jesus. But, the wonderful thing is that we are now chasing holiness, oneness and sanctification side by side. Marriage has not erased a single one of the insecurities that either of us brought into marriage, but it has made our deep need for the gospel apparent more quickly, because no matter how hard as I try, mine is only a shadow of the love and acceptance my husband will find in the cross. Oneness and covenant are the most strange and beautiful things, and I am still only in the shallowest waters of both. Perhaps that's the most breathtaking part.

So it seems that both this home and my new marriage have forced me to unclench my fists and unlock my knees a little bit more (surprise), because both are far more wonderful and more demanding than I imagined. Now, we are beyond the looking-past stage and have moved into the loving-and-nurturing-those-things-that-need-work-stage. Although both lists feel endless, this is where Jesus steps in. This is where loving God and loving one other comes in, because the gospel is more than sufficient to sustain us. I can walk in the freedom of knowing that our marriage and our home are made beautiful and God-glorifying only through the blood of Jesus. Amen and amen.

Love,
Katie

“Marriage is more than your love for each other. In your love, you see only the heaven of your own happiness, but in marriage you are placed at a post of responsibility towards the world and mankind. Your love is your own private possession, but marriage is more than something personal - it is a status, an office. Just as it is the crown, and not merely the will to rule, that makes the king, so it is marriage, and not merely your love for each other that joins you together in the sight of God and man.” 

 -John Piper  

ky

Things I'm learning about this place.

1. It is beautiful. I actually think I fell in love with the landscape before I knew anything about this city. It's beautiful (so far) in an "I-can-actually-breathe-up-here" kind of way, which I've experienced only a handful of times during my 22 years in Texas. Fall is on the way and I'm anxiously anticipating my first snowy winter. So, wherever we go in life, I think I've decided that I'd like trees to be there. Stay tuned for a post on the Smokies, with which I will surely fall in love.

2. This is where God has called me. I hate admitting this, but my journey to Kentucky has been longer and more difficult than anyone anticipated. When I felt the Lord calling me this far from home, I froze. The thought of leaving my friends, family and most of what I mistakenly believe my identity depends on petrified me. But Keller has been good enough to let me get to Kentucky at my own pace, and God has been so gracious in reminding me that I will rarely be called to easy places. This hasn't exactly looked the way I planned, (a full-time job waiting for me when I got here, a perfectly wife-ready heart) but community and sanctification are so much sweeter.

3. Waiting is good. We are in several in-between seasons at the moment, which I'm usually horrible at. In between dating and marriage, in between a part-time job and a full-time job. In between homes. We are nomads in every sense, and the Lord is teaching me to press into that. Waiting to walk into covenant with someone is good in the same way advent is good and in the same way waiting to come face to face with Jesus is good. After all, I'm literally waiting to marry my favorite person in the world. There are far worse things to wait for, you guys. Like 5 million worse things.

4. It's transforming me. I've seen more of my heart in the last two weeks than in the last several years of college. Part of it's engagement, part of it's the community we've been placed in, but most of it is the fact that God has used this (seemingly) overwhelming amount of change to dig up the most rotted, tucked-away parts of my heart. My sin is the most bitter, but life found in the spirit is sweet beyond words.  Also, bold, Christian community is terrifying and so, so good. 

5. On a semi-unrelated note--wedding planning is easier when you decide it's for the people coming to your wedding. When I started thinking of it as a chance to celebrate the people we love most in the whole world, picking caterers and cake and confetti and garlands and music became much more fun. I'm finding that wedding details are as important as you decide they are. Who knew?

Anyway, love from ky.

-Katie 

Things eternal

If I thought about eternity more often, this whole post-grad thing would be stressing me out a lot less. After all, when you know Jesus, making plans for your life is a funny thing. For 22 years, I've gotten away with seriously underestimating my God's sovereignty, but He's been gracious in reminding me that I am always weaker and more loved than I could ever imagine. The cross has a way of speaking my smallness and God's goodness all at once 

The last few months have been characterized by an unusual kind of struggle between my flesh and spirit. Between a relentless desire to control my life and a relentless savior who has better things for me. The months leading up to graduation (and the proposal) have been marked by a dark sense of fear and deep sense of joy, so I've felt petrified on my worst days and wobbly on my best. My plans to stay in Texas and pursue a comfortable career near my family and friends have gone out the window, but I have chosen adventure in the state of Kentucky with my best friend. Falling to fear is the easy, obvious choice to make, but I have the freedom to press into the gospel instead. Fear has no hold on my heart because it's been paid for in full by the blood of Christ.

Second only to the realization that I am deeply loved and chosen by a holy God, being deeply loved and chosen by another human being is the strangest and most terrifying thing that's ever happened to me. In this season of engagement, I've been awestruck at the endless threads that weave the unfathomable love between Christ and His bride within the covenant of marriage. It's intimidating to realize that Keller and I are running headfirst into this new ministry of marriage, but exhilarating to realize what responsibility we've been given in protecting something so precious. I'm convinced that there is truly nothing sweeter on earth than Christ-centered and gospel-driven love between two believers, but learning to trust this has been anything but easy. We're two sinners after all, and our sin drives us to the end of ourselves until we reach out for the help that only Jesus can give. We are learning to reach more quickly and to hold our plans more loosely.

So we wobble back and forth during engagement and remind ourselves and one another of the character of Christ, which is anything but wobbly. We lean into the cross and press ahead because our God goes before us. Into Kentucky, into job interviews, into a new season of marriage. He weaves us in, before and behind.

Love,
Katie

Things I don't know

I've been meaning to get back to blogging for a while now. Not really to document anything specific, (my life here is less glamorous than paragliding in the swiss alps) but I'm slowly realizing how much sharper my thoughts are when I use paper and ink. And as anyone who's spent time with me will tell you, my mind is organized without any particular rhyme or reason, so when I go too long without writing things down, these thoughts run themselves ragged. I feel heavier when I don't write, but when I came home after a semester in Europe, I think I needed to feel a little weighed down to something. Much as I loved traveling, I needed to cast my anchor for a little bit and just float.

So I'm back to writing, mostly for my own sanity, within the pages of this blog. As I begin my senior year of college, I'm doing my best to soak up the uncertainty. I'm determined to ride the wave instead of letting it swallow me whole because this little season of life is both entirely terrifying and entirely full of possibility. So I'm choosing certainty in the things I know and trust in the things I don't.

Things I know:

1. I find all the security I need in the cross. This security stands independent of circumstances.
2. I can walk confidently the knowledge that God is molding me to look more like Christ.
3. My job is to listen. My job is to wait.

Things I don't:

1. Where I'll be in a year.
2. What I'll be doing.
3. How I'll feel about it.

When I look at this list, I'm overwhelmed by the magnitude of each item on the second list and also pleasantly surprised by the fact that I can fit all my uncertainty into three little lines. But my first list is so much bigger than that, and there's freedom in remembering that if those are the only things I know, they're enough. Jesus is better than knowing. 

"Blessed is the man who makes the Lord his trust, who does not look to the proud, to those who turn aside to false Gods. Many, O Lord, are the wonders you have done. The things you planned for us, no one can recount to you; were I to speak and tell of them, they would be too many to declare...

Then I said, "Here I am, I have come--it is written about me in the scroll. I desire to do your will, O my God. Your law is within my heart." -Ps. 40:5-8

So we sing

I have a confession to make: I haven't been soaking up this trip the way I planned to, mostly because the last 10 weeks still feel like a dream. Hence my journaling on the trains, hence this blog, hence the pictures. I'm trying to get it all down so I can take it in slowly when the dust settles. And I've become okay with things not fitting into the neat little boxes I like to put them in. I'm learning to embrace this kind of chaos.

But then, it hit me like a tidal wave. Right in the middle of an Easter service in a church we found in Budapest, Hungary -- crashing hard over me and swallowing me completely.

First of all, Budapest wasn't even on my list of cities to see, especially not on Easter Sunday of all weekends, but sometimes plans and lists and expectations need to get thrown out the window. That's part of the deal on a trip like this. It wasn't a long train ride from Salzburg, which WAS at the top of my list thanks to the Von Trapps. So, Budapest it was. 

Anyway, I guess I'm sort of a crier at home. It's one of those things that usually correlates directly with the amount of sleep I've gotten and how hungry I am. (The combination of those two things will get me. Sorry I'm a 3 year old.) But in general, tears are not my immediate reaction to anything except Les Mis and Marley and Me. So when I walked into the church in Budapest, I was surprised and confused by the tears that met the first chords of the worship song they began to play.

They played "At the Cross," a song I've heard a million and eight times at home. But this time, on the other side of the world, surrounded by girls I didn't even know a few weeks ago, I started crying.

And I tried to get myself together, I really did. It wasn't like this was my first time in a church for goodness sake. They were the silent kind of tears. Not the out of breath, body-wracking, hysterical kind, but the kind that just keep coming anyway. 

Because I forget how big the cross is. My vision had become clouded, my scope had grown so narrow. I get so caught up with figuring out who Christ is in my own life that I lose sight of the bigger story -- the one that's not actually about me at all. I had somehow forgotten that all God's people sing the same songs, the same praises, to the same God who gives me breath every morning. And His blood covers all of us.

It seems naive, I guess--to forget that Christ died for "the sins of the whole world." I know it sounds like gospel 101, but I think the idea of "the whole world" feels heavier because I've seen more of it. More of God's people, more of their depravity, more of grace.

It was powerful to come to grips with the responsibility that comes with traveling and seeing how broken our world is and humbling to remember how broken I am too. And more than that, how Christ can meet with me right in the middle of the big story anyway. Even in Budapest, Hungary on a rainy Sunday morning, when we stumble our way through the public transportation system and into the back row of a church we've never been to.

So, if you have to go 10 weeks without going to a real church service in Europe, tears might happen. Just warning you. 

the six amigas or whatever

For a lot of this trip to make sense, I feel  it's important that you know a few things about the girls I am traveling with. They are wonderful and funny, quirky and brilliant. Strange, charming and absolutely lovely. They have seen me groggy and trying to get to the airport at 4 a.m., tired after a long day, and frustrated with the fact that I still can't read maps.

And yet, they choose to love me anyway. There's something about traveling with and living in a community this small...It doesn't leave any dark, shadowy places to hide things. It shines harsh, honest light on every part of who we were and how we treat the people around us, and it has been incredible to watch us learn how to meet each other where we fall short.

Plus, I'm quickly figuring out that it's more about those things and less about the places we go. Although that part is pretty sweet too.

1. Steph. My roommate and personal cheerleader. This girl has more energy and encouragement than she knows what to do with.  She does things like get flowers for me after a long day of class presentations or surprise me with ingredients for a roommate cooking night just because I mentioned how much I wanted to use the kitchen a few weeks ago. She's also a morning person, which is convenient since I'm not. She lets me talk her ear off really late at night as we both try to process this incredible trip and even brings me coffee from breakfast when I decide to sleep through it because she's just that great. She asks me hard, good questions, and decides to find the fact that i'm all over the place endearing instead of highly irritating.

2. Jess. A seemingly normal girl who is actually just as strange as me. Jess is a dessert girl, and will always say yes to coffee and a pastry, so naturally, we get along well. She describes her dream style as "flower child bohemian meets rocker chic," which confuses the rest of us, who are slightly less savvy with fashion lingo, but we all agree that she is, indeed, half hippie and half rockstar. And although she's great at making anything more adventurous and fun, Jess has depth and wisdom beyond her 21 and a half years. She is rooted and steady, which makes her a fantastic listener and friend. Jess is one of those people who teaches you to float through life a little more, and I am a firm believer in the fact that everyone needs one of those.

3. Mads. The listener. And arguably our most valuable player. Madison is good at making anyone feel understood without uttering a single word. I think she's the easiest of us to be around because spending time with her is energizing. She is patient and kind and gentle with all of us, even if she's frustrated that we're running behind schedule. She doesn't want to talk about the fact that the fondue place we just ate at was really sketchy and weird and that I really shouldn't drink wine in warm restaurants, but instead just gives you water and a hug, which is what you really need. Mads is good at loving people consistently and WELL. Plus, she doesn't have class on Thursdays so we usually get to go on little train station dates which is kind of the best.

4. Kels. The nurturer. Kelsey is pretty much a more responsible and collected version of myself. We love to talk about Pine Cove things and introvert things and how much we both love Jessie Carver. We probably should have become friends a long time ago, but I guess it worked out okay. She's a little hard to get to know at first, mostly because she's so determined to get to get right to the heart of people. She just asks you so many dang good questions, and all of a sudden, you realize you've been doing all the talking. Kelsey lets the way she loves Jesus pour into all her conversations and interactions with people, which is wonderful and challenging. She likes to vandalize things, snapchat and drink coffee from a cute french press that doesn't actually belong to her in her spare time.

5. Lissa. Our resident hipster/Austin girl /cool, flannel-wearing girl. Lissa is basically up for anything all the time. She's a perfect mixture of being serious and silly, which makes her one of those people that you want to bring everywhere with you. She loves books, black coffee and doing English major things like reading out loud in class, so she's automatically a great person to see the world with. Our favorite ways to communicate include passing notes during philosophy and making strange faces across the table, neither of which involve actual words. Lissa has mastered the wool socks under lace up boots with a cable knit beret thing, so I am trying to learn her ways. A christian hipster if I ever saw one.

So, they're alright. I guess.

thin places and clovers

3:45 a.m. came just as early as I expected it to. People shouldn't even be allowed to wake up then, but no one asked me when they scheduled flights out of Maastricht at 7 something in the morning.

The good news was that I was going to Ireland, so I don't really expect any sympathy for any of this. If you're going to wake up in the middle of the night, it might as well be to catch a flight to Dublin for the weekend...so it's okay that you don't feel bad for me. I don't really feel bad for me either.

Packing was a little different for this trip since we were flying, so we had cleverly (I'm just going to pat us on the back for this one) put all our big stuff in one backpack to check and had rolled up the rest of our clothes (thank you Tridelt for teaching me how to fit 5 zillion tshirts in a basket) and crammed them in our tiny carry-on bags. So now I know I can pack lightly, which good and bad because now my father also knows I don't need as many clothes when we go places.

Anyway, we all made it out to the cab on time and headed to the airport. When I stepped up to the counter with my boarding pass in hand, I learned something horrible:

I had filled in my boarding pass with "Katie" instead of "Katherine," which is the name on my passport. So yes, that's my real name for those of you who didn't know, and yes this is a stupid rule. So now I was supposed to pay 160 euros both ways to get to Dublin, and considering that our tickets had cost us about 1/10 of that, I knew it wouldn't be worth it. Fortunately, I asked the woman at the counter if she could make a call to confirm the fact that I couldn't get on the plane without paying all this money, and it turns out that it was all fine and dandy. Praise the laaaawd.

It was all uphill from there. Once we landed in Dublin, we hit the ground running. After figuring out the bus situation, we got a bus pass for the three days and went to Brewley's for a lovely little Irish breakfast of pancakes and lattes. Also, Kels and Steph got porridge with Irish honey, just like the three lil bears. Cute people and cute porridge. I love it.

Then we were off to Trinity College Library, which is far and away the most beautiful library I've ever been in. After wandering around the library and filling our lungs with the smell of old books, we went back to our hotel to check in and drop our stuff off. This is why it's important to travel with people who are into the same kind of nerdy stuff you are.

Having had a little more than 3 hours of restless sleep the night before, I was about to fall over, so we took a nap break for my sake before finding our way to the Guinness warehouse. This was obviously a little out of my element, but the warehouse was one of the most fun and interesting parts of the weekend! We finished the tour at the top of the building, which had a view that overlooked all of Dublin. After dinner at one of the best restaurants I've eaten at so far, we went back to the hotel and were asleep by 10. Also, I got a certificate that says I can "craft the perfect pint of Guinness." My mama is proud.

The next morning, we woke up early again (although it's all relative I guess...it wasn't 4) to go back to the city center, where we would be departing for our day-long tour across Ireland. The Irish countryside was incredibly green, and the rain that sprinkled on and off throughout the day felt perfectly Irish.

After stopping at a few castles and in Doolin for lunch, we finally made it to the Cliffs of Moher. The Irish call these cliffs a "thin place," which means it's a place where they believe the veil between heaven and earth is a little thinner. I don't think thin places are just supposed to be scenic--there's something about them that makes God's presence more palpable. Something that makes you stop and pray. According to random and  unreliable things I've read about it on the internet, you can't really "look" for a thin place--it finds you.

These cliffs were that for me. I don't think these pictures do them justice at all, but the ones with people in them seemed to come the closest because you can see the sheer size of what we stood beside. We had about two hours to spend exploring the cliffs, and we spent all two hours climbing around and trying not to get blown over the edge.

So that was magical Ireland. And I got back home without paying 160 euros so there's that.