Not so in haste, my heart…

Not so in haste, my heart!
Have faith in God and wait;
Although He linger long,
He never comes too late.

He never cometh late;
He knoweth what is best;
Vex not thyself in vain;
Until he cometh, rest.

Until He cometh, rest,
Nor grudge the hours that roll;
The feet that wait for God
Are soonest at the goal.

Are soonest at the goal
That is not gained by speed;
Then hold thee still, my heart,
For I shall wait His lead.

My vision and desire for ministry and life this year

May God give me the grace and courage to love others well.

“Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we’re called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly.

We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she’s known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true.

We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don’t get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won’t solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we’re called home.”

(Jamie Tworkowski, To Write Love on Her Arms)

A Voice of Truth

You know you’ve read a good book when you’re still crying 10 minutes after finishing the last page.

I just finished The Help. And tears are running down my face.

This book came out a couple years ago and I remember it shooting to the top of the bestseller lists and it seemed every book club in America had in in their hands. Everyone said, “Oh, you have to read The Help, it’s amazing.” But like with most things, I have to do it on my own time, in my own way. I’m funny with books – I have to wait to read them until I feel like it’s time for me to read them. I’ve gotta be in the mood or I know it won’t hit me the same way. I knew that I was probably going to read The Help but I wasn’t feeling it yet. The subject matter seemed heavy and I wasn’t sure I could handle it. And I hate to admit it, but when I found out it was about black maids in the south in the 1960s, I thought, “Eh, it’s been done before…kinda over it.”

Wow.

I’m glad I chose to read this book when I did. This summer has been wonderful – so incredibly relaxing and full of time to lay in bed or by the pool or in a big chair at Ben Haven with a good book. I love love reading, but during the hustle and bustle of the school year, I forget that. It seems easier turning on the tv then actually doing the work of moving my eyes across a page. But it usually only takes one good book that I can’t put down to remind me of our splendid love affair. So this upcoming school year when I come home dog-tired from a long day with insane pre-teens, I’m gonna pick up a good book and let it sweep me away.

But I digress.

I have such affection for the author of The Help, Kathryn Stockett. She wrote something in her own words at the end of the book, talking about her experience growing up in Jackson, Mississippi and her relationship with their black maid. I know that she wrote the story for that maid and it made the book even more real and powerful to me. I don’t want to give away the story because you should stop right now and head down to the library or local bookstore and get reading…but I will say that it tells an incredible story of race, class, love, identity, humility and charity. There are three narrators and each one is given a unique voice that you come to know and love. Woven through the words on the page is a tale of what it really means to be a human being and how to love each other well. Here’s one of my favorite parts from the end of the book, where one of the main characters, a maid named Aibileen is talking to the young girl she’s been taking care of:

“Baby girl,” I say. “I need you to remember everthing I told you. Do you remember what I told you?”

Still crying steady, but the hiccups is gone. “To wipe my bottom good when I’m done?”

“No, baby, the other. About what you are.”

I look deep into her rich brown eyes and she look into mine. Law, she got old-soul eyes, like she done lived a thousand years. And I swear I see, down inside, the woman she gone grow up to be. A flash from the future. She is tall and straight. She is proud. She got a better haircut. And she is remembering the words I put in her head. Remembering as a full-grown woman.

And then she say it, just like I need her to. “You is kind,” she say, “you is smart. You is important.”

I love this for so many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that Aibileen told this girl over and over who she was on the inside. There was no mention of her looks or abilities, but simply her character. Aibileen was a voice of truth in Mae Mobley’s head that she will carry with her the rest of her life.

And I realize I want to be a voice of truth to people in my life. I want to help my students, my friends, and my family know and believe who they really are. First, I want to be with them, listen to them, learn to see them. And then I want to call that indentity forth in them and remind them of who they are when they forget. It is so easy to try to conform to what people want us to be, to let hurtful words and actions tell us who we are. But if we have people in our lives who can say, “No, stop right there…I see you and this is who you are,” that is in incredible gift. And how much more incredible is it to have the opportunity to say that to someone you love.

I’ve spent a lot of my years letting different things tell me who I am. I’ve constantly looked around for something, anything, to define me or give me worth, whether it be a talent or gift or how I look on the outside. It’s hard to simply rest in being Kate and know that who I am inside is enough. But thankfully I’ve heard truth from people in my life who have stopped me and reminded me of who I am.

And of course, the most important Voice, the One I want to listen to above all, is the coming from the One who created me. The One who knows me inside and out and constantly reminds me that I am His. He tells me a different story than what the world tells me. He calls me His beloved and says that His desire is for me (Song of Sol. 7:10). He says who I am is quite enough. And its because I hear Him telling me this that I am compelled to take the truth to others. I want to look compassionately into the eyes of a broken teenager and share with them the love of the One who created them and is waiting to tell them who they are. Like Aibileen did with sweet Mae Mobley, I want to tell my loved ones over and over the truth of who they are, until it sinks down into their hearts, that who they are is enough.

Because I don’t know if there’s much greater joy in life than getting the chance to truly see a person and love them well. Sometimes we can’t see who we are, sometimes we forget…so let’s remind each other and be a voice of truth. Let’s tell a different story.

Where My Heart Is

On Sunday I had a very surreal, bittersweet experience. I walked through each room of my parent’s house at 667 Cross Creek Drive and said goodbye. Goodbye to the house that we’ve lived in since I was a sophomore in high school – the longest we’ve ever been anywhere. I stood in each place and, like a movie montage with Coldplay playing in the background, images flashed through my mind of sweet moments in each spot. Cooking in our wonderful kitchen; drinking coffee while lounging on the big leather sofas in the family room; enjoying many holiday dinners around the dining room table; talking on the phone for hours on end and playing the grand piano in the living room; watching episode after episode of LOST with my siblings in the study; having my very own room and bathroom – a teenage girl’s dream; sleepovers and scary movies in the basement; reading in the sun room; laying in the hammock in the backyard; and one of my favorites – sitting on the back porch during each season of my life, looking up at the trees and having long conversations with God. I did so much growing up in that house. It’s home and that’s how I’ll always think of it.

But life goes on and now that we have wonderful Ben Haven (our refuge on the Blue Ridge Parkway) and Mom and Dad are empty-nesters, there’s really no need for such a big space. It’s time for another chapter, time to move on.

I must admit that I’m sad to say goodbye to this piece of my adolescence and young-adulthood. This move feels different than all the rest. You see, we Refvems have done this before. We’ve moved. A lot. The majority of my childhood was spent changing towns or schools every couple of years. We’ve gone from California, to Virginia, to Mississippi, back to California, to Texas, back to California yet again and then to North Carolina. I went to 6 elementary schools and lived in 8 houses from birth to high school graduation. So when we moved to Cross Creek Drive when I was 15, it didn’t have some earth-shattering significance for me. I was glad we had the bigger space (there are 7 of us in my immediate family), but I’d learned not to get too attached. But lo and behold, Bill and Joanna stayed put…for 13 years. That’s huge. It just so happens that this house is where we’ve been the longest, where I didn’t necessarily “grow up” but I did a lot of “growing up.” I became fond of the big brick house at the end of the neighborhood and I like that we found a resting place for so many years.

I know that wherever my parents live next – the condo? a loft in downtown Mt. Airy? – will feel just as much like home. As soon as all of our things fill up the space and my parents begin to live life, it will become ours. It will smell like us and have the same pictures on the wall and books on the shelves. And of course, home is made up of people, not places and things and I’m thankful that my home is 6 people whom I absolutely adore. We’ll always be together, no matter what roof is over our head.

I might not be so good with change and I happen to be a pretty big homebody – not a good combination for this latest development – but with my loveable family providing me with an ever growing and dynamic home base, I can truly say I am excited about what the next chapter holds. It’s a bittersweet close to this one, but hopefully in the forthcoming pages there’ll be some weddings and some babies and some holidays at Ben Haven and family trips to England and California. I know there will be laughter and tears and hugs and fights and making-up and holding on and letting go. That’s where the real story happens, in our lives and hearts, with the walls surrounding us merely echoing what they’ve seen and heard.

So, farewell, dear house. You’ve been good to us and we’ll miss you.

And to Dad, Mom, Will, Emma, Jill and Charlotte – thank you for loving me without ceasing and giving me a nurturing space to grow into the woman I’m meant to be. You are my home and you are where my heart is.

Hold My Heart

Does anybody know how to hold my heart?

How to hold my heart

‘Cause I don’t wanna let go, let go, let go too soon

I wanna tell you so before the sun goes dark

How to hold my heart

‘Cause I don’t wanna let go, let go, let go of you

Last night I got the chance to see Sara Bareilles perform at Wake Forest – it was so great. I found out Monday night she would be there on Tuesday and so I quickly found someone to cover my shift at Salem, got my friend Linda to buy a ticket with me and Tuesday night we found ourselves in the presence of good music. Sara is so talented with this powerhouse voice and so much of me wants her life. How awesome to be on stage, playing the piano and guitar, interacting with the audience and sharing your heart. Too bad my calling seems to be with middle schoolers instead!

The song above was probably my favorite of the night. It kind of has this melancholy feel to it and I’m always a sucker for bittersweet songs. I love the lyrics because they so clearly reveal how I feel at this stage of my life. As a single woman, I often wonder if there’s anyone who will truly get to know me and know what to do with my heart. It’s a fragile precious thing and letting someone have a part of it is risky. For Christians, peace comes in knowing that our hearts are in complete safety in the arms of our Father and so I am comforted knowing that no matter what, He knows how to hold my heart. Oh how I wish everyone in the world knew this. Let’s tell them.

But back to life lately. Like I said before, it seems my calling for now is to spend my days with middle school kids. This week I just had to laugh because I bet if we compared our work days, you would not encounter the following: seeing a 14-year-old boy’s hind-quarters in the hallway because one of his friends pulled his pants down; having to confiscate boxing gloves after one of the students brought them for the culture fair and everyone wanted to be Rocky; hearing burps and farts on a regular basis; constantly having to tell people not to touch each other, especially members of the opposite sex. See what I mean? Never a dull moment. Bet you wish you didn’t have to sit and stare at a computer all day, huh? Spend a day with me and you’ll probably want to go running for the hills, but you might also see some cool things that make me come back for more. Like talking to kids at lunch about their weekend plans and what they want to be when they grow up. Like having kids tell me I look beautiful today. Like having kids come up to me, say “Guess what?” and start rattling off the latest news in their lives. Like watching some boys try to complete a Rubik’s cube with a step-by-step guide and laughing with them when they just can’t get it. These and many more moments keep me coming back for more.

Looking at that, I can’t believe how far I’ve come this year. I hope I never have to repeat the first three months of this experience again because nothing else in my life has brought me to my knees more dramatically. I know what it’s like to be ridiculed and disrespected and sometimes even despised. But I also know what happens when you push through and come out the other side when these kids finally trust you and maybe let you in a little bit. And I’ve gotten to know Jesus in a whole new way and understand what He calls us to as disciples (Matthew 10).

A while back I wanted to be on Young Life staff more than anything. I was convinced that full-time ministry was my calling, but it just never seemed to be the right time. I had so many conversations with God about it and kept asking why it wasn’t happening. I prayed for Him to either change my heart or change my circumstances. I asked Him to give me a heart for teaching if that’s what He wanted me to do. Well, He did. He provided this job for me and has carried me the whole way. And somewhere along the line, I fell in love. With all of it, even the frustrating parts. I really think I’m where I need to be right now. I’ve also learned to live in the present and not worry so much about what’s too come. He’ll take care of that. Instead of searching for the “perfect” job (which doesn’t exist), I need to buckle down and do the hard work of being a young teacher. Then maybe cool opportunities will come along someday. Or maybe I’ll just be a teacher for 30 years and know that I’ve touched a few lives along the way.

But for now, I will keep going back to Ferndale Middle School and attempt to bring some light into the darkness. I will keep going for the kids and for Jesus. Because I’ve learned to trust Him more and He’s the one who really knows how to hold my heart.