love is the little things.

Friday night I helped chaperone a youth lock-in. Sometime around 4 am I fell asleep on a couch, using my coat as a blanket. Around 7 or 8 I half woke up and saw Kyle through my barely opened eyes. He smiled and asked how I was. I sleepily mumbled, "chilly." I drifted back to sleep and when I woke up Kyle had covered me with his big coat, and I felt warm and happy, and so deeply cared for.

Its always the most simple things that remind me how blessed I am.

snow day.

I love snow. In all my complaining about it getting colder as winter sets in, I had almost forgotten how truly magical winter can be. Snow paints everything in this soft, sparkly white. And suddenly our whole world looks new. It feels like we are getting a blank canvas, a fresh start. Its really amazing.

And something about being out in the snow makes me feel like such a child. It brings back memories of growing up in the snow belt in Ohio, when school would be cancelled due to freezing weather or multiple feet of snow. And it seemed like we'd spend hours upon hours outside no matter how cold it was. We'd layer multiple pairs of socks and gloves and pants, and go out in our thickest winter coats, all to build snow forts, go sledding and throw snow balls. By the time we came inside for hot chocolate we couldn't feel our fingers or toes, but it was so worth it.

As an adult, I spend way too much time inside. Choosing not to go outside either because I'm too busy, or because its too cold, or too hot, or too rainy. It's like at some point in life, we forget how to play and enjoy this magical world.

Well, this week I went on a walk through the snow, and remembered the magic. I hope you are enjoying the magic too. Let yourself play a little. It's good for the world. :)

"I am younger each year at the first snow. When I see it, suddenly, in the air, all little and white and moving; then I am in love again and very young and I believe in everything." -Anne Sexton

a trip to the art museum.

While my friend Nick from out of town was visiting me this week, I took a trip to the Nelson Adkins. I've probably been there a dozen times before, but each visit is different. It's like seeing it with new eyes. Something different always speaks to me, or something the same speaks to me again in a new way.

I know so many people who really don't like art. Modern art especially. They see a Rothko or a Picasso, and they shutter. But I entreat you, please don't say, "Oh please, I could do that! That isn't art!" First of all, you didn't do it. You probably never thought about how color itself is art. Or how obscure, sloppy shapes could say something about ourselves or our society. And even if you thought to try, would you know how to put it on canvas? Painting is difficult. Even to make a solid color or a splattered canvas demands technique for the colors to gain depth and texture. Look closer. It's not as simple as you think. Secondly (and more importantly), the point of art isn't to jump to judging if its good or bad. Let it draw you in. Let it speak. What is it saying, what is it asking? What does it make you feel? You don't have to like it. It may make you feel disgust, or anger, or worst of all, just plain boredom. For all your efforts, you may still come away thinking, "I don't understand what they are trying to do."

I'm not asking everyone to love all art. I don't love all art. But I think each of us should challenge ourselves to be open to that which is different from what we know. We should come to it, and bring our whole selves, opening our eyes and our emotions to it. To converse and dialogue with it, to really look, instead of judging first. There is such opportunity to be changed, to be made into more than what we already were.

Art teaches endlessly, effortlessly. It evokes emotions, thoughts, ideas and passions that I almost forget I am capable of. It causes me to pause, in a life where I don't pause nearly often enough. It humbles me with its beauty and power. I feel small beside it and also large, filled with its beauty and power, all at the same time.

Art it full of such vitality. It isn't just about being on a wall in a gallery or museum; and it certainly isn't about a $5000 price tag. Oldenburg wrote, "I am for art that does something other than sit on its ass in a museum. I am for art that grows up not knowing it is art at all, an art with the chance of a starting point of zero. I am for an art that embroils itself with the every day crap and still comes out on top. I am for an art that imitates the human, that IS the human. I am for art that takes its form from the lines of life itself. That twists and extends and accumulates and splits and drips and is heavy and course and blunt and old and sweet and stupid as life itself. I am for an art of underwear and taxi-cabs. I am for an art of ice-cream cones dropped on concrete. I am for the majestic art of dog-turds rising like cathedrals."

It seems to me that this isn't only talking about art. Reading this, I think: I am for Christianity that doesn't sit on its ass in church pews. I am for religious people who don't think of their own holiness all day and worry about seeming religious, but who humbly serve with love and power beyond their wildest imaginations. I am for Christianity that embroils itself with the every day people, the dirty and the difficult, and is only more beautiful because of it. I want to see a church in a state of extreme entanglement in the world. I am for seeing the divine not just in a worship service or in a building, but in human faces, human words, human actions. I am for faith that is life changing, that shakes me, that makes me look twice at the ordinary. A Church so active, so entangled with the living, that it can't help but take new shapes, cast new visions, twisting, extending, splitting and connecting in ways never dreamed of. I want a church that finds God everywhere, that builds God's kingdom in the thrown away, that sees beauty in the excrement. That makes the poor, broken, dirty, forgotten places into places of worship.

I am for church that makes me feel the way I do when I see art: startled, vulnerable, new, alive, open to richer possibilities...

being for others.

I was thumbing through a national geographic magazine a few weeks ago, and read about these amazing women and was overwhelmed by the amazing story of what they are doing in the world. These uneducated, unwealthy, discarded women in the lowest classes of India are being trained to be community health workers. For no pay, these women learn to care for others and devote their lives to caring for the health needs of their community. And what is even more amazing is that in the whole process, these women find their own power and identity, and begin to erase class lines and transform society. It's so beautiful, and it can't help but restore some of my faith in the goodness of people. I dream of doing even a fraction of the good these women do in the world.

“If you do a good job for others, you heal yourself at the same time, because a dose of joy is a spiritual cure.” - Bonhoeffer

the mittens of the future.

Like many other people out there, I have an iphone. And I love it... I use it all the time for checking e-mail, listening to music, figuring out where I am going (seriously, google maps is my life line), and, of course, texts and phone calls.

But its getting colder outside, and my fingers need the toasty warmth and comfort of a great pair of gloves. The unfortunate thing is that the touch pad on my phone won't respond to a gloved finger.... well, some wonderful people have already thought of a solution to this problem. Check out these mittens of the future.

If I was Oprah, I would definitely put these on my "favorite things" list this year.

peace, love and techno-mittens,

-katie

nolde's sea.

In Emil Nolde's "The sea" the sky looks almost dirty, with its yellow tint, as though it has a muddy brown underside.

But here in this muddy brown-black is the shock of purple and blue. It's these shades of brown, this dirty underbelly, that give the painting its power. Only such a backdrop could cause the sea and the clouds to have such luster. The coloring reveals that beauty here is a miracle -- the dirty lens suggests that it might have been ugly. It might have been nothing as all.

We need new eyes that find such beauty in muddy waters.

perspective.

I read this poem over thanksgiving, and it made me feel so hopeful. So I thought I would share.

From here
so much goes by
too fast or slow for sight.
(Is death a stretch of time in which
a life is just a flash?) Whatever
we may think, we only
think that we will lose. The fetus,

expert at attachment,
didn't dream that
cramped canal would open

into sound and light and love--
it clung. It didn't care. The future
looked like death to it from there. -Heather McHugh

This poem beautifully uncovers the limitations of our perspective. Like a fetus clinging to the womb, wanting to remain unborn, we, too, become "experts of attachment," clinging to what is familiar as if our lives depended on it. The unknown sometimes looks like a loss. From where we stand, it is surely death or a dead end. But the miracle is that when we let go of what we know, the true adventure begins. We are born into sound, and light, and love.

I don't know about you, but the possibility of all this new birth -- the knowledge that my perspective is limited-- fills me with hope. And reminds me to step into the dim and foggy future unafraid.

give thanks.

just a few blessings that make me glad to be alive, in no particular order:


kyle, the love of my life, who never fails to make me feel like I am home.
nestle semi-sweet chocolate chips.
my sister's rambling phone messages, that always me feel like she is in the next room, even when she's miles away.
my mom and dad, who believe in my choices.
dogs, with their curiosity, playfulness and loyal love.
my covenant group, who inspire me and remind me of my calling just by being who they are.
lake erie.
female friends, who make me laugh and who understand.
charlie helfert and willard spiegelman -- two undergrad professors who helped me see the world with open eyes and an open heart.
the psalms, that remind me of God's presence.
the way the air smells when seasons are shifting.
poems that open me up to the miraculous life that was right here all along.
a good cup of strong black tea. with milk.
Process Theology, that provides such vivid language to talk about faith.
sonic bevs.
Dr. Harold Washington and Dr. Young Ho Chun, who reveal the power of God's love, even when students are barely listening.
christmas music.
new opportunities.
busy streets in the city, where everyone looks like they're going somewhere, journeying down their own separate paths, together.
the 2008 election of Obama and the hope of becoming a better nation.
indian food.
the beautiful children and the interns who I've met the last two summers -- each one the living presence of jesus christ.
the open table of communion.
fresh flowers, fresh fruit, fresh vegetables -- earth's rich bounty.
football games. everything about them.
sharing a bottle of red wine and great conversation.
the community at st paul school of theology.
music that makes me dance foolishly.
london.
art books.
warm laundry, right when it come out of the dryer.
thanksgiving food. and leftovers.
zack's pumpkin roll.
the smell of wood furniture at world market.
my brother's dry sense of humor.
the Alexanders, who are my second family.
the rocky mountains.
texas, and the wonderful people who live there.


This is only the short list.
I am abundantly blessed and so very thankful.

re freaking diculous.

So, I was once a huge fan of grey's anatomy. I will admit it: it was one of my favorite shows. But what the heck has happened? Did the writers just tired of thinking of interesting medical cases, and think, "to heck with it, lets see how dumb we can make this show and keep it on the air?" It's bad. It's so so bad.

And do I still watch it? Yes. I do. I'm part of the problem, one of the many foolish viewers who keeps watching and keeps the show on the air. I alternate between laughing at it, and being rather horrified at its absurdity. Either way, its entertaining. It's like watching a train wreck. I just can't look away.

Here is a scene, where the dead man, Denny, explains to his living girlfriend, Izzie that he is real. Stupid? well, yeah. Funny? most definitely.

for the love of cooking...

Tonight, Kyle and I settled in for an evening of football, but you won't find any of the typical "game food" here (chips, hot dogs, etc.). Instead, Kyle made me homemade sushi - spicy tuna rolls to be exact. They were wonderfully delicious. One of my favorite recipes in Kyle's repertoire.

Both of us love to cook. There's so much joy in going to the grocery store, bringing home fresh ingredients, and creating something from scratch from the bounty of the produce section. (seriously, i could wander the produce section for hours -- I always stumble upon fruits and veggies I haven't even heard of, and am amazed at all the goodness that comes from the earth). Not only is cooking at home cheaper and healthier than eating out, but its so enjoyable. I love putting on music (my favorite cooking tunes are the stylingsof Billie Holiday), the rhythm of chopping vegetables on the cutting board, and the scent of sizzling spices filling up my apartment. All stress and busy thoughts seem to float away as life slows down in the kitchen.

Sadly, the last few weeks this time in the kitchen had fallen to the wayside, as schedules were filled with papers, work and other things. We've been eating out more than staying in. I'm excited that school is winding down and we will be on break for holidays. It means more time to meander the aisles at the grocery store and try out new recipes and old favorites. I'm especially excited about baking some of my favorite cookies, pies and other desserts for the holiday season. 

I stumbled on to this article  on the NPR website (two signs I'm a huge nerd: I eat sushi while watching football, and read NPR on Saturday night). It lists some of the top cookbooks of this year. Even just the little blurbs about the books made my mouth water. I definitely plan to add one or two of these to my christmas list. All I can really say about it is mmmmmmmm.

Unfortunately cooking has one dangerous downside: a sink full of dirty dishes, pots, and pans. I guess every joy has its price :)

the law of language.

When I voted on Nov. 4th, I voted against section 34, which ammended the state constituion in Missouri to state, "That English shall be the language of all official proceedings in this state. Official proceedings shall be limited to any meeting of a public governmental body at which any public business is discussed, decided, or public policy formulated, whether such meeting is conducted in person or by means of communication equipment, including, but not limited to, conference call, video conference, Internet chat, or Internet message board."

In other words, it would legally make English the official language of the state of Missouri. And I was in a minority of people that voted against this amendment. Not only did it pass. It passed by with 86.3% of the vote.

Frankly, I am heart-broken. And I am angry. I don't understand why such a law would pass by such a large margin. I have been trying to educate myself on the reasoning of the other side, to open my mind to opinions that differ from my own. Some websites I've visited are: www.proenglish.org/ and http://http//bobmccarty.com/2008/11/05/missouri-voters-make-english-official-language/. Not only do I still not understand the reasoning of the other side, but I am even more angry about the issue. This law denies information to people who have a right to be informed. It denies rights to children whose parents do not speak English. It denies and divides; I don't believe that it unites us as these websites suggest.

As part of working with Project Transformation, I have worked in areas of Kansas City where a large part of the population is spanish speaking. Often, the children of spanish-speaking parents, have been born in the U.S. and are full U.S. citizens. However, their parents may not have english skills. And I'm sorry, the argument "if you want to live here, take an english class" is completely ridiculous. Taking a college-level language course is incredibly expensive. And even in those cases where non-profit organizations offer free English training, the families that I worked with often worked several jobs, and had no money for child care. So, between taking care of their families and making ends meat, not to mention the difficulty of learning a new language, they simply do not have time.

In many cases, there are government programs that offer assistance to these families. There are welfare, health care and various educational programs that as residents and citizens they and their children ought to have access to. However, if communication from the government is only ever in English, they have no way of finding out about their rights or such beneficial programs.

This is not an issue of national unity. It is one of basic human rights. And to me this law is saying that if persons don't speak english, or if their legal guardians do not speak english, then they can be denied their rights. In fact, they are being denied even the knowledge of what their rights are.

I believe that diversity is America's gift. It is not a threat to our identity. It is our identity.

Please feel free to comment and share your own thoughts on this issue.

journeys afar (from the comfort of home).

Here are two magical films that I was able to enjoy thanks to Kyle's Netflix today. Outsourced is the story of a man who goes to India to train a new call center where American jobs have been outsourced. As the story unfolds, he becomes open to new people, experiences and culture -- and ultimately a new way of being human.

The Visitor is another tale about becoming more human through relationships. The main character is a professor and widower, who has basically come to lead a lonely life where every day is the same as the last. In New York, he comes into contact with an immigrant named Tarek. Through Tarek, drumming and other new relationships, the professor is reminded of all he used to be and feel, and is able to feel connected to the world in a new way.

I don't want to spend any more time summarizing these movies here. But they are really wonderful stories, without being cliche. So you should rent them and watch them. You won't be disappointed.

Outsourced made me want to go to India. The Visitor made me want to go to New York. Both made me want to connect to the people around me, and appreciate the wealth of beauty and diversity that I look past every day.

colors unearthed.

As I work through reading assignments and papers, I want to feel the color beneath the words. After reading or writing a few pages, I want to close my eyes, and with patience uncover in my imagination those vivid images beneath the sentences. What is this making me feel? What fiery passionate red does it awaken? What vibrant green is unearthed? What sweet blue rest is here, waiting to comfort and envelope me in its fold? What golden orange speaking of hope or light?

This printed black on this clean white surface is so much more than it seems. There is life in these words, born and unborn. Waiting to speak such truth, to ask such questions, to demand such feeling, to dream such dreams that our minds can hardly fathom. All I can do is read, write, dig, contemplate and slowly unearth the dynamic color coming into view. To get beneath these sentences and find the abundance that they signify.

Theology, like poetry or music, is not mere fact: contained, small, certain. It is not an instruction manual. But like art, theology speaks of a flowing truth, rich in color, beyond the description offered by the words themselves.

“We are set free on an ocean of language that comes to be a part of us… The sky is bright and very wide, and the waves talk to us preparing dreams we’ll have to live with and use. Toys as solemn and knotted as books assert themselves first, leading down to a delicate landscape of reminders to be better next time, urging us all to return to our senses, to the matter of the day that is now ending.” –John Ashbery, poet

"In his incarnation Christ gives himself totally for our salvation by identifying and consecrating himself to the task of reconciling us to the God of covenant. He identifies with everything human, including the worst most inhumane kind of death, so that no one stands beyond the reach of his oneness with us in the incarnation... His sacrifice is far deeper and more personal than a settling of accounts. The problem Christ confronts in his sacrifice is one of broken relationships that need healing, not simply a breach of contract that needs legal redress. His sacrifice is a passionate expression of his profound love." -R. Larry Shelton, Professor of Wesleyan Theology

the legend of betty's tea cups.

I'm sitting here attempting to work on a paper, drinking coffee and missing my grandmother. Betty Trinter died last January, leaving behind a million little legends, stories, memories and treasures that she scattered to her 3 sons, 7 grandchildren, and 3 great grandchildren.


One such treasure is her willow patterned china which has been divided among us. I ended up with the tea cups, and as I drink from one now I can't help thinking of the story its picture tells which my grandma used to tell me as a child.

Supposedly, derived from a Chinese folk-legend, the story depicted on the China is about Impossible Love (which hearing this story as a little girl, seemed the only love worth having). The legend is this: the daughter of a wealthy man falls in love with her father's clerk. Her father, of course, views this match to a mere accountant as completely inappropriate and arranges a marriage with a powerful Duke, who is not the young woman's beloved. Before the marriage takes place, the clerk breaks into the castle, rescues his true love, and the two lovers flee into the night on the Duke's ship. By the time the father and the Duke realize the two have gone, it is too late. They have sailed away. However, sometime later, the Duke discovers the that happy pair have taken refuge on a nearby island. The Duke sends his soldiers to the island, where they capture and kill the lovers. However, the gods take pity on the young people in love, and turn them into doves, so that they can still be together, far above the world of their plight.

This story, with its violence and fantasy, and its message of love overcoming all obstacles seems so appropriate on the lips of Betty. A woman of stubborn strength and beauty, who seemed to me to be fearless, always taking us on journeys to the beach, the park, or the library -- pointing out wildflowers, trees and birds along the way, she seemed to possess an endless knowledge of the legend behind every creature and creation. A lover of the beach, gardens, literature and art, she was who I inherited so many of my passions from. Even though she grew older, and spent more time in bed than out of it, that part of her life seems somehow false to me. A mere interlude in the story of a true adventurer. Like death for the lovers; it is in disruption, but not a lasting reality.

Drinking from this cup now, and dreaming of this story, I am hoping that I have some of her magic in me; that incredible ability to see the legend and find the story in the most ordinary things. I imagine she is something like those doves. Having outwitted not only the obstacles of life, but death itself... She is happier as a dove, I imagine. But still, I can't help missing her.

Its funny how something as small as a teacup can hold so much meaning, and so many memories.

I think she would have liked this quotation, it seems to describe her way of life so exactly: "To live amidst the universe without thinking about it -- why that is to have Beethoven on the player and be afraid to turn it on... If only I had enough of the volcanic awareness needed to realize that every second is a miracle. We exist, therefore I gasp." -paul west

I hope you are dreaming of impossible love made possible, obstacles overcome, and gasping at those ordinary miracles of every moment.

because sometimes we just need to smile.

Yes. It's just a kid. Whose dance is pure amazing. It starts off slow, but give if a few seconds and it might just change your life.

enjoy.


Joshua dancing to "Apologize" from Joe Tran on Vimeo.

thoughts on love.

This past weekend Kyle and I celebrated our one year anniversary of being together, and it got me thinking about how lucky we are to find people in our lives to love. People who will walk beside us, see us at those moments when our lives seem to be little more than a mess, and still help you look forward and take the next breath.

I've learned a lot about love from Kyle, but more than anything I've learned its simplicity. How the moments of having someone to just do nothing with, to sit beside on the good and the bad days, and to talk and laugh with is everything. To have a person with whom things are not complicated, when everything else is complicated is the most powerful kind of medicine.

All I can really say is that I am thankful. Thankful that none of us have to do this journey of life alone. That we get this miracle of intimacy in the forms of family, friends and relationships.

Thank you, Kyle, for walking beside me for this past year. You make my world so much more beautiful.

“I saw that he inhabited his own flesh as fully and with the same mix of wonder and confusion that I brought to my own. Until then I had half believed—though I would never have confessed it, not even to myself—that all others were slightly less real than I; that their lives were a dream composed of scenes and emotions that resembled snapshots: discrete and unambiguous, self-evident, flat… But in that moment he cracked open. I could see him—he was in there. He moved through the world in a chaos of self, fearful and astonished to be here, right here, alive in a pine-paneled room.” -Michael Cunningham

new city.

"You made my deserts into gardens; you made my ashes into beauty."

My friend, mentor and boss, Creighton Alexander, is in the building stages of a new ministry for young adults in Kansas City called New City. The whole vision is to create a transformational community of worship and mission that seeks to make all things new.

The prayer of this new ministry is adapted from Isaiah 61: "Jesus, Pour out Your Spirit upon us, Anoint us to bring good news to the poor , To bind up the broken-hearted, To proclaim freedom to the captives and release to prisoners, To proclaim the year of Your grace, To rebuild the old ruins, To raise a new city out of the rubble, Through Your love, make all things new."

Over the past week, I've been reading this prayer over and over, and longing to have this be the prayer of everything I do. Shouldn't every ministry be about being transformational? Shouldn't we be bringing good news that does something? Every moment, can't God use us to create something of whatever rubble has fallen around us?

The truth is, as much as I long to believe that through God's love, all things new can come, there are days when I can't even bring myself to have hope about even the stresses of my own fairly comfortable life. What is it that makes us forget about God's power to transform? What makes us so afraid of our own power? There is a poem by Adrienne Rich where she writes, "We are scared shitless of what it could mean to take and use our love. Hose it on a city, on a world." I for one, am tired of being afraid. I want this prayer for newness to be my prayer. Not just "on the job" in ministry, but in every moment.

There are a few songs inspired by the psalter that keep running through my head, which I feel are calling me towards a hope I often forget: "You turned my deserts into gardens, you turned my ashes into beauty... into my blackened branches you brought the springtime green of new life." So the questions I'm asking tonight are: where are the deserts in my life? Where are the ashes in the lives of those around me? What ruins are calling to us to begin rebuilding?

As I wrestle with those questions, please leave me your thoughts about the places you see needing transformation.

And, in the meantime listen to some of that powerful music of the psalmists. You can find some of my favorites here: http://www.entertheworshipcircle.com/