His Hands

It's mid November and I've spent every spare second online doing job searches. I attended a job fair last week that opened a door for an internship opportunity. Classes will be over the first week in December and here I am... waiting in anticipation for what my next move will be. I've never felt like this before. I remember getting up extra early the morning I moved away from my home in NC to GA. I got in the shower and just cried because I was afraid of what the next four years may hold. I was scared to leave my family and my hometown because it's all I've ever known. I was scared to be on my own two states away from the people and places that helped make me who I am.
Four years later, I find myself wanting to do the same thing, but I won't. Because I know that the one thing I was scared of was change. Now that I've experienced the pain and excitement of change, I don't fear it like I did when I was 18. Now I want to embrace it because I know it's what I have to do next in order to fulfill my calling in this life. But what that calling is, I'm not sure.
Every night this month I've found myself lying wide awake at night praying. Prayer has always been a part of my life, but not like it is now. I've never neglected sleep to pray. And for the first time in my life, I'm desperate for God to show up big time. I've decided that I want Him to decide what job or internship or school I go to next. I want Him to decide my next move. For strangers, that's probably not a big deal. But for the people who really know me, they know that I've always been a 'do-it-yourself' kind of girl. I hate to ask for help in any situation. I hate admitting that I need help or admitting that I don't know the next move for my life. But I've come to a point in my life that I feel that asking God to decide for me is my only option. I handed Him my wedding and look at what a success it was. We got engaged with ZERO money for a wedding and God put it on the hearts of so many friends and family members to give to us. Our wedding was beautiful and so annointed with God's loving Spirit.
So again, I'm putting my next move, my future, my calling in life in God's hands and asking Him to put me where He wants me. I've learned that if God's not in it, then I shouldn't be either. I think this lesson can only be learned with time... and a lot of disappointments along life's journey. So whether or not I'll be getting up at 5 a.m to make it to a big city for an internship or getting up and going to a local job, only God knows! And somehow that is only scary for a second, then I feel at peace with knowing that my Heavenly Father is charge of my life so I can relax because it's no longer up to me anymore. That.... is an amazing feeling.
As the year 2010 comes to an end, I can't help but want to peek around the corner to see what God has in store for me in 2011. If it's anything like this year, I know it will truly be amazing.

Kite Day

As a seven year old little girl, the event of the year was Kite Day. My dad and I would go to the hardware store and buy the plastic, wood, paint and string needed to build a kite. Then my brother, Isaac, and my older sister, Lauren, would race us down to the basement to see who could finish making their kite first. It was never a real contest because there were three of us and only one dad, and we couldn’t do it without dad’s help. As dad glued the sticks together to make the frame we would unroll the plastic and try to drape it across the wooden sticks just right so we could get to our favorite part of kite making- painting. We got to choose three of our favorite colors and mine were pink, purple and green. Last year we just had swirls of color on our kites but this year was extra special because dad helped us make stencils so that our names could be on our kites along with a few hearts and flowers. As my dad held down the stencils, I poured my heart out on that kite in colorful rows of pink and green. I saved the purple for the hearts and flowers that floated around my name.  When the last dab of color had been added to the plastic we stepped back and both mine and my dad’s brows wrinkled as our eyes were wide with joy. “Good job, Kate” he said as we carefully picked the kite up and carried it outside to dry underneath the sun’s rays.   

                A few hours later we had changed from our paint-covered clothes and put the dry kites in the back of the truck and were on our way to my favorite event of the year. We arrived at our church and unloaded the food and the kites and made our way through the crowd. Adults and children alike eyed my prized kite. The wind picked up, blowing my blonde curls all in my face, and I knew it was time to set this kite free from my grasp. Dad helped me hold it as I readied my hands on the spool of string. I watched as he took off running and then released it into the hands of the strong wind. For just a moment, I panicked, but then saw that it was flying just fine in the wind. It’s colorful tail danced back and forth above me and in that moment I was completely content. I began running across the yard not taking my eyes off of that kite for a second. A gust of wind came from the opposite direction and suddenly my eyes were staring at the ground where my broken kite lay. Tears filled my eyes as I carried it’s corpse up to where dad was and he assured me that it could be saved. I thought it was beyond repair, but he took it to the truck and pulled out some tape and glue and before I knew it he turned around with my beautiful kite completely fixed! I stared at him in awe because I realized that my dad could truly fix anything. After thanking him a hundred times, we released it back into the sky and I was once again completely content as I watched my colorful diamond flutter across the big blue sky. Kite Day had once again been a success.

                I’m 22 years old now and married and living two states away from my dad. But looking back on that day, I realize that I no longer can run to my dad when my heart gets broken or I get disappointed. Now I run to my heavenly father, usually with tears pouring out of my eyes, and He does exactly what my dad did years ago- He fixes it.

Spare Time

It's fall semester once again. I'm taking less hours and only have classes twice a week. For the first time in my college career I am not employeed which leaves me at my new home with a lot of spare time. I often refer to myself as "The girl who doesn't have time for spare time".... until now. I've always surrounded myself with positive people and positive activities. I've always made a point to never make a to do list or use a planner because I was most likely not ever going to follow it because something always comes up. For four years now I have lived on my own two states away from the place I call home. I have never allowed myself any spare time to relax, to reevaluate my life or to just sit in silence and enjoy it. I've constantly been on the go. Last semester I took 18 hours and worked a part time job, which left me absolutely exhausted by the time finals came. And here I am sitting at my house beginning a blog. This is proof of the fact that I have plenty of spare time on my hands. And I also hope that this is proof of the fact that my thoughts, wonders and hopes are worth reading. I hope to spend this semester further developing the "real me" that I've made so sure to keep busy so that I wouldn't have time to reevaluate. I hope to use this blog as a way to express the many reactions to things and people around me that have made me the woman I am today. I also hope this is just one well spent use of my spare time this semester. Enjoy!