Fridays always used to be about the randomness around here. Of the caffeinated variety. And while it's been awhile, and I am currently sans caffeine, I am kind of missing it this morning. So here goes.

TV Finales. You know somebody as tv obsessed with me is in her prime right about now. I am aching to know who Barney Stinson will marry on HIMYM, and I'm on pins and needles about what will happen on Once Upon a Time. I'm relieved that Nick moved back in with Jess and the guys on New Girl. I'm not sure I will survive until May 21st to see how House wraps things up (will Wilson die, will House die, how the heck do they bring Kutner back unless someone else is DEAD). And this all gets me thinking back to LOST. There will never ever be another show like it. Every May I still think about their mind blowing finales.I've still not accepted it's all over.

The Hunger Games. I've become obsessed y'all. Absolutely, emphatically, ridiculously obsessed. I read the first book a year ago (it was one of the first books I downloaded on my kindle), knowing a movie was going to be made, but then I couldn't make myself move on to the next one. After watching the movie (and loving practically every bit of it!), I started Catching Fire then moved swiftly on to Mockingjay (which I finished at 4:30 am one Friday morning and spent a whole Friday in a tired, but fulfilled haze) then re-read Hunger Games again in rapid succession, finishing it off with another viewing of the movie. And that, friends, is how one marks an obsession. Now I scour the internet for any crumbs on casting info for the next movie. I vaguely remember the uproar and wildness that came last year with all the casting info for the first movie. I only remember thinking,  why didn't they reverse Liam Hemsworth and Josh Hutcherson's roles to better fit the look? Now, I'm all in invested. They have to get Finnick right, and Johanna, and Beetee and Plutarch. And it's driving me batty (but at least I'll have something to pine over all summer since there's no LOST left in my life).

Spotify. How I love thee. I resisted, for the longest time to get Spotify premium. I've always been one to just download (often) whatever tracks strike my fancy over at iTunes. But with my newly implemented Dave Ramsey Approved budget, this is not a wise thing for me. So I decided to pay for the monthly Spotify membership and forgo purchasing so much on iTunes. I have never been so musically happy! And I have to admit I dig seeing what my facebook friends are digging too. Leading me too...

My BT, Christy, via Spotify (and largely unbeknown to her, I'm sure) has introduced me to one of my new favorite music loves, All Sons and Daughters (thanks BT!!). I am loving them so very much. This week has been a rough one, and their worship songs have been a healing balm to my soul. When I looked them up I recognized the guy, David Leonard, and then remembered he used to tour with Needtobreathe! This makes me even happier! Check them out if you haven't. They are so good.



I'm gonna end it there. Because one thing about me and randomness, is it can go on and on and on. Happy Friday all!!

101 in 1001 Update

It's amazing the underwhelming amount of things you can accomplish when you don't really think about accomplishing anything. It's not exactly that I had forgotten about my 101 in 1001 project (that I enthusiastically, excitedly, foolishly posted on this blog last May) over the last 6 months or so. It's just that I wasn't really purposefully pursuing the whole thing. Such is my life. It was one of those things that nagged at me from a small little place in my mind that I try to keep quiet with crunchy potato chips or other such snacks. Like that part of me is actually hungry for food and not life. Anyways. I was sort of feeling guilty about (sort of) abandoning the whole thing until this week. The week that marks the beginning of the month of my blessed birth. I get all nostalgic wrapped up in hopeful wrapped up in angsty wrapped up in make this one life count acting in May. I can't help it. It's almost unstoppable.

So I checked my list. Why did I choose 20 classics to read when only a handful actually look joyfully readable (seriously, Count of Monte Cristo? You are a long tale!)? Why did I think I could do a half marathon? There is a big part of me that loves to shrug these responsibilities off like an ill-fitting, itchy sweater and never don them again. But not in the month of May. And then, as I scanned my daunting list of tasks, I realized some were completed. A Birth Month Miracle! Wisdom teeth out- done, January of this year. Get a facial- blissfully fulfilled in April. Create a budget and stick to it- thanks to my 13 weeks in Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University, done (and I might add, all my credit cards will be paid off by April of next year, marking another thing off my list, Thank You, Debt Snowball!). I bought an iPhone in February. I went to see The Hunger Games all by my lonesome just this past Sunday. All in all I'm a whopping 13% finished with my list. And perhaps, almost one year in, I should be more like 25-30% finished, but I'm deciding to not go there. Marathon, not a sprint, marathon, not a sprint.

There are a few things I'm going to try and knock off the old list before the one year mark on the 29th (the 1 year anniversary), including clean and organize my closet (we plan to have our house on the market by the 3rd week in May, so it's now or never), and write 1 of the 5 essays I want to write on my life. And this summer I am going to tackle a week being a vegetarian and cleaning out my car and buying nothing for a week. You know, the fun stuff. And I'm going to attempt chipping away at the reading of the classics (most of them are on my kindle just waiting, anyways). Perhaps I can make a reasonable showing for myself come next May. I'll keep you posted.

Happy Weekend!

It's Never Too Late

I will be 35 in 3 weeks. 5 years ago I kind of freaked out about turning 30. I don't know why it is that our twenties are something we want to hold on to so much, but I had 29 in a stranglehold and did not want to let it go for dear life. My thirties, I was sure, were going to be dreadful. I guess, in part, it was because I had such high hopes for my twenties and so many things just didn't pan out. And I think its those feelings that are welling up again. My hopes for the first half of my thirties haven't panned out. I'm still not married. And I still don't have children. I'm still fat and I'm still in debt and I'm still pretty much right where I was 5 years ago, 10 years ago.

And it's just that, I have a schedule. At least I thought I did. The husband-- he was supposed to come along mid-twenties. The kids-- they were supposed to start arriving about 3 years later and keep coming up through now. The ministry opportunities-- they should have exploded around 30. The debt-- it should have been far removed along with the extra pounds I carried and added to year after year. My schedule has mocked me with item after item left unchecked. And so, 35, you depress me.

I tell God my anxious thoughts, and even the ones left unspoken He knows as well (there are a lot of them). He knows how I fret over whether I'll find a husband in time to still be able to have children. He knows how I feel so far behind with weight to lose and debts to pay off and on an on. And sometimes I think, maybe, just maybe, it's all too late. Maybe it's not going to happen at all. That I've missed my chance.

And I know that all sounds a little self-pitying and self-absorbed and a whole lot of other self things that perhaps make a mockery of this faith I possess. But it's where I've been and it's the honest truth and there's no concealing it from God anyway.

A couple weeks ago I went with some co-workers to a Jesus Culture concert (though concert just isn't really the right word, more like worship event?) and the very first song was Come Away. Tears were welling up even before the first chord was struck and I knew God was moving in my heart already, though I didn't know why. And then the words came, Come away with me....come away with me...It's never too late...It's not too late...it's not too late for you....I have a plan for you....

It was in that instant that I felt God saying to my heart, lay down your schedule, lay down your plans, because I have a plan for you. A plan that is right on time, a plan you're not too late for, a plan that is unfolding now...


After the initial healing those words brought, I've been going through the process of walking out it's truth. Fighting those old thoughts and feelings, dealing with the reality I see. And it's not easy, choosing each day to walk by faith rather than by what my eyes see, what my mind thinks, what my personal calendar demands. But they, I'm learning, have nothing to do with faith. I bathe my mind and soul in the promises of His plans for me. I have to. They're my new lifeline. I refuse to dread 35.

Here's the song...

On Pillows and Contentment and Crazy Control Freaks Like Me

Did anybody else read Donald Miller's post last Friday about How to Know If You're a Controlling Person? Nail. Head.

I've made no bones about the fact that I'm a control freak. So I didn't expect Don to tell me something I didn't already know (and yes, you can add presumptuous to the list of my virtues). But I actually found the pillow analogy quite freeing (and I want his therapist!). If you haven't already read the post and if you're not going to (because I can't make you do it anyway), then here's the gist: In all relationships there are three pillows. You're standing on one, the other person's standing on another and in the middle there's a pillow that represents your relationship. You are responsible for your pillow and they're responsible for theirs and together you tend to the relationship in the middle, but you can't really have any say of the other person's pillow. Essentially, you can't change the other person. You just can't.

And while that should have made the control freak inside of me scream and stomp, instead it made me sit back, exhale a relieved sigh and let the revelation flood in. I think they call that freedom.

I know better than anybody how not well it works to tell people how to manage their own pillows. Newsflash: They don't like it. Either they do what you want begrudgingly or they do it not at all. And for years I've told myself I'm fine with getting people to do what I tell them to, even begrudgingly, because at least they did it. And then I've grown to be a miserable person who thinks it's awesome to make all the puppet strings dance. It's not awesome.

Control freaks are not happy people. They just aren't. Contentment is not one of their finer qualities. We find perfectionist to better fit our brand of crazy. So I wonder why we keep being controlling? I know I think being controlling makes me feel more secure which in turn is supposed to make me feel happy, but in this equation 1+1= -1000.

The happiest person I know is also the least controlling person I know. She's a co-worker and the kind of person that you would kill to have as a friend. She is loyal, funny, utterly unselfish, and an unbelievable great shopper (she also has fantastic tasted in tv and movies, so you know I adore her all the more.) She readily admits her faults and mistakes, speaks truthfully, and can tell a story like no one else I know. She looks back on her life with zero regrets. Zero. And she has this effortless way of accepting people just as they are. She's quite an honest person, so more than once she's proclaimed me bossy, but she does so without any expressed need for me to change. It's like she says, yep, you're bossy, but I like you anyway. I adore her. So does everyone else. She keeps up with her own pillow just fine, and let's you do the same. And that, I think, is the major reason she is so stinkin' happy. It's enthralling to be around her, actually.

So I'm letting people have domain over their own pillows again. And I'm going to keep better watch over mine. It's kind of a lot to handle on it's own.

39

My parents celebrate 39 years of marriage today.

39. No one on my mom's side of the family has been married as long as them. That's a big deal for my mom, the child of a painful divorce. It's a big deal for anyone, really. This couple whose whirlwind 3 month courtship of two unlikely people has resulted in nearly 4 decades of wedded bliss is a marital miracle. They are pretty much opposites, though years together has kind of blurred the lines on a lot of their differences.

My mom has told me the story of how, just weeks before meeting my father, she cried to God that if she didn't get married soon she would rather die (I come by the melodrama honestly, peeps.) She had just turned 20. Twenty. As in 14 and a half years younger than my single self is now. I may or may not have prayed that prayer myself. On occasion. With rather lackluster results. But I digress.

I love all the stories that surround their courtship. How they met at a bar, but it was named My Brother's Place, so forever my mom always just told me and my sister that she met dad at "My Brother's Place" and we didn't question that thas was anything other than her brother's home. How my mom thought my dad was someone else, a guy with a questionable reputation and she was about as rude as she could be to him and he still told her she was one of the nicest women he had ever met (geeze, Dad, was every girl mean to you before Mom?). How my dad used this cheesy coin trick on my mom to get her attention, and he still loves to use this coin trick on people to this day ( it has something to do with moving nickels around but you can only move them twice and though I've seen it a thousand times I really don't get it). How my mom, still concerned that Dad was a bad guy, declined his invitation to a movie date out of town, and when she sent her friend in her place, she feared she'd have to raise her friends children in my dad turned out to be a homicidal maniac. How their first date was to see the movie the Poseidon Adventure. How my grandmother (mom's mom) pronounced my dad "The One" for my mom when she met him because he was dressed up in a cordorouy dress jacket and looked all fancy for their date. How on that New Years Eve date my father didn't want to leave until it was 1973 in California too (we live in Oklahoma, so, we're talking 2 am).

I love that my dad's proposal was kind of unromantic. How he told my mom not to answer him right away. How he said that if she said yes she would understand that this was forever, and he was never going to get a divorce so she better be sure. I wish all guys asked that way. I love how my mom has never doubted any year of their marriage that my dad would go back on proposal promise. I love how my dad stated not long after they wed that he didn't marry my mom because she could cook or clean ("I can do all that for myself," my dad confidently stated.) but that he married her simply because he loved her. And she didn't have to do a thing to earn that love.

Do my parents argue and fight? Sure they do. Do they see eye to eye on everything? Seriously? Don't even ask. This isn't a perfect marriage, but it's a marriage that lasts. My dad made a promise. The kind that sticks 39+ years.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!!

The Lucky Ones

I go through seasons of singleness that almost feel too difficult to endure (Melodramatic much? Yes. Yes I am.) I've been going through one of those lately. I guess most of us single and not wanting to be go through it. It comes in waves unexpected, dragging me into a current of discontent. And it's a vicious cycle if I don't find a way out.

When I'm in one of these seasons, it seems I'm always blessed with irritating helpful people with intrusive inquisitive questions and not at all helpful advice. Bless their hearts.

Awhile back a woman was in my office, delivering a bill. We made small talk (read, she made small talk, and I had no choice), and she mentioned being 35, just one year older than me. "I bet you can't believe I'm that old," she said, because she didn't look it. I nodded in agreement. She went on to relay that she had five children and was working her way through a second or third husband and since we were practically the same age asked me if I was married. I told her I wasn't, that I never have been. "You're lucky, men aren't worth it." I mumbled some sort of yeah (like I'd know) and a half-hearted smile at her lame attempt to make the old maid lucky single girl feel better about herself, handed her a check and hoped that signaled clearly enough that I was through with the conversation. Why do strangers even ask your marital status anyways?

This is so not a season to tell me I'm lucky to be single. Unless you're God. Because He kinda showed me this after that conversation.

"But God's not finished. He's waiting around to be gracious to you. He's gathering strength to show mercy to you. God takes the time to do everything right- everything. Those who wait around for him are the lucky ones." Isaiah 30:18 the message.

Yep. Lucky. Me, the forever single girl. Tears welled up reading such a sweet reminder He's waiting around to be gracious to you. Ah that sticks. In all my waiting he's been waiting too. So, right now, in the midst of an seemingly endless waiting room, I can rest assured I'm not alone there. He's waiting too.

Last fall, as I lead some women in my church through Esther I was struck by this truth about my waiting and God's waiting. Beth Moore talked about how God's patience always involves his passion. That God's waiting involves longing and has great purpose. Oh y'all. And all this time I thought my waiting was about the hardest thing ever and here God is waiting, longing to be gracious to me. But He has this thing about timing. About it being absolutely perfect.

So I wait. And I long. But I'm not alone in the wait, and I'm not alone in the longing. And I am truly one of the lucky ones. My God waits with me.

Beautiful Truth

"O God, help me to believe the truth about myself, no matter how beautiful it is.” — Macrina Wiederker

The first time I read the above quote I went back and read it again because I was certain I had read it wrong. Believe the truth about myself, no matter how ugly right? We're accustomed to thinking the truth is ugly. The ugly truth. That feels truer. Safer.

The girls in my youth group, they are steeped in the ugly truth. I listen to the way they talk about themselves, how unlovely they feel without boyfriends, how the clothes they wear make them feel ugly, and so on and so on. And let's be honest, it just sounds ridiculous. You totally have to force yourself not to turn your whole face into one gigantic eye roll when you hear this stuff. These girls are pretty, and they're thin and they have nice wrinkle free skin and one more low self-esteem fueled comment and you are certain you will shake the young and beautiful out of them. But I don't. And although I'm sure by now I sound like the very worst youth pastor, I assure you I'm not (or maybe I am).

Then I get home and I go to bed and I regret that I went another day not exercising or following my weight watchers plan. And I wake up the next day and I look in my closet and I'm certain every last piece of clothing is going to show off how fat I am. And when I put on my makeup and I see how stinkin' old my face is getting I lament that I didn't spend the last 25 years lathering myself in moisturizer (much less remembering to take like 20 seconds to remove yesterdays makeup with the not cheap wipes I bought from M.A.C. last month). And I tell myself this is all why I'm still single and if I'd be more disciplined to exercise and eat right, and establish a better skin cleansing regimen and spend more than the time it takes to wrap my hair in a bun to fix my hair most morning then I could find a man. I deal these "harsh truths" to myself morning by morning and I keep going on and on missing the point. Very worst youth pastor indeed.

The beautiful truth is not what I'm telling myself, and it's not what I'm teaching my girls and it's certainly not what society is trying to teach any one of us.

And still. It's out there. Spoken by a God who etched us in the palm of His hands and knit us in the depths of our mother's wombs and states clearly, and truthfully, that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. A truth that is truth at it's most beautiful.

I love to focus on the ugly truth about my weight and all other physical imperfections that I miss how beautiful it is that God lovingly created my body to move and breathe and function beautifully. I struggle with the ugly truth about my personality, the harsh and abrasive and sometimes mean sides of me, when I've been given beautiful traits of loyalty and wit and a listening ear.

And above all, I carry the Spirit of Christ in me. His capacity to speak truth- it's in me. His capacity to show mercy- in me. His patience, his kindness, his glory and power and strength- it. is. all. in. me. And his love that drove him to sacrifice himself unto death, that love is in me. Take away every other wonder that is Kara, every intricacy of my creation and I still have what is most beautiful and age and weight and popularity and any other "ugly truth" can't tarnish an ounce of the truth that is Christ in me, the hope of glory. That truth, I tell you, is one to believe.

 I dare to believe this truth, no matter how beautiful.

Greetings and Salutations

Hi.

It feels a little sheepish, my two letter foray back into the blogging world. But there it is. Hi.

I tried to come up with something more eloquent, or for the love of pete, some kind of reasonable explanation for my absence, but I came up with nothing. Nada. So I did what any good procrastinator does in said situations and slept on it. This morning all I could come up with is hi. So, hi.


I'm deciding to take the whole will I won't I blogging thing day by day. If my writing mojo is like a well, I'd say it's been bone dry over these last few months. That is until a recent deluge of inspiration, filling me up from empty. So it's time to share the well, so to speak.

I want to share my thoughts on the late blooming tree in my front yard, and my love of New Girl and once upon a time. To admit my ridiculous shortcomings as a youth minister as of late, and how the book 7 by Jen Hatmaker has simultaneously ruined me whilst making want to move to Austin and force Jen to be my best friend. Which I am certain I can accomplish over a plate of fries at the Hyde Park Grill. Together, perhaps, we could conspire to kidnap Kelly Minter and move her to Austin to be my roommate. Yes, this is a perfect plan. And I just know you'll want to read all about it.

Most of all, I think, I'm starting to believe again that it's humanly possible to be the person I want to be and live to tell about it. And tell I will, as best I can. Just warning you, this journey careens between wild and boring, from achingly slow to break neck speeds at a moments notice.

It's good to be back.

Things I've Done While Not Blogging

Lots has happened since last we met. It's no longer a steamy 110 outside. Leaves are changing colors. In the season their supposed to and everything. TV went back to normal (although, I have to admit, it may never be the same without LOST). My life is still boring, but stuff did happen. And yet, no blog posts from me. It would take too many posts to try to relive the last two months sans blogging. So I thought, rather than bore you all, I'd just list them. In no order of importance. Except maybe the first. I'm pretty proud of that one.

1. Successfully pulled off my first women's retreat
2. Started teaching the Beth Moore Esther Bible Study
3. Was beyond excited that 17 women would want to come to anything I teach
4. Became underwhelmed with the new crop of shows on tv this season.
5. With the exception of New Girl and Up All Night. Oh, and it's a given I would love Once Upon a Time. Hello, anything from anyone who had anything to do with LOST is gonna grab my attention. (But this: Michael Emerson= Benjamin Linus. And sorry, Person of Interest, I can't see him any other way.)
6. Lost 30.4 lbs (technically that's the tally since June 14th)
7. Stepped down from the worship team.
8. Cheered my Oklahoma State Cowboys to a 7-0 season thus far
9. Tried to quell my cheer at OU losing their first game :)
10. Spent a gazillion hours and gazillion gallons of paint on the youth room at church.
11. Decided gray is most definitely the best paint color choice ever.
12. Contemplated painting bedroom gray.
13. Decide it's more work than I want after painting youth room.
14. Downloaded new albums from Needtobreathe, Switchfoot, Sara Groves and Katie Herzig.
15. Decided this is the best autumn for music. Ever. Ever, ever, ever.
16. Began a mission iPad for christmas plan against the parents that rivals Ralphie's for his Red Rider BB Gun. Results TBD. At least I know I won't shoot my eye out.
17. Disciplined myself to hold off listening to christmas music as a whole until October 25th.
18. Questioned whether two months is enough for christmas music listening enjoyment.
19. Redacted my 25th of October christmas music start date.
20. Enjoyed the bliss of seeing David Crowder*Band live-- for the last time :(
21. Enjoyed the bliss of seeing Gungor live-- hopefully for the first of many times :)
22. Picked up Tammie Head's bible study, Duty or Delight. It is awesome. The kind of awesome that is life changing.
23. Dominated at Hanging With Friends. Shelved Words with Friends, for the time being.
24. Contemplated getting another pug. Perhaps next spring.
25. Visited Austin to see my sister. And her new condo. Both were fantastic.
26. Tried foie gras, duck, and rabbit for the first time ever. For the record, not a fan of the first, surprised by sort of liking the second, and still don't want to admit I may have eaten a relative of Thumper.
27. Discovered a new love for goat cheese. Which now supercedes my love for feta and blue cheese. I know you were wondering.
28. Pinned a few pins at pinterest. Just a few. Or 1400.
29. Thought about blogging, but then just slept in. Rinse. Repeat.
30. Got Just Dance 3 for the Wii. Channeled Sarah Jessica Parker in Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (I love...to dance *insert blissful sigh*).
31. Attempted only 1 thing I've seen on Pinterest. Hasselback Potatoes. Delish. Try them. (Also, discovered Food Gawker thanks to Pinterest.)
32. Got a little giddy over the arrival of autumn.
33. Thought maybe I should blog again. For reals this time.

As of Late: August 2011

Everybody knows I hate August, right? I've made no bones about this in the past. August is a month to just endure and get through, and I've come to accept this. The only thing that can get me out of my "let's skip August altogether" mantra is my very favorite meme, As of Late, hosted by the delightful Critty Joy. So beyond the fact that I can't stand this ugly, ugly month of summer heat, let's pick up with what else is going on with me as of late, shall we?

Lately I have been in a writing/blogging drought. As evidenced by the lack of posts this summer. I hope the love of writing returns soon. My prediction is somewhere around the time the 100+ degree temperatures leave for more than three days.

Lately I am in the throws of planning my first fall retreat at church. It is in a month and I am excited/terrified. Praying everything flows smoothly and the women of the church are blessed.

Lately I've been painfully reminded of how much it is impossible to control other people's lives. Crazy, I know. And don't ask me why it's taken 34 years to slowly figure this one out.

Lately I've immersed myself in Arrested Development for my nightly escape from the heat. Laughter is like October, I say. Cool and refreshing.

Lately I'm pleased at the results of attending Weight Watchers this summer. 27lbs down since June 7th!! And my mom has lost 22 lbs since June 14th!! This is the most successful I've been on WW since I first started in 2003.

Lately I've been asking God to rekindle a passion inside of me for Him and His word. The drought in my heart hasn't been limited just to writing this summer.

Lately I wish there were things in my heart and mind that would just be settled already. Have you ever felt that way?

Lately, my summer music love has been Mat Kearney. His new album Young Love is awesome.

So bloggy friends, what's new with you? Are you enduring the heat any better than I have? Any words of encouragement?

And go check out the rest of the As of Late's over at Critty Joy while your at it!