good men are changing the world

In over a year of blogging,

i've never had any post speak to so many women in such a profound way,

as I did on my last post about my husband redeeming a view of men.

if you missed it, you can read it here.

so many of you beautiful women sent me email after email depicting the hurt and shame you've felt from a man,

but how God in his mercy,

redeemed "men" by using a Godly man in your life to love you fiercely and boldly

in grace, compassion, beauty and servanthood.

I was so very honored to read your stories,

and it continued to reinforce the idea that

good men are needed to heal the world. 

I think of the ultimate "good man".

a carpenter from Galilee

who defied all custom and tradition and spoke to the Samaritan woman at the well,

offering her not condemnation for her past of 5 husbands, but instead, HOPE for her future.

who defended and praised, in front of popular society, a women who washed his feet with her hair.

who saved the life of a women caught in adultery.

not because she wasn't guilty,

but because his love for her was so strong

He wanted to see her break free from sin,

not be punished for it.

a savior, that in his last breath before dying on the cross,

made sure his mother was taken care of by John.

in short, it is no secret that this "good man" cared incredibly for women,
and viewed them as treasures, as part of his ministry.
He still does.

Ladies, Godly men are out there.

If you've been hurt by a man, there is hope.

And it starts with the best man there is, Jesus.

He's the one that speaks soothing life into the healing.

No man will bring you wholeness or complete healing,

but God can certainly use a man after his own heart to stand with you and encourage you in the process.

and men

{if there are any reading this blog!}

you have no idea how your love for women speaks VOLUMES in a hurting world.

fathers, husbands, sons, and friends,

what a unique role God has given you to play:)

when you shine His light, you shine HIs love.

I wanted to leave you with an email I received from a friend (with her permission to post it, of course).
I felt it was fitting to share because it so beautifully champions the power of a Godly husband.

So your most recent post really touched my heart. Your husband reminds me of mine in so many ways. I've told you that I have a real passion for helping girls who have been victimized, but I haven't told you the reason... I was sexually abused as a child. Five different abusers over a period of 12 years.  

My husband was my first boyfriend and I was his first girlfriend. He was 18 and I was 17. The first year we dated, he ever-so-patiently and sweetly walked by my side as I began counseling and a path to healing. Looking back on it now, it amazes me how much he took on as an 18-year-old, but that's just how he is. Tender, gentle, kind, hilarious, and willing to prove to me that some men could be trusted. 

9 years later, he has continued to be my safe place. He loves me as Christ loves His church and that love speaks volumes. The faithfulness speaks louder than any words I could say

So when I read your post about your husband and how he is loving those girls. Respecting them. Bestowing value on them. Giving them space. Making them laugh. Being the butt of every joke. It just sounds like you're speaking of my sweet husband. When we have talked about mission work in the past, we haven't been exactly sure what our roles might look like - but after reading your post, I can see how my husband's gifts and personality can be used to bless not only me, but so many others! 

Love like this is not only beautiful, 

it is changing the world. 

Thank you Lord for good men. 

love Katie 

ps- if any of you have similar stories (or just a story you want to share) please email me! 

on being rescued

on Saturday night something really special seemed to unfold before our eyes. 

Our friends Patrick and Michelle are here, 

which you know, 

and they have already blessed our hearts more than I can even say.

 To be with friends that know you,
don’t judge you,
and will go into the depths of your heart with you to help process the difficulties and joys of life,
is a priceless gift. 

not to mention who laugh with you in the craziness that is Nepal. 

ie: like the time when a bird popped literally all over michelle’s head and we could not stop laughing slash feeling really bad for her, especially since it’d be a few hours before we got home.
She was a champ, poop stains and all! 

but, 

like I said Saturday, there seemed to be heavenly magic in the girls home. 

Like the holy spirit was there, soft and gentle and palpable, 

cutting deep into the wounds of the girls heart and allowing peace and freedom to pour in. 

Kev, Patrick, michelle and I spent almost 3 hours at the home, playing games with the girls. 

At one point after a large group game, everyone kind of dispersed. 

Patrick helped one girl with her science homework, 

Kevin played with the little ones, 

Michelle was in the bedroom teaching English and being taught Nepali, 

and I was sitting on the couch with sweet K. 

K is always laughing and has a smile on her face. 

Sometimes the joy is so intense I forget these girls have a past that haunts them. 

But this night, I was invited into her heart. 

And it changed my life. 

Like all our girls, she grew up Hindu. 

She told me that one time in class a friend spoke up that she was a Christian. 

K said she began to make fun of Jesus, and said 

“your Jesus I will cut up like a potato and fry and eat for dinner”. 

A few years later after horror I cannot describe, K was rescued and sent to a transitional home. 

One night in tears, she lay in bed praying, and then she remembered Jesus. 

She prayed 

“Jesus, I don’t know who you are but I know you are one of many gods. 
Will you help me, Jesus, will you save me?” 

A few days later K was brought to our home. 

Where the staff welcomed her with open arms. 

Her face lit up as she looked at me and said, 

“Katie, Jesus saved me and He loves me” 

tears streamed down my face as I sat there listening to this story of redemption. 

Listening to a story of a God that sees and hears and moves and responds. 

and saves. 

A God who is powerful yet tender. 

And mostly, a God who transforms lives. 

Rescusing us from darkness and bringing us into marvelous light. 

K described that when she came to the home, 

she met people that “understood her” and didn’t judge her past. 

People that loved her like she had never been loved. 

You guys, the way she talked about her Jesus was so intimate. 

So real. 

So transforming. 

i couldn't help but be humbled. 

almost, embarrassed. 

how often do I forget the magnitude of God? 

I treat him like a genie who should fulfill my present needs, 

and forget to thank him, and thank him, and thank him for rescuing me. 

So that night as I sat with K, we both looked heavenward and thanked our sweet Abba for rescuing us. 

For seeing us in our pain, and bringing us to greener pastures. 

for He is kind. 

that is his nature.

 He is the kindest person I know.

today, i'm thanking Abba for seeing me 

and rescuing me. 

happy Monday dearest most precious friends,

love Katie 

Africa Part 1: stitches on my heart

Blah, blah, blah. Here I was, my sophomore year of college and this girl across from me is droning on about how much she loves the African history course she is taking. Ya, I get it, you love africa, ok, I’m over it. Blah blah blah, I could think of nothing more boring or depressing to study.

Yikes. 

That was me. To even admit it now renders me red in the face with embarrassment. But I’ll admit it, growing up, Africa was not etched on the map in my mind, you know, that map that you dream of exploring and discovering. I had entered college studying International Relations, and minoring in Italian, and had big plans to travel every inch of Europe and Asia and South America. I wanted to be an ambassador or a politician (my nightmare now!), wear high heels (double nightmare!), make policies, and drink coffee with the best of ‘em. But Africa? I may not have ever been good at math, but I could tell you right then and there that Africa most certainly did not factor into my equation for the future.

And then I met him.

On a bus.

I was having a hard time getting my chair on the bus down, and with the whip of his hand, my seat was now functioning. I looked up.

Tall. 

 7 feet I thought. He was wearing a beanie in the cold Illinois air.

African. 

I knew next to nothing about the continent, but I knew Africa was his home.

Our eyes locked, and I couldn’t pull away. “Where?” I thought, then verbalized.

Sudan. His words sang softly and silently, openness.

Nothing registered in my head, blank.

Tell me, I breathed, your story.

And he did. Five minutes on the bus, turned into an hour in our hotel lobby. Those poignant eyes, dark and lovely, spilled stories of love and horror, of families, his family, torn apart- children walking across deserts with no food, mothers murdered. Devastation, loss, war. Of refugee camps in Ethiopia, then Kenya. Of chaos swallowing his country, his home.

“I am a lost boy” he says.

No words. Wide eyes flooded, I was beyond lost in his scars. I couldn’t shake the inevitable thoughts, “How does this happen? How do I not know anything about it?”

For the rest of the week at the conference, I shuffled close to Amal. He invited me to African dance night, where heart and soul and love for the mother land was palpable in the air, and I breathed it. Over 20 countries in Africa were represented, and with each drum beat and praise and prayer, a part of my heart began to beat differently. New eyes.

I will forever be grateful to Amal for sharing his story with me. His words, his courage and perseverance, but mostly his trust in God in the face of horrific pain, stitched a new story for my life.

And soon that fabric added Africa to the map in my mind, and my globe seemed to revolve around it.

I went back to college and started studying African history, and soon it easily became my favorite subject to study, it would be an understatement to tell you that I couldn’t get enough. I studied African film, I became entrenched in apartheid South Africa, I mulled over UN accounts of child soldiers from Liberia and Sierra Leone, I memorized geography and could tell you all sorts of facts about the Hausa and Fulani of West Africa.

And then I went. I spent a summer in South Africa and God continued to stitch love into a little heart. I was a sponge and just soaked. I saw the rhythm of the Holy Spirit move in ways I’d never experienced, and my South African friends ministered to me in ways I could have never imagined. They shared their hopes and dreams, and I literally saw beauty rise from the ashes of a system based on hate and prejudice. It was as if God’s redemption story was unfolding in front of my eyes, bold and brave and trusting in the only one who could give strength.

One night back in California, I showed up late to a Bible study and saw the end of a documentary that God used to stitch and stich more, Invisible Children. I had studied the LRA in my classes, but to see the devastation play out ruined me. I showed everyone I knew, hosting screenings on campus, and rallied a jog-a-thon, knowing that every little bit helped! A few years later I worked for Invisible Children for a year, and stories of transformation continued to unfold before my eyes. (As a side-note, if you have more questions about IC after all the Kony 2012 craziness, please don’t hesitate to ask!).

When I look back on these formative years where Africa and I collided most epically, I am drawn to the conclusion that God will forever surprise us with ways that draw us back to Him.

If I am called to love my neighbor and if we are called to carry each others burdens (which, newsflash, we ARE), then who I am if I ignore the rest of the world and live comfortably in my own little orbit filled with starbucks and the bachelorette?

But Abba calls us into a BIGGER story, out of ourselves, and into HIM. Where relationships and action and prayer for the world usher in HIS Kingdom.

And that is where I begin with Africa.

But my journey is not finished, and hopefully by the end of this week you will get to read
Part 2. Not only am I excited to continue sharing my story, but I also have a fun and meaningful give-a-way for you my dearest of readers of a product that is ever so near and dear to my heart.

Much love,
Katie

Part 2
Part 3

travel log: london

we loved London!
what can we say...it was everything we had expected and more. 
besides all the lineup of regular ol' touristy activities
(which are awesome...that's why they are touristy!)
we also got the rare privilege of staying with friends who lived in London,
therefore being exposed to so many hidden gems we never would have discovered otherwise!

we stayed with our friends in London's East End, which is about as diverse as it gets...
immigrants and hipsters thrive in this little neighborhood.
we sampled such an international cuisine at the street market,
got crazy lost in the bubbling flower market,
and also managed a peak at the olympic stadium
{the olympics are in just a few weeks...soooo excited!}

We also had pretty much the best weather London's ever seen!
The week we were there it was 80+ degrees every day.
we hear that's kind of a miracle, some claimed we even brought the sun!
i'm okay with that rumor!
as a result, the entire british crown was out picnicking in the park.
it was glorious!

Lastly...and this was epic...
we were in the UK for the Queens Jubilee!!
(which was the celebration of her 60 years of reigning as Queen. Now THAT is impressive!)
to celebrate, every store, house and window had up the union jack flag and bunting to match!
at first I remarked how patriotic England is, only to discover that the hoop-la was all for the Jubilee.
It was pretty amazing:) I wanted to take a picture of every storefront!
I had to use some self control for time management purposes:)

enjoy the pics (I have SOOO many more, it was hard paring them down!)

 aaannnddd....
here are a few of our favorite places: 
I love getting off the beaten track,
and discovering the local gems...here are a few!

Broadway Market in the East End: this is a tantalizing street of some serious culinary goodness. On Saturdays, this street transforms into a foodie market delight (i'm hoping to do a food post, so i'll share more on that!). But besides the market, this quaint lane boast fabulous food diversity and picturesque shopfronts that will guarantee to have you snapping pictures and outing yourself as a tourist. Just make sure to raid your grandma's closet before hand so you fit in with all the hipsters.

Churchill Cabinet War Room Museum: london's tourist drag is quite impressive, but our absolute favorite favorite was the Churchill Cabinate War Room Museum. For any WWII history buffs (or just those that want an interesting museum), this placed was off the charts! The museum is quite actually the rooms that Churchill and his staff fought the war with Germany. The offices were literally boarded up in 1945 with the end of the war, uncovered not too long ago, and stand exactly as they did then! Great audio guide as well. Kev literally had to drag me out I was so enthralled.

Columbia Road Flower market in Shoreditch: if you are looking for something off the beaten trail where locals congregate, then this is your treasure. On Sunday mornings, flower mongers display their plants like nobody's business and shout wagers on why their flowers are the best to buy! Mayhem on the most adorable street. The best part is, right off the main drag are some of the cutest coffee shops i've ever seen...so even if you don't buy any flowers (which will be hard to resist!) then at least you can treat yourself to a scrumptious brunch and delicious view of all the floral action!

love love love,

Katie 

ice cream and redemption

friday night was GOOD friday

and 2 sweet college age girls from our neighborhood came over and we had a girls sleepover

one was a girl i met immediately when i moved into the neighborhood 3 years ago

and the other i just met in january and saw come to know sweet Jesus

3 girls, we sat

we ate ice cream sundaes and i made them sit in front of my fake fireplace with me

we giggled, like girls do, and we drank tea and coffee in cute anthro mugs and felt cozy

but then we began to share

stories. 

life stories.

our stories. 

and these gorgeous girls whom i love, became real

and i did too.

we each opened, raw and vulnerable, slow and steady, recounting sins destruction.

other's sin. our sin. 

tears into anthro mugs.  

and on that "good" friday tales of 

drugs

humiliation

abuse

suicide

promiscuity

cheating

addiction

hatred

unforgivness

hurt, pain, suffering

loneliness

sickness

seeped raw on the table. from the inside we wept for each other, for the things we each had to face. no, no, i screamed. that isn't fair. no one should have to deal with this. or that. 

at last our stories laid bare, we huddled together on the big couch. we held hands in unity, and shared this spiritual moment that jesus, yes JESUS, he is bigger than our past. he is more powerful than sin. 

ah yes, he took this sin with him on good friday. he carried it. and today, HE ROSE. 

He ROSE, and it was gone. and as we sat there, THIS was the picture we received....

drugs redeemed!

humiliation redeemed!

abuse  redeemed!

suicide redeemed!

promiscuity redeemed!

cheating redeemed!

addiction redeemed!

hatred redeemed!

unforgivness redeemed!

hurt, pain, suffering redeemed!

loneliness  redeemed!

sickness redeemed!

Easter is about redemption. our redemption. all things made new. 

in Christ's POWER

restoration is ours

healing is ours

forgiveness is ours

and so we ate pancakes with strawberries and banana, and we prayed "Lord, make us new" 

and so we press in. and the potter, yes, he makes us new. 

Love Katie