Believe and Trust

Especially in my last days at school, I spent my share of time crying in Neal's office (our campus minister).  I'd usually go in for chit chat and a hug, the conversation would change, and all of the sudden I was crying... again.  Shortly after that, we'd get to a point in when I no longer had a response, an argument.

I would sit and listen while he encouraged me truths about God.  We both acknowledged they were things I already knew but needed reminding.  I had no choice but to nod and agree as he spoke.  If my voice was strong enough or if I felt like I'd been quiet too long, I'd find the strength to whisper,

"I believe that."

It might have been more to convince myself than to convince him.

A few months later, I learned the New Testament word for believe: pisteuo.  It's a verb that can also be translated, "To put one's faith in" or "to trust."

Looking back, part of me feels like I was lying every time I told Neal, "I believe that."  Sure, I knew the truths he was speaking were indeed true.  I acknowledged them, I accepted them, but I was having a hard time trusting them.

After all, if I weren't struggling with trust, I would not have been in his office in tears.

It's hard to trust God when He's forcing you to give up a place you love long before you feel it's time to leave.  It's hard to trust God has a plan when all you're getting is rejection letters.

Honestly, not knowing what happens immediately after graduation, not having a plan makes me feel like a failure.

Maybe in an earthly sense I am.

But, I am leaning a lot about pisteuo.  A lot about belief and trust.  A lot about hope and peace.  A lot about clinging to God.

And that can never be called "failure."

I believe that!

<>< Katie

PS: I learned the word pisteuo from Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Tomorrows.  If you haven't read it, then I suggest you check it out.

Home

Last week I made my first trip to Baptist Country as an alumna.  When we pulled into town, it didn't feel like I had been gone a month.  It felt like we had just gone to Elizabeth's for the weekend.

Very little has changed. 
A few trees have blown down, the construction projects have progressed, and there are not nearly as many cars in the parking lot. 

So much has changed.
My ID card no longer lets me into buildings, my mailbox is boarded up, and I am not returning in the fall.  Yet still it feels like home.

It was years ago when I first referred to that little town as "home."  If I flew to The Homeland, I said I was flying home.  If I flew to Baptist Country, I said I was flying home.  The lines between "home" and "school" were so blurry that I gave up on what to call each place and declared travel days "Airplane Day," no matter which direction I was going.

What is home?

Is home my parents' house?  Is home the college town where I went couch-surfing last week?  What exactly is home?

I wish I posted everything I've drafted because in February I wrote a post entitled "Redefining Family."  It claimed "family" was my five suitemates, my ten-person ministry team, and my lunch buddies.  Sometimes family has little to do with blood relation.

Home is where your family is.

I'm having a hard time deciding where "home" is because my family is in The Homeland, my family is in Baptist Country, my family is in Nicaragua, in Guatemala...  Does that make home all of those places as well?

In the same way that The Homeland will always be "home" because my family is here, Baptist Country will always be "home" because my family is there, too.

Beauty and the Beast taught me "home is where the heart is."  If that's true, then I'm heartbroken.  In Baptist Country, I want to be in The Homeland.  While in The Homeland, I yearn for Baptist Country.  I don't think this is necessarily a bad problem to have, but I am not a fan.  For four years my life has been split by 900 miles, a chasm that is not closing anytime soon.

Until God sends me somewhere else, home will have to be my parents' house.  No more trying to outsmart amazon.com to get packages delivered to my P.O. box.  No more loitering in the caf.  No more spontaneous trips to Wal-mart even though we don't need anything.  No more "Katie, party of twelve, your table is ready."

As I struggle to define such a basic four-letter word, I must also remember that in the grand scheme of things, none of these places are "home."  They are all temporary dwellings prior to an eternal home.  I honestly believe that someday there will be no sixteen-hour drives and no time change because there will be no time at all.  There will be a day when tears won't roll, hearts won't break, and pain won't hurt.  All of God's children will be home, constantly singing praises to Him, for He deserves it. 

That, my friends, will be Home.

<>< Katie

Trust, Even in the Desert

Let's be honest for a minute: some days I don't want to read my Bible, don't want to pray, don't want to spend time with the Lord.

It was one of those days.  Even though I wasn't tired, I was ready to call it a night.  I just didn't feel like doing a devotion.

Grudgingly I threw my Bible on my bed and flipped to where I was reading in Nehemiah.  Chapter 9.  The same chapter the pastor used in his sermon on Sunday.  The same chapter we'd read in small group.  In two days I had gone from oblivious to practically an expert on Nehemiah 9; I didn't want to read it yet again.  I figured I'd skim it quickly and go to bed.  Wrong.

Here's what you need to know: my favorite Bible is held together by purple duct tape.  If you drop it, a tree of papers will fall out.  The margins notes are numerous.  It's in such rough shape that I rarely take it out of my room.  But it's in that Bible where all of my sermon notes have been transferred... since sixth grade.

I flipped to Nehemiah 9 and lo and behold sometime in the last ten years (excluding this past Sunday), I heard a sermon on Nehemiah 9.  It was at our student worship service a few years back.  It wasn't my favorite guest speaker and based on the date and when that would have fallen in the semester, I debated even going that night.  I'm glad I did.

In Nehemiah 9, the wall around Jerusalem has already been rebuilt.  The people have literally wept upon hearing (and understanding) the Law they have not kept.  Now they're confessing their sins and reminding God of how He's been faithful to them through the exodus, the desert, and into the promised land.

It's an exercise I have been encouraged to use myself.  Since we're being honest, post-college life is a bit (ok, a lot) like a desert.  My days are filled with job searching and rejections.  My support system in 900 miles away.  I have to constantly remind myself of God's faithfulness.  But, as He did not abandon the Israelites many thousand years ago, God has not abandoned me here.

Have I abandoned Him?  Not quite.  But some days I do my devotion grudgingly; I grit my teeth while praying.

The notes in my margins around Nehemiah 9 say:

How far ahead could they see?
1. Not very far due to the pillar
2. As far as they needed to see

"You're not ready for the Promised Land if you can't trust Him in the dessert."

Hum.

Nehemiah 9:21 says, "For forty years You sustained them in the desert; they lacked nothing, their clothes did not wear out nor did their feet become swollen."

I could make a list of things I lack here in the desert of unemployment.  But in Matthew 6, Jesus prays for daily bread not daily steak.  I have clothes sticking to on my back, I have a roof and ceiling fan over my head, and I have dinner on my plate.  It's definitely not ideal but it's satisfactory, at least for today.

And still, here I am annoyed that God said, "Not now" to graduate school, disappointed that my ideal job has not been dropped into my lap, and sad visiting my closest friends requires an airplane ticket.

How far ahead can I see?  Not very far.  But just far enough.  Not as far as I would like to see but just as far as God is willing to let me see... for now.  As difficult as it is to remember, He sees beyond the pillar.  He knows what comes next.  As I need to see it, He will reveal it to me.  Until then, will I trust Him in the desert?

God, I want to trust You in this desert.  But it's hard.  I am not ready for the Promised Land. Without Your grace and love, I will never be ready.  Prepare me for what lies ahead beyond my vision but not beyond Yours.  Let me focus on You and the pillar You have provided to lead me both by day and night.  I don't have to enjoy this desert, but I want to be found faithful through it.  Thank You for not abandoning me here.  I love You.  Amen.

<>< Katie

God Could Vanish the Storm

As I'm sure you've seen on the news, Baptist Country has been pelted with storms over the last few weeks.

It seems every other day I see a facebook update from my sister (ten hours from here) that they're in the bathroom for another tornado warning.

Last week we were supposed to get really bad storms during the wee morning hours.  Unlike at my sister's college, my school doesn't have a good tornado plan.  That made me nervous.

I was checking the doppler to see what we should be expecting over night.  The storm covered the whole map.  It was more colorful than a sunset.  Yellow, red, green...

When I hit "play" to watch the storms roll over the bed where I wanted to be catching some zzzzz, something went wrong.  The entire storm vanished, leaving just the map.  The map was perfectly clear.

"I could do that, you know," God whispered in my ear.

I thought about it for about and realized how cool it would be if God did make the storm disappear.  He's done it before.

Later in the evening, I went out on the porch for some quiet time with God before I went to bed.  It was beautiful!  The pre-storm weather where the sky's getting dark and the wind is picking up, but there's no real storm yet.

When I came back later, Allyson and Nikki had two videos for me to watch.

Nikki's video was a terrifying video of one of the 150 tornadoes from the same storm.

Allyson's video was an updated doppler.  The green band of storms headed for our town had stopped moving.  The bands following it broke apart and dodged our town.  The first band disintegrated.  Nothing was going to hit us.

God had vanished our storm!

We got the beautiful pre-storm weather but no actual storm.  Sometimes I wish life were like that.  I'd be willing to take this beautiful pre-storm weather that is no real post-graduation plans as long as I knew that the actual storm of planlessness would vanish and a plan would appear. 

He could do that, you know.

And maybe He will.  But still I'm fretting.

I've seen God's faithfulness in the midst of storms.  Literal weather storms and figurative life storms.  Why am I having such a hard time trusting Him amidst this pre-storm chaos of a plan-less post graduation?

<>< Katie

PS: For some reason I do not understand, God decided against vanishing the storms elsewhere in the country.  Friends, our brothers and sisters are hurting.  Their worlds have, quite literally, been turned upside down.  There are organizations such as Samaritan's Purse on the ground helping to pick up the pieces; if you are able, please offer your help as well.  If you are not able, definitely be in prayer!

The G-Word

As many are quick to remind me, graduation is less than a month away.  I'm trying to ignore this fact.  If I don't think about it, if I don't write it on my calendar, it's not going to happen, right?

At our mission trip reunion I shared how I'm having a hard time with this whole graduation thing.  Later someone mentioned that summer was coming fast.

"Shhhh!  Don't remind me!"  I protested.

They were all really supportive and told me it's going to take forever to get here, like Christmas.  A little while later, someone else spoke about graduation.

"We're not allowed to use the G-word," I said.

Of course, Neal's ten year old son Ethan proceeded to use "The G-Word" repeatedly just to vex me.  He counted down the days and told me how fast it was going to come.  Typical brother...

It was all in good fun but I didn't really appreciate it.  Later, in telling the story to my suitemates, I slanted it to share how I got picked on by a ten year old.

Allyson came in to the middle of the story.  "Wait, what G-word?  God?  We're not allowed to say, 'God'?"

From now until whenever I'm allowed out of time out, whenever my suitemates and I are discussing graduation, I must also say "God is in control."  But don't tell Ethan.

God IS in control!
<>< Katie

The Post in Which the Author Laments

It is the end of an era.  Saying goodbye to my parents in what we now affectionately call "The Crying Parking Lot" seems like forever ago.

"One Sunday afternoon in June" is very quickly becoming "a Monday morning in May."  That very expensive piece of paper is almost mine.  But I don't want it.

I'm not ready to leave.  I'm not ready to get a big girl job.  I'm not ready to start over.

I love it here.  It's why I prayerfully chose this place.  God has grown me and used me here.

I'm not the same woman I was four years ago when we cried in the parking lot.  All too soon I'll be crying in a different parking lot.  Pulling away from a place that has shaped me, formed me, and made me who I am.

As my peers discuss what dorm they're living in next year, I ponder what state (country?) I'll be in.  As they plan their schedule, I look at the classes I wish I could take.

When my parents, sisters, and I said goodbye, I walked back to my dorm while their van pull away.  I never looked back.

Will I be able to do the same in a month?

Based on how easily the tears filled my eyes tonight, no.

I refuse to count the days until I walk across the stage. Instead, I'm being pulled towards it kicking and screaming. Even my pullers are screaming.

"I'm going to have a hard time when you graduate."
"Are you sure you don't want to add an seventh major and stay a little while longer?"

But, unfortunately, it's time. 

The rites of passage passed and the mile stones crossed.  Those "one day in the future" events have become items to be crossed off the to-do list.

Yet still it hurts.

I'm comfortable here.  Four years will do that.

I cannot walk across campus without stopping to chat.  I know the chain of command for almost every problem and situation.  I'm not afraid to jump to the top of the chain, I know the loop holes, and I call people by their first names.  I keep emergency numbers in my phone, and I have used them.

This is my school.
This is my home.

I understand now why people linger long after graduation.  Part of me hopes I become one of them.

<>< Katie

And to think, this post was supposed to be about my final youth trip this weekend.

Sorry, friends. Thanks for letting me be nostalgic today.

Amber and I purchsed our flights to China on Friday! Now my life doesn't end until August. But I still don't have any idea what I'm doing when I get back.

The Wedding Invitation

I opened my mailbox today hoping the envelope inside contained mission trip money (halfway!). It didn't. It was a wedding invitation.

I started to get really nostalgic. Four years ago, I was making faces through my PO box to the bride-to-be in the box on the opposite side of the post office. We were mischievously planning to tie a fishing line or broom stick from her box to mine to trip the post office employees in the morning (we never did it).

We were a five-some. Three seniors fretting about life after graduation. Two freshmen far away from home but excited about the college experience. All five single.

Now, four years later, my how things have changed! The three have all found themselves in language classrooms, whether here in the United States or in Korea. The two are now fretting life after graduation. One is eventually headed to a classroom of her own. The other is still holding out for a way to avoid the classroom (yeah, that's me). Four single. One engaged. Four years!

Part of me wants to go back. Back to the time where Friday nights were spent flipping the atlas open at random, jabbing our fingers down on the pages, and walking across campus in our slippers until we declared ourselves to be in Prairiesburg, Iowa, or Heart Butte, Montana. Back to the days when we'd laugh so hard we'd choke... on a daily basis. Back to the days when the blog was brand new and rarely updated.

Part of me doesn't want to go back. Sure, I love the laughter and adventure. But I'm a radically different woman now than I was then.

I've become more comfortable in my faith (a journey I hope to continue... always). I've moved from a silly college freshman to a more mature college (almost) graduate who's not afraid to be silly. The Baptist church where we worshipped merely because that's where the ride was going, I now call my Baptist church home.

"I am who I am," a statement I declared freshman year. I still am who I am but I am not who I was.

That's natural, good. It's been a big adventure in this tiny town. Four years has changed me a lot. I hope to say the same thing four years from now. Maybe I'll be sending out my own wedding invitations then. Or at least be able to write "two attending." But maybe not.

<>< Katie

Have Pen; Will Travel

My life ends in May.

Or at least my calendar ends in May.  In May, I will walk across the stage to receive a hard-earned diploma, but I have no idea where I'm going to walk when I descend the stage.

I'm praying by then I'll have it all figured out.

Today I started filling out five graduate school applications to study creative writing.  I've been told getting a masters in creative writing is like getting a masters in violin: you're never going to use it.

Thanks for the encouragement!

The person who told me that went on to explain that I should do it because I love to write and I want to get better.

So I'm throwing caution into the wind and applying to MFA programs in five states around the country (only one of which have I ever visited before).

On tomorrow's to do list is updating my resume and applying for writing and editing jobs all over the country.  So if you know anyone that needs a writer/editor, I can probably hook you up with a good one!

The next day I'll apply for hobo positions in mid-sized cities.  Does anyone have a shopping cart I can borrow?

As I was mulling over these options and moping, I was having a nice facebook conversation with Casey.  She provided the traditional suggestions: Have you considered journalism or teaching?  Yes, thanks, and, no, I'm not interested.

She also provided me with some encouragement, said she was praying for me, and sent me on my way.  It helped.

That night, as I was going to turn off my iPod off, "Peace Be Still" by Rush of Fools began to play.

I didn't sign.  I didn't sing.

I sat cross-legged on my bed and let those words wash over me as God sang His daughter to sleep.

Come to Me, you who are weak.

Let My strength be yours tonight.
Come and rest, let My love be your bed
Let My heart be yours tonight.

Peace be still; peace be still.
Please be still and know that I AM God.
And know that I AM God.

Come empty cup, let Me fill you up.
I'll descent on you like a dove tonight.
Lift your head, let your eyes fall into Mine.
Let your fear subside tonight.

Peace be still, peace be still.
Please be still and know that I AM God.
And know that I AM God.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah...

The line that hit me the most was, "Please know [in your heart] that I AM God." I know that He is God.  I know that He has it all figured out.  I know that I don't have to know.  But that doesn't give me peace.

Please know in your heart that I AM God.

<>< Katie

Writer's Notebook entry dated 12-30-10.
Update 1-20-11: Four of the applications are now complete, the resume is updated, Dad told me I'd make a good hobo (what the heck does that mean?), and the oldest working iPod known to man has since died (August 3, 2005-January 13, 2011).

Godspeed and Good Luck

"One Sunday afternoon in June, you'll walk across a stage and I'll hand you a diploma" the headmaster of our school told us for years.  For me, that one Sunday afternoon in June came three years ago.  For Laura, it was yesterday.

At my graduation, tears welled up in my eyes but not until I sat down, diploma in hand.  I kept a smile, and they never leaked out, but my family in the front row knew exactly what was happening.

For Laura's graduation, the tears appeared as soon as I walked into the gym where I recognized the set and the colored lines on the floor underneath it all.  Again, I kept a smile and the water in my eyes but it was like someone hit me upside the head with emotion all of the sudden.

We took our seats in the back row and I fought to regain my composure.  Before this one, every graduation we have purchased front row tickets at an auction.  This year, my parents were competing with the wealthiest family in our town.  She owns a company that probably affects your everyday life.  He owns a professional sports team.  There was no possible way Dad was winning those tickets.  Instead, we took our seats in the back.  At first we were worried about photos, but then I pointed to the end of our row: Uncle Greg.  Tucked safely under his arm was the expensive camera of this professional photographer.  We'd have photos from Laura's one Sunday afternoon in June, that's for sure.

The ceremony began with the graduates lining the aisle to applaud the faculty as they progressed into the seats that faced the audience.  The graduates double back and sit in front of the faculty.  At the end of the ceremony, the faculty progress out first, lining the aisle to applaud the newest batch of alumni.  It's a special moment and a powerful tradition.

A more powerful moment and special tradition is that parents who are on the board or staff of the school are given the opportunity to call their graduate's name.  For Laura and I, this meant we received our high school diplomas directly from the hand of our father.  For Dad, this means he writes our names on his hand, so he doesn't forget what he's going to say (and then hopes he doesn't sweat it off).  A friend's father took a photo of me hugging my father on the stage.  It's a photo I cherish.  I tried to do the same for Laura and was successful, but it's less than perfect quality.

An equally important photo to me is one of me in my robe with all four of my grandparents standing beside me.  Sure, Boppy's sticking out his tongue (he refuses smile for photos, isn't that right, Boppy?), and Grandma's looking the wrong direction.  But it's still the five of us, healthy and happy.  Even though it's been three years since that one Sunday afternoon in June, that's still my desktop photo on my computer.  I was too busy talking to Brian (my favorite advisor) to know if Laura got that same photo, but even if she didn't: we're still some of the lucky ones.  Lucky enough to have our parents still married.  Lucky enough to have four living grandparents.  Lucky enough to have our aunts, uncles, and cousins take time out of their busy schedules to sit through a two-hour graduation ceremony celebrating our achievement.  Lucky and blessed beyond belief.

As I looked around at the rest of Laura's graduating class, I realized not everyone was so lucky.  Some of them come from broken homes, incomplete homes.  One of her classmates lost an older brother a few years ago.  Two classmates who graduated from a different school, lost their older brother.  The class as a whole hasn't been so lucky either.  In eight grade, they lost one of their own to leukemia.  Two years ago, a classmate committed suicide. 

For some, one Sunday afternoon in June is a day that never comes.  For some, it is an end, a goal achieved. For some, it is expected.  Either way, it is a milestone and everyone who meets it deserves a pat on the back.  A sad ending to the book of high school but a great beginning of the future.  For Laura and I, that has meant a move to a small, out-of-state college.  For others, it means something else.  It is s time to be celebrated (but tears are expected).  Godspeed and good luck.

Well done, graduates!
<>< Katie

PS: I kind of rambled today... sorry.  Thanks for reading!

Deep thoughts from Bejeweled Blitz

I am officially addicted to Bejeweled Blitz again.  It's a facebook game my mom introduced me to over Christmas break.  I intentionally never downloaded it onto my page because I knew I'd get addicted.  Instead, I was forced to play on hers meaning I needed her to log me in.  Yes, my mother was my enabler.  Over spring break, I discovered her password and no longer needed her assistance to Blitz.  However, I still had some self-control since it wasn't on my page.  As soon as the semester was over, I downloaded the stupid game to my page and have been playing daily since.

If you're not familiar with this addicting game, an 8 by 8 box fills with jewels.  You've got a minute to flip them around one at a time to make lines of three jewels that are the same color.  Once three of the same color are together, they disappear.  If you get four, three disappear and the fourth turns into a flaming jewel.  Line the flaming jewel up with two more and all of the surrounding jewels explode.  There are other features, too, but I want to focus on the flaming jewel.

Since you've only got a minute, I'm always planning a few moves ahead of where I'm flipping.  Sometimes that means a flaming jewel appears and my moves disappear before I get there.  Of course, you get points for this in the game, but sometimes it's annoying.  Sometimes there are so many explosions you kind of sit there staring at the screen like, "When is it my turn to play?"

As I'm wasting hours one minute at a time I'm thinking about life.  A year from now I'll graduate college and I have no idea what I'm doing next.  That terrifies me.  Three years of college down and I still don't know what I want to do with the rest of my life.  Ok, well, I want to write, but what's the career path for that?  I haven't figured that out yet.  Right now I don't even know if I'm going to grad school (where?  to study what?) or going right into the workforce (in this economy?  doing what?).  I'm not tied to any part of the country but there are two states I call home.  I don't have any idea what I'm doing after I graduate, but as this year progresses I'll make plans for my future.  I'm a planner; this is what I do.

Maybe, like the jewels, my plans will explode and something else will replace them.  A lot of times, when the jewels change, better moves appear.  As my plans explode and change, maybe better opportunities will surface. 

I hate all of these unknowns and unexpected changes.  However, I realize I am not alone.  There's a whole facebook support group for those of us facing Blitz addictions.  And there's countless college students pensive about their futures.

I think Nikki said it best a few weeks ago when she said, "I'd just love for God to send me my MASH in the mail and be done with it."  Unfortunately, that letter hasn't come yet, so here I am still pondering and wondering as I flip jewels around and waste my life one minute at a time.

More so than normal, this post was written for my own mulling more than it was for anyone else.  If you were able to follow it and learned something, wonderful!  If not, I'm sorry you wasted your time.  Oh, and please don't tell me I have a year to figure out what I'm doing with the rest of my life.  I might smack you.  Fair warning.

<>< Katie

Peace

I walked away from my desk and something white on my chair caught my eye.  At first I thought it was a piece of paper, but when I picked it up I instantly recognized it as one of the words from our fridge.  We have those "create-a-sentence" words stuck all over our fridge.  With three English majors living here I thought they'd get used more but they really don't.  For a long time our fridge has read:

Jesus drinks wine.  Amen.
Cry when you give blood.
Sister rejoice and embrace hope.
One red fish.

I chuckled to myself as I picked up the magnet pondering how on earth it got to my desk chair, but then I read it: PEACE.  I wanted to pocket it rather than returning it to the fridge.

At the end of the semester, peace is in short supply and high demand.  Even though I still have another year, every day is a day closer to graduation and I have no idea what I'm going after that.  Every wedding invitation I receive in the mail leaves me pensive about my own someday.  That all is if I live through the rest of this semester.  Two more weeks of papers, presentations, and finals before a 16-hour drive home that makes me leap back into my homelife at full speed.  Will I be healthy by then or is this not a cold?  What internship will I be doing this summer?  How will that go?  Will my horse with the Kentucky Derby?

Big questions + little questions = lots of questions

But ultimately, it doesn't matter.  It doesn't matter who put the peace piece on my desk either because it was a God-send and I needed it.

Peace,
<>< Katie

Tragedy for Steven Curtis Chapman's family

Steven Curtis Chapman's youngest daughter, Maria, was killed in a traffic accident in her driveway last night. See http://stevencurtischapman.com/.

The Chapman family had celebrating Emily's engagement.
They had been celebrating Caleb's high school graduation.
And now they're planning a funeral for their five year old.

In 1999, Steven wrote "With Hope" for a different five year old who died in a tragic traffic accident.

"This is not at all
How we thought it was supposed to be.
We had to many plans for you.
We had so many dreams.
And now you've gone away,
And left us with the memories of your smile.
And nothing we can say,
And nothing we can do,
Can take away the pain,
the pain of losing you, but...

"We can cry with hope.
We can say good-bye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end, oh no.
And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope
(There's a place by God's grace)
There's a place where we'll see your face again.
We'll see your face again.

And never have I known
Anything so hard to understand.
And never have I questioned more,
The wisdom of God's plan.
But through the cloud of tears,
I see the Father's smile and say well done.
And I imagine you
Where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
'Cause now you're home
And now you're Free...

We have this hope as an anchor
'Cause we believe that everything
God promised us is true

We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with home."

Prayers!
<>< Katie

"Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in Him." 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14