grace eventually.

Have you ever wondered at what age we truly start to understand the meaning of trust? I wonder if it's the first time that trust is broken. Yesterday and today I took a walk at Cook Park. I noticed that as I would pass a child on his bike or a little boy playing on the equipment, they would look up at me and say hi. One little one even blew me a kiss this afternoon! As adults we're typically not that quick to acknowledge someone we don't know as we pass by. In fact, cultural norm seems to be to look down and not make eye contact. Why is this? I mean, I do it too. I attribute it to my shyness. Even as a kid I think I was the one who would cling to my mom or dad's legs when anyone tried to talk to me. Then again, I do remember writing lines in kindergarten many days during recess for talking too much in class. As we get older, we go through circumstances that cause us to put up walls of protection as an attempt to hedge our hearts from more unnecessary pain. We enter into relationships automatically assuming that we're going to get hurt. In truth, at some point we will get hurt. We're human and although it's not intentional, we do at times hurt the people we love causing us to take a step back from that trust we worked so hard to build. I guess I just wish sometimes we could go back to the playground days...you know, when boys told you that you were ugly because deep down they really liked you. Oh wait, I guess life was confusing back then too:)

As we’ve been collecting devotionals for the upcoming ineed2change.org series, I’ve been amazed at the different stories we’ve read. Stories of healing, hope, reconciliation, redemption. The truth is we all want to be known, however, the risk that goes along with that is often a little scary so we look for less intimidating outlets to share our stories, whether it be social networking such as Facebook and Twitter or our personal blogs. For me personally, I’ve always found writing to be the best outlet for processing my thoughts. I’ve written many a letter to friends pouring out my heart. Marcie Wright probably has a collection from my post-college days. With the rise of text messaging and social networking, the question that continues to be asked is whether or not we’re creating community or inhibiting it? As a 30-something I feel as though I straddle the line a bit. I grew up in a time when cell phones and internet were non-existent. I spent many an hour talking on the telephone that was connected to my bedroom wall and writing notes to friends in class. The only time I ever typed anything was in typing class. Now, I too, am on the social networking bandwagon. I send and receive up to 100 texts a day, check my Facebook religiously, and occasionally share thoughts on my blog as I’m currently doing right now. But the truth is, if given the option I would much rather have a face-to-face conversation with the significant people in my life. In fact, if you’ve known me for any length of time, one of my pet peeves is when people are constantly on their phones when they’re with me. This isn’t the case all the time and I’ve certainly been guilty of it myself, but I tend to think when you’re in someone else’s company you should be fully engaged with that person. But I digress. Regardless of how we communicate, the objective is always the same, to be known by someone, to be assured that we’re not alone in whatever state we may currently be in whether it be sadness, loneliness, fear, or anxiety, to know that we matter to someone else. This is what makes life worthwhile and those hard times in life a little more bearable.

Matt and I met in seminary. I can't remember the exact said meeting, but my first significant memory of him was my second birthday in KY. Some friends and I had decided to go see the Indigo Girls, one of my favorite girl bands of all time, at UK. At the last minute, one of the girls had to back out. Did I mention that this was an all-girls outing? Somehow Matt got wind that we had an extra ticket and jumped at the chance to go! During the concert, I look over and Matt is on his feet, hands in the air, eyes closed, full-out swaying to the melodic tunes of the Indigo Girls. It was at this moment that I knew we would be friends for life! A few months later, he and I teamed up to throw a going-away party for our good friends, Becca and Toby. It's on this date that we declare our Friendiversary, July 4th. Since that particular day, Matt and I have been a constant part of each other's lives. We've laughed together, we've cried together, we've sang Amy Grant together...oh wait, I would never. I've listened to him sing Amy Grant (loudly) as we've driven with the windows down through our favorite KY roads. We've created our own language (name yet to be determined). If you hear it, you would think we're ridiculous, but we find it amusing. My favorite thing about Matt is his ability to process. This comes out best in his writing. I mentioned his blog at the beginning of Lent. He recently moved to Nashville to pursue his passion of writing. I have no doubt we'll see great things from him. I think seminary was formative for both of us in becoming who God was truly calling us to be. The road was not easy but we did it together and for that I am thankful. Happy Birthday, Matty....I love you!

**The above photo was taken at my 29th birthday party. We call it our "geriatric prom" photo:)

March is proving to be a hard month, yet again. On Sunday I received two pieces of news that left me feeling empty. One, KD Kilpatrick passed away after battling cancer for a very short time. Two, Andy Hurst, my pastor and friend is moving back to Lubbock in June to be the Senior Pastor at a UMC church there. Have I mentioned I’m not a fan of change?? Although in both instances there are some positive points. KD didn’t suffer and is now dancing in Heaven; Andy’s going back home to family. Of course in both cases, family is being left behind. I wish I could say I’m in the accepting stage of grief. I’m not. Truthfully, I’m heartbroken. As much as I hate to admit it, I feel lost.

I met KD last year during a building campaign. You can’t be in the same room with him without feeling warmth. His eyes twinkle when he smiles and he makes you feel like you’ve been friends for years. Any chance I had to talk to him, I took it. He loved his wife, his family, and our church. He was a kidder. He loved to crack jokes and tell stories. He’s the leader that you want on your side because when he believes in you, you can’t help but strive to do your very best. I have no doubt that hundreds will be here tomorrow to say their goodbyes to this beloved man.

I met Andy when I was a senior in high-school. At the time he was the Director of the LA Tech Wesley Foundation. As I was nearing the end of my high-school career and preparing to start my collegiate journey at Tech, my friend and soon to be college roommate, decided to check Wesley out so we could start meeting people. Andy was instrumental in that even though he ended up moving to Lubbock before I started college to be the Director of the Texas Tech Wesley Foundation. He didn’t stay away long though. He came back to Ruston to be the Associate Pastor at Trinity and to be the lead preaching pastor at our contemporary service. We were excited to get him back. During that time he became a counselor, an encourager, and a friend. He stayed connected to my life while I was away at seminary and when I moved back to Ruston 3 years ago, he was the one that pushed to bring me on staff here at Trinity when I wasn’t even certain this was where I needed to be. He’s challenged me, loved me, prayed over me, and been a constant source of God’s grace in my life. He’s one of the most selfless men I’ve ever met. He knows Scripture like the back of his hand. He loves unconditionally. He puts his family first but we take a close second. He is the epitome of what a good pastor should look like. I can’t imagine my life or this church without him. The next couple of months will prove to be a rollercoaster of emotions as we attempt to prepare him well and send him forth to his next church family. Many tears have been shed and I’m sure many more are to come.

I don’t adapt well to change. Even change that’s intended for good can be a little draining to me. I get comfortable with how things are. Now don’t get me wrong, I know change can be good and is necessary, but in the midst of it I find myself longing for the familiar. I’ve been thinking about this a lot as one friend recently moved and two others are graduating and moving on very soon. I can still remember the last day of my internship at the Wesley Foundation, saying goodbye to one of my fellow interns, closest friends, and accountability partners. We were standing in front of Scott’s office literally weeping and one of the students was taking pictures! I can only imagine how those turned out! Little did I know that this friend and I would be reunited a few years later at seminary. I get so accustomed to seeing/talking to the same people everyday and when that’s gone, there’s a void there. I know that in time that that void will be filled with someone else and although that particular friend will still hold a place in my heart, that desire to talk to them everyday will slowly fade making those times when you do talk all the more precious.

After Easter we are starting a new series in the Refuge called “ineed2change.org: 40 Days of Change”. We’re working on a devotional booklet where people are reflecting on how God has brought about change in their lives. Obviously this is good change, but I have a feeling as we start reading these, that a lot of that change will have some pain tied to it somewhere. As much as we desire God to change us, it usually requires us to give up something we’ve been holding on to. It requires us to move out of the way to allow God to do something incredible. It requires us to give up control and trust that God’s ways are so much better than our own. God’s been changing me for…well, forever, I suppose but even more so in the last year. It has required me to let other people in when I’ve wanted to deal with things on my own. I’ve had to put down my pride and see that sometimes what may seem like a painful step can bring us one step closer to healing...to redemption.