Starting Senior Year

It just got real.

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I am four days a way from starting my senior year in college. I spent 12 years in the Aransas County Independent School District giving all I had to get to college. I put in long hours for projects, spent more time at school than at home, lead organizations at every capacity, befriend teachers, found my best friends, worked a part time job, skipped dinners for dance rehearsals, spent most of Sunday at FPC Rockport….

You get the idea. I did a lot in 18 years so that four years could be great. And so far three of them have been. I have loved college. Maybe not every part but I am pretty sure I would recommend it to a friend. I learned a lot. More about myself and people than I did for college courses. I’ve struggled with a few things. But I’ve made/am making it through those things. I put so much energy into making this time mean something. And now that it is coming to a close I realized I did it again.

I have spent the last three years taking courses every single semester (summers included), I’ve pulled all nighters, I’ve lead organizations that have lead me to new passions, I have befriend upper and lower classmen, I find myself often hanging out with adults and no one seems to question it, I spend more time babysitting than downtown, I turned an internship into a part time job (sometimes over time), I’m invested in community at UPC Austin… the list continues. I have done all the things that bring me joy but also help carve out my future. I have been fully invested in what comes next and only partially invested in the what is going on now.

If you know me, none of this surprises you. My planner is my best pal. Knowing what comes next puts me at ease. Feel free to audibly gasp when you read, I don’t know what comes next. I have a few hopes and vague ideas but I am no longer working towards a concrete goal. This is not me. Well it is me, but this practice is not for me. I cringe having to tell people I am unsure of what the future holds. Three years ago I had a plan. About a year and a half ago God decided to change that plan and not give me all the details.

We have been arguing about this ever since. My argument is, in exactly a year from now I have to have an answer for people. Not one the explains the rest of my life but at least what the next year has in store. The response I keep getting is, “Applications are due in December.” *insert eye rolls* People are always kind when I tell them about programs I am considering applying too but I know they want more details. My grandma wants more to tell her bridge friends, my boss wants to know if I will be begging for a full time job, the women at my church want to let me know if the next city I move to has a relative of theirs, my friends want to know if I’ll still be inviting them to every Facebook event possible for us to go to, and my poor parents are trying to be supportive but I know they are tired of being financially responsible for me. I just want to add another thing to my countdown app.

If you are wiser than I am you have it figured out. This time of not knowing is God’s way of saying enjoy the now. Be present. Be still. However, I feel like it has me doing double over time. Trying to list out all the things I can do that will get me into grad school, a mission program, and allow me to take a social networking job in Europe. Turns out that list of things isn’t ideal.

So I am here. Sitting on another couch babysitting, saving money for some expense I’m not even sure will come up. Worrying over applications I may not submit. Planning out coffee dates for advice I may not need. In a state of preparing for what comes next, like it could be the end of the world. If you ask me what my post grad plans are, there is a good chance I will just send you this post and say, “pray for me.”

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Always wanting to know next,
Katie Ann 

Don't Have Grandparents

Don't have grandparents. Don't have grandfathers who love you. Don't have grandmothers who inspire you. Don't fall in love with everything they help you to become. Don't have grandparents.
In a timeline of ten months I lost both my grandfathers. I learned from the first loss, to be stronger during the second. Here are the words I read at my Pepaw's funeral.

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I am not sure why I was honored with being Gordon Henderson’s only granddaughter, but it is something I will treasure forever. 21 years with my Pepaw does not seem like nearly enough but he still managed to impart a lot of wisdom on me. He taught me about this world, love, and myself.

We share a lot of the same personality. We are a bit stubborn and strong willed. We either take things too serious or not serious enough. And we are just enough rebellious to leave an impression.

My Pepaw passed away one day after his 81^st birthday; this was no miracle or coincidence. I guarantee he lived to be 81 and one day because he wanted to prove a point and probably to have the last laugh. One of my favorite stories of his rebellion and stubbornness is when he decided to run away from home when he was 5 because he did not like the way his mom was doing things. When he returned he was disappointed to find out his mom had hardly noticed. He passed on a little bit of that rebellion to me. I just knew as a female Presbyterian, I had to stand up and speak at this Baptist service.

He taught me the simple joys in life. Like, when Memaw offers you dessert at the end of the meal you say, “yes” regardless of how full you feel. He taught me that laughing with at yourself is often the best thing you can do. He also taught me the importance of watermelon, running a small business and getting my hands dirty.

During watermelon season, for multiple years, we would hop in Pepaw’s giant black dully and drive to somewhere South Texas. We would then meet up with people who would help us load the truck bed full of watermelon. It was during that time I learned how to properly pick a watermelon. While hearing the right sound after thumping is important, the bright yellow belly really lets you know you have a good one. Once we loaded the bed with watermelon, I am pretty sure weighed more than me, we would make our way back to Rockport so I could sell them all. I am not sure if we ever actually made a profit but I am pretty sure that wad of cash he handed me at the end of the day is the reason I can have the time of my life in college. He was one of the most compassionate people to touch this Earth.

If you have ever attempted to go out to eat with him, you know an hour meal can easily last two and a half. How he managed to know every single person before or after we left a restaurant, I will never know. What really impressed me is his inability to actually remember people’s names but knowing their life history and family tree was easy. While I may not have the same talent for befriending a brick wall, I do understand the importance of respect everyone I meet. I find it difficult to recall a single moment my Pepaw spoke badly about someone. He took the time to get to know someone’s story and respect their character before letting anything else cloud his judgment. He loved well.

He loved so well in fact; I think he set me up for failure. I have reached the age where all of my friends are either getting engaged or talking about meeting ‘the one.’ I on the other hand have impossible standards because of my Pepaw. For 21 years, I got to be so loved by him, but I also got to be a witness to his love. I was able to see what nearly 60 years of marriage looked like. I got to see him love my Memaw with everything he had. Often to the point of selfishness, not wanting her to leave his side because being away from her was the worst thing he could imagine. After almost 60 years of marriage, I got to see what it looked like to still like the person you feel in love with in high school. He set that bar pretty darn high.

I also got to be witness to how his tough love on his son, could help create the greatest dad I could ever imagine. He has always been so kind and welcoming to my mom, accepting her as his daughter. He always loved so well on his nieces and nephews. And the love he had for his four sisters was one of a kind.

And Brandon and I got to experience a totally different kind of love. A love that had high standards and expectations for us but was always so thrilled just to see us happy. We got to have a grandfather who expected us to give our all to what ever it was we were doing. But at the end of the day, his only real request for us was to be good. Be good children, siblings, students, athletes, artist, but most importantly be good people.

21 and a half years were not nearly enough time with Gordon Henderson but I am so thankful during that time I got to call him Pepaw.
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Always missing you,

Katie Ann

You Are Here

Another post about me crying. 

I'm a firm believer that the lord answers our prayers. But sometimes he has to tell us what to pray for. 

Recently I've been praying for guidance, direction, and clarification. I would like to say it's all based around what is to come and my future, that daunting term. But actually my heart has been praying for these things since I lost my grandfather. 20 years with the man and no one warned me not to fall in love with him because he wouldn't be there to tell me happy birthday when I turned 21, and he won't be there when I graduate from college. Some days I feel like I was set up for heart break because he was just too good not to love. So I've been praying a lot of "why?" and "it's not fair."

In these last eight months I've lied to people several times telling them I was doing great and excited about everything. I've been preaching a love of God I struggle to accept. I've blamed busyness for my distance from the cross but it's really reluctance. I've been in a world of hurt and anger but to hesitant to share it. So I've been praying for guidance out of this darkness. I've been praying for direction for the pain in my chest to be turned to good. I've been asking for clarification because I still don't understand.

Today I realized these prayers were being answered. Last night the word "peace" stopped me from falling asleep. It played over in a loop like an Instagram video of calligraphy. Peace. So I said out loud to my dark room "Lord, just give me peace."

Today I got peace. Today I ate breakfast in bed. I wrote love letters to friends. I sat in my favorite coffee shop. I listened to good music. I napped in a hammock. I read Hannah Brencher's book and it got me thinking like it always does. This day was my peace. This day was filled with the simple things my heart clings to. 

And as I sat eating frozen grapes reading, "I'd never heard the word before, but it was her favorite word, and I was instantly enamored because the definition of agape is loving a person for exactly who they are - not who we hope they'll become with enough fixing." I had my million and oneth 'aha' moment. I was praying for action and movement. The Lord wanted me to pray for peace. He wanted me to find peace in my broken heart. He wanted me to find peace in the loss. He doesn't want to hand me a road map to get out of struggle, he wants me to be okay with being in the unknown. I tell people often "you are so loved by God just the way you are." A sentence I need to believe in. Jesus isn't looking to love of version of me who's heart isn't shattered. He isn't waiting to call me his child until I know what I'm doing with my life a year from now. Jesus wants me here and now exactly as I am. 

So no, I'm not healed from heart break. I still don't understand why I don't get another Pat Smith phone call. I'm still going to cry on the Lamar bridge driving to and from Rockport next weekend (and every time after that). I am no where near "okay." But I am a little less angry. I am a little bit closer to calling my mom on the phone just to cry. I am a little bit closer to peace. I am a little bit closer to God than I was last night. I am where I am and I'm working to find the good in that. 

Always Where I Should Be(?),

Katie Ann

Carb Loaded Tears

I am here to tell you it is okay to cry into your mac and cheese at Panera because the world is broken.

Today I have cried three times. I cried at 3am reading my to-do list, feeling overwhelmed by life. Those tears ended and I found myself sleeping off the worry. I cried during lunch watching this video. Normally I have my hesitations about Alexa but this video got me. I started with the title, but the tears came when she spoke about her grandmother. I still am on the fence about Alexa but my heart aches with her at the loss of a grandparent.

It is 7:43pm and I just got finished crying in Panera. I am waiting for a child I stay with to get out of cheer practice. I thought I would camp out at a table, have some tea, and eat way too many carbs while studying for finals. I found myself reading through the hashtags on twitter. I became paralyzed with sadness as I read more details about the California mass shooting today. I read more about how this was the 352^nd mass shooting this year. I read as people tried to point the blame. I read as Parliament decided bombing Syria was the right choice. I read. I cried.

In my hope to escape the horrors of the world, I began reading my favorite blogs. As I made my way through Hannah’s, I realized my heart was breaking for a reason. I understood that as much as I despised the pain in my chest and the salty tears on my face, God had called me to read these words. He had asked me to show my compassion, to make my opinions, to have a say in what was happening. Our heavenly father has been breaking me down. He has been asking me to see the brokenness in the world. He is showing me my path.

This year I have learned a lot. I have learned that our world is in pain. It is shattered and it is in need of healing. Our world is in need of compassion, grace, and willingness. I have learned that I am inadequate but I am also enough. I am the person that cries obnoxiously in public spaces. I am also the person who understands my words will not change the world, but they can be a start. I am the person bold enough to say that prayer is the only solution I know for sure cannot be wrong.

So yes, tonight I made people uncomfortable with my tears as I wept into my mac and cheese, but I also hope that I can help find the light in our dark world.

Tonight I do not care who you are, what you believe in, what you know to be true, or what in this world scares you. Tonight I encourage you to find joy in our dark world, or better yet be the joy. Even if you have to shed some tears to get there, you can do it. I promise. The Lord does not call the qualified, He qualifies the called.

Always cry over carbs,

Katie Ann

All Saints Day 2015

Words I wish I had shared at my grandfather’s memorial

All Saints’ Day is a time to rejoice in all who through the ages have faithfully served the Lord. The day reminds us that we are part of one continuing, living communion of saints. It is a time to claim our kinship with the “glorious company of apostles … the noble fellowship of prophets … the white-robed army of martyrs” (Te Deum). It is a time to express our gratitude for all who in ages of darkness kept the faith, for those who have take the gospel to the ends of the earth, for prophetic voices who have called the church to be faithful in life and service, for all who have witnessed to God’s justice and peace in every nation.

Pat Smith had many titles. Coach Smith, Principal, Mister, Sir, Father. However, I believe his favorite was Grandpa.

I was lucky enough to be one of four grandchildren of Pat Smith. I was even luckier to be one of two granddaughters. People remember the eagerness of football in this town by the image of my grandpa sitting in his car while my brother and cousin William practiced football. It is easy to remember him cheering us on at academic achievements and milestones. All these qualities made him a wonderful grandfather. However, I remember him sitting for three hours at my dance shows only to see me on stage for a total of 15 minutes. I never had to doubt if he was in the crowd at a one act play competition even if he had seen the show four times before. He never discouraged Sarah and I from keeping up with the boys, or holding our own. He never had to second-guess being there for his grandchildren. These things make him a wonderful grandpa.

Many of you will nod your head and agree. He had all these wonderful qualities. He was a wonderful human being. Many of you can recall wonderful moments and actions that add to his character. If you told me Pat Smith saved your life, I would believe you without a doubt. The wonderful thing about Grandpa is he treated everyone with kindness and respect first. If you were having a conversation with him, he made you feel like you were the most important person in the world. To him you were.

That is what makes him so wonderful in my eyes. He had this heart for people. He shared himself with everyone, but I cannot recall one moment in my life where I did not feel like the most important person in his world. His memorial had standing room only. He was a part of so many people’s lives, yet I felt like the only one. I only hope that one day I can make people feel as half as special as he did.

As some can recall, our family walked in first to the church. We took our seats and filled up two pews. Behind us, followed people that are not related family but are more than just friends. My grandparents have built this community around us of people who support and love us like we do share blood. There is not a day that passes by that I think it would just be easier to tell people we were related to The Little Family. I grew up with this idea that family was the most important, but family did not have to be defined by your last name.

My grandpa may not be with us here physically but he has done a damn good job of making sure we have a strong support system to help keep us going. He also left enough of his spirit in each member of this extended family, past students and athletes to make sure I never forget what grace looks like in the world.

If he were at his memorial service, I know three things to be true, 1) he would be crying. He was a big softy and we all know it. 2) He would be in a suit, the man loved his holy shirts and ratty jeans but important events called for a tie and 3) he would be shaking his head mumbling that the service was unnecessary because he is the most humble human I know.

Pat Smith had a lot of titles, a lot of wonderful qualities, and lot of joy to share with this world. I am unimaginably grateful for the chance to be his granddaughter and be a witness to his love on Earth.

Thank you all for loving Pat Smith, our saint, with me.

Always missing you,

Katie Ann