And Make it Mean Something…

Several years ago, I used to hang out with Friends Steve, Lori and Jordan every Friday night. We mostly just got dinner at Panda Express, watched The Office, and talked about life. Before we’d eat dinner, though, one of us would pray, and there was this one time when our prayers had gotten routine, including the same phrases week-after-week. So one night, Steve was like, “Katie, why don’t you pray… and make it mean something.”

It’s one of my favorite memories, even though I don’t really know why.

Now, I’m sitting here, trying to write this blog post for you, and wishing I could make it mean something.

I really feel like I’m bursting with thoughts and ideas right now, but I don’t know how to say them in a way that isn’t routine.

I want to write about the past year and how different things are, but I can’t quite put the writing together. One of you (I can’t tell who) recently clicked on a post I wrote back in May of last year, and it made me all nostalgic… so I read something like three months worth of posts I wrote around the same time.

I’m not gonna lie, I was pretty impressed with my own writing. I’d forgotten that I’ve ever written about things that matter because it feels like all of my words currently come out as routine prayers that don’t mean anything.

The post one of you clicked on is one that changed my life because it led me to flee the situation I was in like a bat flees from Hell.

It was something I’d written that was real and true, and that I still believe today.

It was something I’d written that put others into a panic because there was no turning back once it hit the interwebs.

It was something I’d written without agonizing over who would read it and what they’d think.

It was something that I had to write.

I didn’t mean for the thing to cause a scandal; I was bursting to scream out with a, “YOU’RE MISSING THE FREAKING POINT!” and that post was the only outlet I had. It was my way of being like, “Hey, this whole thing we’re doing on Sundays… and, well, supposedly with every day of our lives… it isn’t about what you’re making it about; it’s about something with infinitely more depth and meaning than whatever it is you’re talking about.”

And when I look back on that feeling of injustice and WHY DON’T YOU SEE IT?!, I can’t help but take joy in where I’m at now.

I certainly tried to stay there and not be here, but God knows better.

It felt an awful lot like He plucked me out of a bad story that was jacking me up a lot, and set me down in a brand-new one that didn’t include quite so many goblins and boogers.

It feels that way because that one change in my life led to about forty other changes that led to me winning a sweepstakes and receiving a free, metaphorical jet pack.

I ran today with Lori, and I’m realizing how much I miss seeing her every Friday night… and how excited I am that my life isn’t quite so busy as it was a year ago.

Last night, I got together with some friends, and I’m realizing how different they all are and how much of a blessing that is.

I’m enjoying reading again.

I sent a question to Pastor Pete just now, and it reminded me of the subtle joy that comes with having a pastor who calls when you miss one week of church and answers your questions.

And this week, I meant to write about all of those things and to make all of my posts mean something, but the truth is that my best posts are usually the ones that I don’t agonize over too much or really even edit before I post them. They’re the ones that change my life without any intention of changing anything, but only a bursting feeling that can’t be ignored. I doubt this post will change much of anything, but maybe it’ll mean something to someone, and a year from now, I’ll look back on it and take heart that something reflecting frustration, fear and truth doesn’t have to be justified to anyone. So what if they read it and find me lacking? So what if they read it and decide that I’m just not ready for whatever they’ve got planned?

Maybe God has another plan with fewer goblins and boogers… maybe, just maybe, what I write that seems scandalous truly means something a little more than the routine words we read and hear every day.

Who knows?

But here’s hopin’. 🙂


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